Making A Home

Right?

I fear this post is nothing more than me sounding like an old fuddy duddy. Bear with me. Haha

I try to stay on top of the sayings the young folk are using these days. I think I usually do a good job of it. But my kids are using a phrase lately that is driving me nutty and I just have to find out if this is the only house enduring this confusion.

I am familiar with the phrase "I know, right?"... As in "that cake was awesome!", to which a companion might reply "I know, right?"... Meaning, "I agree. It was, wasn't it?"

Although the current generation may think it was their invention, my friend Dave was using that one in high school over 20 years ago. (Wow, that calculation made me feel really old!).

A date with a very young guy a few months ago (hey... Just keeping my options open!) Revealed that more recently that phrase has been shortened to just saying "Right?" Which means the same thing, and I have to admit, sounded quite adorable coming from that particular guy.  

However... My children have taken on a new version that always involves their own opinion... In which they say something to the effect of "I really like Eddie, right?". Which they intend to mean "I really like Eddie, don't you?" But I can't get past what it actually sounds like which is "I like Eddie. Don't I?". I always feel the need to respond with "I don't know... Do you?" Or "I can't confirm or deny whether YOU like Eddie.". Then they roll their eyes, like I'm just not hip enough to understand their modern speech. But I have a feeling they are the only ones using the phrase that way. So tell me ... are you hearing this ridiculous phrasing at your house?

Exhausted

I think I fell asleep before 9 last night.  I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.  Physically I hadn't done much... so it had to have been my brain that was dragging me down.

I'm homeschooling my kids again this year.  You know, the ones that are still at home.   (Molly is still in Mississippi.)  Sam is now in 7th grade, Gideon in 6th, and Hallie in 5th.  They spent a year and a half in public school after their dad moved out (I needed time to regroup), and while it did give me the break I needed... I'm still fighting the apathy they learned there.

My impression of school after that time was that they were mostly required to fill a seat...

I know they weren't required to do homework... not really... because I found most of it crammed in bookcases, dropped under the table, crumpled in backpacks, etc, and never turned in... and they still pulled out decent grades.  And at the middle school level, I was able to look at Sam's assignment lists, and the list read: missing-missing-excused-excused-missing-excused-excused-excused-missing... he convinced his teachers he couldn't do the work, and they ultimately didn't expect him to.  (To be fair, he had ONE great teacher that seriously saw his ability and had standards for him, but most did not.)

I know they weren't required to have good behavior... not really... because when Hallie was bullying a special needs student in her class, the call I got from the principal started with "Hallie's not in trouble."  I had to BEG them to give her consequences for her unkind and unacceptable behavior.  When I caught Gideon with a calculator stolen from the classroom and being used to cheat on his math, I reported it to his teacher and got the blow off.  And the supervision plan we had for Molly the first year (to keep the other kids safe) was evidently not passed on to the new teacher the second year. To top it off, I got more than one call from Sam's school that contained the phrase "Normally a kid would be suspended for this... but..." 

So this year... I spend all day getting in the middle of fights between them, managing anger outbursts, getting them back on track to do their school work, and enduring screaming rages because they don't get freetime when their work isn't done, and I require a score of 80% to move on (I don't give my kids schoolwork to keep them busy... I expect them to LEARN the information before moving on.)  In school they didn't HAVE to do the work.  So getting them to do it here is like pulling teeth.

  Yesterday was an all out battle.  From the moment they woke up until the time *I* fell asleep... (because I think I still heard them talking in their room long past when I grasped the last threads of consciousness.)

I think if I'd known the effect of that short time in school would create this intense of an uphill battle, I would have just found the strength to power through in homeschooling. 

Let me be clear, I am NOT in any way saying this would be the experience for other people... My kids are difficult to start with, their wounds are deep and their need for control intense because of the Reactive Attachment Disorder.  That's a big part of why we are struggling.  It just didn't work for THEM.

Today is another day.  I'm starting it with prayer, in hopes of surviving.

 

Terrorists

I mentioned this past weekend, some friends and I went to a post-adoption conference.  800 parents, in the trenches, there for connection and education and resources and, well... hope.  

This is just a quick post to touch on a quote before I forget.  One of the speakers said during their presentation that he and his wife have adopted the policy our government once stated...

"We do not negotiate with terrorists."

RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) kids can argue better than anyone.  They will argue that the sky is purple, that the grass is orange, and that they didn't touch the cupcake... you know, that one... visibly sitting in their hand?  Chronic, Crazy Lying... and any excuse to argue. 

I try very hard not to argue with my kids.  Not that they make it easy.  They will fight on relentlessly... even if you aren't fighting back.  (Contrary to popular belief it does NOT, in fact, take 2 to fight.  It takes 2 to have peace.)  When you've given a clear answer and they still feel the need to try to try to fight for their way, just tell them you don't negotiate with terrorists.  No means no.  Later means later.  Their arguing can (and does) turn "wait" into "no" so fast their heads will spin.  The new line at that point, when I've given my answer and they still feel the need to fight for their own way is just that... "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

That may sound really harsh to those of you who don't have RAD kids.  But those who do... you'll get this.  I used the line on my daughter earlier this week, and she spat back "I'm not a terrorist!"  So I looked it up for her. 

By definition, a terrorist is:

someone who uses violence
to create fear
in order to control or manipulate

 

"Does that sound like you?", I asked her.

"Well, yeah, but not ALL the time!"

"That's true,"  I replied.  "And sometimes the 9/11 hijackers were just nice guys sitting around the table having dinner and talking with their families."

She walked away.

 

Casey asked:

"Can you give us a follow up story to your engagement?"

 

Well, yes... I can... but how do I go about this fairly, but without being too vague?  It's complicated.

 

C and I met in January, 2012.  At the time I thought he was a "nerd-bomber" (that's no secret... I've told him as much and we used to laugh about it.  Because he'd followed his friend's advice about how to dress in khakis and gel his hair and wear his loafers to impress the church girl.  The review I gave my mom of that first date (because she ALWAYS asks and is living vicariously through me... also not a secret.  She'll admit that, I think. haha) is that he was kind of a nerd and talked about himself too much, particularly about how good he was, very much trying to sell himself.  It didn't work at the time.  As it was, I'd met another guy (D) just a week before, and he and I had been talking more, and that very night, after meeting C, and not feeling a strong connection, D asked me if I would consider dating him exclusively.  And I agreed.

 

Fast forward a few months.  Things weren't working out with D.  In addition to some differences in beliefs that caused conflict between us, he was playing a push-pull game, where he'd break up with me, then beg me back just a few hours later.  I finally had enough and ended that game.  2 years later, he still considers that the biggest mistake of his life.  I get messages from him every few week even now saying so, and insisting he'd marry me in an instant if I'd just say the word.  But the differences between us still exist, he has a knack for making me feel terrible even when he's trying to cheer me up, and while I value his friendship, I don't really forsee us getting back together.  (Again, this isn't a secret - I've told him the same thing.  I wouldn't post it here for all the world to see if I hadn't told him first.)

 

C and I had continued to text over this time, getting to know each other more and building a friendship, and once Spring arrived, he asked me if I'd go on a motorcycle ride with him.  It sounded like a lot of fun.  So I agreed.  He'd heard about my financial struggles at that time, and the shame I felt at needing to go to the food bank for the first time that morning, and he showed up at my house for the ride with a bunch of groceries for me.  (I'm pretty sure I posted about that, but I'm too lazy to go back and link it.  How's that for honesty? haha)  He also brought flowers.  Awww...

 

The next time we went for a ride, he brought his bigger bike with the sidecar, and his dog came along.  Rotten dog... that's a whole different story, but the long and short of it is, he liked to bite me.... including on that first bike ride with the dumb dog, he was nipping at my knee from his sidecar.  On that ride we went to LaConner, had ice cream, then ended the evening going to dinner back in Bellingham.  C was funny, a little rough around the edges (think biker dude), but very kind and thoughtful and fun to spend time.

 

Over the next few weeks, he seemed to be around all the time.  Looking back, there was a lot of manipulation there, because he wouldn't accept my excuses of why coming over wouldn't work for me... and not listening to me or caring about my feelings on that subject should have been a red flag.  Somewhere along the line, I got used to having him around.  I enjoyed spending time with him.  When I told him I liked him as a friend, but didn't feel romantically toward him, he worked hard to convince me otherwise... even throwing in spiritual implications.  Between that and hearing another person I trusted tell me that their love for their husband "grew" from nothing but friendship... and my kids actually liking him... somewhere along the lines I got roped in.  I did love C, but I couldn't see the situation for what it was for quite some time.

 

In August of that year, he proposed.  I said "TOO SOON!", but oh, how I loved that ring.  So I agreed to wear it as a promise ring while I decided whether I could marry him.  Not long after, his ex wife complained about where he was living (an apartment complex in Bellingham, that actually looks nice, but evidently has had some crime history), and threatened to not let him see his kids if he didn't move immediately.  My heart for children got involved at that point... and somehow I said he could move in with me for a while.  I know... I know... (shaking my head)...

 

The thing was, everything seemed to be going great.  We were a good team.  We enjoyed each other's company, and we worked well together and stayed close through some really big crises (most of which involved his kids or ex wife, actually.)  Things seemed really good... so the day after Christmas, I agreed to marry him (via flash mob at a local coffee shop - which was a lot of fun, and that was one of the first things I thought of when we broke up... what a waste of a great flash mob! ha ha.) 

 

Within just a few weeks of my accepting his proposal, he started getting really distant.  He was sinking into a depression.  (And I think felt he didn't have to "try" so hard now that he "had me".)  And despite what he insisted, depression wasn't the reason we broke up.  But it was the reason I was able to step back out of the emotion and see reality that was being clouded. 

 

I can't remember why he went for a motorcycle ride that day... we may have argued about his kids, it may have been something to do with his ex... but I do remember telling him if he ever just "left" on his bike without being in contact and letting me know when to expect him (my experience growing up was that "men left".)... he could just keep riding.  He'd been gone many hours when my worry turned to anger.  And I'm not someone who angers easily.  I remember telling myself "he's got one more hour to get back here before I start opening his mail."  I don't know why I felt he was hiding things, probably because of how closed off he was because of the depression, but since he refused to talk to me about any of what was going on anymore, I figured I'd have to get my answers a different way.  So when that hour was over... I walked to his desk and picked up just one envelope... from Kay Jewellers.  I'd asked before why he was getting a statement each month from them, since he insisted he paid cash for my ring (I didn't want any more debt, and if I married him, his debt became my own).  He claimed it was just a blank statement for the credit card they opened when he bought it.  I never really believed that.  And opening the envelope confirmed it.  Not only had he put the ring on credit, he was behind on the payments already.  If there's one thing I cannot and will not tolerate... it's being lied to.  It's a pet peeve with my kids, it was a constant issue with my ex, and it's just not something I'll put up with.  So when we got home, I confronted him about that, about his physical and emotional distance, about where all his money was going, about what else he may be lying about.  He had no answers.  For any of it.  Nor did he try to fight for our relationship.  He just sat there, staring at me.  So I asked him to move out of the house and offered my shed until he could find somewhere else to live.

 

I think it was only a day or two later when my car broke down.  I was returning from a motorcycle endorsement class and my engine siezed up.... on the freeway... over an hour from home... and I was lucky enough to be able to coast into a rest area.  (Turned out Jiffy Lube hadn't tightened the oil filter when we had them do our oil change and all the oil drained out while I was driving.  Killed the engine.  But they did own up to their mistake and replace my engine with a comparable one.)  It was dark, I was alone, and I didn't know what to do.  But C knew cars.  So I called him.  And while I waited for him to rescue me, I got to thinking about why this happened and if God wasn't prompting me to give him another chance.  Somehow I convinced myself that was the case.  He moved back in.

 

That lasted just a few more weeks.  He continued to be closed off emotionally, unaffectionate, and despite promises to help financially, he was driving me further into debt.  He got a hefty disability payment each month (he had a major back injury at work from years before), but couldn't explain where the money was going, and never contributed anything more than a few groceries to the household expenses. (And some gas, as he would often drive us to the kids' counseling appointments.)  But with a huge house payment, utilities, food (including for him and also his girls when they would visit), and gifts for every holiday for 6 kids now, instead of just 4... I gave him one last chance to prove to me he would contribute from his next check.  I told him exactly how much I expected (very fair) and he agreed... then the paycheck came and went and he didn't have anything to give me.  In the meantime, we'd bought a Harley "together" that he was going to make the payments on, and even used his second bike as a trade-in... somehow he and the salesman slipped it past me that his bike loan was upside down, so the "trade-in" just added $4000 extra debt to my bike, for which the bill was just in my name now (better credit) but the title was in both names (because the salesman insisted it had to be because of the "trade in"... the whole thing was a big scam and I was an idiot.)  So that first month, not only did he not contribute to rent and utilities, but he also left me with the bike payment to handle.  I realized his promises were unreliable and staying with him was going to land me right in the poorhouse.  At that point I was no longer getting anything emotionally from the relationship, he wasn't proving trustworthy, and I just couldn't support him anymore.  So I ended the engagement and asked him to move out. 

 

Of course that very evening, he fell and broke a rib (he lied and said he broke 3, but I saw the hospital paperwork... also research of which one he actually broke showed it was practically painless, but he carried on for weeks, made me do almost all of his packing, he took my bed while I slept on the couch, he made me take his shoes on and off because of the "intense pain" for days... he really played it up.)  That deceit and manipulation and the constant moping killed what was left of my loving feelings for him.  I still care about him and wish him well, though, honestly. 

 

When talking to D after the breakup, and explaining how I DO believe C loved me, and yes, he used me, but I still don't believe he intended to... I just made it easy for him... D made a statement that really seemed to fit.  He said:

 

"The best con-men have convinced even themselves that their lies are true."

 

 

 

You'd think I'd have learned my lesson from that situation... and in a way, I did... I was able to spot similar behavior much sooner, but still kick myself that I keep finding the same kind of guy.  The next guy I seriously dated tried to move in on the sly (coming and finding excuses not to leave).  I fell for him, for a while... but not for his story.  I told him while there was a lot I loved about HIM, I couldn't abide by his situation... after I ended things with him, he ended up homeless, living in his car for months.  I think he still is.

 

The basic standards of: Christian, Kind, Fun, Employed and Not Homeless or a Moocher shouldn't be THAT hard to find, should they? 

Molly & Boarding School

As you may recall, 9 months ago, Molly went to a therapeutic boarding school for girls with Reactive Attachment Disorder.  The plan was a minimum of 1 year, to help her address her unsafe behaviors and hopefully get to the place where she could function in a family.  I dropped her off in mid-May. 

At the end of June, I was awakened in the middle of the night by phone calls from Mississippi.  The school owner - social workers - CPS - needless to say, I didn't get any more sleep that night.  The short version of the story is as follows:

While Molly had only been at the school for a month and a half, many of the other girls had been there much longer.  Keep in mind, these are angry, manipulative girls... that's why they were at the school and not with their families.  Of the variety that the following could be amazingly accurate...

"How can you tell if she's lying?  Because her lips are moving." 

Adoptive parents of kids with early trauma will understand that completely.  Others, including professionals, may not.  These kids stayed alive during the abuse and neglect of their early lives by learning a variety of survival skills.  They learned to manipulate others to get what they wanted or needed, but to shut people out and to hold everyone at arms length (or futher) in order to avoid getting hurt.  Every word, every action is an exercise in control.  These "hard case" girls are the epitome of that.  In a highly structured environment like this school and others like it, the girls don't have a lot of control.  That's part of what helps them learn to trust - because they aren't able to manipulate people, others are making choices for them, and still, they are taken care of, surviving, and even thriving.  Well... they found a crack in the armor and took advantage of it.

Some of the older girls at the school hatched a plan to get out of there.  They took the moments when they could whisper and not get caught to perfect their plan, then got the younger girls involved with the promise "If you tell the police and the social workers what we tell you, you'll get to go home."  Molly fell right into that trap.  It was much more devious and detailed than I'm going to lay out here, but the long and short of it is this:  When the school staff was distracted by a visiting guest, one of the ring leaders snuck into the staff bedroom, stole a phone and called 911.  They claimed they were being horribly abused.  CPS and the Sheriff rushed out to the school and shut them down immediately.  Because they'd rehearsed, every girl was able to give the same (false) stories.  So rather than evaluate the kind of girls they were dealing with, they took the words at face value.  (Because who doesn't want to believe a child who says they are being abused?)  The fact is, The professionals should have known better.  Reactive Attachment Disorder and false allegations are ridiculously common among this population.  But the girls worked them over with ease. 

All the girls were removed from the home and placed in foster care, where they were rewarded for their lies - treated like queens and given gifts and privileges to make them feel better about their "horrible ordeal."  And the parents were all told to come retrieve their daughters immediately.  Most of the parents live in Washington State, and I'm sure I don't have to tell you a last minute flight to Mississippi from Seattle doesn't come cheap.  I'm pretty sure there wasn't a parent among us (we know our kids) that didn't have doubts about the girls' stories.  And sure enough, as soon as I got there and asked Molly what happened, she spilled the beans about the plan, and admitted they were always treated well and never abused.  In fact, within a couple of weeks, nearly all of the girls made the same confessions.  Only a few actually came home, while most transferred to other residential schools immediately, but even in that new environment, they told their new administrators what really happened, and the older ones even wrote and signed depositions stating the truth.

The parents of these girls banded together in support of the school, who was being ripped apart in the community by media, losing financial support and the respect of the local population because of the lies these girls told.  We started an email group, the ones in this state met up at our counselor's office, and tried to determine how to best handle this, in light of what we knew and the girls confirmed... the allegations were false.  We contacted the local paper and set the record straight about the school and the staff and the allegations, and a reporter did several follow up stories.  Slowly, community support for the school returned. 

(Meanwhile, I'd just completed training for a work from home job that I loved - taking dining and activities reservations over the phone for a major theme park - a company I love.  I started the training right after she left.  I got to work just a couple of days before having to go retrieve Molly... knowing the level of supervision she required wouldn't allow me to work while she was home.)

(Molly, outside the DHS office in Winona, MS when I first arrived to pick her up, July 2013.)

 

(Waiting for our flight out of Nashville, July 2013)

What struck me the most (besides the lack of knowledge from the professionals involved), was the smug look on Molly's face, for weeks... even after she confessed she'd lied, she was reveling in the knowledge that the plan had ultimately worked... she said what the older girls told her to, and what they promised came true... she got to come home.  The whole experience set her very much backwards in her healing - it reinforced the power of lying and control. 

In early December, after getting the go-ahead from local agencies, the school reopened, and I took Molly back.  Her behavior at home was more of the same, and she was still unsafe to have around the other children. I spent the night at the school, I talked at length with the couple that runs the school about all that had been happening, we watched a movie together and I helped her settle in, then began the journey home again.  Alone.  For several weeks she was the only child at the school.  Once they finally had their court date in mid January, and the judge dismissed the case without delay for lack of evidence, other girls started returning as well. 

But she's back at school.  She's doing well.  She writes a couple of times a week, and I write back, call occasionally and send gifts for holidays... and hopefully, hopefully, we're back on the path we intended almost a year ago.

(Molly, at her school in Mississippi in December 2013.)

 
(Hanging her clothes in the big empty closet - first child back at the school.)

(Lonely Converse on the otherwise empty shoe shelf.)

One of the speakers at the adoption conference I went to this past weekend made a statement that struck me pretty profoundly.  She is in a similar position with one of her daughters, who is preparing to return from a similar residential school and try life with the family again.  This is a paraphrase of what she said:

"Often I don't know how I'm going to survive even one more day with this child.  But I know that God is going to do a mighty work in her life, and I know I want to be there to see it."

Hey... I remember you!

After a long absence, I've determined to return to blogging.  No guarantees exactly what this will entail, how often I'll update, or... well, any guarantees of any kind!  But most posts will probably focus on my family, adoption issues, daily life, some recipes, homeschooling, single parenting and possibly even some of my adventures in dating, though I don't want to embarass any of the involved parties!  I'll try to chronicle over the next few weeks some of what has happened in my life since the blog went silent.  If you have any questions, feel free to ask - I'll try to satisfy your curiosity, if I can do so without overstepping the privacy of others. 

I have a few topics (including the aforementioned conference) in mind that I want to touch on over the next few days, but I welcome your (curious, not critical) feedback, as well... what do you want to know?  Give me some ideas.  While much of the lapse has been due to the craziness of life... some long periods of silence have been nothing more than lack of inspiration for what to write about.  So give me your ideas! 

Here's my family these days.  This was taken in December.  Myself and my four children.  Sam - age 12, Gideon - age 12, Hallie - age 10 and Malaika - age 10.  Are you as amazed with how they've grown as I am?  My dark haired children have both hit a growth spurt and are towering 4-5 inches above their (3 months) older same-gender siblings, much to my blondies' chagrin. 

I know many of you have wondered where I disappeared to (even to the point of asking my other blogging friends where I was), and I'm thankful for your interest in our crazy life.  It makes me feel cared for that you have asked, and that many of you keep checking this dead blog to see if I'm back yet.

Social media and the internet have given me some trepidation - I've seen undeserved nasty comments on friends blogs, and even saw one acquaintance raked over the coals and completely picked apart on other sites for what she chose to share about her life.  But I've been pushed, prodded, and encouraged to start blogging again, and after attending an amazing conference for foster and adoptive parents this weekend, the theme just came up too many times to ignore - between comments from friends, tidbits in seminars, and even just a nagging on my heart to have the outlet to express myself through writing again.  So... here I am. 

 

In Which Molly Goes To Residential School

Adopting children is a huge challenge that only those in the trenches can fully understand.  They come with wounds, with pasts, with hurts, with effects from abuse, neglect, often prenatal drug effects.  And the truth is, sometimes "love and structure" just isn't enough.

Molly joined our family at almost 6 years old.  She had already been through a lot in her young life.  We have learned a lot about her past in the time she's been with us, and there is so much more she still isn't telling.  The things she has endured have impeded her ability to trust or attach.  To some extent, all of our children struggle with that, but none to the same extent as our little Molly.  In the severe cases, they call it Reactive Attachment Disorder.  And it's a beast.

Molly, from shortly after joining our family, would have screaming rages.  She'd spend HOURS screaming and crying (remember, this was no colicky baby... this was a school age child.)  She progressed into manipulating and defiant behaviors, kicking holes in walls, and being inappropriate and unsafe with other children.  We have sought out every book we could get our hands on, on the subjects of attachment, adoption, early trauma... which only made her issues more certain.  We took her to multiple counselors before finding one that really understood and could see past her charming exterior to the rage and fear inside.  We drive our children weekly to a counselor nearly 2 hours away... because we love them.  Because we want the best for them.  Because we will do anything we can to help them learn to accept love, to trust, to truly be part of a family.  But sometimes our best efforts aren't enough.

When Molly's unsafe behavior was increasing, and her desire to work on any of it was nil, it became clear we needed further outside help.  Trust me when I say this was one of the most difficult decisions we have ever had to make.  Our counselor connected us with a Therapeutic Residential School that works with kids just like our daughter... in Mississippi. 

On May 13th, (my 37th birthday), we boarded a plane, just Molly and me.  We flew to Nashville.  We drove to Jackson, TN, and spent the night.  We got up early and drove through Memphis, to Duck Hill, MS.  We settled her in, the house mom showed us around, and I hugged and kissed my daughter and started the long journey home, alone.

(Tried repeatedly to insert a picture here of Molly at the school... but Typepad won't let me today.)

 

Molly will be at Hope Christian Home and Academy for a minimum of one year.  Please pray that God reaches her heart in that time, and gives her the desire and ability to make a real change.  So she (and the other children) can be safe. 

As a friend pointed out, if my child had cancer, or diabetes, or any other physical ailment, we would go to any lengths we could to get her the help she needed.  These wounds of the heart and mind are just as ugly... just as threatening to her health and future.  We are doing what needs to be done, for her and for our whole family.  As difficult as that may be.

I got a letter from her last night...

------------------------------

Dear Mom and Dad and others,

Guess what aly's birthday was on friday. We got cake and ice cream. We got to whatch a movie. Its fine here. We have had big storms lately. one made the power go out. shcool schools been fine my teacher said I'm in 5th grade spelling.  I colored a picher pichor pichther for you and Dad, plese share it.

Love Molly

 

 

January 20, 2013 (Don't help)

This was too good not to share. My kids have struggles from their backgrounds, being adopted, other biological issues. They need to learn to overcome. They don't need to learn they can manipulate others to do their work... They need to learn that hard work reaps gratification and rewards.  

http://alameda.patch.com/blog_posts/please-dont-help-my-kids

Sent from my HTC One™ S on T-Mobile. America’s First Nationwide 4G Network.

January 21, 2013 (You're in the Navy now!)

Sam has had a history of stealing... Mostly candy at home, but also dice and things from school, Legos from friends' homes. This weekend was fraught with incidents of stealing candy, lying, carving into our table with his fork... And Gideon has deep anger issues, lashes out at his siblings, avoids taking responsibility for wrongdoing. This last week he stole a calculator from school with the intention of cheating on his math homework. His teacher blew it off as no big deal.

Today I'm filling out paperwork for a Navy cadet program for both of them. It's time. I will do anything I need to do to make these boys honest, responsible, good citizens.

Sent from my HTC One™ S on T-Mobile. America’s First Nationwide 4G Network.

January 19, 2013 (Perogies)

Colin made homemade perogies for dinner tonight. His ancestry is largely Polish, and he's a great cook. So much fun to have him take over cooking duties sometimes and enjoy a great meal!

Sent from my HTC One™ S on T-Mobile. America’s First Nationwide 4G Network.