Woo Pig Sooie, Betrayed

About the time my children began saying "mommy" and "daddy," their father and I also taught them to call the hogs.

It's just what you do in Arkansas.

You explain to your babies what a Razorback is, and you show them that when the boys play, you wear red and white and have big parties.  And you scream "WOOOOOOOOO.  PIG.  SOOIE."  as loudly as you can to show your love. 

When the kids ask why you say "because mommy bleeds Razorback red and so does daddy and now so do you."  Afterall, my kids' daddy and I have both lived here most all of our lives.  We both come from the land.  My family's acreage is in western Yell county lining up to the Ouachita National Forest.  Daddy's lineage traces straight up to Newton county in the heart of the Ozark Mountains. Our children were born in this state, and this is where they'll likely be raised.

('lil Razorback cheerleader)

(lil hog fan just before an Arkansas game..)

It's who we are.

So when the Razorback football team hits the field, there is an unspeakable, but very palpable, sense of pride and unity.  They represent each of us in a way unlike any other.  Win or lose, during those games, we are all one, we all come from the same place, and there is a strong sense of unity in this.  When they play, it brings us all together -- rich or poor, black or white, young or old.  On game days, we all share the same goal. 

And that's the beauty of it.

It's also why -- when we are betrayed like we were by this latest coach scandal -- it truly hits where it hurts.  And I believe every Arkansan was betrayed.

Betrayal comes in all forms.  By it's very definition, it means "to disappoint the hopes or expectations of; to be disloyal or to lead astray; to deceive."  I personally believe that coach's choices up in Fayetteville disappointed and deceived us all.  Yet I have absolutely no judgement because we are all human, and we are all frail, and we all make mistakes, and we all err all the time.  Judgement is for our maker.   Forgiveness and understanding is for us.  It is heartbreaking that so many people have been so deeply hurt in this mess because of the choices that two people made.  A wife, children, grandchildren, a fiance', an athletic director, athletes, fans, students, alumni... the entire state, really.  The two who made those choices are hurting too.  And it is my belief that when one soul is hurting, we all hurt.  It is part of humanity.  As is forgiveness and understanding....

I kinda think that's where we collectively go from here.  We forgive and move forward.  We keep calling those hogs.

And we teach our children to tell the truth no matter how tough it is.  And remind them constantly that every single action you take has a consequence.

Woo Pig Sooie!

Potty Mouth

Look at these presssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh babies at Wye Mountain playing in the daffodils. 

So sweet and innocent...

Beautiful angels in the bright yellow flowers.

Enough to make this mamma tear up realizing that her cubs will only be ages 5 and 3 once seeing this beautiful spring phenomenon.

I love 'em so... 

There are seriously times they grab me and hug me...or times I'm making up a bedtime story when they turn and say "I love you, maMMUH (gumming the 'm' sound).." or times when they look up at me and ask why something is the way it is, like why are carrots orange?  ...or times I overhear them telling their friends that their mommy is the best mommy because she makes us chocolate chip cookies from scratch and lets us eat the beaters.... that I just almost can't take the emotion it pulls out of me.  

It's usually about that time... when I'm welling up and my eyes get watery, when I've dropped to my knees in a prayer of thanks to God for allowing me to guide these two children... that they'll spit out the trashiest words their little mouths can.

Like the other morning.  Now, when they're good, we have what's called "Cafe" at Mommy's Diner.  That's when I take their play table and set it with plates and forks and spoons and cups and a homemade menu and pretend like I'm serving them.

"What would you like to drink for breakfast?" I ask.

"Orange juice and water with ice in it in my Hello Kitty sippy cup," says my high maintenance baby girl.

"Just milk, mamma," says my sweet boy.

They were chattering and pretty much just having the biggest, giddiest morning of all time when I brought in their drinks. 

And that's when they said it.

"Mommy is a POOPIE-DOODOO HEAD!"  Laughter erupts.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

At first, I ignore.  "What would you like to eat this morning, you potty mouth little rugrats?"  I ask with the straightest face I've got, despite actually wanting to laugh out loud.

"Mommy has POOP coming out of her mouth and her ears and her butt!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" 

That's it.

"Poopie!"  "DooDOO!"  "Brown yucky poop head!"

Seriously.  From these precious tiny mouths?

"Okay," barks stern, mean mommy.  "Time out.  No. More. Cafe."

Oh, the protest.  Crying and fits follow. 

We got over it, then I said the unthinkable.

"IF I hear one more potty mouth word, IF EITHER OF YOU has trash-mouth today, I'm washing your mouth out with SOAP."

I vowed I would never, ever do the very thing that was done to me when I talked trash at age 5.

No more potty words came....

Until about 4 that afternoon.  Kids were out back playing, and sure enough, a potty word was uttered.  From baby girl, no less.

Scooped her up, carried her into the bathroom and set her poopie butt down on the bathroom countertop.  She had her hands nearly glued over her mouth to keep this awful thing from happening.  She looked scared, and her eyes were wide.  If she only knew how HORRIBLE I felt for doing it.  Grabbed her hands and stuck the white bar of soap in between her tiny lips and scrubbed for a minute.

I expected tears and screaming and a whole lot of spitting.  But instead..................................................

She smiled.  And looked at me with her mischievous little eyes.  And said..................................

"Mmmmmmmmm.  Yummy."

WTF.  Are you f'in kidding me?

Then her older brother who insisted he watch the entire mouth-washing-with-soap incident go down.... goes "Mommy, I wanna taste the soap."

Really?  OMG.

Okay.  So that didn't work. 

Or................................................................................

maybe it did.  Because several days have passed, and I have not heard potty mouth chatter since one little girl's mouth was washed clean!

LMAO!  Ooops... I meant LOL.

Dear blog....

Please accept my most sincere apologies for literally dropping off the face of the earth.  I've had a lot going on.  But I know everyone who reads you has, too.  So for this, I am sorry.

Anyway, my babies have grown!  Here's a photo... Haven't they gotten big?  This was our Christmas picture, actually, with the caption "Love is all you need."  Isn't that the truth?

Well, I hope you'll have me back for regular updates.  I've missed you!

Sincerely,

TV Mom

Separation Anxiety

So, I actually looked it up.

According to the National Institutes of Health, separation anxiety is defined as "a developmental stage during which the child experiences anxiety when separated from the primary caregiver (usually the mother)."

Not sufficient.  Because I have a confession... It's not my 4-year old I'm worried about. 

It's me.

Bear with me, because there are a lot of firsts. 

For the first time in his short life, sweet boy attends school five days a week.  It's the first time he's been away from me every single morning since he was born (I am ever-grateful that my work schedule requires I show up only in the afternoons and evenings).   It's the first time he's been in a classroom with an assigned seat, an assigned folder with take-home notes, and assignments to bring from home.  It's the first time he has his own little friends.

And he likes loves every second of it.

I'm the one with the freak-outs.

Seriously, y'all. What is freakin' wrong with me?

First day of school.  Look at this sweet picture...

Jackson, me, and baby sister Keene

I'm the mess.  A wreck.  I look terrible.  He is the one who is calm, happy, and thrilled to be there.

When I went to kiss and hug him goodbye that first day, he kind of looked up at me with a strange face, as if to say, "okay, freak mom, you can go ahead and go now..."

Everytime I drop him off and everytime I pick him up, he has a smile on his face.  Not one time has he cried or complained.  Not once has he said he doesn't want to go.  Never has he screamed or said anything negative about his teacher or school.  In fact, it's just the opposite. 

He is always eager to show me his green "happy notes" that he gets when he's been good that day (he's gotten one every day since school started). ((and of course I couldn't resist bragging)).  He delights in showing me his artwork, the beautiful pictures he says he draws and paints "just for mommy."  He is always thrilled to see his darling teacher, Ms. Kristen.  And he always has a wonderful story to tell when the day is done

Jackson with Ms. Kristen

So, the separation anxiety isn't his.  It's mine.  Altogether mine.

I'm the one who' been sobbing.  I'm the one who's been lonely in the morning without my first-born.  I'm the one who absolutely, positively can't wait to see him at pick-up.  I'm the one who's adjusting as my little boy grows up.  I'm the one hanging on for dear life!

So, moms, HELP!  How do you cope with this? 

I want to keep him and love him and nurture him, as he says, "for all the days."  Protect him from the wrongs I know life will one day throw him.  Keep him from the meanies who make-fun.  Nurture him as only his mama can.

But I have learned this year, in a tough and unexpected way, that it's time to let go a little.  To release my hold, just a tiny bit.  To let others offer gifts to him that I cannot.  Let others love him and teach him.  I'm already seeing that he's blossoming.  And as a mom, that makes me so happy, so proud...

I love this quote by one of my favorite poets, Rainer Maria Rilke:  “We need in love to practice only this~ letting each other go. For holding on comes easily–we do not need to learn it.”

So true.  And so much easier said than done.

None-ya!

“What other people think about you is none of your business.” ~Unknown

I love that quote.  Wish I knew who said it so I could thank them. Because I've come to believe that any time spent worrying or fretting over another's judgement or opinion of you is wasted time.

The other night, it was hot.  In fact, the entire summer has been hot, the hottest in 60 years.  I was hot.  And I was hungry.  The show was over, it was seven o'clock at night, and my babies' daddy was on-call all night.  I wanted food and drink and rest, and my babies wanted me.  (Thank God for that, by the way, because there will be a day they don't want me and their bedroom doors get slammed in my face).  Anyway, instead of saunter inside, all hungry and sad, I ran in with a smile and said, "Get your shoes on, we're going to El Porton!"  They screamed.  "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  It was Friday night, afterall.  Who cares if we don't get to bed on time?

By the time we got there, it was eight-thirty, and by the time we got our food, the bar was bumpin'.  That's when I got the mean-mug.  The couple at the next table over kept watching me, each shaking their heads and tsk'ing.  I heard one say under their breath, "Shouldn't they be in bed?"

We were having a blast, meanwhile.  Cheese dip.  Crayons and coloring paper.  Yummy food and drink.  My 4-year old picked up a friend at the bar named Shemika.  Well, not really a pick-up.  But a sweet young woman who loved children and was so, so kind to us that night.  

Mean Couple kept staring, kept frowning, and each kept shaking their heads.  Whatever.  I wanted to smack 'em at one point, because for a split second I felt like a "bad mom" for keeping the kids up and out so late.  Was I bothering other diners?  Was it because we were sitting near the bar? But then, I looked over at my two babies, smiling so big.  They were so happy. 

In fact, a minute or so later, my 4-year old boy looked at me and said, "Mommy..."

"Yes?"

"I love you.  That's all."

  

I melted (it was hot, afterall)...

And that's when I realized that to pay attention to the people next to me was a waste of my time.  Any worry would steal away precious moments with my two cherished children.

But it's not just Mean Couple.  It happens all the time.  We moms all encounter those people at the grocery store who give a disapproving eye when our children are climbing out of the carts.  We face those mom-petitors who are constantly trying to one-up your child with their child's extra activity or skill or talent.  I've seen my married mom-friends worry about having a perfect little family to everyone on the outside for fear of judgement. I've watched my divorced mom-friends fret over people's judgement of them not having that perfect little family.  What is "perfect little family" anyway?  I know kids from divorced homes and kids from married homes who each grew up beautiful, loving people.

I wish for just one day, we would all stop worrying about everyone else and worry about ourselves.  What can we do each day to make ourselves better people, more grateful people, less judgemental, more compassionate?  Tough work, but better than running around talking about everyone else, don't you think?

A wise person once said to me "Until you walk a mile in another's shoes, you aren't allowed to judge or comment.  You have no idea what brought them to that moment, and you have no idea what pushed them to act as they do or be the way they are."

It was some of the best advice I've ever received. 

Home

In my job, I have a strict personal policy:  NEVER get emotionally involved in the stories you cover.  It's easier said than done.  But, over the past 20 years and after covering hundreds of stories, I have indeed put up a bit of a wall.  It's thin, but it's there.  And as a journalist, it keeps me from bias, helps foster compassion and non-judgement, and allows me to tell a fair story.

Then, my TV station news manager asked me to take over our adoption series, "A Place to Call Home."  And suddenly, it's as if my personal policy just quietly flew out the window. 

I should've known after the first shoot with this sweetheart, Courtney.

I cried on my way back from the Little Rock Zoo, which is where we shot our story with her.  Which also breaks another personal policy of mine:  NEVER cry at work.  I just believe personal business should stay personal and not become professional.

In the few days following our shoot, I found myself slightly irritable at work and at home, a little down, and sobbing when my children did something sweet.

Then, after a few days, my bad mood was over.  I just chalked it up to 'that time of the month,' it was getting hot out, whatever.

But then, it happened again, when I met these precious babies.

No mom. No dad.  Desperate to find a family to love them and care for them.  That's all they want.  And yet, in the afternoon I spent with them, you could never see their heartache.  They were so delightful, so innocent, so full of life.

That night and the two days that followed, I noticed I had low energy.  Just sort of down.  But I STILL didn't make the connection.

Not until I met three more sets of children -- did I figure it out.

Not after meeting the three siblings who hugged me...

... played and laughed with me at The Wonder Place.  We talked that day about what it would mean to have a family.

Not after introducing Marcus and Hailey to former NBA star Joe Kleine...

What a treat for them to eat their favorite barbeque and shoot hoops with a legendary professional athlete!

It happened after spending the day with darling Amy...

Apricot Girls Boutique hosted us, and 12-year old Amy was pampered!  She had her face painted, her hair spray-painted, and her nails done.  She sang karaoke, and she danced, two of her most treasured dreams.  But her biggest dream:  finding a mom and dad to love her for the long haul.  We laughed, and we cried together as she shared her heartbreaking struggle and her unwavering faith that a mom and a dad will come for her.

For me, more of the same mildly low feeling in the days to come.  But absolutely NOTHING compared to what these beautiful children have endured.
  
That's when I figured out that in those days that followed our shoots, our meeting these foster children, I was emotionally involved in their stories. It's impossible for me not to be, because, I, too, desperately want them to find families.  I want to take away their suffering, their pain.  As a mother, I want to take them in, make their struggles disappear, care for them, feed them, put a roof over their head, and most of all, love them, which is our most basic human need.

I love this Karl Menninger quote:  "Love is the basic need of human nature, for without it, life is disrupted emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically." 

I think for most of us, it is a natural human state to want to help and love others who cannot help themselves.  So, I suppose I will relax my rule of not getting emotionally involved in my stories, but just in this case. I will cry with and for these children, and I will laugh with them, too.  I will showcase their lives to the best of my ability, and tell their stories to anyone who will listen and watch. 

And I will pray --and then pray some more-- that loving families open their hearts and arms and bring these children home. 

This blog is dedicated to every foster child in the world, especially those in Arkansas state care.

Good thing green is his favorite color...

...because going to the dentist sucked today.

4-year old Jackson informed me on the way that if the dentist even tried to touch his suspect (i.e., decayed) tooth, he would bite him.

"No, you most certainly will NOT bite your dentist," I barked.

"But mommy... (long pause)... Yes. I will."

So, the bribes began early.  Because I can't have a child even thinking it's okay to bite his dentist.  Or anyone else for that matter.

McDonald's for breakfast, the promise of a special "treat" when all was said and done at the dentist's office, and the added pressure of setting a good example for little sister.

I was so stressed about this appointment.  Boy already had one cavity at age 3.  And getting that filled was a nightmare.  Needless to say, I was not looking forward to this adventure.

Still, in my mind, I'm trying to be positive:  We've only seen one spot that looks like a cavity, and he's just getting a cleaning today anyway.

Walked in with our sausage biscuits and hash browns (nice).  So far, so good.  It's a pediatric dentist's office, so there are toys and cartoons.  Even better.  They call his name for his X-ray, and he gets the GREEN frog chair.  Score!

Bless his heart. 

But honestly?  It's going so much better than I expected!  No meltdowns, no tantrums from either child.  Then, after his X-ray, sweet boy gets a GREEN toothbrush to take home, which excites him beyond measure...

AND he gets the little dental stall with the GREEN chair.  Thank God.

But just as I was whistling about how great things are going, the dentist has his look-see, and the news is not good.

Poor thing brushes twice a day, only drinks water and milk, and doesn't eat a whole lot of sweets.  But the dentist says he has "localized enamel hypo-dysplasia," which is a fancy phrase for rotten teeth.  It basically means the enamel on his teeth didn't "lay right" when his teeth were coming in, so he has rough spots where plaque builds up and causes decay.  The doctor showed me the spots and promptly informed me that he needs two silver crowns in the back and two, possibly three, areas filled.

Deep breath.  That's enough to make a grown man cry.   Meantime, little sis was taking it all in herself, eating her sausage biscuit.  Wonder what she's thinking?  Is she next?  Did her enamel "lay right?"

Regardless, I was so proud of my boy!  He did so well, he was so proud of himself, and I was proud of him.  No tears, no biting.  He walked out smiling, with his little bag filled with stickers, his GREEN toothbrush, and the treasure he got to pick.  I took him to Target like I told him I would for a "treat."  All the while, I was dreading the day he doesn't know is coming.  The one in 4 weeks, when he is sedated for crowns and fillings.

You can bet, that day, I'll be reminding him that GREEN is the best color ever, his favorite.  And the dentist's office has GREEN everywhere.