Overcoming the fear of Big Foot

It's New Year's Eve, folks. My Facebook is lit up with promises to loose weight, find a man, get closer to Jesus, pay off debt, etc. I've got friends hanging onto the slightest chance that 2014 will bring them a fresh start, a new "me". The truth is, I love my friends, just the way they are. They might want to lose a few pounds or read visit with Jesus a little more often, and I am all fine and dandy with that. But, what does it mean to be a new "me"? What does that include? Sounds painful. And, super duper hard. I hope my friends are just casually saying this to get by unscathed from the New Years Resolution band wagon. What if all my friends became "new" and I liked the "old" better. Humph. When did New Years become so complicating?

Speaking of complicating, try explaining the concept of New Year's Resolutions to four-year-olds. Seriously, it's hard. First, I made the fine distinction between a resolution VS a tradition. They assumed a New Year's Resolution was a firework, lol. Obviously, they are at the age to put New Years celebration and fireworks together. Yes, we recite the days of the week and months of the year every morning, but they don't understand the concept of a "new year". So, I explained to them a New Years resolutions was kind of like a promise to yourself (or maybe others). You are promising to change something about your self or your lifestyle. Luckily, none of my students are wanting to change their entire selves like some of my adult friends. My four year olds are perfectly comfortable with who they are. We could learn a lesson from them, eh? 

So, we did a craft where I let them decorate a piece of paper and I traced and cut out their hand prints. I took turns writing each child's New Years resolution on their hand prints, and, once they were finished decorating their paper, I glued their hand print promises front and center. Simple. Cute. I love cute, but not near as much as I love simple. Wise words of a teacher.

It's only fair that I dug deep down into my own messy, over-processed head and figured out at least- AT LEAST- two of my own New Years resolutions. Should be easy enough, right?

First and foremost, 2014 is looking to be a busy year for us. We are hoping within the first few months of this new year, we will wrap up our licensing process for fostering, and hopefully be placed with a child. That's a pretty big deal, so, I guess one of my 2014 New Years resolutions is to be a great, encouraging, positive-role-model-ish, fun-craft-making, yummy food creating, tuck into bed giving, memory making mother. You know, I want to be one of those poster moms for parenting except I want to be legit. I want to be that awesome mother making crafts and homemade cookies because, believe it or not, the laundry can wait until later.. 

Secondly, I don't want to become a "new" me. I believe I have a lot of positive traits, but I also know I have some negative ones that need fixing. I want to become absolutely, one hundred percent, comfortable... with being myself. I don't want to change myself. I just want to learn to accept myself, and to love myself for who I am. That way, maybe- just MAYBE- I can stop worrying so much about what people think about me. I let people drive me up the wall with their opinions, their judgments, and their "well, if you asked me..". That is the beauty of this life. I didn't ask you, and I am perfectly capable of living my life the way I chose to, because believe it or not, this is my story, not yours. In order for me to become comfortable with being myself, there is a lot of small changes that I must make. I am not going to list them all, because then I will become rather overwhelmed and then want to crawl into a hole until 2015. 

With that being said, I am extremely excited about this upcoming year. I can't give 2014 all of the glory though. Let me recap a few of the most awesome events in 2013. 

February 11th of 2013- I celebrated my one year anniversary at the child development center I work at. Sounds small, I know, but I am twenty-two years old and this is the longest job I've ever kept. Go me!

February 14th of 2013- My husband actually managed to send me flowers to work ON Valentine's Day. I didn't end up with the ONLY teddy bear left on the shelf with his mangled body and missing eye ball. One up, husband!

March 28th of 2013- I turned the big 22. No big change here other than cashiers at Publix don't have to strain the math in their heads to ensure in fact that I am over twenty one years old and I can certainly purchase they Pink Moscato. 

July of 2013- Dustin and I took our very first vacation together. We went to Atlanta and had a blast. Five days, four nights of pure relaxation as a couple. I hadn't left the state of Alabama since I was eight years old. That vacation was well overdo. I also sold my 2 door Saturn and bought a 4 door PT Cruiser all in one weekend. 

August 2013- I got a new batch of students at school. Last year I had all boys and three girls, this year I started with all girls and one boy. Super hero talk suddenly changes to Princess talk. I think I did well with the switch;)

September 2013- Dustin and I started the journey of foster care. We went in to orientation questioning the program and came out completely convinced this was our calling.

All in all, 2013 had it's up and it's downs, but I can honestly say my marriage has grown ten times stronger this year. Dustin and I have come such a long way. We were married at such a young age, and we had so many people doubt us, but we are going strong and I love him more each and every day.

So, bring it on 2014. I am ready for the ups and the downs, the curve balls and the delights! I am ready for whatever you had in store for me, because in the end I know God has a plan and I am living out His plan for me. But, for the first time in twenty-one years, I can honestly say I am headed in the right direction!

Speaking of New Years resolutions, my kiddos did pretty well with grasping the concept. I got a lot of "I will eat all of my vegetables" and "I will be nicer to my brother". The best one of all time is the one below... This kid has grabbed life by the horns. She is facing her fears, and isn't letting anyone stand in her way. Watch out Big Foot! 2014 is OUR year! 

Post-Depression-Christmas Syndrome

Christmas decorations started coming down tonight. Dustin is suffering from post-depression-Christmas-syndrome. It's hitting him much harder this year than previous years.. I am just happy to be putting up my new decor;) Still can't figure out what to do with my pink bird cage. Pictures to come!

Traditions, Tears, and Belly Aches

This year Dustin and I started a new Christmas tradition. We always struggle with splitting the holidays between my parents and his. I cannot begin to imagine how divorced parents manage splitting their children not only for holidays but every other weekend and such. Can you say, headache? This year we decided to load the dogs up and head South for Christmas Eve. We spent the night at my parent's home with the intentions of waking up and eating our traditional Christmas breakfast at my grandmothers- as we have every year since I was able to consume quiche. Speaking of traditions, we always make Christmas candy, and this year we did it on Christmas Eve. It was a blast! I tried several new recipes- one in particular called HillBilly Toffee. If you don't mind spending what might be the next six months in a sugar induced coma, then you will LOVE this recipe. Seriously, it's good but dangerous. No one said living on the edge every now and a then was bad, right? Lol. Seriously. Check this out. 

Look scrumptious? Oh, it is. Trust me. I am no expert cook, so for me to say this recipe was easy-peasy means this recipe was seriously easy. First, set your oven to 400 and line a cookie sheet with tin foil. You take a sleeve of saltine crackers and line them on top of the tin foil. In a medium size sauce pan, you boil 2 and a half sticks of butter and 1 and a half cups of brown sugar for three minutes. It will get foamy looking almost. Make sure you are constantly stirring. My husband warned me that this stuff can burn easily. In all seriousness, I timed three minutes on my iPhone just so I wouldn't mess this up. After the three minutes is up, you poor it on top of the crackers and put it in the oven for seven minutes. Once you take it out, you sprinkle it with Heath bar bits and chocolate chips. Let it cool completely and then break it into pieces. It's not going to break into perfect cracker pieces. It's hard- just like toffee, and man is it delicious. Just by me writing this post I had to sneak in the kitchen and grab a piece. Yummmmy. 

Anyhow, we ended up making this hillbilly toffee, peanut butter rice crispie treats dipped in chocolate, white chocolate pretzel, rice crispie, and nut balls, peppermint puppy chow (another idiot proof recipe), frozen bananas dipped in chocolate, buckeyes, oreo truffles dipped in white chocolate, white chocolate holiday popcorn mix, ritz crackers and peanut butter dipped in chocolate, and haystacks (Chinese noodle, butterscotch candy).

Seriously. We made enough candy to fuel Santa's elves for the next ten Christmases. 

We laughed and reminisced on past Christmases. I love this candy making tradition. Each year we start out strong, but by three hours in our peanut butter balls go from being the size of a ping pong ball to the size of a softball. Lol. After the third hour of double boiling almond bark we become tired and... then come on the belly aches.

The "I ate to much chocolate, licked to many spoons, tested to many peanut butter balls" belly ache. Oh, and man, this year it was full force. Lol.

I could have starred in a Pepto-Bismol commercial. 

Heartburn, nausea, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea! Yay, Pepto Bismol!

The night (or early morning for that matter) came to an end at two o'clock in the morning. Dustin and I dragged our chocolate stained faces into the guest bedroom which was decorated a few of my childhood memories. The full size bed is that of which I slept on growing up. In the corner of the room was the life size Tiger that my daddy won for me at Vision Land.

Let's stop there so I can explain that one- Long story, short.. I was about ten years old and we visited one of the new theme parks that opened a few hours from our home. We kept passing a small carnival game that featured a HUGE tiger from Winnie the Pooh. He was gigantic and I wanted him more than I wanted anything else in the world. The game was rigged, as most carnival games are. You had to be able to get a ball into a cup. Sounds easy, right? Not so much. In all reality, the ball is bigger than the cup so the odds of the ball fitting into the cup are slim to none. Not when your home team consist of God and Daddy. My dad paid the five dollars for his three chances. First chance. Fail. Second chance. Fail. Third chance? I prayed harder than I ever had, and believe it or not- and I have the Tiger to prove it- that ball went over the cup, bounced off the wall, and landed right into that tiny cup. WINNER. And who says God doesn't answer prayers? There ya' go folks. Sounds silly, but that's where my testimony of prayer blossomed. It works, folks. He listens. He provides. He is the All Mighty. 

Anywho, we strategically got comfortable on the full size bed and were out like a light. I woke up earlier than everyone else in the house, and I just sat in the living room crying.. A happy cry, none the less. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family, and I was given such a wonderful childhood of blessings, traditions, and fun. Yeah, it had it's ups and it's downs but the down's taught me something new every time. My parents taught me right from wrong. They taught me manners. They taught me how to be strong, how to stand up for what I believe in, and most of all to never give up on myself or my family. I had a great childhood, and though I am twenty-two now and have been out on my own for four years, I still feel the love from my parents. 

I want to give a broken child a childhood that I had. I want to show a child what love, family, hope, and God is all about. I want to show a child what it feels like to be loved by many. I feel like I have this awesome family, willing to welcome in a stranger and love them like a grandchild.. I am just ready to share memories like these with a foster child. Yes, I want children of my own, but I specifically want to help a child that wasn't as fortunate as me. I want to share these experiences with them. I want to show them my four foot Tiger and teach them that anything is possible through Christ. I want to show them how silly my Dad is and how loving my Mom is. I want them to have a belly ache- not because it's empty because they have been neglected food- but because they ate so much chocolate on Christmas Eve that they are miserable yet so, so, so loved. 

After everyone woke up and had their fair share of coffee, we headed to my grandmothers house for breakfast. I was devastated to find out there was no breakfast. Not because I was starving but because it was a Christmas tradition. I don't like quiche, but every year I would stomach eating sausage quiche just because my Mom had slaved over it for two hours. We would sit around the table, thank God for our many blessings, and tear into some biscuits and gravy. Afterwards we would pass out gifts and share more laughter and stories. This time there was no breakfast. No quiche. 

I don't want to get into any complicated family drama on here, so I will make this short and sweet. I grew up in my grandparents house. I was blessed enough to have two wonderful parents and two wonderful grandparents. My grandpa was my best friend, and though he has been gone for over ten years, God has given me the gift to remember every memory of him just like it was last week. He was a wonderful man, and he and I shared a close relationship. I was devastated when he passed, confused almost. I was eleven years old, and maybe I didn't accept his passing as I should have, but, hey, I was young. I lost him, physically, but I had the memories of him and the material things he left behind to help me feel his lingering presence. 

Within the past few years his house has changed. My uncle, whom lives with my grandmother, has changed so much around. And, it makes me so angry. I want everything to stay the same. I don't want anything to change. I want every piece of furniture left in the same spot just as if nothing had ever changed. Just as if, I could wake up and it'd be Saturday morning, the smell of pancakes cooking would be lingering in the air, and my Papa would be calling my name for breakfast..

I know that's never going to happen, but I didn't want to come to terms with it. When I was missing Papa and needed to fill that hurt in my heart, I would go to Grandma's house. I'd sit where his chair once sat, and take in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of the house I once grew up in.

But, things changed.. The house is filled with unfamiliar furniture and trinkets. The kitchen resembles that of a green house- seriously? Ugh.

It wasn't until this Christmas that I realized I had been holding onto these things to fill a void that I've got to come to terms with. My papa has been gone for over a decade, and no matter how perfect and untouched his house stays, he isn't going to walk in the front door. 

I was so angry that we weren't sitting down for breakfast on Christmas morning. It's another one of those things I wasn't willing to let go of. If we didn't have Christmas breakfast, if Papa's chair wasn't set at the head of the table, how would I feel his presence on Christmas morning? 

We went straight into opening presents, and call me crazy but I knew my grandpa was in that front living room with us. I felt him, and I was finally able to let go of things I've tried to hold onto for 10+ years. I felt like a child trying to hold a handful of bright colored balloons in a hurricane. The balloons were slipping away one by one and I was crying out, begging God to bring the balloons back. But, the thing is, the balloons will always be in my heart. Those memories I have of my grandfather will always be with me no matter what furniture inhibits his house- no matter what traditions are broken- no matter how many plants my uncle crams into the kitchen.

So, I let the balloons go, and I feel relived. My uncle is free to decorate the house with leopard print couches if he pleases. My grandpa lives in my heart, not in that house on Hinkle Road. I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize this. Oh, well, better now than later.

My grandmother is an amazing woman also. She is a strong willed woman with an intense love for God. She has been a member of the LDS church since I can remember, and she is the closest thing on this Earth to perfect. Ever since she's had her stroke, her speech has weakened and she has lost a little bit of the light that once shown in her eyes. When she speaks, I listen (and normally take notes). Here are my notes from Christmas-

Grandma told me a personal story about a child that was bouncing on one of those bouncy balls with the rubber handle. She said the mother kept telling him to get off the bouncy ball, stop bouncing in the house, go outside and play with that, STOP IT I SAID! The little boy was reluctantly saying, "No! You cannot make me!" and after several of these disrespectful remarks the mother got up, went to the kitchen to get a butcher knife, and stabbed that bouncy ball several times until it was lifeless, lacking air. The little boy was terrified. The mother loved her son and had never hurt him physically or emotionally. She was a good mother. She had acted spontaneously and that small decision she made to pop that ball stuck with the child for years. He was terrified of balls and butcher knives! That's a small memory that little boy will hold onto forever. 

She told me this to remind me how something simple, that maybe we, as adults, don't think is that big of a deal can have a huge impact on a child. Even if it wasn't directed towards a child, maybe they witnessed something or overheard something. 

I have all of these amazing memories of my parents and my childhood. With taking on this fostering adventure, I am just hoping that when these children grow up that they can look back and have memories of fun times when they felt loved and happy. I hope that maybe they can take something they learned or experienced from our home and incorporate into their own lives as they grow up and have their own family. I hope they tell stories to their children about fun Christmases spent with their foster family.

The thought of them leaving my home with a bad memory plaguing their mind scares me to death. I struggle with the thought that some of these children will come to me not interested in school (because they were never taught to put forth effort in academics). What if I have to be the bad guy and enforce strict rules about school attendance, participation, and grades? Most of these kids lack discipline and it's our job as stand-in parents to teach them right from wrong, to show them proper discipline techniques, and to be their parents first, friend later. I've got to be tough but soft. I've got to understanding but firm. I've got to do an awesome job because it's my job to turn these child's lives around. Whew, what a concept.

In other news, I bought a pink bird cage. What should I put in it? Birds terrify me. But, pink bird cages are adorable. I am thinking, plant maybe? Hmm... 

Merry Christmas from Mom and Dad

Dustin and I really enjoyed spending time with both of our family this year. We might have started a new tradition. We always struggle over splitting Christmas into two time slots so we get to spend time with both families equally. This year we decided to load the dogs up and go spend the night at my parent's house on Christmas Eve. I hadn't spent the night under my parent's roof since I moved out at age 18- so four years to be exact. I was excited. Lol. We spent Christmas Eve cooking yummy Christmas candy. We laughed and reminisced on past Christmases and various memories. The dogs got to get some much needed love from grandpa and grandma, and I got some much needed family time with my family.

Funny story. I am a list maker- everyone knows that. I had made a million list of things we had to pack in the Cruiser- just for one night! Lol. We had to pack everyone's presents, the ingredients for Christmas candy, my overnight bag, my favorite pillow and blanket that I cannot sleep without, my dogs crate and leashes and junk, and Dustin's clothes. I checked the list a million times while we were loading up. Dustin was in charge of transferring the Christmas candy groceries from his car to mine. He had one task at hand. And he failed. Lol. We got to the parents house and realized we were missing marshmallow fluff, chocolate, and powdered sugar. Guess what is in the back of Dustin's car? Marshmallow fluff, chocolate, and powdered sugar. Lol. Oh, well. Good thing WinnDixie was open. 

Dustin was SO mad at me- which he was really just mad at himself for forgetting the bag and having to get back out in the cold weather. I was SO mad at him for forgetting the bag. He stored off to WinnDixie and my sister mentioned how that was a reason why she is never getting married. Incident's like those are exactly WHY I got married. Before he could get back to the house, we were both giggling at the situation. He would do anything for me, as I would him. 

My parents got me an awesome Shark handheld vacuum cleaner- specifically for people who own pets. That's us! Yay! I knew just what I was going to vacuum up first! Our vacuum cleaner is excellent, but it's big and bulky and doesn't really get up against the base board. The other night I made a mistake of leaving a bag of sweet heat barbecue chips on the nightstand. Guess who else loves sweet heat chips? Ants. I swear I killed 9000 of them that night. My vacuum wouldn't get close enough to the base board to suck the dead ants up. The Shark worked perfectly. I love it. You know you're getting older when household appliances make you happy. 

We also got some super soft hounds tooth sheets that Tinker has already tried out for comfort. I got the necessities socks, makeup, brushes, hair ties, etc. I can always count on Santa to make sure I am stalked up for the year. Dustin got an awesome flash light and knife set- on top of a five pound bag of his favorite candy- Sour Patch Kids. 

Santa also had some cash for us;) The bills keep piling up but I made a pact with myself that I would NOT spend that money on bills or groceries. I rarely do for myself, honestly. I have been so busy making sure we've got everything for the foster care licensing that I've done without the past few months. I decided that once we took down all of the Christmas decorations we would be lacking in home decor. So, I love decorating and with that mind set- I set off to Ross today. And, boy did I bargain shop! I got some awesome pieces! A lot of the things I picked were half off! I am stoked and can't wait to put them up! ;) 

Boycotting Society

I have been meaning to blog about how awesome my Christmas was- and I will do that (but maybe not until this weekend). For now, I've got to vent to someone about how ungrateful, disrespectful, materialistic, borderline evil men and women can be. Not all of them- let me make that point very clear. And guess comes out of ungrateful, disrespectful, materialistic, borderline evil men and women? Ungrateful, disrespectful, materialistic, borderline evil children. 

And when do ungrateful, disrespectful, materialistic, borderline evil children's claws really come out?

Christmas. Or, excuse me, these children like to call it X-Mas..

Let me explain to you the difference between x-mas and Christmas. 

Christmas is a time to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Christmas is when you have the chance to relax beside a beautiful Christmas tree with joyful Christmas music plays in the background while you ponder the blessings God has put into your life. People spend countless hours trying to find the perfect gift to show how much they appreciate the people in their lives, whether they are coworkers, friends, service men and women, teachers, or family. Christmas is when you spend time with your family while you make memories and traditions that you will pass down the line of generations. Christmas is when watching movies in your pajamas while drinking hot cocoa is a must, and the cold weather makes scarves and layers of clothing a necessity. Christmas has it's own distinct smells- turkey cooking in the oven, peppermints, cinnamon, apple pie, sugar cookies, and more. I love everything about Christmas. I love the lights, the music, the decorations, the anticipation of awaiting Christmas morning, the joy of spending time with your family, and the giggles and whispers about Santa. I love Christmas.

Now, let me explain to you what X-Mas is.

X-Mas is when you spend every waking hour in retail shops trying to buy the biggest and best Christmas presents for your children or whoever not because they deserve them or because you want to show your appreciation of them, but because it's "go big, or go home" or because you think money buys all things. You spend so much time out shopping that you forget to count your blessings- you forget to take the time to stop and enjoy the smells, the traditions, the "umph" of Christmas. You realize you don't even have your Christmas tree decorated and it's three days before Christmas (oh, wait, X-Mas). X-Mas is when you are to busy on the phone in the store's check out lines to smile and wish your cashier a Merry Christmas. X-Mas is when you're so stressed out that you accidentally run a red light and almost crash into a mini van. X-Mas is when you are lucky if you get to catch five minutes of the five o'clock news. Screw Christmas movies! X-mas is when the only Christmas carols you've heard all season are those that you are lucky enough to hear over the madness of people talking and the beeping of the checkout line in Walmart. X-mas is when your children are more busy demanding what they want Santa to bring them. X-Mas is when your children grow up knowing NOTHING about the birth of our Savior. X-Mas is when you fear your child will be kicking and screaming if they don't get that Barbie dream house even though they just unwrapped Barbie's universe! 

Which sounds better to you?

Why am I on this rampage? Because I am disgusted by the amount of "tweets" and bashing from all ages towards the UPS and Fedex workers. There are all of these YouTube videos where children are YELLING at the top of their lungs because parents had to tell them their presents aren't actually here yet- that they are in some truck awaiting delivery. These children are pitching these huge fits, turning to Twitter to degrade UPS drivers- claiming they "ruined their X-mas". Seriously? What about the children out there that are NOT getting Christmas presents? There presents aren't just going to be late- they AREN'T coming at all! You don't see these kids posted on Facebook YELLING at their parents complaining about what they didn't receive on Christmas morning. Geeze.

Children die on Christmas. Death doesn't just take a holiday off. I know that sounds brutal, but that's the reality of things. What about the children that lost their lives on Christmas. Now, there "X-mas" was ruined. The families of these lifeless children Christmas' is ruined. What about the homeless people? What about the families that lost their homes from a fire? or the ones freezing up North? What about the families that loos a loved one from an automobile accident? 

Your Christmas wasn't ruined because of Fedex. 

Teach your children the meaning of Christmas.

God sent his ONLY son to this Earth to die. If the birth of Jesus had never happened, not only would we not have Christmas but we wouldn't have the promise of eternal life. We wouldn't have a forgiving Father in Heaven that forgives us for our mistakes. We wouldn't have salvation. We wouldn't have the blessings that we all experience daily. We wouldn't have ANYTHING.

We also wouldn't have Fedex workers willing to put in 60+ hour work weeks to deliver gifts to people- even if they are a little late.

Wake up, people. 

Christmas is over. Santa might not technically be "watching you".. but guess who is?

God.

Let's be honest. Are you on his nice or naughty list? 

Are you ready?

People keep asking me, "Are you ready?" Here are a few answers to that question..

Am I ready for Christmas?
Yes, Yes I am. Dustin and I waited until the last minute, and we managed to get all shopping done within two days. We went to four stores total, and everyone is knocked off the list. We had the privilege to shop for my husband's cousin's children, and we have come to the conclusion that we are still children ourselves. We were getting excited when we'd find a toy that lit up, made noise, or projectile-shot something from across the room. (Bless the parents that children unwrap those gifts Christmas morning) We were even more excited when we found out everything was fifty percent off. I came to conclusions that Black Friday is a scam. In all actually, everything on sale on Black Friday is going to be on sale two days before Christmas also. Silly marketing.

Am I ready for a zombie apocalypse? 
No. I am about capable of running from this computer table to the bathroom and then I am out of breath. Zombies are going to catch me. I've come to realization of that. 

Am I ready for a slow week at work including two off days for the holidays? 
Yes, Yes I am. Praise you baby Jesus!

Am I ready to make Christmas candy with my family?
Yes! I have been drooling over these recipes for almost a week now. We braved the crazy bustle of people last night to pick up the ingredients to these heavenly sent recipes. I am super excited about making candy and spending some much needed family time with my husband and my family.

Am I ready to clean my house before the holidays?
No, which is why I am stalling by writing this post;)

I know all the answers to these questions, but I know people aren't asking me am I ready for Christmas or a zombie outbreak.    

They are asking me if I am ready to be a foster parent.

Let's see. I've completed my GPS course. I've bought and mounted a five pound fire extinguisher. I got the dogs updated on their shots. I got my TB skin test and physical out of the way. I turned in 38499238 pages of paperwork. I took a water safety course. I signed up for a home phone. I baby proofed every inch of the apartment. I successfully stalked up on clothes ranging from newborn to size six in both boys and girls. I've locked up every chemical and "keep out of reach of children". I printed out and hung a fire safety plan. So, have I completed everything? Yes, I've completed everything besides my last in-home visit. (Which, by the way, is next month. We are waiting for the holidays to pass)

So, am I ready to be a foster parent? No. 

I am an observer. I observe people while I am in public. I observe families and how they interact with each other. I observe how parents discipline their children in public. I watch television shows depict how a family works. I read blogs about foster families- the ups and the downs. I read books- fictional and nonfictional- about foster families. I've read parenting books. I listen to friends and families talk about their children- the good and the bad. I am scared to death.

I keep thinking that foster parents have to be perfect, cookie-cutter parents molded from the winners of Mom and Dad of the Year. 

Terrifying.

I am not a parent. I am diving into this parenting thing from the deep end of the pool. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing 1) I am not diving in alone- my husband is right there with me. And, 2) God is our life-savor (literally) therefore I am not afraid of drowning. 

I am bad about only seeing things from the outside. For instance, I keep getting these beautiful Christmas cards in the mail of these beautiful families at my school. There pictures are literally picture-perfect. Everything is nice and neat. There house is perfect. 

I guess I just want confirmation that it's okay to have a sink full of dishes (that might have been sitting there and piling up since Wednesday). I want to know that there are parents out there that have to run a load of laundry again because it's sat so long it soured. I want to know that there are parents out there that's dirty laundry pile resembles that of a Hannah Home box. I want to know that there are parents out there that can't remember what day of the week it is, never the less what they had for breakfast. I want to know that there are parents out there that do feed their children McDonald's for dinner because they are just to plain tired to cook that lasagna or spaghetti. I need to know that there are parents out there that let there kids still watch cartoons on Saturday morning while they eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the couch and before you know it realize its four o'clock in the afternoon and they are still in there pajamas. I want to know that there are parents out there that often times don't know exactly what their doing, they are just relying on love, luck, and God to get them through. 

I need to know that being a foster parent- or parent in general- doesn't require a perfect parenting class. Because, if it does, I missed it. 

Can I get an extensision.... on Christmas?

Christmas is thirteen days away. I think that is right. Is today the 12th? I've lost count. 

I haven't bought any Christmas presents. I haven't cooked any Christmas candy. I haven't sent out any Christmas cards. I haven't done anything. At all. The only thing I've done is eat two holiday shakes- one from sonic and one from Dairy Queen. 

Honestly, I am tired. I am in the Christmas spirit, I just don't have the energy or money, honestly. We've been busy paying bills, and we just didn't budget for Christmas this year. This time last year, we had presents galore. Ugh. Weren't we just celebrating Halloween the other day? 

I am hiding in my bedroom, under the covers, with a glass of wine and my iPad. I need to be cleaning house and doing laundry, but I can't find the energy to get out from under these warm covers. It's been an awfully long week, and I've got to work Parents Day Out tomorrow morning. 

Santa came to school Thursday. I wonder if I was scared of Santa as a kid. The Santa that visited Noah's Park looked (and sounded) like the real deal. No fake beards here. I was tempted to sit on his lap and ask him for a magical, cleaning fairy. Funny thing is, when Santa made the "ho, ho, ho" noise, my stomach turned and for a second I was sincerely frightened. Like, I was scared to death for a split second. I seriously think I uncovered some memory of being severely traumatized by Santa as a kid. 

The kids thought Santa was super cool. But, the kids thought one of our friends new hair-dos was much cooler... One of our friends had Rudolph shaved into the side of his head. Seriously. My students thought this was the collets thing since breast milk. Hah. See what I did there? Instead of wanting a Barbie dream house or a remote control helicopter, all of my kids want a "reindeer stamp" on their head. Hah. I am either going to come back from Christmas and kids are going to be super disappointed or I am going to come back to a lot of very interesting hair styles. I can see it now- I am going to have all of santas reindeer shaved in my classes hair. Fun times ahead, either way. 

And, last but not least, one of my parents have been trying to teach their son about giving to people who don't have as much as them, basically charity work and such. When I was talking to him he said, "I am giving to the poor. The ones who don't have a house or insurance." 

Parenting... SHE is doing it right. 

Working on that cannon ball...

Tonight Dustin and I are taking our water safety course at the Hoover recreational center. I am very proud of ourselves for being able to set up all of these appointments and actually getting things done in order to be licensed. 

With that being said, I wonder what that lady would say if I showed up in a complete water suit with flippers and swimmies around my arms!?!? 

I don't think they actually require us to get in the water (thank God) but it would be awesome to show a professional my cannon ball I worked on all summer.

Christmas Shirts

I absolutely hate doing Christmas shirts. I hate doing ANYTHING eighteen times to be exact. Ugh. Just another joy of being a teacher...

Anyways, this year's Christmas shirts feature a footprint Santa and a hand print Rudolph and some thrown together Christmas lights. What do you think? 

Oh, and this week we are doing reindeer. I hate the idea of having to do five days of reindeer crafts. There are much more cuter craft ideas. Hmmm, maybe like SANTA! Erg. Made this bad mood will leave when the rain does! Sure hope so! 

Monday, why you so cruel?

It's raining. It's been raining for almost a week straight now. I use to love the rain... I developed a love/hate relationship once I started working at NP. Can you imagine being inside with eighteen three year old's for six days straight? It's enough to drive someone mad... Or, drive someone to drink an entire bottle of pink mosocato..

I woke up with a God awful headache. The kind of headache that is sensitive to light, noise, smells, breathing, etc. It was right above my left eye brow, and it was pounding harder than a jack hammer.. I managed to pull my hair into a pony tail and draw on my eye liner. Before I knew it, I was dragging myself to bed and setting my alarm clock for twenty minutes out.

My head hurt so bad that I don't even think I slept for those twenty minutes. I think I was delirious. I was day dreaming about my boss knocking over a bottle of mountain dew, and while I was helping her clean it up I smelt alcohol. I soon discovered an apple flask on her desk... I have absolutely no idea what that had to do with anything. I found myself looking for an apple flask today. No prevail. 

Once my alarm clock sounded- which also gave my headache a big thump- I literally was running out of the door. I got into my car and my car didn't want to crank. 

Great.

It finally cranked and after driving .3 miles to work (seriously, I live that close) I cranked the car six more times with no problem. Maybe it just hates the rain too...

Not even an hour after getting to work, I got a text from my husband saying his father was at the hospital after passing out from being sick. This was the final blow to top this Monday off as a totally, suckish Monday in the book of totally, suckish Mondays. 

I don't know much about Dustin's father's condition as of right now. They have a few spots on his kidneys that require a biopsy to determine whether or not they are cancerous. 

With that being said, keep The Rogers in your prayers. I have no doubt whatsoever that God is in control. I am totally giving this totally, suckish Monday to Him. I know He's got this under control. 

Why do you want to foster?

The amount of paperwork leading up to becoming a licensed foster parent is ridiculous. I write just like I speak, so, naturally, my "short answer" questions end up being eight paragraphs. I know our licensing agent just loves reviewing my homework. Hah.

One of the most asked questions that we keep having to fill out over and over and over again is, "Why do you want to become a foster parent?".

We were the youngest couple in our GPS class by 10 years, probably. I was intimidated by this the first few classes, but I quickly learned that just because I don't already have children that doesn't mean I can't be a good foster parent. 

A lot of times people assume that I cannot have children, which is why I entered foster care. From what the doctors tell me, I can have kids. I have a regular, monthly cycle though being overweight could make conceiving difficult. I want kids of my own someday. I very much want to have a house full of my own children, but, until then, I want to know I am helping children in my own community. Whatever foster children that we have the privilege of parenting were put in our lives by God, and I know he has a reason for everything, so here I am... filling out paperwork... -taking safety courses... and baby-proofing my apartment. So, yes, I can have children of my own. Don't forget, people, I am only twenty-two years old. This baby making factory isn't going to be shut down for years to come, so I have time. My biological clock is not ticking out of control. 

As I was saying above, I am a firm believer that God puts certain people in your life for certain reasons. One of those particular people would be my husband. My husband was born and raised in Florida. I was born in South Carolina but raised in Alabama. My husband didn't move to Florida until he was nineteen. I didn't meet him until he was twenty-three. We met through a random myspace search. Nerdy, huh? Anyways, we met in November of 2008 and met up that following month on New Years Eve. What if his parents hadn't decided to move to Alabama? What if my parents hadn't decided to move my sister and me to Alabama? Dustin and I wouldn't have ever met, therefore Dustin wouldn't have ever had such an amazing wife :) I am kidding, but not really ;) God put us in each other's lives. We married very young. We literally started from the bottom, and had a very, very hard first year of marriage where we survived off Ramon Noodles and the love we had for each other. We fought, we argued, we cried, we yelled, but we made it. We are very blessed to be where we are today. We may not have the nicest living room furniture and our dishes may not match, but we are extremely blessed and we've worked very hard for what we have. Dustin and I was at each other's throats this morning while we were bopping and weaving threw traffic to find a parking spot for the Christmas parade, but not two minutes later we were laughing and holding hands while enjoying the holiday festivities. He was made for me, as I was made for him. 

Now, back to why we decided to foster. 

In February of 2011, I started working at a childcare center in Alabaster. That following summer, I was introduced to three blonde haired kids that forever changed my life. For privacy sake, I will call them Prancer, Dancer, and Rudolph. (Tis' the season, right) Prancer, Dancer, and Rudolph were very quite and shy when they first started. I had immediately attached myself to Rudolph. Rudolph was much older than his age, and he was very much protective over Prancer and Dancer. I realized that Rudolph never took his eyes off Prancer and Dancer when they were on the playground playing with the other kids. Within just a few weeks of being around them, I found myself saddened that Rudolph never relaxed enough to actually enjoy being a kid, instead he was always tense and watching out for Prancer and Dancer. Months passed by and I could tell Rudolph was beginning to feel more comfortable at school and their behaviors had changed (for the better). Rudolph, Prancer, and Dancer had awesome foster parents that invested their lives into the foster children that came into their homes. I quickly fell in love with foster mom! She was a beautiful lady on the inside and out. She was soft spoken and friendly. She could tell I was interested in knowing more about fostering. I was moved that this couple would take on these triplets, and give them the love, attention, and home they deserved. She invited me to orientation for foster care, but I didn't show up. I was scared. I let my anxieties get the best of me, and I changed my mind on attending just a day in advance. The triplets soon left for kindergarten, and that was that. That chapter of the book was closed before it ever opened.

Until that following summer rolled around...

To my delight, the triplets were coming back to the center for summer care! Yay! I was very excited (but nervous that they wouldn't remember me). I remember the first day they were back. I walked into the classroom and they were just as excited to see me as I was to see them! But, to my surprise there was one more! Oh, wow! To stick with the reindeer theme, I will name her Blitzen. Blitzen was a beautiful brown haired, brown eyed girl. Blitzen was shy at first also, but I could tell she wanted the same amount of attention that everyone else was getting. I soon fell in love with Blitzen also, and before long I was calling them the quadruplets. Again, I was AMAZED at how awesome this foster mom and dad were to bring yet another foster child into their home while still fostering the previous group of children. I am telling you folks, these people are God sent! Foster mom invited my husband and I to the GPS classes again, but this time I committed. I didn't care how nervous or scared I was. I was going to go and we were going to "consider" foster care because I had this overpowering feeling telling me I HAD to help children in our community. I had to be that person that made a difference in a child's life. I soon realized that "overpowering feeling" was the Lord telling me- open your eyes silly! This is part of my "plan" for you! If it wasn't for these amazing foster parents, I would have dumbly ignored God yelling at me- WOOO-WHOOO! Over here! This calling is meant for you! 

We went to the orientation to "consider" foster care. We left orientation KNOWING we were meant to foster. We didn't chose fostering, fostering chose us.

God sent me Rudolph, Prancer, Dancer, and sweet, sweet Blitzen into my life along with two pretty awesome foster parents to guide me through the way. It's funny that I chose reindeer names for the foster care's privacy, when in all reality those four foster kids were my inspiration this entire time and they are guiding us through this journey just like reindeer guiding Santa on Christmas Eve. 

My husband is such a great man. I don't give him enough credit. He is supporting my decision to foster one hundred percent. Yes, he has met the "reindeer" but he doesn't have the connection that I have with them. Fostering (and parenting in general) is terrifying to us. Though my husbands answer to why you have chosen to foster might very well be, "because my wife wants too", I am so blessed that he trust me enough to lead him and show him that this opportunity is a calling from God. We haven't even completed the licensing stage yet and we've already seen the blessings in disguise. We've grown together as a couple so much already, and I will forever be grateful that God sent me those four reindeer and those awesome foster parents. 

During the GPS classes, we are taught how to be "loss experts". They try to get us to understand that these children coming into our homes are loosing their parents, brothers and sisters, pets, homes, neighbors, friends, communities, etc. This is a big, scary change for them. In their eyes, they are loosing everything. They focus a lot of preparing foster parents to take care of any lashing out or behavioral acting out due to this change. They teach us signs to look for and how we can make the foster child more comfortable while in our home. They teach us lots of ways to help prepare the foster child to leave our home (once again they are loosing something) and go back to their own home. They teach us all these ways to become loss experts, but I don't feel like they teach us how to cope with loss ourselves. We've had this child in our home for however long, treating them like our very own children, and now we are loosing them. Though it's a glorious thing to have a child reconnected to their birth family, it still sucks for us. I know, I know. That's what foster care is all about- reconnecting children with birth families. Just because I know that, doesn't mean it doesn't suck any less.

This week I've been able to witness just how bad it sucks. 

And, man, does it suck.

Blitzen got to go home yesterday.. I have been praying so hard these past few days for Blitzen and Blitzen's family. I have been praying for Rudolph, Dancer, and Prancer. I've been praying for these wonderful foster parents. I've been praying for myself. I know God is like I'VE GOT THIS WOMAN, but, man, this stinks. 

We went to the Christmas parade this morning. Dancer was in the Christmas parade on a float for an extra curricular activity she does. I am use to seeing Blitzen with Dancer...

Man, this sucks. 

In other news..

I finally heard back from our licensing agent at DHR. She confirmed that we, in fact, had to take a water safety course due to the fact that we have a pool on the premises of the apartment complex. Really? The pool isn't viewable from our apartment. Not to mention, it's behind pad locked gates and you must go through the office to even reach the gate. I guess it doesn't help that all was said is, yes, you've got to take one. No answer to when, where, what time, who?!? 

I checked Red Cross's website and they don't offer a community class teaching water safety. I called them and they referred me to YMCA. I called YMCA and the lady I needed to speak with wasn't in the office. Go figure. I'll call again tomorrow.

I called another one of the ladies that taught our GPS class and she doesn't think we should have to take it since it's not technically in our backyard. She referred me to the director of DHR. She also referred me to the YMCA if I do in fact have to take the class. I couldn't call the director today, but I am going to try and email him. I don't want my licensing agent to think I don't trust her word, but I want to double check before I go through the trouble of finding a class, paying $50, and getting into an ice cold pool in December. Surely they don't make you do a swimming portion in December...? Agh. 

On the flip side, I got another changing table today. This way I can put one in the room and one in the bathroom. I need one in the bathroom so I can stack the baby towels and stuff on it. I also got a very nice purple bumbo seat with snack tray. All of that for ten bucks;) mega score in my book. 

Hoping to find answers tomorrow...

Oh, and it looks like she won't be doing her next in-home study till after Christmas :( 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

Sweet baby Jesus

Today we made candy canes and attached a poem about Jesus. I read the poem to the kids, and shortly after art, the kids were passing around a baby doll taking turns burping "sweet baby Jesus". I love children's imaginations. 

I had a parent thank me for incorporating Bible stories into our daily lessons. That's just one of the perks of working for a ministry. I need to hear the Bible stories more than the kiddos sometimes:) 

Another art curtesy of Pinterest;) 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.... in my classroom...

Do you know how many times I write Merry Christmas in the month of December? Probably 3834723958392 times! Seriously.

We've started doing making Christmas crafts in the classroom. This week's theme is Candy Canes and Gingerbread. We focused on Gingerbread men and houses on Monday and Tuesday. Tomorrow we are making Candy Canes. 

I am excited about Friday. We are having a gingerbread man decorating party. Let the fun times roll!

Enjoy the pictures of our artwork;) I got all of my ideas from Pinterest. Hah. I admit, I wouldn't creative without the P! 

So, it's kinda strange that the gingerbread men technically have three legs, but, hey, it looks pretty cute, right? 

This is our gingerbread houses. Once you do an art with a class, you suddenly realize where mistakes were made. My mistake? I shouldn't have let them color them multi colors. I really shouldn't have let them use markers. The markers kind of ran when mixed with the wet paint. I think the white handprints (which are suppose to be the icing simulating snow on a gingerbread house) would have shown up better had the roofs been brown. Oh, well. You live and you learn. 

Fed up.

I refuse to angry post of Facebook just because I don't feel like putting up with the idiots that feel overly confident behind a computer screen. I've got a proposal for the Facebook corporate people- there should be a IQ requirement or an online test people must pass before going public. I know, I know, everyone is entitled to their opinion, but HOLY CRAP some should keep it to themselves. Normally I would gripe and groan about grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, but, honestly, if I use my crappy android to type a sentence nine times out of ten there is an error because of stupid autocorrect. My fingers go faster than my iPad keyboard, and I am constantly misspelling words or forgetting commas. The only time my work is great is when I type it from the computer with the television off so I can solemnly focus on what I am typing. So, I can't gripe and complain about the lack of English knowledge these idiots on Facebook have, because I've been known to have a few errors myself, but i am about to blow this post up about ignorant, naive, uneducated people whoe are constantly letting their two sense fall out, sloppily, all over the table where it's NOT needed. 

You've guessed it, this is going to be one angry post that has nothing to do with anything important other than me releasing some pint up anger after scrolling through Facebook.

And, yes I know, this is ridiculous, but I don't care. And, for the record, I deleted thirty three people off my so called friends list this morning and the day is still young!! 

First of all, let's start with the most talked about topic on my feed- football. Yesterday was the iron bowl and for all of my non-Alabama readers, that's when the states rival teams play each other. Long story short, Alabama (number one ranked team) sucked, Auburn played much better, therefore Alabama lost and Auburn won. It was a good game. The state of Alabama has some awesome football players brewing in Tuscaloosa and Auburn. They have die hard fans that come together with their friends and family every Saturday to yell and hollar at the television screen in hopes that their team dominates. I love football because it's an automatic reason to get together with your friends and family. It's an automatic reason to eat unhealthy, tail gating foods and drink just a little to much wine. It's a reason to yell at the top of your lungs for both good and bad victories. It's a passionate time for fans, players, and coaches. I love Alabama football because it's what I was grown up around. My daddy was an Alabama fan, therefore, it's in my blood. I love houndstooth, and I look rather good in crimson if I must say so myself. And, to be completely honest I hate the color orange. Football is football. 

Last night a young woman lost her life at a football party in Hoover. Though investigators haven't confirmed if it was over the iron bowl, they are almost certain it is. That's ridiculous. Wow! In six months no one will be talking about this game! But the hurt of loosing a loved one right here at the holidays will be there forever. Ugh! It just makes me sick to think someone lost their life over football. What's wrong with society? I flip on the news and you hear them talking about securing enemy lines to help bring terrisiom to an end, but look around folks! We have United States citizen terrorist living amongst us! How can you kill someone over something so petty? I am praying for the victim and the shooters family. Their life won't ever be the same. 

Everyone deserves to win. And, if you win, you deserve to celebrate. But, there is a classy way to celebrate and a classless way to celebrate. Don't talk down to the other team! Don't boast about an ass whoopin'- because I am here to tell you an "ass whoopin'" isn't winning by one touchdown! Don't call each other names! Lord, am I getting onto my four year old class or am I getting onto grown adults? Makes you wonder, right?

Moving on. 

As everyone already knows, Paul Walker died yesterday from a car crash. It's devastating. I was a fan of the fast and the furious movies also, but I hope that's not what will define him. I didn't know him personally (obviously) but I hope, at his funeral, they talk about his character and his role he played in his family. I know it sounds dumb, but he had to have been more than the "dude that played in fast and the furious". 

I saw something on Facebook on one of his many memorial pages. It said " live fast, die young". That is not the motto we need to promote to today's teens. Lord, that's like saying party hard, it's okay if you wake up dead tomorrow. I don't know all the details of his tragic death. He was an awesome driver, and I think it's safe to say fast cars was his passion. You've gotta be smart though. It's a tragedy. I don't think we should accept the fact that everyone should live fast and die young..

I woke up this morning to my husband scrubbing dog diarrhea out of the carpet next to my bed. Tinker was sick and vomited and pooped everywhere. She had to have a bath which meant no sleeping in for me. Tinker got a bath, laundry was started, carpet was scrubbed, and here I am. 

Mad at the world because people are mean. Oh we'll, I figured this rant would make me feel better and it did.