Sunday, July 29, 2012

Dog Eat Dog

more accurately...

Dog Passively Aggressively Manipulate Other Dogs Into Doing What He Wants. 

We are struggling here.

And it's all about the C word.


One of our adopted kiddos is brilliant.
No seriously. 
Homeboy is wicked smart.
In fact, he's downright gifted.
I feel a freedom to brag on him
cuz.....ya know....
it had absolutely nothing to do with me. 

It's not as though him and I have been reviewing Latin flashcards together since infancy or discussing the Pythagorean theory over Cheerios as a young toddler.
It's all him.
It's all in the way He designed him.

And it's beautiful.
And it's hard. 

Because along with his Bill Gates style brains comes one heck of a knack for being manipulative.

He's good at it.
He's really, reeeely great at it.

And for the most part,
the other two are completely oblivious to the aggressor standing right in front of them.

That's good.
That's bad.
I don't know.
I fluctuate.

In some respects I am so thankful they are not fully aware of the scope to which they are being pulled like puppets on a string,
but then the other part of me feels as though I need to constantly defend them.

Would you like a small example?


The Wii.
Last week they were all playing together.
The gifted one wins.
He always wins.
But through some crazy insane serious of events he

He lost.

He lost once.

And as the other one jumped up and down with excitement and a big smile on his face
the gifted one chimes in coldly,

"I let you win."

And the crushed look on the other one's face?
Well, let's just say it was heart wrenching.

I know you can pass it off as normal sibling behavior but trust me, this is one small example and the damage is being done.
He needs to learn that being manipulative in your relationships is incredibly unhealthy,
and they need to learn a sense of self. A sense of confidence.

And it's constant.
Like a river running through our house I can't, for the life of me, see where it originates and I certainly don't see where it ends. 

It's him getting them to do what he wants to do.
What he wants to play.
How he wants to play it.
All. The. Time.

And the longer this goes on the longer I can see the others losing their own voice.
So I intervene.
And intervene.
And intervene.
And intervene.

Always in love,
always in logic,
always in explaining the situation.
And he gets it.
In fact my explanation of why behavior x is not ok is truly not even needed.
He knows.
Trust me.
He knows.

So this is the dance we do.
Him always trying to outsmart them
me always trying to bring it all back around,
and then it builds.
The rage.

The all. out. rage. 

It was constant in the first couple of months home.
And it has since significantly improved.

What was once every day many times a day,
is now only a couple of times a month.

But you know what?
It still flat out bites.

It bites.

It's not even a scream.
It's definitely not a yell.
It's like a guttural cry coming from somewhere deep inside him that I cannot even begin to find.

And lately, it always end with the same thing.
"You are NOT my mommy!!!!!!!"

So here I stand before you.
Ready to admit it.

He's traumatized.


He's traumatized.
There you go.
I said it.

By his past,
by his present maybe for whatever reason,
by a series of events in his first 7 years of life that I had no control over
yet here I am,
trying to put those pieces back together for him again.

He is dealing with issues that are waaaayyy above the thresholds of his still 8 year old brain.

16 months here and I can still see that look in his eye.


The vacancy that comes over him,
the tongue that sticks partly out of his mouth,
it's that moment that he retreats into whatever safe place he can find the corner of mind.

And it's hard.

I'm no expert, that much I'm sure you've figured out by now.
But I can only imagine the two simply have to be related.
His unquenchable need to be in control
and his hurt.
His immense, intense, far-reaching hurt.

Those two forces within him have such a hold on him.
So it is here we begin,
and it's here we find our new starting point.

We are going to start counseling for him.
Because though there is no visible wound that I can put a band-aid on,
there is a heart need that is screaming for healing.
Good thing I know a great heart Doctor.

"And I will restore to you the years that the locust have eaten," Joel 2:25

Back to FAQ tomorrow.

Friday, July 27, 2012

It's My Birfday

It's my birthday today.
I'm 72 years old.

I woke up to this downstairs.
Do note the pink!
And had a hard time getting to my Keruig.

Do note the pink!

And just walked outside and found this
More on why Jack is wearing a tie later. So proud of him.
Do note the pink!
And I found a sleepy teenager on the couch.
The one that usually sleeps till 10
awake at 6:33am
waiting for me
so he could make pancakes for breakfast.


And apparently there is some big celebration going on in London tonight.
I can only imagine it's happening to commemorate my birth.
I'm flattered.
I'm honored.
I can't find my ticket. 

I think it's going to be a good day.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

FAQ Answered

I thought I'd answer the very most essential,
urgent question first.

When does Downton Abbey Season 3 kick off.
The answer is

January 2013.

Way too far away if you ask me.
But whew.
I'm glad we got that out of the way.
It was of utmost the the the world.

Q2: Do I ever want a girl one day. 

Now that....that is a loaded question.

The answer is:

Heck no.
Heck yes.
I dunno.

So glad we could clear that up.

But seriously?

I just don't know.

Girls scare me.

I don't know if it's because I don't have any so it feels like unknown territory to me?
or because we women are so stinkin emotional?
Or because I don't have a role model in that capacity? 

But seriously, ya'll are killin me with all the bows and dresses and Matilda Jane.


I often suppress the urge to buy some and hang it in my closet so I can just look at it everyday.
Question for you all along those lines:
Would it be wrong to have a child just to clothe them?
Because I am seriously considering that.

Just kidding, that was a joke.
Please don't write me a letter explaining how inappropriate that was.


So I really don't know.
I think I feel about a girl the same way I currently feel about adopting again.
I'm not thinking that will be the case but
if He calls me to it, ain't no way I'm saying no.
I am in the habit of not getting between God and His will for me.
He calls, I answer.
That's pretty much how we roll. 

Q3: The bedroom situation. 

No, not that kind of bedroom situation.
This isn't that kind of blog.

We live on base in a 4 bedroom home.
It is roughly 5,432 sq feet. 
Just wanted to make sure you were still paying attention since I was worried I lost you after answering the Downton Abbey question. 

It is roughly 2,400 sq feet.
And it works for us and we are incredibly grateful for it.

So 4 bedrooms: 
Brm #1 Our big kids(15 & 14) share a room. They always have. We split them up when we were stationed in California a few years ago and that lasted about 20 minutes before they were pleading to be in the same room again.
Brm #2 The twins(10) share a room, always have, always will, will probably also always want to. I guess when you start out life sharing a uterus; sharing a room is just natural.
Brm #3 John and I share a room. I can never seem to get my own room.
Brm #4 And the 3 Asian Sensations share.
Here is their room that I still haven't gotten around to decorating just yet. And I desperately try to ignore the fact that Jacob LOVES that blue plaid blanket on his bed instead of the super cute sports quilt that actually belongs there.

And seriously, please don't point out the empty spot that could easily be a fourth bed in that room.
I know it's there.
I see it everyday.

Here's what their room would look like if housing let me do construction in here:

And here's what their beds would look like sans construction if I had an extra $1,500 laying around:

So that's pretty much how we live.
9 people.
4 bedrooms.

Q4: What's the most important thing you've learned about and/or the best advice for parenting "virtual twins/triplets"? (children VERY close in age that become siblings through adoption).

Hold on.
I have to go pour myself a shot of whiskey a rather large cup of coffee before answering this one.


I'm back.

Whew. Well, I'll first say that I learned my lesson on this the hard way.
I'm still learning my lesson the hard way on this one.

First, as it relates to our twins who are only 14 months older than Jacob I did it all wrong.
Very wrong.
We brought Jacob and Joey home and proceeded to treat them just like we treat the twins.
Big mistake.
BIG mistake.

Though the twins handled the transition well, I was completely not respecting their birth order.
I somehow managed to fully ignore the fact that they were no longer the youngest yet continued to treat them as such.

This began to lead to tears and a bit of resentment started to creep in.
Thankfully, I caught it pretty quickly and made some incredibly simple, yet powerful changes in the way our family runs.
I bumped their bedtime up a half hour.
Jacob and Joey went to bed at 7:30.
The twins went to bed at 8:00.
And here's the thing, bedtime wasn't even an issue.
It wasn't something the twins had been concerned about, heck, they never even mentioned it.
But somehow, someway, this small act of letting them stay up a little bit later than them secured them in their new positions in the family.
Problem solved. Tears dried up, and they were thriving once again.

Here's the part that I have not yet figured out.

Jacob ~ 8.
Joshua ~ 8.
Joey ~ 8.

They are 3 boys all born within 7 months. Not 7 months apart mind you, but within 7 months.

One thing we did.....kind of by accident....but it's worked out respect their birth order(no matter how slight a difference) as it relates to their school grade.
We have 3 eight year old's in 3 different grades.

Jacob is our technical oldest and will begin 4th grade this year.
Joshua(4 months younger than Jacob) is our middle one and will be starting 3rd
and Joey(3 months younger than Joshua) will enter into 2nd.

This has helped with the birth order issue but is also, miraculously, right where they need to be academically.

Jacob is wicked smart, the smallest and youngest in his class and does exceptionally well.
Joshua is a typical 8 year old and he is right where he needs to be.
And Joey struggles a bit so we held him back in 1st grade last year.  He's the oldest and smallest in his class.

So this year we have:

(and 9th & 10th)

5 boys, 4 grades.
5 boys within 21 months of each other. 

It's a tad bit crazy but it works.

But here's the part where I struggle:

How the heck do I respect and nurture a birth order(as it relates to the youngest 3)that is separated only by mere months?

I haven't figured that out yet.
I haven't figured out how to perfectly parent 3 eight year olds who are at varying levels of maturity.......none of which fit the mold of your typical American 8 year old. 
A good friend of mine, (Hi Julee!) has twin 8 year old boys and it strikes me quite often when we are around them how immature my 3 are comparatively speaking.
They are light years behind their peers.
Light. Years.
But it'll come. I know it will.
I think I was just initially a bit caught off guard to see 3 & 4 year old behaviors coming out of my 8 year old's.
Patience Sonia.
So as we get to know each of them better we adjust and treat and talk to them based on where they are. Not based on their age.
It's parenting to their acting age. Not their birth age. And that seems to work.

The other main challenge we face with virtual tripleting is the "pack mentality."

Growing up in institutions they are very used to be doing what every other kid is doing at exactly the same time with exactly the same parameters. So this "group mentality" that the three of them have can be challenging.
And totally unhealthy. 
I wish I had a great answer.
But I am stubbornly learning that these things just take time.
They have lived with this mentality for 7 years before us.
To think that I can fully impress upon them their individuality in just a few months is naive of me. 

Our family is not an institution, nor am I running it like one
{so please don't write me a letter} :)
but what I'm saying is...for only 17 months and 9 months home...somehow this mindset they have has lead to a great sense{ironically} of belonging to them.
And I have learned to stop fighting it.
Because, for now, it works for them. 
As they all further settle in and find their footing they will, I know they will, begin to branch out a bit and the person who they uniquely are will begin to shine through.

They will realize that they don't have to have the same hairstyle.
They will realize they don't have to have the same socks on.
They will realize that they can each pick out their own pencil cases irrespective of what their brother's have chosen.
And heavens to Betsy just because one of you has to go to the bathroom does not mean that all of you have to go. I can assure you that your bladders are not synchronized. 
These are all things...and then some...that we are constantly working on.

We talk a lot around here about being you.
You be you.
You be who God perfectly created you to be.
And they are starting to get it.

You are you.
We are a family.
Each one unique, each one special, each one loved and each one important.

My coffee cup is empty.
And my brain hurts from thinking. 
Back tomorrow with mo answers to yo questions.

Post Script: The laundry has now made it to my bedroom. The designated laundry folding center of our home. It is still sitting in baskets at the foot of my bed. But hey, at least it made it up the stairs. 

I'm such a good mother.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

It's That Time.

It's that time of the summer where my days vacillate between going 180mph running kids to and fro.
And then conversely being so bored that I contemplate sticking pencils in my eye just to give me something to do.

When the house seems to stay an ever lovin disaster. When I've thrown up my hands and realized that trying to keep up with all 7 of their messes is becoming futile because I swear I have already loaded and unloaded that dishwasher twice today and it's not even noon.

It's when I start drooling over the school supply displays that are beginning to frequent the local stuff mart.

When we seem to wear nothing but swimsuits yet the laundry is overflowing c.o.n.s.t.a.n.t.l.y. It's a phenomena I do not pretend to understand.

It's when the grocery store cashier begins addressing me by name cuz she knows me and she knows the commissary is about to rake in a few more hundred dollars because I'm here....again. I'm darn sure this commissary will go out of business when we PCS.

It's when I no longer revel in the fact that I can make them big, hot, 3 course breakfasts and I begin to chuck a fiber bar and a banana at them instead at o'dark early when they all climb out of bed.
Pancakes, bacon and eggs are out.
Cold cereal is in.

When I am convinced their brains have completely turned to mush and that I have screwed up the rest of their lives by failing to provide them with enough educational opportunities to continue their academic progress. Unless you consider Mine Craft a core subject. In which case, my kids are stinkin brilliant.

It's the days when I want to throw the Wii out the window.
And jump up and down on top of it.
And hit it with a baseball bat.
And plunge it into the bay and gleefully watch it sink slowly to the bottom.

It's the time of summer where you have run out of patches of grass to ruin with the Slip-n-slide.
It's also when you should have given your newly adopted children a lesson on how slip-n-slide's work before they run at full tilt toward it only to propel themselves to the ground 3 inches from the start of the slide thus coming to an abrupt and painful stop.

But then it's the times where I realize how quickly this is going. How we only have 3 summers left with Jason, 4 with Jordan. Waaaaa. And how I will never, ever, ever get this time back. And I look at all of them with ice cream dripping off their chins and sweat coming off their brow and dirty clothes all over there room and I am thankful. So, so thankful.

Most of all though, it's that time of summer when I realize you home school moms?
Are rock-stars. 

In other completely unrelated news, I'm loving the questions coming in on my first ever Q & A post. Thank you for not asking me why there are like 20 shirts sitting on my dresser that need to be hung up....even though the hangars are like .2 inches from said clothes or how long it's been since I have really deep cleaned the bathtubs. Your questions are so, so much better. I'll start answering tomorrow!

So for today I leave you with this:
12:36pm Jammies still on. Eyes firmly glued to the Wii. I'm such a good mother.
and this
I won't admit to you that this has sat in my kitchen for 2 days. And I feel victorious that it has at least moved to the bottom of the stairs. I'm such a good mother.


oh never mind.

I'm such a good mother. 

Monday, July 23, 2012

Not So Much.

Not so much writers block
as it is
Writer Wants to Lay on the Beach and Do Nothing Block.

Is that a thing?

I dunno.

But I think I just made it a thing.

Course it could alternately be titled
Writer Who Can't Write Because her Twins Are OBSESSED with Mine Craft on Her Computer Block.

Now that...
that is most definitely a thing.


Help me.
This Mine Craft thing?
Totally taking over my life.
Anybody with me?

So I'll be back....
School starts in like 3 1/2 weeks afterall.

But I'll be back way before that....
I have a lotta words I need to get out each day.

So how about a Q & A session?
You game?

Got any questions that I can make up an answer  answer for you?

Bring it.
Game on. 

Sunday, July 15, 2012

A Blogging PSA

If you spend too much time doing this

This will happen to you.

This has been a Public Service Announcement provided by your
{now incredibly tan/sunburned drowning in laundry} friend Sonia.

We urge the public at large to not
I repeat not
be as lazy as she is being this week.

The end.

Oh, anybody seen the Aloe? Or my common sense?
Me neither.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

QQ Challenged

That's me.

I'm QQ challenged.

A social worker at the boys orphanage set them up with an account before they left,
and apparently there are pictures of them on there
but here I am...
15 months later and I have yet to figure it out.

Can you help a sista out?

I have thus far figured out how to log in.

Is it easier if I give people my qq # so that they can search for me instead of me searching for them? I have had no success typing their name in English and no success putting their name in with Chinese characters.

How do I put a picture up on there for my profile? 

But I'm mostly curious about how I go about using Tencent?
Apparently you can video chat with people in China using it?
Is that part of QQ?
Is it a whole different program?

I would be so grateful for any help.
As in, so grateful that I will bake you a pie and come over and fold your laundry, grateful. 

the one who hath no qq.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Because It's That Ridiculous

that it warrants two posts in one day.

It's 8:25pm.

And my kids are fully mostly clothed fully engaged in a wet sock war.


And to add insult to warring injury,
they are dirty socks.
Fresh off their stanky feet.

This is my life.
This is what it has come to.

Oh, and did I mention the upstairs team is using the bowl that belongs on the interior of my rice maker as their water source?
Anyone wanna come over for dinner tomorrow? 
I may serve rice.
The water is all ready to go.

Just out of curiosity,
what are you families with girls doing right now?

It is Finished.

9 weeks after the accident the remaining mounds of metal were finally removed from Jason's mouth yesterday.


Getting hit in the face with a fast ball will kick your butt.
Errrr your face.

We had strawberries alongside dinner last night and he bit into one and said how nice it is that he could actually bite into a food instead of having to pull it apart and put it in the side of his mouth.

That blessed child is so much more patient than I.

They clipped the wires holding his jaw together a few weeks ago but
yesterday they took out the strands of metal that were holding the arch bar in place in both his upper and lower jaw.

Hold on....
let me say that again in case you missed it.


Ya know....
the strands of metal that were woven in between his teeth. 

I have just one word for that.


I didn't take a picture of the metal but sitting here now typing this I wish I would have.
But never fear.
Google is here.

Here's what the arch bars and metal strands look like:

Being the strong supportive mother sissy I am...
I couldn't look.
I could see how painful it was for him.
So I diverted my eyes and sang lullabies in my head and resisted the urge to suck my thumb.

It was bad.

I asked him if the impact injury the day of the accident or this was more painful and he lamented that it was a bit of tie.


I think that about sums it up.

7 boys and so far we have had one broken pinkie
one broken jaw
and one broken heart.

Not too bad I tell ya.
Not too bad.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Confessions of An Ordinary Housewife

I'm thinking of beginning a series of posts every now and again with that title.

But then there'd inevitably be the days where the biggest thing I have to report is that I fed my kids mac and cheese for dinner with a side of mandarin oranges and validated myself chalked it up to being all educational and having a meal made entirely out of the color orange.

And that just sounds lame.
And doesn't sound like something I want to admit to doing.
Pssshhh not me.
Totally didn't feed my kids that and tell them it's a silly orange dinner because I was too lazy forgot to marinade the steak I was gonna make. 

So instead let's focus on more glamorous things.


With all the....ahem.....
practice I've been getting having all of these children home everyday all day
I have discovered something.

I have discovered the holy grail of products that make me happy.

A word of caution:
When your kids are little if you are like me, as you make the rounds picking up stray clothes here and there you give them a quick sniff to evaluate their level of filth.

Do not.
I repeat do not try this after the age of about 12.

The fumes.
Oh the fumes. 
The stink.
The smell.
The funk.
Will knock you on your bootay.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
If you see a piece of clothing or towel that belongs to a boy tween or teen in your yourself a favor.
Just throw it in the wash.
Your welcome. 

But I digress,
I have finally found what works.
What really, reeeely works.

My criteria isn't all that demanding.
It has to smell good.
It has to be able to remove infield dirt off of their baseball pants.
It has to smell good.
It has to get stains out while not requiring me to stand there and scrub...cuz I don't somuch do that.
And it has to smell good. 

And though I know I should be making my own detergent
and soap
and deodarant and butter....are you freakin kidding me Colleen?!

I just don't.
I'm not there yet.

{And dont' worry, Colleen is my friend thus I feel empowered to say things like, "Are you freakin kidding me?!}
And she will still like me.
I think.

It smells delicious.
It gets their clothes clean.
And this girl can't ask for more than that.

So here it is.
What works for me:
Camera was backwards.
{professional blogger at work here....yep......ahem....professional....}

Let's try this again.

That's it.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing you have drive halfway to Egypt and skin a yak for.
Just this.
But for some reason these particular scents

This concludes today's episode of Confessions...
check back next time when we talk about how to keep the toilet water blue longer.

Glamor people.
It's all about the glamor of my life.
Go ahead and be jealous.
I'll wait.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

The S Word.

I don't know much.
I'm not an adoption expert.
I do what I can.
The very best I can.

And at the end of the day I don't hang my hat on the semantics of it all.
{Course I don't really hang my hat anywhere cuz I'm not really a hat girl.
They make me look funny...but that's a post for another day.
Back on topic please.}

And that's why I guess I was struck when someone mentioned that I used the S word in my latest NHBO post. 

Yep, the S word.


And they mentioned that their hope, for the sake of my children and their privacy and their story, was that they were not growing up being told that I saved them or that they were some sort of savior project to me.

I am thankful to have the opportunity to address that specifically.

After reading the comment
a big part of me want's to say,
"Bbbbbut that's not what I meant!"
I know I'm not "supposed" to use that word
or infer that word
or speak to that word
or invite that word over for dinner and be friends with it.
The adoptive-blogging-invisible-non-existent handbook states very clearly that the S word is not allowed. 

So when I said/used/typed that forbidden word I didn't mean it in the sense that yes,
we wake each of our adopted children up each day and say,

"Good morning! Waffles for breakfast, pool today and don't forget! Mommy and Daddy saved you!"

"Sweet boy, can you pass the mashed potatoes, because owe me because I saved you."

"Go clean your room because I brought you into this country....and I can take you out."

Nor do we take him out and introduce him as our son...The One Whom We Hath Saved.

In the context of the post I used the S word in relation to our ability to be used a vessel to save{gasp!} his very life.

His LIFE. 
Not his lifestyle.
Not his quality of life. 
Not his ability to be a college graduate.
Not his opportunity to get really good at playing Mario on the Wii.
Not his future in a free country.



So though part of me wants to stomp my foot and say, "That's not what I meant!"
the other part of me thinks....wasn't his life indeed saved?
Is it in fact not true that if not for Joshua's adoption he would likely not be alive right now?


Was he saved by adoption?

Did we save his life?

Was his life indeed saved by adoption through the work of the Lord.

Where we saved by the blood of Jesus Christ?

Does that make me Jesus?

Am I Joshua's savior?

Do I think I am?
And in case you didn't catch it,

If you could see our life.
If you could see how we love.
If you could see how we are in the moments when no one is looking....which...oddly enough....look exactly the same as the moments when people are looking.
You would know that me in my pajamas and messy ponytail at 7am standing in the kitchen making a boat load of pancakes while 7 hungry boys hover around and talk to me about what they want to do that day, or what superhero they want to dress up as today, or how they can't wait for baseball season you would see so plainly that I lack any hint of a Savior complex.

I know that.
My kids know that.
My God knows that.
And that...
that is what matters.

Out of curiosity I looked up the definition of save and in case you too are it is:
save 1  (sv)
v. saved, sav·ing, saves
a. To rescue from harm, danger, or loss.
b. To set free from the consequences of sin; redeem.
2. To keep in a safe condition; safeguard.
3. To prevent the waste or loss of; conserve.

I assure you
by my own power
I am capable of none of this.
I have the upper body strength of a wet dishrag.
I am afraid of heights, big water slides and giant, mean dogs.
My ability to rescue anything from harm, danger or loss is severely limited by the fact that I am a complete and total wuss.
And last I checked I am so not capable of setting anyone free from a consequence of sin.

So where my intentions in that post to say that I have saved them and that I am raising them to believe as such?
I assure you the answer is no.
Here me when I say my children are not growing up thinking they were some sort of project.
They are growing up in love.
And light.
And the ever present knowledge that are valued, treasured and loved by so many. 

So instead of always running away from the S word how about we run right into the arms of the J word.....the author of salvation Himself.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. John 3:17 

Oh, and in case you wondered...

Told you.
Not a hat girl.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Hit A Nerve.


I can't thank you all enough for your comments and emails the past two days about not knowing when Enough is Enough. 

I sobbed over read over each and every one and gained some great insight into how to cope/deal/move forward with the cry of my heart.

The running theme was definitely that I am not alone.
And I love that about all of you.
I love that you get it.
You really get. it.

You all have been there
and seen it.
And held and cared and cried over the one's left behind.

I loved reading your own stories about how you struggled with the same things,
how you have more children in your home now because you were willing even when you thought you were done.
Or how you don't have more coming now because you know that just not the time. 

So I awake today with a new perspective.
Still burdened
but realizing that I am not called to go, go, go.
I'm called to love, love, love.

HIM first. 
Them second.

And honestly.....


I think at times I was flip-flopping those two priorities.

That was hard to admit.

So for now,
my willing heart is here.
It's open to what He would have of me.

And that
for now
is enough.

Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart thank you.

*Working on catching up with emails, please don't think I am ignoring you!! My kids just keep taking over the computer with MineCraft. Ahhhhhhh!! *

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

My Heartbreak

I managed to fumble my way through my post on NHBO today while choking back tears.
It's a question that has been burning in my heart
and turning over and over and over again in my mind.

I can't shake it.
Can't answer it.
Can't get over it.

So hopeful that you all like minded people will have some insight.
SO hoping.

You can check it out right here.