Happy Birthday, Deaton

One year ago, a little boy came roaring into the world.

With a sister in heaven watching over him, he brought joy and hope, all in a tiny little body of a boy.

His mommy's heart started complete healing, the very first minute she held him in her arms.

And in his daddy's arms, he found his perfect rest.   It is still his number one place to sleep.  Safe in his daddy's arms.

Of course, you kind of like your ole Lols, too.

And then, there you were.   One month old.  All dimples and baby hair, no sleep and big feet.  Perfection in a diaper.

2 months old, and since it almost fell on Laynie's angel day, you got to wear a ridiculous purple bow tie.  It sounded like a great idea in Target, when ole Lols found it, but in reality, probably should have skipped the tie.   Still think you are adorable, but growing like a weed.

At three months, you are becoming a ham.  You still don't sleep, so mom and dad are tired messes, but you are a happy baby, and big as a house.  Foxy fox is looking smaller and smaller beside you.

At 4 months you started wearing shoes, and won't sit still for anything.  You army crawl to what you want, unless Lols is there, and then you just have to whimper and the world is yours.  That's my job.

At 5 months, Lols got you some groovy man beads (amber for teething) and you started wearing them all the time, and boy did they help.  Starting to sit up all by yourself and life is so much easier.  Sleeping better and really figuring out everything around you.

Six months old, on the move.  Crawling, interested in everything, those big eyes still blue as can be.  Eating everything you can get your hands on, and just a bundle of fun..... what did we do for entertainment  before ??

 Halloween was fun, because we just dressed you up like daddy.  Made sense.  Love the spikes.

 We have a couple of 6 months and I just love them so much I am showing this one too. 

 7 months.  The sticker on the fox is more interesting than anything in his world right now.  How can I get that sticker off that fox??

 8 months!  WITH THE STICKER.   Can I just have this thing right here, mom?

 At nine months, it just became too much.  We had to taste the sticker and the boy won.

And even though his shirt says "Tiny but Tough", that hardly is the case now.  Over 20 pounds, almost 30 inches tall.... he is a bruiser.

 Ten months old!!!  How in the world?  Walking....4 teeth....eating vanilla wafers as fast as you hand them to him......

 And I don't even care that most of the time we are together, I look like this.....it just doesn't matter.

 Eleven months old.  Who can keep him still??  Not momma.  Not daddy.  Not Lols.

Deaton Alan, you have brought us so much joy this year.  You have taught us all about raising a healthy, huge baby.  Everything about you was total opposite of your sister.  God is a master planner, and He delivered your plan in a mighty, wonderful way. 

As you continue to grow at lightning speed, always know that your Lols has your back, loves you unconditionally (even doesn't care if she gets gunk eyes and sinus infections, from you she'll take it)
and will be in your corner, whatever you need.

I feel at my most peaceful peace, when you are asleep in my arms.  I marvel at the hugeness of God's love for our family, and the miraculous ways that He shows His face to us, over and over.  When people say to me, "I'm not sure there is a God", I have to believe that they have never heard our story and know your sister, or have held a healthy, incredible baby.

God is good, all the time  

Happy 1st birthday, Grandson.

A Boy Turns One

It's been a pretty fun day.

Kip flew in to celebrate Deaton's 1st birthday with us, and we've been laughing it up since she arrived Thursday....er...Friday morning at 12:00 a.m.

And it's to celebrate a very special birthday.   Not mine, though technically, since I have gone to the "leap year" birthday system (only celebrating when it's a leap year) it actually IS a leap year, and I am required to celebrate per my own birthday system, I have foregone birthdays, maybe forever, in order to celebrate the grandson.

He was born 5-11-15.

This year.   It's been a blur of time slipping through my hands so fast, I can't even keep up.

Deaton loves balls.

I mean, the kid is obsessed.  "bah.  bah.   bah.   bah."  If he's not carrying 3 at once, he's at least carrying 1.  All. the. time.

So, Lacey and Kip had a "Ball theme" party.  And we didn't go all ridiculously fancy and pinteresty, though I have to tell you.... I bought that kid a bunch of birthday stuff.

I. can.t. help.  it.   It's that dang Grandma-itis.    I'm ate up with it.

He kinda likes me, too.

But the #1 best birthday gift this year, goes to Aunt Hallie.  She told me what she wanted to get him, and we had to search all over toys r us in Tulsa to make it happen.

To say that was a smash, is an understatement.  He LOVED IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Even ole daddy got in on the fun!

We have a legion of people, just in our immediate family, so when a party rolls around, "just family" events  requires event centers....or Billy Boy's side room.  

All of DeeDee's favorites were there today.... all his great grandparentals

His Holt family

His Deaton family

My brother and his crew

and last but certainly not least, my small posse

We love seeing pics of kids diving into their first birthday cakes, and we were so anticipating seeing Deaton's excitement when he finally got to dive into his!  

Auntie Kip made him a ball birthday cake and we even got him a new highchair (which

mommy stripped down to the plastic, because she knew he was going to be a dirty boy)

and we were prepared for the deluge of birthday cake that was going to happen.  We anticipated smearing, we anticipated throwing, we anticipated a giant mess.

Yeah.  

Started out good. 

What ?  the?  Crap??

What in the world is on my hands??

\

Somebody DO SOMETHING!!!! Don't just stand there and LAUGH AT ME!  Stop LAUGHING AT ME!!!!!!!   

Here, Dee Dee, wipe it on daddy!!  (good daddy!!)

IT"S STILL THERE! I may be starting to hyperventilate!!

(he has a small bit of mama's flair for the dramatic in him)

A prince and his minions.  "Clean me, women!"  Poor. mistreated. thing.  

Tyler got some help from his big bro...

If you've seen Tyler before, you know he is no tiny guy.  His brother makes him look tiny.  And if your big bro licks your face to help you out, you stand there and take it like a man.  

Deaton liked present opening WAY better than cake.  He discovered when he threw his hands in the air (like he just didn't care) (see what I did there), that the entire crowd of people would cheer and go wild for him.

He did it every 10 seconds or so, the rest of the party to test us. We passed.  

 Every guy needs a cool fishing hat, so Lols had to get him one.  

Everyone paying attention????

YAYAYAYAYAYA!!! we would cheer!!!

Dee Dee really bonded with Great Uncle Bubba.  He kept feeding him french fries with Ketchup.  I think they will be friends for life. 

Lindsay's cooking a little boy 2nd cousin right now.  That should be tons of fun, really soon.

I love this one so much of me and the "originals".  Just can't believe all my babies are grown up and my baby baby is so much taller than all of us.  She grew another half inch this year.  She was a full 6'2" at her physical the other day.  Dee Dee is going to outgrow her by his 6th birthday the rate he is going.

As it stands now.....

YAY DEE DEE..... Best day ever.  

Jeremiah 29:11

My day has been a blur.

I drove all over america today, and I am so tired tonight.

Mentally, physically,  Tired to the marrow of my bones.

The two bigger kids went to be interviewed at the Care Center, and had to relive the trauma that is their lives.

Steven had another epiphany today.  He realized in testifying, that his own dad had witnessed the sexual abuse first hand......

and had done nothing about it.

That was so hard on him.  I think the dream of ever having a dad love and protect him, died today.  He was pretty inconsolable for a while after the interview, and in questioning him, is coming more and more to terms with the fact that he is nothing, nor ever will be, anything like his biological father.
The only positive out of the day, was the detective believes they have enough to move forward with a case, not only against the man in question, but he feels pretty strongly that we have a case against their dad  (FINALLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY).

It was a tough day, but a good day.  

The kids are believing more and more in themselves every day, and I see them growing and blossoming before my eyes.

It's been a hard, hard day....but.....man, it's been a good day, too.

Prayers are always, always welcome to rain over our family.

When Life isn't a Dream

I've considered myself lucky with my bonus kids.

They have adapted to "normal" life and look all good on the outside.
People walking by them and casually talking to them would think they live pretty ordinary, common lives.

I blogged a few months ago about Oklahoma cutting benefits for children in foster care being able to see a counselor.

My kids had a counselor when they came to me, that worked with them for about a year.  They voluntarily told me that they really didn't want to see her anymore, so we cut ties.

I thought we had ran the race.

Boy, what a laugh.

Kids don't become neglected, abused kids and just "grow out of it".  I'm an idiot thinking that love would be enough.

Gina started acting out right after Christmas.  Couldn't put my finger on it, and didn't understand it.  Finally after a showdown, middle of February, I got her back in counseling.  Steven followed right behind.

They see phenomenal counselors.  I've seen immense growth in just the time they have been going to them.   They are more open, better listeners....  I just can't explain it.

Last week, when the subject came up of "Good touches and bad touches".. Gina disclosed that she had been, indeed, touched before she came to live with me.

We had talked about it before and she was adamant that had never happened, so you have to forgive me for being just a tiny bit doubtful, and remembering how she identified as a boy when she first came to me, I just really had to wrap my head around it.

Then sweet little Steven, upon questioning him, broke down and sobbed his story out to me, that as a 5 year old, he was fondled by the same trusted adult ....I was and still AM one outraged, pissed mom.

Then yesterday, my friend, Jemma asked a question on facebook about the Target debacle, not really siding with anyone, but asking, from the heart, if people REALLY bought in to the belief that your child was going to get molested in a Target bathroom.

I've been really reserved in my opinion about the Target bathroom, even fighting the urge to report that I, indeed, had used the Target bathroom just last week, and nary a penis nor pedophile did I see.  That took remarkable restraint for this sarcastic broad.

However, in the light of the recent developments at my house, I am putting my two cents worth out into the universe.

The furor over the bathrooms is idiocy.  Sexual abuse against a child can happen anywhere.  Sexual predators are going to do whatever they have to do to hurt a kid.  We aren't "Opening a door to sexual abuse" to allow transgender people to use the bathroom they "Identify" in.  That's just the dumbest thing I have ever heard.

Use the family restroom, people..... and show some love.  LOVE.    That's all I'm talking about.  Use the family restroom (which you should do anyway, if you are traveling with packs of kids like I do) and be kind, and show love.

My children were abused by someone they trusted and he used that power to keep them quiet.  I turned him in to his superior, and I was told  "They would take it under advisement, that he was a respected part of their team".

Gee, That makes it ok then.

I'm telling you, sexual predators know what they are doing.  They find a way.  They groom, and prepare and you, as a parent, don't even see it happening.

I filed a police report this morning, because I believe that DHS is too overworked, too burdened with problems to think this is important.   I reported that SOB to his superior in his protected work environment (I am DYING to tell you who he works for, but that isn't fair to the other people that work for this organization for the RIGHT reasons, and they don't need the bad press), and they pooh-poohed me off.

Gina just doesn't want him to be able to EVER hurt another kid.  This has lit a fire in her soul that makes her want to help and encourage other people.  This girl is going to do something miraculous with her life, just wait and see.  And Steven just doesn't want to talk about it anymore.  He is over it, and ready to move on.

I am so proud of them for their pure hearts.  I am so proud of them for reaching into a really dark place and having the courage to tell someone.

Friends, for the LOVE of all that is HOLY and GOOD, talk to YOUR CHILDREN.  Explain good touches and bad touches and that it is NEVER ok.  NEVER EVER ok.   NO ONE should ever touch them.  And that it's OK and NECESSARY to tell an adult immediately if it happens.  And it's not limited to touching.    These people enjoy just exposing themself too.   IT is NOT a fun conversation to have, but if it PROTECTS your KIDS, you DO IT

And DO NOT think your 2 or 3 year old is too young to talk about it.  Steven was only 5 when it happened to him.  It's never too early to talk to your precious kids about it.

Protect them, because trust me from someone that knows........What happened to my kids didn't happen in a Target bathroom, it was right under the parent's noses and NO one was the wiser.

Protect your kids.   Educate them.    Teachers, coaches, counselors, other parents, siblings, relatives, neighbors, church members..... no one has the right to touch them.   EVER.

I'm sorry this turned into a RANT, But I am PISSED Off at such a broken world.

God. Help us All.   Give us loving hearts and watchful eyes and ears.  Help us where we are weak, and cover us with your mercy.   In YOUR name we pray.....  Amen.

Cancun 2016 - The "Wallet" Incident Day one

This year's company incentive trip was to Cancun's beautiful "Moon Palace".  Keeping with the tradition of taking my daughters' (Lacey on the cruise 2 years ago, Kip to Aruba last year), I was looking forward to some sun and relaxation with my youngest homemade.

Our flight out was at 9:00.   That is so much later than my recent flights that I didn't give myself enough time, and I found us leaving Norman about 7:45.  It hit me that we wouldn't be to the airport until about 8:15 and upon further inspection of our itinerary, I realized we boarded at 8:40.  I'm starting to panic just a tiny bit at this point.  Hallie is "We will make it, let's not freak out".  I decide as we are driving up that I am going to have her drop me and the luggage at the front door, so we can get those heavy bags checked before cut off, and she can go park in the garage and run in.  As we drive up, the GARAGE is full, so I drop the swan off at the front door with the luggage and our tickets and bid her farewell as I make my way to the parking lot and hope to flag down the Shuttle.  I park on row L about a mile away from the airport and I jump out of the car, grab my keys and I am off!  The shuttle grabs me, I beg him to take me straight to the door without picking up any other passengers and he shrugs and says "Sure".  Hallie and I check our bags in with 2 minutes to spare.  We have TSA prechecks, so we cruise through security and it's 8:35!  5 minutes to spare.  I'm feeling very cocky and thinking we have time to get a sonic sweet tea to celebrate, when I realize that I left my wallet in the Tahoe two miles away.  Hallie throws my ticket and my driver's license in my hand (SMART SMART GIRL) and I start RUNNING to the car, three thousand miles away.  By the time I hit the escalators outside, I have a stitch in my side, but I'm still running.  NO SHUTTLE, so I run through the garage and about half way through I spot a security guy.  As I run by him (mind you), I yell, "CAN YOU GET ME A GOLF CART?? I MIGHT DIE if I KEEP RUNNING" and I hear him on the walkie talkie  "WE have a runner in the garage, wearing a hot pink tshirt, heading to the lot".  I don't have time to laugh, because it's all I can do to breathe and not pee my pants.  I am limping, skipping at this point, breathing so hard, all I can think is "After this, I am SOOO getting in shape", and I see my car in the distance, I feel a surge of energy pour through me, and I sprint on to the car.  The wallet is lodged under the passenger seat, and I find an old opened bottle of water, and I grab it on the way out, and lo and behold, up DRIVES my KNIGHT in Shining GOLF CART ARmor!"  "I hear you need a ride!!"  I'm too winded and too sweaty to answer, but I jump in and off we roll.  I gulp the water bottle like I have been living in a desert for a year.  Meanwhile in the airport, Hallie is making a Plan B, since she found out from the gate attendant that if I don't get there in 10 minutes, the gate is closing.  She finds out that there is a later flight, we can still get there on Monday, so she has decided all is ok.    I don't know any of this.   I'm too busy fighting ladies in wheelchairs at security and yelling that I am going to miss my flight.  By this time, I'm no longer running, skipping or doing anything except dragging my left leg behind me because I've dislocated my hip from running.  Imagine what Hallie, who is pacing and having the gate attendant give her nasty looks, finally looks down the airport walkway and sees my hot pink shirt in the distant.  Walking.   Like I have all the time in the world.  MOM!!!! RUN!!!!   Oh.  Really?   Run?   I take a deep breath and try skipping again, and we walk on the plane with the door literally closing behind us.  She is so busy laughing at me (sweaty, limping mess that I am), she finally stops rolling long enough to say, "I wish I had my video camera out to get all that" and after I drink 200 gallons of water, I start laughing too.
Until we had our layover in Houston, and I couldn't move my leg.  It's all fun and games until someone forgets their wallet.

Looking back, it seems like it would have been far smarter and faster to send the West Point athlete running though the airport....but we realized that she had NO idea where I parked and NO WAY could get the wallet and back.  People.   I did that little bit of amazingness in 14 minutes.  I ran at least two thousand miles and got back through security in 14.... FOURTEEN..... minutes.  That should go in the Guinness book of World Records or something.   I mean...for reals.