Choose life
That you might live
The life that He gives
One day, you Miss Layla are going to look into the mirror and you might wonder…Where you got those beautiful brown eyes from? Where you got your nose from? Where you got those ears from? Why you will always have to have bangs of some sort? Why your laugh sounds the way it does? Why you have certain mannerisms that you do?
(Now I say might because I do take into account that some days you remind me so much of your Oma and Oma is unfazed by stuff, that sometimes I just say to her "You are like no other human I have ever known." Which is so true.)
All I can say and will say when or if the day comes is to tell you, God gave them to you. He created you in His own image and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. I pray that answer will be enough for you, but I know sometimes we want a “human” answer, one that is easier and more tangible for our human minds to understand.
Then know this, know that today four years ago on January 21, 2008, your birth mother chose life for you. You might hear people say that women in certain parts of the world can’t afford an abortion or don’t have access to safe places. But I say since two people ate a piece of fruit suggested to them by an animal that man has had the thought and ability to abort. Your birth mother could have done that, but she didn’t. She chose life.
For reasons, we will probably never know she made the choice for you to be found outside an orphanage, dressed for the weather, placed where you could be found. There were other places she could have left you, places you couldn’t or wouldn’t be found, but she didn’t. Once again for you she chose life.
You and your birth mother had a problem, but God had a plan. like He did for Moses, though I’m not saying you’re ever going to be leading people to the Promised Land, but you get what I mean.
The orphanage that she left you outside of worked with a wonderful agency ran by two awesome people, Dick and Cheryl, whose passion and gifts are to find families for children who need them. Based on great recommendations and my own conversations with them, I signed up with them way before you were born. God’s plan for your life, for us to be together, was in action before you were even conceived.
You weren’t the first baby I was matched with. The first baby, whom I call June Layla, was the baby I got the call about. Then when it was time for the John Hancocks, I found out I had been referred a new, older, bouncing baby girl - - you. Beautiful, wonderful, you, because your birth mother chose life.
Because she chose life, I was given the honor, the privilege, and the blessing to be your mommy. To sit on the bed in my room while you opened your first birthday presents cause Oma was in a pissy mood and it’s best to keep to yourself when she’s like that. And by opening presents, I mean your brother opened your gifts. To be present with you when you turned two and we did something that I honestly can’t remember and I’m too lazy to try and research to see if I wrote down what we did for your birthday. (FYI - sometimes it sucks being the third child.) To watch you blossom into an incredible three-year-old and share that birthday with you, just hanging out, opening presents, and spending the day together, and you blowing out the candles on your little half a cake with just the five of us. And now today to see my talkative, brilliant, knows what she wants, gorgeous baby turn the big F-O-U-R. I am truly, truly blessed. God is so good.
Once upon a time you had a problem, but God had a plan. A wonderful, amazing, fantastic plan. A plan that is still coming to life and will keep coming to life until you draw your very last breath, I pray scores upon scores from now.
So we might never know where you got your brown hair from being born in a land where the majority of people have black hair. You won’t be able to trace it back to a birth maternal grandmother or a birth paternal grandfather. But please know, please remember, if you question or wonder, please rejoice in the fact that your birth mother chose life for you. She CHOSE LIFE. God gave her the courage, the wisdom, the strength to choose life.
So today on your fourth birthday, we celebrate that you are another year older. I can’t believe you’re four. Where did the time go? I, today, like every day thank God for the awesome gift that is you. I really scored in the whole kid department. The terrific trio is terrific for a reason.
I love you, Layla! I adore you even when you drive me stark, raving mad. I’m so proud that you are my daughter and I’m your mother. I pray that as you continue to grow you will become a person who loves the Lord and lives according to His will. Happy Fourth Birthday, Layla!!!! I love you forever. I like you for always though I won't always like what you say or do. As long as I'm living my baby, you'll be.
Trust the Lord with all your heart
With all of your soul
And all of your being
Hold on
Listen and obey
Surrender your life
Into His keeping
Choose life
That you might live
The life that He gives
He gives you forever
Choose life
The way that it's true
From the One who chose you
Your Father in Heaven
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Colored People
“Mommy, why is my sister white and I’m black?”
“Mommy, why is the baby’s bottom white?”
Yep, my big girl has become very color observant. Interestingly enough, there are only two colors - - white and black. So everyone has to fit into those two categories. Most of the people she has pointed out to me as white haven’t been white. She reminds me of a story Melody told me about her college friend, Kim, who for a while thought Melody was white because she knew for sure Mel wasn’t black like her so what did that leave. That story makes me laugh because Mel is multiracial, but mostly Native American, and I’m not sure how Kim missed that. Or even as Mel has gotten so often gotten mistaken for, Hispanic, Kim didn’t come up with that scenario. Maybe there weren’t too many Hispanics in Louisiana.
How to answer Rowan’s questions?
“Your sister isn’t white. God gave people more pigmentation than other people. You have more than the baby.”
“On the spectrum of brown, your sister is on the fairer end.”
“Everyone is different colors. Your sister is fairer than you, but you are fairer than Mommy, Jory, and Oma.”
“Why does the baby have long hair and I don’t? Is it because she’s white?”
Your sister’s hair should be longer and you don’t have long hair because God is protecting you both from me murdering you two. You both hate getting your hair washed, combed, brushed, or fixed now, how in the world would the two of you act if you had more hair? “Some people have longer hair than others.”
So interesting, Jory has never had questions about skin color. Never once brought it up. He obviously notices but maybe it’s his personality or maybe it’s him being a boy or both, but not a bleep from him about it all. And not a bleep from the baby about it either.
On Sunday she asked Jamie if Blake was hers. Jamie answered, yes.
“But why are you a different color than he is?” Rowan countered.
Jamie nicely and simply explained the skin color difference to Rowan and assured her that she was indeed Blake’s mommy.
It’s interesting that she notices different colored mommies and babies, yet doesn’t see Layla and I as part of that group.
I don’t want to skirt around Rowan’s question, but I want rear her with a Godly perspective on color. When she asks questions, the DC Talk song, Colored People, runs through my head.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing miss
I couldn’t help but notice your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin
We've gotta come together
And thank the Maker of us all
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
We've got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a Holy Grace
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an Artist's heart
By God's design, we are a skin kaleidoscope
We've gotta come together,
Aren't we all human after all?
Ignorance has wronged some races
And vengeance is the Lord's
If we aspire to share this space
Repentance is the cure
[1, 1, 1, 1... 2, 2, 2, 2... 3, 3, 3, 3... 4, 4, 4, 4]
Well, just a day in the shoes of a color blind man
Should make it easy for you to see
That these diverse tones do more than cover our bones
As a part of our anatomy
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
[Oh, colored people]
We're colored people, and we all gotta share this space
[Yeah we've got to come together somehow]
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted world
[Red and yellow, black and white]
We're colored people, every man, woman, boy, and girl
[Colored people, colored people, colored people, colored people, yeah]
“Mommy, why is the baby’s bottom white?”
Yep, my big girl has become very color observant. Interestingly enough, there are only two colors - - white and black. So everyone has to fit into those two categories. Most of the people she has pointed out to me as white haven’t been white. She reminds me of a story Melody told me about her college friend, Kim, who for a while thought Melody was white because she knew for sure Mel wasn’t black like her so what did that leave. That story makes me laugh because Mel is multiracial, but mostly Native American, and I’m not sure how Kim missed that. Or even as Mel has gotten so often gotten mistaken for, Hispanic, Kim didn’t come up with that scenario. Maybe there weren’t too many Hispanics in Louisiana.
How to answer Rowan’s questions?
“Your sister isn’t white. God gave people more pigmentation than other people. You have more than the baby.”
“On the spectrum of brown, your sister is on the fairer end.”
“Everyone is different colors. Your sister is fairer than you, but you are fairer than Mommy, Jory, and Oma.”
“Why does the baby have long hair and I don’t? Is it because she’s white?”
Your sister’s hair should be longer and you don’t have long hair because God is protecting you both from me murdering you two. You both hate getting your hair washed, combed, brushed, or fixed now, how in the world would the two of you act if you had more hair? “Some people have longer hair than others.”
So interesting, Jory has never had questions about skin color. Never once brought it up. He obviously notices but maybe it’s his personality or maybe it’s him being a boy or both, but not a bleep from him about it all. And not a bleep from the baby about it either.
On Sunday she asked Jamie if Blake was hers. Jamie answered, yes.
“But why are you a different color than he is?” Rowan countered.
Jamie nicely and simply explained the skin color difference to Rowan and assured her that she was indeed Blake’s mommy.
It’s interesting that she notices different colored mommies and babies, yet doesn’t see Layla and I as part of that group.
I don’t want to skirt around Rowan’s question, but I want rear her with a Godly perspective on color. When she asks questions, the DC Talk song, Colored People, runs through my head.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing miss
I couldn’t help but notice your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin
We've gotta come together
And thank the Maker of us all
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
We've got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a Holy Grace
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an Artist's heart
By God's design, we are a skin kaleidoscope
We've gotta come together,
Aren't we all human after all?
Ignorance has wronged some races
And vengeance is the Lord's
If we aspire to share this space
Repentance is the cure
[1, 1, 1, 1... 2, 2, 2, 2... 3, 3, 3, 3... 4, 4, 4, 4]
Well, just a day in the shoes of a color blind man
Should make it easy for you to see
That these diverse tones do more than cover our bones
As a part of our anatomy
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
[Oh, colored people]
We're colored people, and we all gotta share this space
[Yeah we've got to come together somehow]
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted world
[Red and yellow, black and white]
We're colored people, every man, woman, boy, and girl
[Colored people, colored people, colored people, colored people, yeah]
Tuesday, January 17th - The Greatest Day of the Year!
Praise God! My mom has finally gone back to work. I love when she’s off. Okay, no I don’t. When she’s at home that just means she has time to get into things and sometimes can create havoc. Not all the time, but sometime. But the worse is that it throws the kids off their morning routine. Oma tries to be helpful, but she throws them off their game. They act like they don’t know how things are suppose to go in the mornings when she’s there. This is how it’s been for the past month, but finally she’s back at work and this morning. We were back on program.
Please God don’t let Oma retire anytime soon.
Please God don’t let Oma retire anytime soon.
MLK Day
The baby slept in late. Jory was being lazy. My mom didn’t feel up to it so I decided Rowan and I would go to the King Day parade by ourselves. I tried to get my mom to come one last time and she was hemming and hawing, she let Jory could his own breakfast and make toast. Toast for everyone. She does know that bread isn’t free, right?
Finally she decided we should all go. We should all go and walk.
“Are you bringing the stroller?” she asked.
Uh, hello?! Have you not been out with us? Double strollers contain little people. Double strollers are a gift from God. “Yes, I’m taking the stroller.”
We find a spot after trying out some other spots. I realize I’m getting older as the cheerleaders and dance teams pass by and I think, how do their parents let them wear those outfits? Why aren’t parents protesting? One school has cheerleading skirts that are just flaps, so when the girls move you can see their shorts. What’s the purpose of that?! Just let the girls wear the shorts with the sweater, cut out the middle man.
We had a good time. Being out amongst the people, enjoying the crowds, the smell of the delicious hot dogs. Next year, I’m bringing money with me. And we got some exercise. Oma even treated us to Church’s, or rather the kids. Every time I go to Church’s for some reason I always think of Melody.
A good day and a good way to spend MLK Day even if school never got accomplished.
Finally she decided we should all go. We should all go and walk.
“Are you bringing the stroller?” she asked.
Uh, hello?! Have you not been out with us? Double strollers contain little people. Double strollers are a gift from God. “Yes, I’m taking the stroller.”
We find a spot after trying out some other spots. I realize I’m getting older as the cheerleaders and dance teams pass by and I think, how do their parents let them wear those outfits? Why aren’t parents protesting? One school has cheerleading skirts that are just flaps, so when the girls move you can see their shorts. What’s the purpose of that?! Just let the girls wear the shorts with the sweater, cut out the middle man.
We had a good time. Being out amongst the people, enjoying the crowds, the smell of the delicious hot dogs. Next year, I’m bringing money with me. And we got some exercise. Oma even treated us to Church’s, or rather the kids. Every time I go to Church’s for some reason I always think of Melody.
A good day and a good way to spend MLK Day even if school never got accomplished.
One cool family
I decided to drive back to the OC so Rowan and Lana could spend their last day together. They played. Rowan played with Lana’s Irish twin, Kayla. While the kids played, I talked to Lana’s mother, Jamie. What an awesome chick she is. She’s funny and smart, loves God and her family. An awesome sister to have, giving. She’s got beautiful children. She makes me want to have another one. A little baby boy. Oh my Jack.
Rowan asked her questions about adoption and skin color and she answered them like a pro.
It would be nice if they lived in CA. I could see us becoming close friends. I really like smart, funny, God fearing chicks named Jamie.
Rowan asked her questions about adoption and skin color and she answered them like a pro.
It would be nice if they lived in CA. I could see us becoming close friends. I really like smart, funny, God fearing chicks named Jamie.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Mark and Nika's Wedding
Today is the day I’ve been looking forward to for months. My friend, Julie or Auntie Lala to TTT, her daughter is getting married today. I thought it would be perfect because it was on a Saturday so no rushing from LA to the OC on a weekday.
As I sent Jory back to the bathroom because he neglected to lotion down and brush his teeth after his bath and Rowan wanted to do start her own exercise video while I was drying her off, I realized it is amazing more children aren’t throttled or parents throttle themselves during the act of dressing. I also realized my dreams of being early were going to die, especially when Oma couldn’t decide how to do Rowan’s hair.
Breakfast seemed to take forever, but I knew everyone needed to eat before we left so I wouldn’t hear “Mommy, I’m hungry” while Nika, the bride, and Mark, the groom, exchanged their vows. We got on the road and I double checked the estimated time of arrival and the current time. We would make it with a few minutes to spare.
The drive was going great until we had to transfer to another freeway. Crap, traffic jam. How is there a traffic jam at 12:30PM on a Saturday?! What in the world is going on? When I finally made my way onto the onramp, I saw there were two cars pulled over on the shoulder. Oh the lookie-loos who slow down traffic for everyone.
We were going to cut it close, nope, we were going to be late. Crap! Where do I change? I was going to change at the church, but now that was out. Thanks, lookie-loos. Thank you God, that you gave me the wisdom to dress the kids before we left home. I had been worried if they were dressed too early they would get dirty. Okay, what to do, what to do. I gotta change in the car.
Shout out to my Mimi for teaching me how to switch tops without exposing anything. See some things you learn in life doesn’t come from the classroom, but from the girls’ bathroom before and after P.E. Changing and reading directions led to me missing the church. I was busy looking for the street I was already on, luckily I noticed that pretty quickly.
The church parking lot was full so onto the street to park it was. I didn’t feel as bad about being late when I saw others parking behind me. Other wedding guests, some of them I recognized. I quickly put on my stockings as the kids stood next to the car on the sidewalk, I threw papers out of my purse. Look at how much I love Julie and how much having kids changed me, once upon a time I would have read or been writing if I had no one to talk to at a wedding or any sort of social event. I put on my shoes and we started to walk.
The wedding hadn’t started. SCORE! Walking into the church, I looked around the décor. I knew Nika and Mark were going to have pictures as part of their décor, but I thought it would be pictures of just themselves, from their engagement shoot, but they weren’t. There were pictures of them with their family. It was awesome. Pictures of the two families being joined together forever. It was awesome. So much better than I imagined.
SCORE!! We were seated on the side of the church by people we knew. Not just people we knew, but people I actually have had conversations with. We got settled in our seats and several minutes the wedding started and the complaints began.
“Mommy, I can’t see,” Rowan complained.
I let her stand up, but she wouldn’t have been satisfied unless she was standing front and center. She is really into weddings, marriages, and the whole shebang. Thanks Disney princesses.
“Mommy, I want to take a picture,” Jory complained.
Are you serious?! Am I not trying to enjoy a wedding, people, and take some pictures with this crappy replacement camera? “You should have brought your camera, Jory.”
Why did it sound like their voices were echoing in the church? Maybe we should go outside.
“Rowan, you can’t move up any closer. Here look at this,” I said, handing her a picture Bible.
Yikes! Must she turn the pages so loudly. Are people going to start staring at us?
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom,” the baby whispered in my ear.
“Rowan won’t give it to me,” Jory informed me, referring to the program.
You know what, I didn’t want to hear what Pastor Earl was saying any way. “Baby, can you wait?”
She shook her head while she readjusted herself for the ninetieth time in my lap. I reached for the program and take it from Rowan to hand it to Jory, while signing “share.”
“Mommy, can I sit next to my Sarah?” my big girl asked.
“No, Rowan stay where you are and be quiet, please,” I command.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”
Does this little girl have the tiniest bladder in the free living world?
“Can you wait?”
“No, I can’t wait.”
“Mommy, can I take a picture.”
I handed Jory the camera, bounced the baby around. Maybe doing the pee pee dance would help her keep it in.
Song time, SCORE!!! My bench mates were going to play and sing so now we can go to the bathroom without stepping over people and making a scene. I asked the mom behind us to watch Jory and Rowan while I take the baby to the bathroom. She graciously said yes.
Off to the bathroom we went where we ran into other moms of young ones. I thought we were quick, but not quick enough the song was over. Crap! Our benchmates were seated, but since the ceremony was almost finished we sat on the end of the pew until the ceremony was over and Nika and Mark were finally husband and wife. Yippee!!! I was so happy for them!
Our pews were free to go to the reception hall when our row was released. When we got to the hall, all the good spots were taken. I finally decided we would sit near the family tables, close to the door, until I saw a family sitting outside and saw the kids eyeing the appetizers and donut wedding cake. Yep, outside it was. It would eliminate anyone getting in trouble.
Without sitting in the doorway, I thought we were close enough to get inside when things were going on yet far enough away that the kids could play without disturbing anyone inside. What I didn’t count on was every other adult walking around or outside having the same idea as me so whenever anything was going on, the doorway was filled quicker than I could say, “Boo!”.
Lana came outside and zeroed in on Rowan, who then was in seventh heaven. Me and my feet were relieved that I didn’t have to play any more hide n’ seek. Jory, thanks to Jamie and her mother, Linda, was in seventh heaven that there were pepperoni as part of the appetizers and that at some point there would be ice cream. The baby was just in seventh heaven to be running wild.
The wedding was lovely. The kids and I had a great time at the reception. The bride and groom were lovely and their ice cream bar with more photos was a complete hit! More so then the appetizer table which Jory really loved and probably sneaked in and got more from that table then I even know.
Two people joining their lives together and becoming one. What a great way to kick off the New Year! Congrats Mark and Nika! To quote Star Trek since I’m such a huge fan, “May you live long and prosper and maybe become the OC version of the Duggars.” That would be AWESOME!
As I sent Jory back to the bathroom because he neglected to lotion down and brush his teeth after his bath and Rowan wanted to do start her own exercise video while I was drying her off, I realized it is amazing more children aren’t throttled or parents throttle themselves during the act of dressing. I also realized my dreams of being early were going to die, especially when Oma couldn’t decide how to do Rowan’s hair.
Breakfast seemed to take forever, but I knew everyone needed to eat before we left so I wouldn’t hear “Mommy, I’m hungry” while Nika, the bride, and Mark, the groom, exchanged their vows. We got on the road and I double checked the estimated time of arrival and the current time. We would make it with a few minutes to spare.
The drive was going great until we had to transfer to another freeway. Crap, traffic jam. How is there a traffic jam at 12:30PM on a Saturday?! What in the world is going on? When I finally made my way onto the onramp, I saw there were two cars pulled over on the shoulder. Oh the lookie-loos who slow down traffic for everyone.
We were going to cut it close, nope, we were going to be late. Crap! Where do I change? I was going to change at the church, but now that was out. Thanks, lookie-loos. Thank you God, that you gave me the wisdom to dress the kids before we left home. I had been worried if they were dressed too early they would get dirty. Okay, what to do, what to do. I gotta change in the car.
Shout out to my Mimi for teaching me how to switch tops without exposing anything. See some things you learn in life doesn’t come from the classroom, but from the girls’ bathroom before and after P.E. Changing and reading directions led to me missing the church. I was busy looking for the street I was already on, luckily I noticed that pretty quickly.
The church parking lot was full so onto the street to park it was. I didn’t feel as bad about being late when I saw others parking behind me. Other wedding guests, some of them I recognized. I quickly put on my stockings as the kids stood next to the car on the sidewalk, I threw papers out of my purse. Look at how much I love Julie and how much having kids changed me, once upon a time I would have read or been writing if I had no one to talk to at a wedding or any sort of social event. I put on my shoes and we started to walk.
The wedding hadn’t started. SCORE! Walking into the church, I looked around the décor. I knew Nika and Mark were going to have pictures as part of their décor, but I thought it would be pictures of just themselves, from their engagement shoot, but they weren’t. There were pictures of them with their family. It was awesome. Pictures of the two families being joined together forever. It was awesome. So much better than I imagined.
SCORE!! We were seated on the side of the church by people we knew. Not just people we knew, but people I actually have had conversations with. We got settled in our seats and several minutes the wedding started and the complaints began.
“Mommy, I can’t see,” Rowan complained.
I let her stand up, but she wouldn’t have been satisfied unless she was standing front and center. She is really into weddings, marriages, and the whole shebang. Thanks Disney princesses.
“Mommy, I want to take a picture,” Jory complained.
Are you serious?! Am I not trying to enjoy a wedding, people, and take some pictures with this crappy replacement camera? “You should have brought your camera, Jory.”
Why did it sound like their voices were echoing in the church? Maybe we should go outside.
“Rowan, you can’t move up any closer. Here look at this,” I said, handing her a picture Bible.
Yikes! Must she turn the pages so loudly. Are people going to start staring at us?
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom,” the baby whispered in my ear.
“Rowan won’t give it to me,” Jory informed me, referring to the program.
You know what, I didn’t want to hear what Pastor Earl was saying any way. “Baby, can you wait?”
She shook her head while she readjusted herself for the ninetieth time in my lap. I reached for the program and take it from Rowan to hand it to Jory, while signing “share.”
“Mommy, can I sit next to my Sarah?” my big girl asked.
“No, Rowan stay where you are and be quiet, please,” I command.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”
Does this little girl have the tiniest bladder in the free living world?
“Can you wait?”
“No, I can’t wait.”
“Mommy, can I take a picture.”
I handed Jory the camera, bounced the baby around. Maybe doing the pee pee dance would help her keep it in.
Song time, SCORE!!! My bench mates were going to play and sing so now we can go to the bathroom without stepping over people and making a scene. I asked the mom behind us to watch Jory and Rowan while I take the baby to the bathroom. She graciously said yes.
Off to the bathroom we went where we ran into other moms of young ones. I thought we were quick, but not quick enough the song was over. Crap! Our benchmates were seated, but since the ceremony was almost finished we sat on the end of the pew until the ceremony was over and Nika and Mark were finally husband and wife. Yippee!!! I was so happy for them!
Our pews were free to go to the reception hall when our row was released. When we got to the hall, all the good spots were taken. I finally decided we would sit near the family tables, close to the door, until I saw a family sitting outside and saw the kids eyeing the appetizers and donut wedding cake. Yep, outside it was. It would eliminate anyone getting in trouble.
Without sitting in the doorway, I thought we were close enough to get inside when things were going on yet far enough away that the kids could play without disturbing anyone inside. What I didn’t count on was every other adult walking around or outside having the same idea as me so whenever anything was going on, the doorway was filled quicker than I could say, “Boo!”.
Lana came outside and zeroed in on Rowan, who then was in seventh heaven. Me and my feet were relieved that I didn’t have to play any more hide n’ seek. Jory, thanks to Jamie and her mother, Linda, was in seventh heaven that there were pepperoni as part of the appetizers and that at some point there would be ice cream. The baby was just in seventh heaven to be running wild.
The wedding was lovely. The kids and I had a great time at the reception. The bride and groom were lovely and their ice cream bar with more photos was a complete hit! More so then the appetizer table which Jory really loved and probably sneaked in and got more from that table then I even know.
Two people joining their lives together and becoming one. What a great way to kick off the New Year! Congrats Mark and Nika! To quote Star Trek since I’m such a huge fan, “May you live long and prosper and maybe become the OC version of the Duggars.” That would be AWESOME!
Big ears
“Hi, it’s me. Give me a call when you get this message. Talk to you later, bye,” Rowan said into her cell phone.
Wow, those lines so familiar. They are there and always watching. Ah, the Talamasca aka children.
Wow, those lines so familiar. They are there and always watching. Ah, the Talamasca aka children.
Baby's funeral
We didn’t go to Baby’s funeral, but we did go to the repast at her house. Happy and family thoughtful got a bouncer for the kids. Jory saw that on the front lawn and dived right in, reconnecting with Happy’s great nieces and nephews and grandchildren whom he use to spend his days with when they were all babies going to Happy’s.
I saw people I hadn’t seen in a while. Kids who had grown up. One who recognized me by the sound of my voice. Really my voice is that distinctive?
I stood on the porch with some of my family while waiting for Happy to make her appearance. Just shooting the breeze until I looked inside the house and saw people inside were playing some type of video. I went inside and Baby’s niece had created a slide show with four different categories and songs. The first section was Baby growing up. The next section was Baby and her kids. The next was Baby and her grandson. Then Baby and her sisters. I caught a pic or two of Happy in some of those photos. A section with Baby and her friends. Then finally photos that were solely of Baby.
I just started bawling. I saw that she was born on May 4, 1967. She was only one year, seven months, and ten days older than Mona. One year, seven months, and ten days older than my big sister. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her sisters were/are going through. She had an older sister named Mona who after watching a few pictures, said, “I’ll start to cry,” so she walked out of the room. Not even 45. Diagnosised in May and gone by January.
I saw pictures of her in the snow and saw the date stamp of February 2011. Less than a year ago, she was alive, playing in the snow with her grandson, her daughter, her sisters, and other family members. Did she have any idea that would be her last February on earth? Did she know she was dying then? I mean faster than some others of us.
I cried when I thought about how young her children are. Yes, they are adults but to know that your mother won’t be there to celebrate your twenty-fivth birthday or thirtieth or fortieth. That at forty-five you would have surpassed her years on earth. I can’t even imagine.
I cried when I saw her now three-year-old grandson who most likely will never remember her. Won’t remember that trip to the snow. What it felt like for her to hold him? How she use to keep him on her days off while his maternal grandma worked.
Then I laughed because I wondered what did Baby do before cameras were installed in cell phones? These pictures, in this section, of her were mostly taken by her with her phone.
Finally it was over, I dried up my tears and went back outside. I went to go get a drink and all that was left was Tiki Punch. What are we five? When Happy came up, I didn’t know quite what to say. What do I say to a woman who lost her youngest daughter? Her baby for like twenty years. I said nothing just sat with her and my family, watching the kids play on the jumper. Watched her hold babies and chat about nothing in particular.
Then it was time for us to go. Jory came and gave Happy a hug, then I did and she whispered, “I love you guys.”
And I said, “We love you, too.”
Oh God is so good. So good.
I saw people I hadn’t seen in a while. Kids who had grown up. One who recognized me by the sound of my voice. Really my voice is that distinctive?
I stood on the porch with some of my family while waiting for Happy to make her appearance. Just shooting the breeze until I looked inside the house and saw people inside were playing some type of video. I went inside and Baby’s niece had created a slide show with four different categories and songs. The first section was Baby growing up. The next section was Baby and her kids. The next was Baby and her grandson. Then Baby and her sisters. I caught a pic or two of Happy in some of those photos. A section with Baby and her friends. Then finally photos that were solely of Baby.
I just started bawling. I saw that she was born on May 4, 1967. She was only one year, seven months, and ten days older than Mona. One year, seven months, and ten days older than my big sister. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her sisters were/are going through. She had an older sister named Mona who after watching a few pictures, said, “I’ll start to cry,” so she walked out of the room. Not even 45. Diagnosised in May and gone by January.
I saw pictures of her in the snow and saw the date stamp of February 2011. Less than a year ago, she was alive, playing in the snow with her grandson, her daughter, her sisters, and other family members. Did she have any idea that would be her last February on earth? Did she know she was dying then? I mean faster than some others of us.
I cried when I thought about how young her children are. Yes, they are adults but to know that your mother won’t be there to celebrate your twenty-fivth birthday or thirtieth or fortieth. That at forty-five you would have surpassed her years on earth. I can’t even imagine.
I cried when I saw her now three-year-old grandson who most likely will never remember her. Won’t remember that trip to the snow. What it felt like for her to hold him? How she use to keep him on her days off while his maternal grandma worked.
Then I laughed because I wondered what did Baby do before cameras were installed in cell phones? These pictures, in this section, of her were mostly taken by her with her phone.
Finally it was over, I dried up my tears and went back outside. I went to go get a drink and all that was left was Tiki Punch. What are we five? When Happy came up, I didn’t know quite what to say. What do I say to a woman who lost her youngest daughter? Her baby for like twenty years. I said nothing just sat with her and my family, watching the kids play on the jumper. Watched her hold babies and chat about nothing in particular.
Then it was time for us to go. Jory came and gave Happy a hug, then I did and she whispered, “I love you guys.”
And I said, “We love you, too.”
Oh God is so good. So good.
Don't know what to say
The Sunday after Baby passed, we left church and went to her house to pay our respects. I fortunately haven’t had to do this in a long while. It’s awkward, you never know what to say. You know there’s nothing you can say and you know it and the family knows it. So we sat, the kids wanted to go play, but they were still in their church clothes, so that was a no go.
Happy passed out some little jello snacks. We sat and watched the football game that was on. There were jokes and chatter.
I don’t know what the kids thought. I explained where we were going and why we were there. Not sure if it all clicked.
It seemed strange to sit next to Happy laughing with her, then looking at TTT and knowing she’s missing one of hers and won’t be reunited until she’s called home to.
Happy passed out some little jello snacks. We sat and watched the football game that was on. There were jokes and chatter.
I don’t know what the kids thought. I explained where we were going and why we were there. Not sure if it all clicked.
It seemed strange to sit next to Happy laughing with her, then looking at TTT and knowing she’s missing one of hers and won’t be reunited until she’s called home to.
Parenting lessons...
Rowan’s current goal in life is to not want to have any teeth by the time she’s twenty. Every morning it’s this constant struggle to get her to brush her teeth. As soon as the toothpaste hits her toothbrush, she is overcome with the need to rub, scratch, scratch, rub. There’s something in her eye, in her hair. Her back itches, her leg itches. She has to wipe her mouth, wipe her forehead. It’s enough to make a sane person go bonkers.
Nothing seems to motivate her or encourage her.to just sit down and brush her teeth. She’ll sit there with the toothbrush near her mouth and do nothing.
Parenting a lesson in how not to strangle people.
Nothing seems to motivate her or encourage her.to just sit down and brush her teeth. She’ll sit there with the toothbrush near her mouth and do nothing.
Parenting a lesson in how not to strangle people.
Growing pains
Last year at Jory’s six year check-up, I mentioned to his wonderful doctor that he was having headaches occasionally. She told me that sometimes kids get headaches before they become ill so look for that. The past year, I watched and for us that wasn’t the correlation. Over the year, he’d have one headache every two weeks or so. Then a week in October, he had one for three days in a row. I called the doctor to talk to her and was advised to make an appointment. I decided since they stopped and we were going to the doctor soon, I’d talk to her then.
On the 19th, Jory was playing then he came into the room and said he had a headache and he was going to go to bed. He climbed on the bed and within minutes he was asleep. At around 1AM, he woke up crying said his head hurt. He’s never awakened in the middle of the night saying his head hurt. And for the pain to wake him up, yikes! I gave him the only thing we had ibuprofen, put some of that stuff I bought in Vietnam on his forehead, and cradled my baby and comforted him through his tears. There was some fear that ran through me. This kid can’t have a brain tumor or be sick. And he most definitely can’t die on me, does he know how much work I put into him? How much work it took to get him home? How I had to battle a crazy system to make him mine? How I need a return on my investment? I knew our morning would be spent in his doctor’s office.
We took the girls to school and walked into his doctor’s office. Sadly, his doctor was booked so we had to see the one with the bedside manner of a ganat. I’ve been told he’s a top pedititrican but ugh that personality kills me, but for my baby boy I’ll put up with it.
Hours upon hours of waiting, though we did get some schooling done while we waited, SCORE one for homeschooling, he checked Jory out and said it was a neurological problem. PRAISE GOD!!! He told me that it was a very good sign that ibuprofen did away with the pain and to bring Jory back in a week. Jory had his seven year check up the following week, so I would be bringing him back but not to see this doctor for sure.
When we came for Jory’s yearly check-up his doctor and I talked and she referred him to a pediatric neurologist just to be on the safe side and because we don’t his medical history.
So today that’s where we went. The neurologist was very nice. Her office was kid friendly. She asked him questions while he stared down at the street nine floors below. She asked me questions. It wasn’t until she started asking me about my history with headaches that I told her he was adopted. There’s been discussion about that on adoption groups. People think it’s good for the doctor to know, yet there is a chance that it could prejudice the doctor’s opinion. Doctors are human after all and could have pre-conceived notions on adoption and the type of people who place their children for adoption.
She did some exercises with him, explained to me what causes headaches, which was very interesting. Stress which causes blood vessels to tighten which causes pain or the blood vessels being flooded with blood causing them to expand and becoming inflamed which is why, she said, ibuprofen works better for headaches then Tylenol because ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory. She told me praise God, that it wasn’t neurological. She didn’t think it was serious because they didn’t happen frequently.
The doctor said it could be caused by not enough sleep. This could be true with the ongoing construction interrupting our normal routines. She said certain types of foods like chocolates, Chinese food, processed meats like hot dogs, can also cause them. Those are the causes of Mijo’s headaches. She felt Jory’s headaches could be genetic. She said some families are more prone to headaches than others. She wasn’t worried and said we’d be fine.
Thank you, Jesus. Her words were music to me ears and an answer to my prayers. My baby boy is a-okay. No we don’t know what triggers them, but they go away on their own, they don’t interfere with his sight or make him incapable of doing things. I don’t think they are triggered by certain foods because he gets headaches at night or in the morning, no rhyme or reason.
My Jory is okay and will just have to live with the headaches. We’ll talk to his doctor about this diagnosis or non-diagnosis for a follow-up and second opinion.
God is good!
On the 19th, Jory was playing then he came into the room and said he had a headache and he was going to go to bed. He climbed on the bed and within minutes he was asleep. At around 1AM, he woke up crying said his head hurt. He’s never awakened in the middle of the night saying his head hurt. And for the pain to wake him up, yikes! I gave him the only thing we had ibuprofen, put some of that stuff I bought in Vietnam on his forehead, and cradled my baby and comforted him through his tears. There was some fear that ran through me. This kid can’t have a brain tumor or be sick. And he most definitely can’t die on me, does he know how much work I put into him? How much work it took to get him home? How I had to battle a crazy system to make him mine? How I need a return on my investment? I knew our morning would be spent in his doctor’s office.
We took the girls to school and walked into his doctor’s office. Sadly, his doctor was booked so we had to see the one with the bedside manner of a ganat. I’ve been told he’s a top pedititrican but ugh that personality kills me, but for my baby boy I’ll put up with it.
Hours upon hours of waiting, though we did get some schooling done while we waited, SCORE one for homeschooling, he checked Jory out and said it was a neurological problem. PRAISE GOD!!! He told me that it was a very good sign that ibuprofen did away with the pain and to bring Jory back in a week. Jory had his seven year check up the following week, so I would be bringing him back but not to see this doctor for sure.
When we came for Jory’s yearly check-up his doctor and I talked and she referred him to a pediatric neurologist just to be on the safe side and because we don’t his medical history.
So today that’s where we went. The neurologist was very nice. Her office was kid friendly. She asked him questions while he stared down at the street nine floors below. She asked me questions. It wasn’t until she started asking me about my history with headaches that I told her he was adopted. There’s been discussion about that on adoption groups. People think it’s good for the doctor to know, yet there is a chance that it could prejudice the doctor’s opinion. Doctors are human after all and could have pre-conceived notions on adoption and the type of people who place their children for adoption.
She did some exercises with him, explained to me what causes headaches, which was very interesting. Stress which causes blood vessels to tighten which causes pain or the blood vessels being flooded with blood causing them to expand and becoming inflamed which is why, she said, ibuprofen works better for headaches then Tylenol because ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory. She told me praise God, that it wasn’t neurological. She didn’t think it was serious because they didn’t happen frequently.
The doctor said it could be caused by not enough sleep. This could be true with the ongoing construction interrupting our normal routines. She said certain types of foods like chocolates, Chinese food, processed meats like hot dogs, can also cause them. Those are the causes of Mijo’s headaches. She felt Jory’s headaches could be genetic. She said some families are more prone to headaches than others. She wasn’t worried and said we’d be fine.
Thank you, Jesus. Her words were music to me ears and an answer to my prayers. My baby boy is a-okay. No we don’t know what triggers them, but they go away on their own, they don’t interfere with his sight or make him incapable of doing things. I don’t think they are triggered by certain foods because he gets headaches at night or in the morning, no rhyme or reason.
My Jory is okay and will just have to live with the headaches. We’ll talk to his doctor about this diagnosis or non-diagnosis for a follow-up and second opinion.
God is good!
How 'bout....
“Mommy, how ‘bout- - how ‘out this? You put a movie on and me and Rowan and Jory watch it, and you go to work. How ‘bout that?”
How exactly am I suppose to take that? So the baby wants to get rid of me so she and her siblings can watch a movie on my laptop?
What’s that all about?
How exactly am I suppose to take that? So the baby wants to get rid of me so she and her siblings can watch a movie on my laptop?
What’s that all about?
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Rowan and Lana and the bromance that wasn't
We arrived at church late and I stayed in the nursery for the first time ever because Layla was not having a good day. Really, she was probably perfectly fine, but she’s so incredibly spoiled that I just say she wasn’t having a good day. Anyway, after church was over who appeared at the nursery door, but Lana. She and Rowan hugged and the next thing I knew the two of them took off. Both girls leaving their sisters in their dust.
The whole afternoon, Lana and Rowan ran, played, swung, went down the slide, came up to Grandma Johnson’s table and grabbed some fruit or chips, and then were off again. At times, both girls who are both Irish twins included their sisters, their twins in their fun, but mostly it was just the two of them.
It was so sweet to see, to watch. When I thought about my kids’ friendships, I thought mostly about JOry’s. I wanted him to have a bromance. To find the Turk to his JD. The Shaun to his Gus. I was kinda hoping that would happen between Bryant, Lana’s older brother, and him. They are both the eldest child with Irish twin sisters close in age to them. And if Jory ever gets a new sibling, it would be a baby brother like Bryant now has. But so far, the bromance hasn’t popped. The bromance is happening for their sisters, Lana and Rowan.
I pray this friendship florishes and grows even with the distance between them.
The whole afternoon, Lana and Rowan ran, played, swung, went down the slide, came up to Grandma Johnson’s table and grabbed some fruit or chips, and then were off again. At times, both girls who are both Irish twins included their sisters, their twins in their fun, but mostly it was just the two of them.
It was so sweet to see, to watch. When I thought about my kids’ friendships, I thought mostly about JOry’s. I wanted him to have a bromance. To find the Turk to his JD. The Shaun to his Gus. I was kinda hoping that would happen between Bryant, Lana’s older brother, and him. They are both the eldest child with Irish twin sisters close in age to them. And if Jory ever gets a new sibling, it would be a baby brother like Bryant now has. But so far, the bromance hasn’t popped. The bromance is happening for their sisters, Lana and Rowan.
I pray this friendship florishes and grows even with the distance between them.
Saturday, January 7th Rowan enters the big girl world
Shortly after we walk in the door, the phone rings and it’s Linda Johnson saying she had a certain someone who wanted to talk to Rowan. I called Rowan to the phone and she answered.
I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I know her friend told her she missed her to which Rowan replied, “I missed you too.” And she told her friend, “Yes,” she would be at church tomorrow and then the conversation ended.
Rowan was very excited. Excited to receive her first phone call. Excited to see her friend, Lana Gilchrist, at church the next day.
My big girl’s first phone call. How sweet. That Johnson/Gilchrist family is pretty awesome…Now if only a certain part of that family got a job transfer to LA….
I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I know her friend told her she missed her to which Rowan replied, “I missed you too.” And she told her friend, “Yes,” she would be at church tomorrow and then the conversation ended.
Rowan was very excited. Excited to receive her first phone call. Excited to see her friend, Lana Gilchrist, at church the next day.
My big girl’s first phone call. How sweet. That Johnson/Gilchrist family is pretty awesome…Now if only a certain part of that family got a job transfer to LA….
Check yo'self before you wreck yo'self isn't that what Cube said?
“Here’s your breakfast,” I say to Jory as he walks into the kitchen.
“Can I put some butter in it?” he asks me as he looks at his oatmeal.
I am not Oma, we do not put butter in oatmeal when mommy makes it. A little bit of sugar, yes, but not butter. “No.”
“Please.”
“No. Jory, you know Mommy does not put butter in oatmeal.”
He frowns and sort of pouts. “I want Honeybuches of Oats. I don’t want oatmeal for breakfast.”
Excuse me. Wait, I cook you breakfast and because it’s not fixed how you want it, you’re not going to eat it? “You don’t have to eat breakfast at all. You can eat at lunch. You’ll be fine.”
He could see I was not joking. “No, Mommy, I want it.”
So we then proceeded to have a conversation about being grateful for what we get, even when it’s not exactly how we want it. How God wants us to be thankful.
After some tears, Jory apologizes and eats his oatmeal.
I suggest that we not have to have this conversation again. What is wrong with him? I get up and make you breakfast and then you’re going to get up and complain? Are you kidding me?! And why after all this time is he shocked that I would give him oatmeal without butter in it? I’ve never made him oatmeal with butter, so why does he think all of a sudden I would. Maybe he’s hoping, praying for the day, when I make oatmeal the way his Oma does. In the meantime, he better check himself.
“Can I put some butter in it?” he asks me as he looks at his oatmeal.
I am not Oma, we do not put butter in oatmeal when mommy makes it. A little bit of sugar, yes, but not butter. “No.”
“Please.”
“No. Jory, you know Mommy does not put butter in oatmeal.”
He frowns and sort of pouts. “I want Honeybuches of Oats. I don’t want oatmeal for breakfast.”
Excuse me. Wait, I cook you breakfast and because it’s not fixed how you want it, you’re not going to eat it? “You don’t have to eat breakfast at all. You can eat at lunch. You’ll be fine.”
He could see I was not joking. “No, Mommy, I want it.”
So we then proceeded to have a conversation about being grateful for what we get, even when it’s not exactly how we want it. How God wants us to be thankful.
After some tears, Jory apologizes and eats his oatmeal.
I suggest that we not have to have this conversation again. What is wrong with him? I get up and make you breakfast and then you’re going to get up and complain? Are you kidding me?! And why after all this time is he shocked that I would give him oatmeal without butter in it? I’ve never made him oatmeal with butter, so why does he think all of a sudden I would. Maybe he’s hoping, praying for the day, when I make oatmeal the way his Oma does. In the meantime, he better check himself.
Self-Perservation
Rowan is getting a little sassy as she’s getting older, but common sense reels her back in.
I asked her a question at the dinner table and she gave me a smart answer.
“Who are you talking to?” I inquired.
“The refrigerator,” she replied.
“I thought so.” I answered.
Ah, that self-perservation kicks in at the young age of four.
I asked her a question at the dinner table and she gave me a smart answer.
“Who are you talking to?” I inquired.
“The refrigerator,” she replied.
“I thought so.” I answered.
Ah, that self-perservation kicks in at the young age of four.
Wednesday, January 4
When I got home tonight, my mom told me that Baby passed away this morning. Baby was Happy’s youngest daughter and youngest child for nearly 20 years. Baby was diagnoised with cancer earlier this year, already at stage four.
I remember the last time we saw her was this summer at Home Depot in Marina Del Rey. She was working and saw the kids and called out to them. I was going to say something back to her, but it dawned on me that I didn’t know her real name and that I probably shouldn’t yell out “Baby!” at her place of work, so instead I just waved.
Her name was Candace. And she wasn’t that old. And she’s left behind two barely adult children and a grandson. A grieving mother, three sisters, and a brother. A host of nieces and nephews and cousins.
It is during times like these, I have to repeat my mantra, “God is good. God is good.” Her family is in my prayers. I pray that they are comforted and given some peace by knowing that she has finally heard those long awaited words, “Well done, my good and faithful one. Well done.”
I remember the last time we saw her was this summer at Home Depot in Marina Del Rey. She was working and saw the kids and called out to them. I was going to say something back to her, but it dawned on me that I didn’t know her real name and that I probably shouldn’t yell out “Baby!” at her place of work, so instead I just waved.
Her name was Candace. And she wasn’t that old. And she’s left behind two barely adult children and a grandson. A grieving mother, three sisters, and a brother. A host of nieces and nephews and cousins.
It is during times like these, I have to repeat my mantra, “God is good. God is good.” Her family is in my prayers. I pray that they are comforted and given some peace by knowing that she has finally heard those long awaited words, “Well done, my good and faithful one. Well done.”
Worse Christmas Break Ever
My poor mother has spent the past month sitting at home practically every day waiting to see if the workmen will show up, at what time will they show up, and which workmen will show up.
I know this isn’t all the construction workers fault, this on-going construction process, some of the blame lays solely at my mom’s feet. Really there’s enough blame to go around. But that aside, I feel bad this is the way she’s spending her six weeks off. Sad at times, frustrated at times, angry at times, disappointed at times. This has been an incredibly long journey for her.
My mom thinks the worse of everyone, pretty much. Maybe that’s harsh and not completely accurate, but she struggles- - strike that - - she lives in the land of cyncism. They are really good friends. And through this construction process, she has met and worked with professionals who just reaffirm her reasoning for thinking the worst of everyone. I’m not sure if that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy or what. But I really wish, the next time we have work done that she would blown away by someone who is completely on the ball, true to their word, yet all while being reasonably priced.
Next year’s Christmas vacation will be better.
I know this isn’t all the construction workers fault, this on-going construction process, some of the blame lays solely at my mom’s feet. Really there’s enough blame to go around. But that aside, I feel bad this is the way she’s spending her six weeks off. Sad at times, frustrated at times, angry at times, disappointed at times. This has been an incredibly long journey for her.
My mom thinks the worse of everyone, pretty much. Maybe that’s harsh and not completely accurate, but she struggles- - strike that - - she lives in the land of cyncism. They are really good friends. And through this construction process, she has met and worked with professionals who just reaffirm her reasoning for thinking the worst of everyone. I’m not sure if that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy or what. But I really wish, the next time we have work done that she would blown away by someone who is completely on the ball, true to their word, yet all while being reasonably priced.
Next year’s Christmas vacation will be better.
The new world order
“Really?”
I overheard Jory question.
“Really?”
I heard again. I turned to look in the back. Jory and Rowan were sitting in the back seat next to each other. Their hands were touching.
“Really?!” he repeated again. “Really, you’re going to push me. I’m seven-years-old and I’m stronger than you.”
Welcome to the world of seven, Rowan and Layla, you better watch out.
I overheard Jory question.
“Really?”
I heard again. I turned to look in the back. Jory and Rowan were sitting in the back seat next to each other. Their hands were touching.
“Really?!” he repeated again. “Really, you’re going to push me. I’m seven-years-old and I’m stronger than you.”
Welcome to the world of seven, Rowan and Layla, you better watch out.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Valentine's Day!!!
Jory, Rowan, and Layla, I love you! And on this day devoted to love because the other days are devoted to what exactly? Okay, we won't go there today. I just want you to know that I love you and I praise God for you three. Not just today, but everyday I am blessed to be a servant of God whose job is to rear you three. You guys rock my world!
Although I speak with the tongues
Of men and of angels
Although I prophesy
And understand all
Although I have all faith
That mountains could be removed
Although I feed the poor
And give of my life
If I have not charity
If love does not flow through me
I am nothing
Jesus reduce me to love
Jesus reduce me to love
Love is patient and kind
And love is not envious
Not proud but gentle and meek
Seeks not its own way
Love sings when Jesus prevails
Believes and endures all things
Love hopes and bears every wrong
And love never fails
One season I was a child
I spake and thought as a child
But when I turned to a man
Such things put away
And now we see through a glass
But then we shall see face to face
Though now abide faith and hope
The greatest is love
Although I speak with the tongues
Of men and of angels
Although I prophesy
And understand all
Although I have all faith
That mountains could be removed
Although I feed the poor
And give of my life
If I have not charity
If love does not flow through me
I am nothing
Jesus reduce me to love
Jesus reduce me to love
Love is patient and kind
And love is not envious
Not proud but gentle and meek
Seeks not its own way
Love sings when Jesus prevails
Believes and endures all things
Love hopes and bears every wrong
And love never fails
One season I was a child
I spake and thought as a child
But when I turned to a man
Such things put away
And now we see through a glass
But then we shall see face to face
Though now abide faith and hope
The greatest is love
Thursday, February 9, 2012
H & R Block is EEEVIIILLLL!!!!
For some crack smoking reason, I decided to call them to have someone review the letter I got from the IRS on Monday night. I wanted to make sure I was reading the letter correctly and understood the amount of the refund I was getting.
I emailed H & R Block tax advisor number four that I worked with on Tuesday. I followed up with a phone call on Wednesday. He hadn't checked his email and he couldn't help me because my file was at the temporary office he worked in and not at the office he usually works in during tax season. He told me to call the original office I dealt with and have them help me. I thanked him for his time. He congratulated me and I hung up.
I called a premium office and explained the situation to the receptionist and she transferred me to my fifth tax advisor. The woman told me to email her the letter and she would get back to me. Awesome! I forwarded the email I had sent to tax advisor number four to tax advisor number five.
I waited to hear from her. Nothing. Still nothing.
I called this morning and got their voicemail. No way was I leaving a voicemail. I was calling until I spoke to someone. I got someone this afternoon and asked for tax advisor number five.
"Oh, you sent me an email?" she asked.
"Yes, yesterday at 11:41AM after we spoke," I replied.
"I haven't checked my email let me log on."
WHY?!?!? WHY!?!?!?! Why on God's green earth does your company have email if you don't check it daily? If you don't check it multiple times a day? Don't give out your email if you never check it. Just my rule of thumb. I get it's tax season and they are super busy. Then don't give out your email address during tax season.
Tax advisor number five checked her emails and saw that I had sent her an email yesterday. She opened it and read it.
"So they denied most of your credit," she mumbled.
"They did what?!" I asked, feeling my anxiety go through the roof. I think I might be having a heart attack. "The guy from the IRS tax advocate department said I was getting my full refund," I continued, but she wasn't listening.
I quickly opened the email I sent her and start reading what she was reading/mumbling to herself.
"The number in parenthesis is the amount they are withholding," the tax advisor informed me.
My heart sank. I had plans for that money. In my head, this money had already been spent. Oh my goodness!
I read the other part of the multiple page letter that she wasn't reading. Wait, a minute. These pages mention the forms I sent in, the amount of credit for each of the years I adopted, and says I was approved for the same amount the guy from the tax advocate office said I was getting.
"I'm reading this page and it says I was approved."
"Let me read that....oh, I didn't read that page." She read the paragraphs to me. "Oh yeah, you were approved for the three adoptions and you should be getting a check in four to six weeks. I'm sorry, I didn't read that page. So the number in the parenthesis on the other page was how much you're getting and if it wasn't in the parenthesis it would be the amount you owe the government."
You gave me a heart attack almost because you didn't read the first three pages of the letter first? You don't know which numbers means you are getting this amount or you owe this amount? Are you serious?!?!
Please God save me from this company. Let this be the last time I have to deal with them regarding this tax situation. Please God.
I thanked her and hung up. I took a deep breath. Dear God, never again. Please never again.
I emailed H & R Block tax advisor number four that I worked with on Tuesday. I followed up with a phone call on Wednesday. He hadn't checked his email and he couldn't help me because my file was at the temporary office he worked in and not at the office he usually works in during tax season. He told me to call the original office I dealt with and have them help me. I thanked him for his time. He congratulated me and I hung up.
I called a premium office and explained the situation to the receptionist and she transferred me to my fifth tax advisor. The woman told me to email her the letter and she would get back to me. Awesome! I forwarded the email I had sent to tax advisor number four to tax advisor number five.
I waited to hear from her. Nothing. Still nothing.
I called this morning and got their voicemail. No way was I leaving a voicemail. I was calling until I spoke to someone. I got someone this afternoon and asked for tax advisor number five.
"Oh, you sent me an email?" she asked.
"Yes, yesterday at 11:41AM after we spoke," I replied.
"I haven't checked my email let me log on."
WHY?!?!? WHY!?!?!?! Why on God's green earth does your company have email if you don't check it daily? If you don't check it multiple times a day? Don't give out your email if you never check it. Just my rule of thumb. I get it's tax season and they are super busy. Then don't give out your email address during tax season.
Tax advisor number five checked her emails and saw that I had sent her an email yesterday. She opened it and read it.
"So they denied most of your credit," she mumbled.
"They did what?!" I asked, feeling my anxiety go through the roof. I think I might be having a heart attack. "The guy from the IRS tax advocate department said I was getting my full refund," I continued, but she wasn't listening.
I quickly opened the email I sent her and start reading what she was reading/mumbling to herself.
"The number in parenthesis is the amount they are withholding," the tax advisor informed me.
My heart sank. I had plans for that money. In my head, this money had already been spent. Oh my goodness!
I read the other part of the multiple page letter that she wasn't reading. Wait, a minute. These pages mention the forms I sent in, the amount of credit for each of the years I adopted, and says I was approved for the same amount the guy from the tax advocate office said I was getting.
"I'm reading this page and it says I was approved."
"Let me read that....oh, I didn't read that page." She read the paragraphs to me. "Oh yeah, you were approved for the three adoptions and you should be getting a check in four to six weeks. I'm sorry, I didn't read that page. So the number in the parenthesis on the other page was how much you're getting and if it wasn't in the parenthesis it would be the amount you owe the government."
You gave me a heart attack almost because you didn't read the first three pages of the letter first? You don't know which numbers means you are getting this amount or you owe this amount? Are you serious?!?!
Please God save me from this company. Let this be the last time I have to deal with them regarding this tax situation. Please God.
I thanked her and hung up. I took a deep breath. Dear God, never again. Please never again.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Adoption Tax Credit - Partial Saga
Nov 15th - I just spent the last 2 hours on the phone with the IRS. First number I called was 800.829.1040; they told me that my adoption tax credit had been transferred to the examination department. The agent told me that most adoption tax credits are sent to the examination department because so many people scam the adoption tax credit. How is it possible you fake adoption decrees? Fake judicial signatures and stamps?
But bygones, the examination department's number is 866.897.0161. In the midst of me finally talking to an agent, we get disconnected and the IRS only had my home number- - NOOOOOO!!!!!! I'm at work. I called back and praise God, the second agent worked with the first agent and she transferred me back.
The first agent told me that I had been sent a letter on the 10th and that my credit had been denied because the IRS couldn't understand how my adoption tax credit carry forward was calculated for 2010. I explained to the agent that the amount came from my 1040Xs and while she saw they had been received, she told me to either fax and/or mail them in again and that she would send a note to the person handling my file.
So now I'm writing my fax cover sheet and sending it out.
My advice is to give your phone number to the agent before you say anything just in case you get disconnected.
Dec 15 – I got a letter from the IRS requesting more paperwork. They want to know how H & R block got the carry forward number in 2010. Happy Happy Joy Joy!! I immediately scan the documents send them to my H & R Block tax representative. He calls me and sets up an appointment. Nothing like still dealing with your taxes that you mailed in on April 15th during Christmas.
He explains everything he printed out everything, how he recalculated the numbers, and says the carry forward number is correct. I asked if this will be the last thing, I will have to send to the IRS. He told me, no, and that he thought the next step would be them being nitpicky about the numbers on lines. He also tells me that each time my case is moved to another department, each department is scrutinizing my paperwork more and needing more paperwork to answer their department’s questions.
He also informs me that his boss is unhappy with the 20 hours he’s spent on my case since his district isn’t getting paid for it, since I paid another district. He tells me that if I have any more questions, I should start working with someone in the district I paid. I remind him of how I worked with three different tax consultants before finally getting to him. He tells me it was because it was the off-season and that wouldn’t happen now. I don’t believe him so I just nod.
He tells me he brought my situation up in a tax class along with two other adoption tax credit cases he had. He said the teacher of the class told him that at first the IRS was giving returns to anyone who applied, but when they saw the volume of people applying for the credit, they started auditing families. Damn me for waiting until April to file.
Dec 28 – I mail the copies of forms that the IRS asked for. I hope waiting after the Christmas rush insures it gets there safely.
Dec 29 – I get a letter from the IRS saying on January 9, they will call me. Interesting that they can call me when I just mailed in documents they requested.
Jan 25 - I call the IRS to see if they have my paperwork I sent before the New Year’s. The helpful agent informed me she couldn’t open my file completely, but she did see that I sent something in in November. I explain that I had faxed something in in November, but I wanted to make sure the IRS had the documents I recently sent in.
She tells me that they could have been attached to the paperwork I sent in in December, she wasn’t sure. I ask if I should fax in the copies of the forms requested. She tells me it couldn’t hurt and to make sure I put my SSN at the top of every page.
I nicely explain to her when I sent my tax returns in and how this had been ongoing since April. She tells me she knows and that it is taking up to a year or longer to get a refund. A year or longer?!?! She rechecks my file and says it looks like everything I need is in and if it’s not, the IRS would contact me.
She explains that depending on where my paperwork is, it gets seen based on what’s going on in that department. She is currently working on paperwork that came in in November, but some offices are working earlier months and some are working later months. And if an office gets a special assignment that of course will take precedence.
I tell her that I will fax in the paperwork I mailed in December. She tells me she will make a note of it in my file. I ask when I should call back. She says to call back in a month, and then she gives me the number for the IRS tax advocate.
I thank her.
Jan 30 – I fax in the paperwork I mailed in December 28.
Feb 6 – I see the IRS tax advocate number staring up at me. It can’t hurt to call. What do I have to lose? I call and only wait on hold for eight minutes. I get transfer quickly from the woman who answered the phone to a kind gentleman. I give him a condense version of what’s been going on recently and ask if he could possible help me.
He apologizes and tells me that they were told to review adoption tax credits for 2010.
He looks up my file and says, yes, he did see my various phone conversations with the IRS and that I sent in the information requested. And he couldn’t help me because they approved my credit on Thursday. PRAISE GOD! I felt myself tearing up and I didn’t cry when I got the call about any of my kids, but I was about to cry about this.
He says it usually takes about two weeks to get the check out. I could have kissed him. Call me cynical, but until I have that check in my hand I won’t really believe it. Though I did spring for chesseburgers, fries, and Cokes for myself and my friend and co-worker, Deedee, because I was so happy.
I’ll contact H & R Block once I have the check. God is so good! Even though I don’t deserve it all still He keeps on giving to me!
This nightmare might really be almost over. Here’s the tax advocate number 877.777.4778.
For those still waiting, best of luck! And for those who are filing for 2011, I hope the process is much smoother this time around.
But bygones, the examination department's number is 866.897.0161. In the midst of me finally talking to an agent, we get disconnected and the IRS only had my home number- - NOOOOOO!!!!!! I'm at work. I called back and praise God, the second agent worked with the first agent and she transferred me back.
The first agent told me that I had been sent a letter on the 10th and that my credit had been denied because the IRS couldn't understand how my adoption tax credit carry forward was calculated for 2010. I explained to the agent that the amount came from my 1040Xs and while she saw they had been received, she told me to either fax and/or mail them in again and that she would send a note to the person handling my file.
So now I'm writing my fax cover sheet and sending it out.
My advice is to give your phone number to the agent before you say anything just in case you get disconnected.
Dec 15 – I got a letter from the IRS requesting more paperwork. They want to know how H & R block got the carry forward number in 2010. Happy Happy Joy Joy!! I immediately scan the documents send them to my H & R Block tax representative. He calls me and sets up an appointment. Nothing like still dealing with your taxes that you mailed in on April 15th during Christmas.
He explains everything he printed out everything, how he recalculated the numbers, and says the carry forward number is correct. I asked if this will be the last thing, I will have to send to the IRS. He told me, no, and that he thought the next step would be them being nitpicky about the numbers on lines. He also tells me that each time my case is moved to another department, each department is scrutinizing my paperwork more and needing more paperwork to answer their department’s questions.
He also informs me that his boss is unhappy with the 20 hours he’s spent on my case since his district isn’t getting paid for it, since I paid another district. He tells me that if I have any more questions, I should start working with someone in the district I paid. I remind him of how I worked with three different tax consultants before finally getting to him. He tells me it was because it was the off-season and that wouldn’t happen now. I don’t believe him so I just nod.
He tells me he brought my situation up in a tax class along with two other adoption tax credit cases he had. He said the teacher of the class told him that at first the IRS was giving returns to anyone who applied, but when they saw the volume of people applying for the credit, they started auditing families. Damn me for waiting until April to file.
Dec 28 – I mail the copies of forms that the IRS asked for. I hope waiting after the Christmas rush insures it gets there safely.
Dec 29 – I get a letter from the IRS saying on January 9, they will call me. Interesting that they can call me when I just mailed in documents they requested.
Jan 25 - I call the IRS to see if they have my paperwork I sent before the New Year’s. The helpful agent informed me she couldn’t open my file completely, but she did see that I sent something in in November. I explain that I had faxed something in in November, but I wanted to make sure the IRS had the documents I recently sent in.
She tells me that they could have been attached to the paperwork I sent in in December, she wasn’t sure. I ask if I should fax in the copies of the forms requested. She tells me it couldn’t hurt and to make sure I put my SSN at the top of every page.
I nicely explain to her when I sent my tax returns in and how this had been ongoing since April. She tells me she knows and that it is taking up to a year or longer to get a refund. A year or longer?!?! She rechecks my file and says it looks like everything I need is in and if it’s not, the IRS would contact me.
She explains that depending on where my paperwork is, it gets seen based on what’s going on in that department. She is currently working on paperwork that came in in November, but some offices are working earlier months and some are working later months. And if an office gets a special assignment that of course will take precedence.
I tell her that I will fax in the paperwork I mailed in December. She tells me she will make a note of it in my file. I ask when I should call back. She says to call back in a month, and then she gives me the number for the IRS tax advocate.
I thank her.
Jan 30 – I fax in the paperwork I mailed in December 28.
Feb 6 – I see the IRS tax advocate number staring up at me. It can’t hurt to call. What do I have to lose? I call and only wait on hold for eight minutes. I get transfer quickly from the woman who answered the phone to a kind gentleman. I give him a condense version of what’s been going on recently and ask if he could possible help me.
He apologizes and tells me that they were told to review adoption tax credits for 2010.
He looks up my file and says, yes, he did see my various phone conversations with the IRS and that I sent in the information requested. And he couldn’t help me because they approved my credit on Thursday. PRAISE GOD! I felt myself tearing up and I didn’t cry when I got the call about any of my kids, but I was about to cry about this.
He says it usually takes about two weeks to get the check out. I could have kissed him. Call me cynical, but until I have that check in my hand I won’t really believe it. Though I did spring for chesseburgers, fries, and Cokes for myself and my friend and co-worker, Deedee, because I was so happy.
I’ll contact H & R Block once I have the check. God is so good! Even though I don’t deserve it all still He keeps on giving to me!
This nightmare might really be almost over. Here’s the tax advocate number 877.777.4778.
For those still waiting, best of luck! And for those who are filing for 2011, I hope the process is much smoother this time around.
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