Happy Anniversary

Rob,

Remember our plans for the future while we were engaged? I laugh to think about them now. Oh, how life changed those for us!

 Remember when we attended that university lecture and that researcher said that 87% of marriages with one child with special needs ended in divorce? How about the look on her face when we told her that we had 3 children with multiple special needs? Yeah, she said we were statistically doomed.

 I can't say it was easy or that at times our underwear wasn't hanging out pretty far for all the world to see, but I can say I am so glad we figured it out and made it work for us.
 28 years and counting, baby.
 So proud of you, me and our kiddos.
 Happy anniversary for us, another year we beat the stats.

Love,
Heather

Our wedding invitation photo

When we were young

My Five Mothers

I believe we are given as many parents as we need to learn the life lessons that are necessary for us. I'm not sold on the idea that it is a predestined contract signed before we all showed up on Earth, but I do believe that there are special people to help us along our way. I also believe there are as many relationships as there are people in the world, so there is an overabundance of opportunities to get things right if that is your goal.


I needed five mother's to get me through. Most people only need one and maybe a good second mother-in-waiting to get the job done, but I had five. I am perfectly happy with the women who I chose or they chose me, to teach me the ways of the world. I am lucky because for every difficult mother I had, I was able to find another who was able to erase the pain and give me a boost of needed courage and confidence.


Let me introduce you to the important women who mothered me and made me whole.

1. Claudia - My biological mother. Through no fault of her own, she was only able to mother me until I was 7 years old, and most of that time she had to share me with my second mom. I honor Claudia because she gave my brother and me all that she had. She has suffered unimaginable heartache in losing her children to an unfair system that she had no control over. I can't fathom having her strength to carry on and live a full life without overpowering bitterness and anger against the world. I am so glad we found each other as adults.

Claudia with my brother Rex, circa 1966. Cuties, right? 

2. Dorothy - My foster mother from age 2 to 7. She was a helper mother to Claudia and made it possible for us to have a relationship with our biological parents. Since we weren't her only foster children and she had 3 biological children of her own,  I was just another child in her home. I had freedom in her home because she didn't have rules or much structure. As an adult, I can see that I pretty much ran wild.
I don't have a picture of Dorothy because my computer crashed and I lost all the photos from a research trip to Oregon that Rob and I took in 2009. I did keep a handful of pictures that were still on a cell phone. The only one that survived from Dorothy's house turned out to be very appropriate since Dorothy only vaguely remembered me and my brother. Even though we lived with her for 5 years, we didn't register high on her list of memorable children. We were just a paycheck to her.

The basement door in Dorthy's foster home. Each foster child signed their name.
 There are A LOT of names on that door. 

3. Virginia - My adoptive mother. She raised me from age 7 to 18. I left on my eighteenth birthday and I never spent another night in her house. I don't regret my decision to leave. Actually, I am confident leaving saved my sanity and possibly my life. I learned more from Virginia than I care to remember, but I do appreciate that she taught me the proper ways to fold towels, clean the bathroom, and how to keep my deepest soul protected from people who would do harm to it. Virginia gave me many opportunities to practice that last one. That skill has served me well as an adult. Virginia did not break me.

Virginia with Rex and I shortly after we were adopted. We were sweet looking kids. 

4. Anna - My healing mother. I lived with Anna for almost two years after I left Virginia's house. She and her husband provided me with food, a safe place to sleep and a sense of stability that I had never experienced previously in my life. Anna wasn't a perfect mother, but she was perfect for me, and I love her for that. She was an excellent cook and my hair and fingernails grew like crazy at her house. Anna's simple acts of feeding me, asking me about my day and listening when I talked, healed so much. I thank her for being willing to take on me and my beaten down spirit. She did a good job with me.






5. Barbara - My teaching mother. I was 19 when I married Rob. When I became a mother at 21, the reality of my ignorance of taking care of children was painfully obvious. Barbara (my best friend Stephanie's stepmother) became my phone-a-mother lifeline. She helped with the daily questions that all new mothers had before the internet made parenting one ginormous Google search. More importantly, when my children were diagnosed with hearing losses, and then when we rushed to the hospital on a regular basis for health crisses', her occupation as a nurse was a godsend because she was able to explain medical procedures and medication in ways that I understood. She was a safe mother for me to cry and wail to, and she agreed it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair my children were sick. It wasn't fair that I had already had a crappy childhood and now I was having a crappy motherhood. When would it get fair? Barbara's wisdom was able to calm my fried nerves and give me hope when no one else could. I love her for her lessons about how to survive when you are so worn out you just want to lay down and die. Barbara taught me how to live.

I thank all my mother's for sharing with me what they had. The good, the bad, the hurtful and the sublime. I accept it all with gratitude.

The Pictures Tell the Story

 I graduated from high school in 1985. As part of that experience, I wanted to get senior portraits to share with my friends. I saved money from my part-time job and scheduled an appointment at our local  Olan Mills Photography Studio,  the place that everyone went for all photos.

 My adopted mother, Virginia drove me to the studio and was going to pick me up after I was done. The waiting room was packed with families also waiting to get their photographs taken.  I was told the photographer was running behind, so my appointment was going to be late. Virginia had already sped off in the car, so I couldn't tell her about the delay. I didn't know where she was going or when she would be back. Virginia never had the gift of transparency in her communication, so I was used to being slightly confused as to what the plan was or what to expect next. After a long wait that gave me plenty of time to catch up on my People Magazine reading, it was finally my turn. I was so excited! I brought the four outfits I was planning on being photographed in, and changed into the first one in the bathroom in the studio. I bought all my clothes for the day at a thrift store and I was happy with my stylish looks. I felt good and the first photo shows that.

My first glamour shot

 After the first photo was taken, the receptionist poked her head in the studio and said someone was waiting for me at the front desk. I didn't know who it could be other than my adopted mom, but she wasn't due to show up for another hour. I told her on the way to the appointment what time to pick me up, so I didn't understand why she was early. It made no sense to me, but who else could it be?
Virginia was standing at the receptionist's desk when I rounded the corner into the waiting room. "Ok, let's go,"she said.
I protested, "But I just got started. They only finished taking my first picture."
"That's not my problem. I am here to pick you up and you should be ready to go."
I explained that the studio was running late, and that I wasn't done.
That didn't go over so well.
Virginia started yelling that she WAS ready and she had no intention of sitting around waiting for me while I pretended to be the queen of Sheba.
The waiting room fell silent, even children stopped their impatient whining to watch the spectacle. Hot tears formed behind my eyes as I willed myself to not cry. Virginia was not perturbed by having an audience.  The receptionist's attempt to explain the wait didn't stop her tidal wave of anger. "So you are telling me it is your regular business practice to overbook appointments so that I have to make extra trips to your studio because you are running late? Nice customer service, very nice. I'm sure everyone loves sitting here waiting for hours because of you." The receptionist looked like she had been slapped across the face.
Ashen, she excused herself and went to get the photographer.
When he came out the waiting room, Virginia gave him the same lecture about poor customer service and he reacted as the receptionist did, with a stunned look and stammered apology.
The scene ended with Virginia slamming the door and peeling out the parking lot, and me not knowing how I was going to get home when I was done.

After she left, I couldn't hold it in any longer. The dam burst and I openly bawled from frustration and humiliation in a room full of strangers. The photographer led me back to the studio and let me cry for a few minutes. He gently said that we had to finish taking my pictures because the others were still waiting. I dried my tears and fixed my make-up. The show must go on.

My eyes were red and I struggled to find a smile. 

My eyes were still red, but my color was coming back to normal. I still couldn't manage a sincere smile. 

We cut my session short. I was no longer interested in changing outfits one more time. We ended with a photo that perfectly captured how I felt. Clear-eyed, but determined to find a way out of my adopted parents house.
 I was done.


Happy Freedom to me! 

More Graduation Fun

Like all of you, I am a sucker for sweet movies that teach me something and have a happy ending This video is my family's version of a sweet movie about education. Be prepared to laugh, to cry and to be a bit amazed. I wrote just a few pages in Ezra and Hadassah: A Portrait of American Royalty about my kids and their challenges. I certainly didn't cover the subject in full. That story will be told on another day. Right now, you get to enjoy a small glimpse into my kids lives by watching a video we made to celebrate our last child graduating from high school. We are getting ready to celebrate two college graduations in mere weeks, with the last college graduation coming next year. I am grateful we have this opportunity to celebrate again. Many young people with their physical challenges don't have the chance to graduate from college. We are very lucky.

Sit back, relax and enjoy our family blast-from-the-past.

Also, don't forget my gift to you is Ezra and Hadassah is only 99 cents on all e-book platforms until May 16th, when you will get to see pictures of my two girls in their college graduation gowns. So happy, so  proud and once again, so relieved. We did it, we really, really did it.

Good News!

Graduating from anything is a big deal, but for my children graduating from college is monumental because they each have a moderate hearing loss. The statistics on graduation from a university for people with hearing loss aren't very good. Like less than 30% of deaf individuals who enroll, graduate from a 4 yr. school. It is no easy feat to pull off, so in honor of the fact I am within mere weeks of celebrating two of my kids graduating from college, Ezra and Hadassah: A Portrait of American Royalty on all ebook platforms is ON SALE for 99 cents!
Let's all celebrate this wonderful academic achievement in the best way possible, by getting our educations on and reading my book.  From now until my kids graduation day on May 16th, 2015, in the ebook platform of your choice, the book is 99 cents!
Yay! Yay! Yay!

Kiss, kiss, love, love and many happy tears from my family to yours. 

Our Gang
(L to R) Ty, Rob, Flat Jennifer,(she wasn't present for photo in person) Heather and Elise

How to Get Your Kids to Eat Vegetables

One of the hard things to deal with is a kid who won't eat good food, formally known as vegetables. Many adults won't eat them either (like Pres. George H.W. Bush who hates broccoli. Do you remember his dust-up with the Broccoli Association? Apparently US presidents are supposed to suck it up and eat their vegetables, no matter what. ) The problem with vegetables is they don't have a good advertising campaign. Kool-aid has the Kool-aid man, Tang used to be "the drink of Astronauts!" and who doesn't love Tony the Tiger and his Frosted Flake cereal? Who is standing up for the lowly Brussels Sprout? Not a soul.

The only vegetable in America that had widespread success in being eaten by children during the 1960's and 70's was spinach. Of course, it wasn't just any old spinach. No one ate it raw on salads back then besides my hippie next door neighbors who were vegetarians. I loved hanging out with the free-range hippie kids, but I rarely stuck around at meal times. I preferred hamburgers to plates of beets, celery and dandelion roots.

I happily ate spinach (only from a can, the way God intended it) because I was an avid watcher of the world's most subversive cartoon ad campaign for that veggie. Popeye the Sailor man ate spinach to give him extra strength before fighting his evil nemesis, Brutus. What scrawny kid looking to protect themselves from older kids, wouldn't investigate the wonders of canned spinach after watching Popeye pop open a can of it, gulp it down and then stop a moving train with his bare hands? I was sold.

Genius. Sheer genius.

I maintain Popeye the Sailor Man still holds up well today as a ringing endorsement of eating your spinach. You can find Popeye spinach (it comes frozen, too)  if you look for it. I have a can in my kitchen cupboard right now. Show your kids the cartoon and let Popeye do his job. He's good at it.

 As Mikey for Life cereal would say, "Try it! You'll like it!" Meanwhile, enjoy the Popeye cartoon  episode, Spinach vs. Hamburgers on me. For the record, just like the children in the cartoon,  I eat both. I am sucker for good advertising

 

 

 

Bedknobs and Broomsticks

When Rex and I left the foster home our clothes were packed in brown paper grocery bags. Nowadays foster kids use black plastic trash bags. Such is progress.

We were allowed to pick two personal belongings from our childhoods to take with us. Imagine permanently leaving your home with only two possessions. Since I was 7 yrs. old and had no understanding of what was happening to us, it was a miracle I picked the two things that actually meant the most to me. I have never regretted my choices.

The only thing I still have in my possession (my beloved Mrs. Beasley doll was taken from me and given to another child, remember?) is the long-playing record and read-a-long storybook from the Disney movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks. I still remember the day Ralph and Claudia took me to the theater to see my first movie,  B & B.  My love of movies and Flicks Chocolates began that day. 

They don't make them like this anymore. 

I think I had nice handwriting as a child, considering my chicken-scratch writing now. 

The funniest part of the story is their bed being fished out of the lake by a bear. Still makes me laugh. 

I can hardly wait to share this story with my granddaughter Eleanor. My own kids preferred watching the movie, but Eleanor is an old soul and she will get it how cool listening to the story and looking at the pictures is.