if you don't have something nice to say...

I love my children, really, I do.

But, sometimes-like now, I am struggling to like my children.

God gave me two boys that are full of fire.  I thought if we shook up the DNA on the second one, that I might get one that is laid back and easy going.  Nope.  I already had one who was high maintenance,  emotional, possessive, and all kids of rambunctious.   Now, I have another that is jealous, high strung, anxious, and struggling to communicate and despartely frustrated.  Together they are loud, disobedient, defiant and all around impossible.  And they are always crying and/or screaming.

They are also my light and joy (even if they have driven me to drink straight out of a Jack Daniels bottle while trying to get them in the bath).  They both love their mama to the exclusion of others.  They are my heart's desire and a gift from God.

So, since I don't have anything nice to say about them, I'll share some of our pictures from the beach.  I have some other cute ones of Sam and both boys, but they are cute enough that they are in contention for the Christmas card.

Well, since I've revealed my dirty little secret that adoption is hard, language and speech delays can feel hopeless for all involved, and I am struggling to find joy in this season, I'm going back planning a long vacation with J.R. without children somewhere like the Virgin Islands.  That and upcoming trips to see the Bibbs/Davises and to the beach are what are getting me through the days.

I may never have a daughter but I've got a queen

We had a good Saturday morning.  The kids enjoyed story time at Lemuria.  John Hinton and Mo enjoyed petting the iguana.   Sam wanted no part of this experience. 

He did get in on the ferret action though.

I love all of these kids.  They are so stinking sweet together.

This was before good times went bad and John Hinton woke up screaming from his nap and I'm quoting, "I can't take it anymore!" over. and. over. and. over.

He had a bite under his arm late last week and when he woke up the area was the size of a baseball.  As mentioned, this was accompanied by much much screaming that woke Sam up for his nap.  So then they were both screaming.  I managed to get out of my PJs.  Call my mama to come watch Sam.  Leave Sam with the neighbor and take John Hinton to the ER.

More screaming and whining occurred at the ER and since we got home.  Like at 3:30 this morning.

This from a kid that can wipe out repeatedly by speeding down our driveway (see below), but let an ant bite him and you should be prepared for the wrath of the drama queen.  As he told me today, "nothing can ever make me feel better."  Well, alrighty then.

PSA

Here is a little public service announcement.  Sometimes when you go to the Christian chicken, you have to be prepared to take names.  If you know my Aunt Susan or my mamaw then you know that I am genetically predisposed to have zero shame when it comes to making a scene in public.


Dear Punk,

You were too tall to be in the play place.  I don't know how you did not see the sign that said you must be shorter than this (54 inches) to play but whatever.  I saw the way you talked to your mama earlier.  She may be afraid of you, but I am not.  So when John Hinton is trying to talk to you (come to find out, he was trying to ask you your name) and you knock him down by bumping him with your crotch and stepping on him, I am going to make sure that I put the fear of God into you if your parents or guardian will not.

I was unmoved by your "I didn't mean to do it."

You just think that I am two shades to crazy at this point.  You so much as look side ways at the Asian invasion and I will unleash the beast.  I will make you regret that you are not vegan, that you ever dared to consider eating chicken.

Yes, I'm fully aware that most of the patrons were watching me when I came out of the play place including your mother.  No, I am not ashamed.  Don't mess with my children.  

And as John Hinton kept telling me tonight, you are not his best friend.

-The Crazy Lady

Dear...

Dear Mike Patrick,  I think you are a condescending tool.  I care about your commentary on my team and our fans about as much as I care about your thoughts on Brittany Spears.  By the way, our name is Mississippi State, not Mississippi.

Dear Sammy,  Mama loves you bunches but it ticks me off when you pull out most of your stitches on the way home from surgery.  Also, happy 6 months adoption day!  Parts of it have been amazing and parts have knocked on the door of miserable.  We are a work in progress, and I have no regrets.

Dear MSU baseball team, I love you.  Even though you didn't do so well against UCLA, I just think you are fabulous.  You have character and class, and I'm so proud of you.  I also love the beards and wild hair. 

Dear John Hinton,  You are rapidly becoming a pathological liar.  The "wind" did not cake mud in your brother's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.  Stop it.  That makes mama sad and pisses your brother off too.

Dear CWS,  I blame you.  I forgot to rinse the shampoo out of Sammy's hair tonight and didn't realize it until I was putting him to bed (early) and my kisses tasted like soap. I'm poorer, more tired and my children have suffered because of you.  I hope to see you again next year. 

Dear UCLA, Congratulations.  You deserve it.

XOXO,

Alissa

no shoes and cat pee

You know how some days you stop and wonder how you got to this point in your life?  Where did you go wrong?  This isn't how you pictured it. 

Here is a recap of my moment from a couple of weeks ago.

7:40 AM-I absent mindedly put my kids in the car without grabbing their shoes. They went to the sitter's without shoes.  Not the end of the world, except they had hair cut appointments that day.  I still decided against turning around when I realized it a couple of miles from home.

3:20 PM-J.R. picks them up for hair cut appointments, and John Hinton promptly pulls a crown off one of molars with a sticky sucker from the sitters.

3:40-J.R. rushes him to the dentist-without shoes.  Now, at the hair cut place, I figured we were assuming the risk of no shoes.  But at the dentist, I feel like we were dragging the place down with respect to hygiene.  Whatever, both my kids were barefoot at the dentist. 

3:45-So, I run to the dentist to get Sammy so he can get his haircut, and he won't be permanently scarred from anything that may or may not be happening at the dentist. 

3:55-Sam and I head to the hair cut place, where he acts a fool while I get my hair highlighted then had a giant dirty diaper which I have to change on the floor of the bathroom. 

4:25-Then J.R. and John Hinton show still missing the crown.  Whatever.  My children continue to act like banshees until I banish them with their father until I'm finished. 

5:30-I finish and get in my car.  I notice a persistent stench that has been there a couple of days. 

5:40-I got home. I have J.R. come out to smell my car.  He nonchalantly deems it cat pee. I refute. I (in front of a group of party goers at my neighbors) proceed to get on my hands and knees with my butt in the air to smell every inch of my car to find the stench.  Shut. The. Front. Door.  A cat has peed on the floor mat. 

6:00-I pull the mat out and take it around front to wash it where I find both my boys butt-a-naked in front of all the neighbors.  They are playing the water hose. 

What the hell just happened?

The worst part is that they are my dang cats!!!  I rescued both of them.

We are super classy with a k. klassy.

My other love

My other little love has been under represented here lately. We can't have that.
This is my Mother's Day brunch at Anchuca. It is my favorite. To quote John Hinton, "it's the best day of my life."




I mean, it is a really good brunch, but we may need to get him out more often. Then again, what can I say, we take our food very seriously!

On that same note, Sam poured sugar into his syrup cup and drank it. But he did it quietly so all's well that ends well.




This kid made me a mother. He rocks my world. If I loved him anymore, it might just kill me.

just a little handicapped

So, we went to a party the other day and I was following Sam around like I do at parties in strange places with strange people that he does not know.  As we passed by a table of four women that I did not know, I overheard a lady say, "they wanted a handicapped one but one that was a just a little handicapped."  I kept following Sam.  Then I heard another one say, "and they are going to get his lip fixed too."  Then, in my head I thought, "Damn, Sam, they are talking about us!!!"  You know you all cuss in your head. 

I had to bust out laughing.  Sure he came from the "special needs" list.  Show me a kid who has spent two and a half years in an institution without a family who doesn't have a special need.  I have never thought of him as handicapped.  I told several friends this story and the first thing each one has said is "I bet you went off on her." 

If you don't know me in real life, then you may not know that I do not take kindly to someone hurting someone that I love.  I will give you the unholy business.  I will scratch your eyes out, rip your head off and then make you apologize for getting my hands dirty. 

You may even fancy yourself some sort of want to be beauty queen, but when you jack with my friend, I will disable you before you can say Miss Congeniality.  I'm not afraid of breaking my nose, and I have 30 pounds on you.  That's just a hypothetical, of course.  My mama tried to make me nice like her, but I have too much of my daddy in me. 

Here's the thing, don't call my kid handicapped.  Umkay?  You may not be so lucky the next time.   And what the hell does a little handicapped even mean? 

Because I need to round out this PSA with cuteness, here is me and Sammy on mothers day.  The day when their daddy told them that if they made me sad they would all get spankings.  Well, Sam has never had a spanking and it's not that out of the normal routine for John Hinton so it was not that big of a deterrent.