Have you ever seen a woman crying while driving? Did you see one on 70th & Van Dorn today? Yeah, that was me. Driven to big elephant tears by adoption and foster care and a multitude of stories that mix beauty with sadness, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The alternative was crying on the physical therapy table while getting my elbow iced. I’m relieved I made it out to the car first.

I started off the day reading this post by the very talented Renee Welstead. Renee will always be the amazing photographer who taught me a lot (I can almost hear her voice when I’m working), but more recently I’ve watched Renee and her equally talented husband Ben as they walked through the foster care system and right into adoption. We’re running in different circles these days but every time I get a glimpse of their personal lives I pray for them and cheer them on. I love what they are doing.

And then there is Maralee and the story of her day with her second son Danny. I knew about this situation before she blogged about it, but goodness, the story still slayed me. Her Danny and my Liv have a lot in common. Livia, at age four, also said things about her biological family that completely threw me and Jeremy for a loop. Very early on we’ve all had to think about how to convey the truth of adoption as well as build strong family foundations. This can be so hard—adoption can be so hard at times! And yet, so worth it as well. Obviously worth it as well.

I’ve been hearing stories of foster kids lately and one particular story, combined with Maralee’s blog post that I read on the PT table, broke me down. The specifics of it can’t be shared due to confidentiality for a state ward, but people, your hearts would be broken if you knew what some kids go through.

I am the first to admit that working in foster care scares the tar out of me. Abuse and neglect can’t help but change a person and cause damage that will alter their lives. The honest truth is that some kids will be able to heal significantly with therapy and lots of love and stability, and other kids won’t be able to bounce back so easily. The longer a child is in an abusive situation the more damage is incurred on their minds and bodies. As I’ve been reading and learning and digging deeper into foster care, I’m feeling so inadequate for the job that lies ahead. I am scared. I am nervous. I am wondering what God might ask Jeremy and me to do.

Just as I am feeling completely broken for the kids in my state who have been injured by the adults in their worlds, I remember that God is bigger than all this. His love for his children knows no bounds and his heart was the first that was broken for these kids. He loves them. Adores them. Knows their every need and carries each of their tears. He is the Deliverer, the Redeemer, the Rock and our salvation. At the end of the day, I don’t need to be afraid. God’s got this. I need to faithfully walk forward and serve Him by loving others.

Lord, help all of us working with foster kids. Help us to love fully, to pour ourselves out and then to be replenished by your strength. Amen.

Our hotel room on the 11th floor during our last visit to San Francisco.

The room was hot and steamy when we arrived and no thermostat could be found. A maintenance man came in and immediately opened the window to cool it down. No screen. No safety rail. No lock on the window. Lord have mercy, I was not okay with that and thus my sleeping position each night was by the window in order to prevent my 2nd grader from making the 10 o’clock news.

I love a soft white bed piled high with pillows and a crumpled comforter. Something about the light here makes me want to grab a good book and climb under the covers for a few hours.

… when I looked through the front windows this morning. One bright cheerful face, happy her mom was watching. One inquisitive fur-face, wondering when he’ll be let back in. Here we are, Snow Day #2.

Livia and I both really enjoy making valentines together. I say this as an explanation because a lot of moms feel that they are somehow “less than” when they don’t enjoy activities like this. If you are one of those moms, take a deep breath, admire the things you do well (if you actually make dinner for your family on a regular basis you can feel superior to me already, I give you full permission), and don’t feel like I’m sharing my life in order to make you personally feel like a failure. So we like markers and glue and glitter at our house. That’s all.

One lesson of making valentines is to not wait until the night before the Valentine’s Day Party. Because the afternoon/evening before probably involves an appointment with the pediatrician and a child who really isn’t in the mood to write out her name and her classmates’ names on 27 cards. You might find yourself giving permission for skipping homework and counting this exercise as homework enough (not that I’d do that, this is purely hypothetical), and you will for sure find yourself in moments where you, the mother and non-class-participant, is still gluing and cutting while the actual class-participant is nowhere to be found.

The moral of the story is this: don’t wait until the night before the party.

Livia received tons and tons—27 perhaps?—of adorable little valentines from her classmates. She’s still polishing off suckers and pixie sticks. One valentine in particular charmed the socks off me, though. It was a simple construction paper heart absolutely plastered with girlie stickers like Tinker Bell and unicorns. On the other side of the blue heart were five little tic-tac-toe boards handwritten by a 2nd grader. You could feel the sweetness and generosity and creativity of one little girl oozing from this one piece of paper.

I think sometimes we make life too complicated for our kids when maybe all they need is a ream of construction paper and a few stickers.

A friend who is a counselor once told me you shouldn’t ask your kids, “What’s wrong with you?” when you are frustrated with them because, really, they don’t know what’s wrong with them. And furthermore, that thought—not a constructive one whatsoever—can lodge in their young minds in damaging ways.

So I never said that phrase again. In fact, I keep my lips shut tight when running late or dealing with babyish behavior or cleaning up spilled milk. I’m pretty much perfect now.

Uh, no. Back to reality.

I have still uttered that phrase, even though I don’t appreciate the message it conveys. I’ve said far worse. Time and time again I’ve said far worse. And, after my flash of anger has died down, it grieves me. My kid isn’t fully grown and we, her parents, are the chief role models responsible for raising her in a right fashion. It’s remarkable to me how I can be responding to her lack of self-control with my own lack of self-control. Not wise, to say the least.

It is in this vein of self-confession that I’m wondering what catch phrases we should banish from our collective parental mouths.

Here’s the latest to make me absolutely crazy:
DON’T KNOW, DON’T CARE.

My kiddo picked it up from another 2nd grader and it is high on my list of punishable phrases right now. Liv says she’ll ask this classmate if he knows where her pencil or eraser is and he’ll come out with the quip, “Don’t know, don’t care.” (Now before all judgement reigns down on him, please know being asked to locate yet another missing item by my daughter might test the patience of Mother Teresa.) I understand that “don’t know, don’t care” rolls off the lips in an easy-breezy fashion, but man alive, it’s downright rude. I’m not a giant WWJD bracelet wearer, but seriously, can you imagine Jesus saying, “Don’t know, don’t care”?

Me: Jesus, I pray that you would help me find that important paperwork for our taxes.
Jesus: Don’t know, don’t care.

Me: Jesus, will you watch over my daughter at school today?
Jesus: Don’t know, don’t care.

Me: Jesus, I am so worried about getting all this work done.
Jesus: Don’t know, don’t care.

Clearly it’s not something Jesus would say. It’s not something I should say. It’s not something my 8 year old daughter should say. What else should we watch for? What other phrases have popped out of your kids’ mouths and surprised you? What phrases do you toss around that you’d like to stop saying? What phrases might you need to tweak to make less objectionable as you parent?

It’s up! Another great column by the lovely and talented Maralee Bradley on Her View From Home. Go check out my images that accompany Maralee’s words and dig around the site a little to see if anything else piques your interest.

As to the pic above of Maralee’s firstborn, I cannot imagine any other shot matching the title so well. I love this bright little toothpaste-y face!

• Within the scope of one window I can choose to celebrate Christmas or Valetine’s Day! Nice, huh? Definitely classy.
• When it’s warmish outside I like walking Livia to school. Getting the blood pumping before academic learning is a good thing I hear.
• I do not like the return walk home when Nebraska continually and deliberately blows cold wind at my ears. My poor ears are the reason I sometimes do an awkward loping run between the corner and home. Also quite classy.
• In 2nd grade I remember having a crush on a classmate. What I did not have what the gumption to say so. Oh my poor daughter! She has plenty of gumption, God help us all.
• My husband organized and cleaned the kitchen nook last night, that conspicuous corner where crafts, random small toys and paperwork go to die. I love him all the more for his organizational skills and the way he applies them on my behalf. (You are awesome, Jeremy Tredway.)
• It’s February. Know what that means? Spring is just around the corner. Hang in there, fellow Nebraskans—we’ve got this.

I made my nephew a turkey sandwich (notice bulging left cheek) and in return he gave me some very serious, soulful facial expressions. A kid sitting still in the sunlit kitchen makes this auntie run for her camera.