Oh Little Whippersnapper

Kennedy has spent the last 2 hours pouring over the blog.  She laughed.  She cried ( yeah right mom).  Now she wants to try her hand at blogging ( I already HAVE a blog).  I have consented to give her a guest spot on the condition she does not use any texting grammar ( wish me luck).  I want her to write out the word "you" and not just type "u". She will always have to include vowels in words like "txt".  So,without further ado, here is Kennedy:

Gee, thanks for that wonderful introduction. May I say, that my mother tries as hard as she possibly can/cn to/2 make me look like a little girl on this blog. I, in fact, am a pre-teen and am trying to establish that. Oh, and I DO flush the toilet. But, it can be extremely hard to establish your place as a pre-teen when your mom doesn't want you to stop believing in santa. So, I am going through the (mom quit peering over my shoulder) stage where boys stop having cooties. I have liked this guy since the 4th grade. We have lots of history. We have a MATURE belching contest every day..... I always win. He sticks pencils up his nose to impress me. He makes me laugh so hard that I cry every single day. I hang out with him as much if not more than I do my Bff. He is soooooo easy to talk to and he is a great, funny guy. He even put water on his hair to make it stick down  because he thinks that is how I like it!!!!
Lately, me and Bob have ben getting into fights. He and his best friend, Ryan, made a bet of who can kiss a girl first. Ryan and Bob both asked for my help. Ryan likes my bff and immediately chose her. Bob and I had to make a list of all the girls in the class. He said he liked somebody in this class but would not tell me. I put every girls name except mine. I demanded he pick a girl from the list and he did. He did not really like her, but that was our secret. He dumped her in a day.
Ryan still has a girlfriend and is CONSTANTLY, ALWAYS, NEVERENDINGLY, telling me to come talk to him. Then he will whisper what his "script" was. His script is the move he will try to make that day and details. He would follow me outside to ask advice. In the past month or 2, Bob and I have been getting into daily fights. Example, yesterday, I told Adam hi and bob told him that he was JUST like ryan. Always hanging out with girls. Then, I was talking to my BFF and he followed us for 3 laps, constantly saying, " Allison, Ryan is gonna cheat on you with Kennedy. Kennedy is gonna say yes when he asks her out. Ryan and kennedy are gonna get married one day. Ryans gonna leave you Allison. Allison, Kennedy hasn't told you that she likes Ryan has she? Kennedy is always helping Ryan. OOHHH that's so sweet, kennedy and ryan are flirting." . But what  bugged me is that the more he said it, the more she believed it. I told Bob to shut up. Allison believed Bob and took his side.  My BFF and I are still friends.  It was just a bad day. Ryan took my side. I tried to do a lap with ryan to show friendship-not love. Only too bad for me because Ryan keep trying to whisper in my ear. I tried to have friendly conversation and finally he did stop trying to whisper.  All was silent until I heard a yell from the other side of the playground, "Ryan lover" Bob shouted.  I responded, "Isabelle lover".  We yelled back and forth until the end of recess. 
I really want to have fun with him like I used to.  But I don't know why he is so mad. Even if I knew, how could I talk to him about it without telling him I like him.  Things were so much easier in Kindergarten-when boys had cooties.  Please leave advice. I want my belching boy back.  HELP!

Now, back to mom. 

The only thing I can say about all this business is that a part of me is wishing for Kindergarten too. Ugh.

Knowing...

I recently took Kennedy to the doctor for round two of strep throat.  Kennedy was telling our pediatrician, Dr. Purcell, whenever people see she and Gomah together "they always know right away we are sisters".  Dr. Purcell's eyes widened as she asked, "Really?".  Kennedy went on to explain that they have the same sense of humor and they think things are funny that no one else would find humorous.  Kennedy stated they have the same facial expressions, laughter and "they think the same because they are raised the same".  I was listening to her explain the bond with her sister that goes past continents and color and lands on the commonality of laughter and experience. 
I have written and rewritten this post many times.  On 3/20/11, Gomah and Kuker will have been home for three years.  I keep coming back to the above story with Kennedy and Dr. P.  I am not sure how to express all the things I feel.  I am not sure how to capture all the reflections I have, nor do I know how to put words to them.  When I look at the above picture, I see very scared  parents and terrified children.  If I could have told us then what I know now, it would be to hold on. It gets better. Then it gets good. Then it becomes a dream fulfilled. 
On our three year anniversary, I am proud of my family.  I am humbled I get to be part of each one of their lives. So what I want to say is simple.  I love my family.  I love Ben never remembers a time there was not a Kuker.  I love the pack mentality of my children.  I love how the girls tell each other "sister secrets".  I love Kennedy's statement about people "knowing right away" that they are sisters and brothers and family.  She is right. You would never know there was a time they did not belong to one another.  You would never know they have not been raised together since birth.  Knowing who you are and who you belong to is reason to celebrate.  And celebrate we will.

Crying Over Spilled Milk

My kids are quick to claim everything that goes wrong as an accident.  Every spilled milk, broken object, flooded toilet, mark on the wall, gash in the wall, injuries inflicted on a sibling...always an accident.  We have explained to them that if they are doing something they should not be doing and a violation occurs, that is not an accident.  For example, if your milk spills because you are balancing it on one finger...not an accident.  If your milk spills while holding it nicely and the cup grazes the side of your plate as you are setting it down...accident. Just to be clear, one more example...if you are wrestling in a "no wrestling area" of the house and a lamp breaks...not an accident.  If the lamp breaks because you bump into it while dusting...accident.  I think most people would agree with me regarding the underlying factors of what makes an accident accidental.  I do not think people would see me as liberal, manipulating or looking to place blame in the examples given above.  I think Americans, as a whole, would agree with me up to this point.
Let me broaden my thinking a  bit to drunk driving.  I do not believe most people who drink and drive get behind the wheel and think "I'll go kill someone now".  I do believe, although unintentional, the deaths that occur as a result of drunk driving are the fault of the person who drinks and drives. I think they made a choice, got behind a wheel and there was a consequence for them and a loss that is irreparable.  At this point, I believe most people are still on board with me. 
I have been saddened by the shootings in Arizona.  Saddened...such a weak word.  Sickened.  Sickened by the shootings.  People were hurt and killed, including a child.  Who is to blame? Definitely the guy who did the shooting.  He is probably insane.  I believe the tea party movement is also at fault in this. What I am outraged about is conservative Americans who immediately  say, "The liberal media is going to blame the tea party for this". I am outraged at the tea party individuals who look around, pointing their finger at others, and question how any blame could fall on them.  If you balance a cup on one finger, the milk is probably going to spill.  If you preach hate, intolerance and create a map using gun sights to mark places not in alignment with you, some idiot is probably going to feel empowered to kill.  Do I think they intended to kill someone? No.  Do I think they got behind the wheel drunk? Yes. 
Immediately, following the shootings, my facebook news feed, news and radio were inundated with conservative individuals cursing the liberal media.  I am waiting to hear/read a  post/sentence simply stating how sad, how wrong or if anything we did/said played a part in this we are remorseful.  I have heard very little regret from tea party individuals...just a lot of justification.  Sickening.
When I was a teenager my dad taught me how to drive.  During one lesson, my dad said I needed to realize no car wreck was ever an accident.  I argued with him that no one would ever wreck a car on purpose.  My dad said no car wreck was ever an accident because, in hindsight, there is always something that could have been done to prevent it.  My dad went on to say that after an accident you could always look back and have done something different...driven more slowly, looked both ways, stopped at the yellow light.
In thinking about the shootings, I believe the same forethought is applicable. Maybe there was something that could have been done differently in this situation...don't use gun sights to mark adversaries, don't preach intolerance, don't incite violence (ie the Rand Paul/tea party rally where a college girl was assaulted by a middle aged man claiming allegiance to the tea party) .  Maybe this guy would have killed at some point. Maybe he was motivated by the rhetoric that he found camaraderie in.  Maybe, just to be safe, we should not balance a glass of milk on one finger.  Maybe we should speak with peace and respect.  Maybe nothing good comes out of teaching hate.  Maybe the tea party should look back and ask themselves what they could have done to not have contributed to this tragedy.  Would it have happened any way?  Who knows.  Were the gun sight map, language and message of the tea party factors? Of course.
Let me go back to my children.  Whether something is accidental or not does not change the fact they need to apologize, be more careful in the future, take responsibility and move forward better than they were before.  I am not asking anything from the adults of the tea party than I would ask of my five year old.  I am asking for individuals, who perpetuated inappropriate literature and issued statements with inklings of intolerance, to simply communicate remorse.  I am asking those who took part in the rhetoric to learn from this and go forward differently than they have moved in the past.  I am asking that they use this time to reflect on the violence that has come from their movement, directly and indirectly, and alter their course.  I know I am now seen as a liberal trying to throw blame at the tea party by many.  The commonality we had at the beginning of this post has been constructed into a line that is divisive.  I want to put a voice to the fact we are not that different and our differences do not have to lead to violence and death. The milk is spilled regardless of intent.  Crying is in order.

Chick Drama

We decided to raise chickens about a year and a half ago. All I knew for the last 18 months is that I loved them.  I loved them without thinking about why.  We had three chickens and they were the perfect flock.  Lucy, Shirley and LaVerne.  Two months ago, a fox ate two of our chickens.  The fox started a series of events that forces me to fox hate on a daily basis.
I will spare you many details, but the fox is responsible for lost bank cards, car troubles, much expense and much heartache. 
The fox left us with one chicken. We built the Fort Knox of chicken coops and rebuilt our flock.  The coop was larger and allowed us to have more chickens. Long, very long ,story short we got five new chickens.  We had a new coop.  We had new chickens.  I was happy.  No questions asked.
Several days later, the chickens  were wheezing, had goopy eyes and were in a general state of funkiness.  I was sad.  I loaded all six chickens into my seven passenger minivan (worked out great) and took them to the vet.  We arrive at the vet and I am basically accused of chicken abuse.  After explaining that most of the chickens had only been with me for days, the vet worked with me in getting them well.  Apparently, some of the chickens I had just bought were very sick and malnourished.  The vet told me I had violated the cardinal rule (who knew) of chicken raising and did not quarantine the new birds from the old bird for 21 days.  As a result, the flock was infected with upper respiratory infections, eye infections and lice/mites.  Oh, and the new ones were all underweight.
At the vet, they weighed each chicken. I do not know if anyone has ever tried to weigh a chicken that is not frozen, skinless and ready to cook, but  it is not an easy feat to get a chicken to stand on a scale. Weighing chickens is even harder in a crowded vet with barking dogs.  We finally got the first one weighed after running after the chicken several times.  The tech and I just looked at one another as we realized we had five more to weigh. 
LaVerne is my sole survivor of the fox attacks.  She had lost weight as a result of stress.  She also lost about 1/3 of her feathers.  Add in the mites, wheezing and runny eyes of all the chickens and my new flock looked like a hot mess. 
I had a pathetic chicken flock and I was their leader.  I left the vet with instructions to give them eye drops three times a day, medicate their water and give antibiotics twice a day.  Giving chicken eye drops makes the whole weighing event look like a walk in the park. 
Two weeks  and two vet visits later, five of my chickens are healthy, nourished and laying eggs again.  LaVerne was the sickest as a result of the fox stress, illness and changes.  She was hospitalized for two nights, given breathing treatments and fed through an IV.  Yes, you read that correctly.
I was allowed to put LaVerne back in the coop yesterday.  She is doing well.  She is still underweight and on meds but the vet is fairly certain she will be off meds and doing even better by Christmas.
I care about animals but I have never been as absurd about them as I was with my chickens.  Between the coop and vet bills we could have adopted another child.  Every time I went to the vet, I would speak softly,  telling the tech I was there with my chickens, so others would not overhear.
I have felt a little ridiculous about the investment I have made with these chickens.  I have asked myself why have I put so much time, energy and money into my chicks. People often ask why we have chickens and I have simply replied that we love them.  That is true.  I discovered more truths as I trekked back and forth to the coop twice a day to administer chicken chemo.
I love chickens have to be in a flock in order to survive. A chicken, by itself,  does not know how to function and becomes retarded.  The flock mentality totally supports my extroverted personality.  I am a herd animal.  I have to have a village/flock/herd in order to know how to function. I too become retarded without my herd of  people telling me how to be appropriate.  I do not do well alone. I tell my friends that their job is to keep me socially appropriate. Friends don't let friends become retarded.
Outside of relating to the whole flock theory, I love seeing the kids run around in the yard with the chickens.  The chickens allow me to pretend I am on a farm in the middle of my suburban neighborhood.  I appreciate the eggs they lay.  They are little gifts they give daily.  I am hoping they start laying platinum eggs to assist in their medical bills, but until then I accept the food variety.  I love their noises.  Their cackling and cooing is very soothing, much like running water.  I love it is a commonality for our African children. I have spent a lot of time in their coop to watch and make sure they eat, drink and are doing all their chicken things.  I could easily spend an hour watching them scratch and peck. 
I realized that I have never been able to meditate or quiet my mind enough to relax. The chickens allow me to get caught up in their rhythmic head bobbing and scratching and sometimes I forget about work and stress.  The answer I received when I asked myself why I had become a crazy chicken women is, that despite all their complexities, I love the simplicity the chickens bring to our lives.  I still don't know why they cross the road though.

The Sweetest Sound

Bullying.  Very popular topic right now...as it should be.  Most gay people have stories of discrimination.  Mine were minor.  Mine were few.  Then I became a parent.  I became a lesbian parent. My stories of discrimination increased.  So did my stories of support.  As a parent, no one can hurt me more than by hurting my kids.  Kennedy attended a traditional school from kindergarten to third grade.  The school is one that has a waiting list and parents hope to get their children in because of the "good education".  Starting school, Kennedy was a vibrant, secure, tell-it-like-it-is-champion-for-all-causes-girl.  She was outspoken and creative. She spoke of her family freely. School projects openly depicted our family.  Not flaunting. Not hiding.  Just being.  We never taught Kennedy we were different.  We never taught her about differences because we have never been able to pinpoint a norm.  Second and third grade were hell.  Second and third graders had pinpointed a norm and we were not it. The bullying started slowly.  Almost like a pedophile grooms a victim.  The questions were asked.  "You have two moms....You don't have a dad...TWO moms?".  Then came the judgement.  Gross. Weird. Then came the cruelty.  She often played by herself because she had gay parents, she was isolated, ridiculed mercilessly, called gay at every turn and, the breaking point, when students used school computers to access gay websites using the material to make fun of her and us. 
Kennedy started to do projects differently. She became withdrawn and didn't want to go to school.  We worked with teachers, who were incredible, but the bullying continued.  Finally, her third grade teacher, after implementing awareness activities, discipline and lessons on difference, told us that in all her years teaching she had never seen kids as mean spirited as the ones Kennedy was having to contend with.  She openly told us, that as much as she did in the classroom, her voice was not louder than the one the kids were hearing at home.
We moved Kennedy.  Kids are not the bullies.  They are victims of what is taught, allowed and encouraged at home.  Just as her teacher stated, we could not be louder than the voices at home.  We were done trying to be tolerated.  We wanted to be accepted.  We moved her to a different school.  We will never place our children in a school that is narrow religiously, politically, economically or ethnically.  Good education comes from experiences with people that are different from them. Not just test scores.
Kennedy is getting back to the child that was bullied out of her.  I will never forget who I saw my child turn into. I know it was similar to those children who could not bare the weight of the words continually placed upon them.  When I hear about the kids who chose to die rather than live...I remember all over again. We are grateful to be where we are.  I hate the way we got here.  We recently toured a middle school and two of the girls that were particularly mean,  during that time, were on tour as well.  I saw my child shut down in a way I have not seen in years.  My first instinct was to intimidate them the way they had intimidated Kennedy.  That was my 10 year old coming out.  Then I wanted to tell the parents that their children were not any better than the kids that had bullied gay and lesbian youth to death.  That was my 14 year old coming out.  My adult self, along with Kennedy's glares, kept me silent.  There was nothing more to say that was not already said during that time.
So I write asking for more than tolerance.  Asking to just be.  Children are unaware of race until they are taught race.  Children are unaware of discrimination until they are taught discrimination.  As parents, we should teach our kids that we have more similarities than differences.  As parents, we should teach our children that kindness is most important.  As parents, we should teach our kids that differences can sometimes be scary, but that does not mean they are bad.  This is my gay agenda.
Today one co-worker made a remark that I considered to be discriminatory.  The remark was made at a Christmas party in front of about 12 other co-workers.  I did not address the remark when it was spoken because I needed to think about what I wanted to say.  Silence indicates agreement.  My silence was momentary. I left the party quickly, not stung, but done.  I got in my car and immediately started to receive texts from co-workers. People checking, apologizing for comments out of their control, calling, caring for another person.  When I arrived at the office my co-workers gathered round to hug and console.  One co-worker asked if I was hurt.  She stated she was upset by it and wondered how I felt.  The truth was I wasn't hurt. The offending co-worker was not a friend or someone I cared about outside of professional courtesy.  The voices of the people gathered round were louder than that of the negative comment uttered earlier. 
Kennedy was weighing on me.  I wish she had  more voices supporting her than voices that hurt her. I wish she had peers standing with her, waiting to hug and protect her . I wish for every hurtful comment made to her during that time she had 12 voices supporting and comforting her.  If Kennedy had 12 voices of unconditional support for every hurtful word, she would not have lost her own voice.  She would not have felt less than or isolated.  If each child bullied to death had had the support I did today, they would not have lost their way or their life.
Today, I did not feel alone or less than or hurt.  I felt love and support in a way I would not have experienced if discrimination had not been voiced. That is how it should be.  Support rising when threats are greatest. Acceptance bigger than hate. Kindness with the loudest voice. The incredible thing about today is when I could have been marginalized, others stood with me.  Bullies would have no power if 12 voices countered their one voice.  Bullies would stop if 12 people stood against them.  Bullying is a huge problem for kids and adults. Give your child the voice of kindness.  Believe me when I say there is no sweeter sound.

Giving Way

Holidays are a whole lotta work.  As a child, I had to wait.  Just wait.  Christmas came very slowly. On Christmas Eve, as a child, the waiting often felt like work.  Sleep was impossible. As a child, no night lasts longer than Christmas Eve. As an adult, no month goes faster than December.  The Thanksgiving leftovers are barely gone and it already feels like I am behind on my task list for Christmas.  Every year I say I am going to scale  back and every year I don't.  Gifts are the fun part.  I like the decorations once they are up but I must admit I lacked the enthusiasm in hauling them out this year.  Do we really need to decorate as thoroughly as we do?  As we are pulling out decorations, the kids are very excited.  The are looking for their favorite decorations.  When did this happen?  When did their awareness creep beyond their Christmas list?  They are searching for the advent calendar that their great aunt fills with candy and money every year.  Of course, they are motivated by candy and money. The excitement moves to the village that they are incessant about getting out, the handmade trinkets crafted over the years, their stockings, baking and the photos with Santa framed and reflective of the development of our family.  The photos span Kennedy's glory days as an only child.  In one picture she has pink eye.  We almost didn't get her picture made due to the goopy eye.  The pink eye picture is the picture she always grabs and likes to glorify her devotion to Santa...not even pink eye could keep her away. Ben shows up in the pictures... but not until age three.  True to form, he screamed and threw fits when attempts were made for him to sit on Santa's lap and take a picture.  It was his own, personal baby hell.  Finally, pictures of the four kids.  The pictures look as complete as our family feels.  The Santa pictures will continue. Add to the holiday preparation list. 
The kids bury their heads in the tub of ornaments.  Looking for their individual, annual ornament.  The ornaments span across time and various interests.  Thomas trains give way to superheros. Superheros give way to sports.  Dora to barbies to peace signs.  They are giddy with remembering ornaments.  Add ornament shopping to the list. 
The kids have been chatty with various "tradishuns" as Kennedy wrote in a third grade project. They are looking forward to new Christmas Eve pajamas, decorating cookies and even requesting to listen to the Christmas music on 106.9.  They actually requested a station that does not play Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift or Katy Perry.  Now that is a Christmas miracle.
Although my list is long and my December months will never be just waiting again, there is no greater joy than building a childhood for our kids they will cherish and carry with them as their Decembers shift from waiting to preparing.
The holidays serve as mile markers for families.  The first with a baby.  The last with a loved one.  They mark time and allow us to reflect on where we have been and where we are going.  The holiday memories and traditions tend to speak louder than other memories.  During a summer month, my mom/the kid's Nana, was have a cookout.  Kennedy inquired if it was a holiday because Nana was cooking.  The holidays bring out the best in us whether it is noncooks cooking, increased giving or the craftless attempting crafting.  As a parent there is more work.  So very much to do. As a parent, I want each Christmas to be the best ever.  Traditions from childhood are carried over with my children.  Traditions Lori and I create are unique for our family.  Waiting children give way to busy parents. Years give way to birth and death and marriage and divorce and moves and hair styles.  Thank God 80s hair gives way to anything.  Pictures show the changes time creates. Traditions remain the same.  So we will buy ornaments and Christmas pj's and stand in line for that damn two minutes with Santa.  We all need to look back and see the familiar.  The work required of a parent to give familiar to our children makes the holiday madness, well, tradition. 

Refundable

Soooooo...my house is crazy, loud and generally in a state of organized chaos.  Okay, it is just chaos.  My worst hour of the day is from 7:30 to 8:30 a.m..  I do more yelling in that hour than most people do all day.  Every morning I wake up and repeat "I am not going to yell this morning".  Every morning I fail.  I am a failure by 8:30 a.m..  Hooray!  My intentions are good but here is what happens:

- Four kids do not want to get out of bed
-Four kids never want what is served for breakfast EVEN if it was a request the day before
-Ben always hates his clothes
-Kennedy's ADD medicine has not kicked in yet and so every morning is like Groundhog's Day.  Yes....I want you to brush your teeth, get dressed, brush your hair, put socks on, get your backpack...blah.
-Kennedy, who is continually surprised by the requirements of the morning, wants to argue about what needs to be done.
-Events I am blissfully unaware of in the morning, Gomah likes to tell me.  I DON"T WANT TO KNOW.
-Once awake, all the stored up energy and loudness that sleep squelched comes roaring out in that hour.
-No matter how many times I say "grab your jacket" someone (sometimes multiple someones) always forgets. Once in the van and ready to pull off they remember the forgotten causing me to have to get out, go back up to the house, unlock the door while they run in and get their jacket (can also substitute lunch boxes, backpacks, homework, etc.).
-Don't even get me started about the animals.
-Oh, and the boys like to catch each others pee while going to the bathroom in the morning. 

I have usually violated the promise I made at 7:30 to not yell by 7:45.  My name is Shelby and I am a yeller. To prevent yelling I have come up with a new solution.  Two of our kids were brought to us via artificial insemination (AI) and two kids were brought to us via international adoption (IA).  The good thing about how we got all our kids is that they came with receipts.  Do you know why that is good?  Because with a receipt you can make returns.  I had the receipt for each child enlarged, matted, framed and is now hanging over our fireplace with individual recessed lights illuminating the receipt.  When a child breaks a rule, I simple go and turn of the light for their receipt.  The tribe has spoken.  After I returned one repeat offender I no longer have to turn off the light.  I just point to the receipt and negative behavior vanishes.  Feel free to try this at home. All you traditional families out there...no need to worry.  You can fabricate a receipt and your child will never know the difference.
For those of you who don't really know me I am mostly joking.  I did not hang the receipts over the fireplaces.  I hung them over their beds.