Uncle Neal Died

My stomach was gnawing away at me, it told me to expect the worst. So I prepared myself. After as much medical intervention and treatment that was humanly possible my Uncle Neal died.

I never knew how awful waiting at the hospital was until we did it with Penelope last year. It's surreal. It's: uncomfortable, hard, cold, bright... and sanitized still feels dirty. Last week I escaped the hours and hours of pacing, sitting, and upright-sleeping because Uncle Neal had enough family there and I had to take care of the kids. The plan was that I/we would visit when he had healed for a few days and was up for a visit. I had cleared our schedule over the next two weeks and imagined Ricky and I taking 8 kids to visit the hospital in shifts. His recovery would be long and he'd be in the hospital for a minimum of 8 days. But he never got better. Nothing worked out like we imagined or planned as everything that could go wrong did. I carried my cell phone around with me for 3 days and each time it rang it was worse news. Mini heart attack, pneumonia, intubation, an unexpected second surgery. Every phone call I prepared the kids for what seemed like the the inevitable; he very well may die. On the morning of September 7th he died. We told the kids and we were all pretty numb. Some of us cried, some did not. Some have tears yet to come. I was numb until nightfall and then I cried. I sobbed harder when I remembered the last thing he ever said to me. Because he loved us so much and he loved the kids so much, his last words to me were "absolutely beautiful" and it was about photos of my family and new baby on facebook.

I don't know why it makes me cry so hard. They are gorgeous last words and a treasured memory I can keep... but it just makes me sob. Why do we have to love people so much, so that it then hurts so bad when they leave?

We are busy preparing for the memorial. I always notice how hard it is to deal with anything else besides our normal routine. It can be fun stuff or bad stuff, doesn't matter, but it's hard doing anything else but taking care of house or kids. Everyday is FULL of chores, cooking, cleaning, laundry, caring for kids, changing diapers, school, breaking up fights or fits, feeding animals, Etc, Etc, Etc... it's not that I'm complaining but it makes me realize how different and time consuming life is with so many kids. It's SO time consuming. I am constantly telling myself to take one-step-at-a-time because it's overwhelming. Like right now, I do not have time to finish this blog post... 

I'm at that place where it feels like the world is spinning all around me and I'm yelling for it to stop because *I* lost someone. It hurts and I want everything to go away. I don't want to go out and buy chicken feed. I don't want to deal with bills and a dental billing/insurance mistake that I made that we now owe a ton of money for. I don't want to deal with toddler meltdowns. I don't want to look at the calendar. I don't want to deal with a 9 year old who is angry and defiant and hiding every feeling she possibly could about her great uncle's death. I do not want to deal with the fact that we have fleas and now obvious flea resistant medications for the animals (dogs now treated with meds that are working, cats still not though). I have too much to do, too much to think about and school is supposed to have started for us. We're supposed to be having piano lessons and bowling and enjoying our new Science Center membership. I'm supposed to be planning Penelope's birthday party. And this week were were supposed to be bringing cheer and hand drawn artwork from kids to Uncle Neal's hospital bedside. So in other words: everyone and everything should stop everything and clear the floor for me so I can be woefully sad and profoundly grouchy. During the day I'm numb but okay as we all are going through the motions of life and prep for Wednesday, by each nightfall I want to use the F word and I get so mad at nearly everything. Then I cry.

Layla and I have been at each others throats since Uncle Neal died and I now realize it's because she's hurting too. She's not crying, she's angry and she's being defiant and mean and hiding her pain. :(  To make things more painful she didn't get to go on her annual float trip with Uncle Neal this year because he was too sick. She also missed the last trip out to see him because she was in school. Horrible. She seems a little more at peace today. It's all going to hit us harder when we get to the family resort tomorrow.

 Poor, poor sweet Charlotte has to try not to cry because her wisdom teeth are still healing and she has a ear ache because of it. We are afraid her ears will clog up from crying.


 On the morning I told Penelope that Uncle Neal died I didn't know what to expect. She blinked her little blue eyes and I thought she was going to cry -and she almost did. She stared blankly at me and optimistically and ever so sweetly said said, "Well, you have to get to Heaven somehow. Right mom?"

Home Gardens Under Attack: Support Home Gardens

Today I heard reports of two different households being told they cannot grow food in their front yard, even though no ordinance is referenced against it. 

• Missouri family told they can't garden in front yard, this blog is the family's "to document how Ferguson, Missouri’s Code Enforcement is attempting to enforce opinions, rather than law. " Picture below is of their amazing hard work and beautiful garden. (Please leave them a comment of support on their blog.)

• In Kansas Woman Sues City of Tulsa For Cutting Down Her Edible Garden Denise Morrison said she has more than 100 plant varieties in her front and back yards and all of them are edible and have a purpose.

This comes just one day after I told Charlotte hypothetically, "We'd move if something happened and we couldn't have chickens here, like if our area suddenly had an ordinance against them." I carried on, "I love having birds, and if we couldn't have them we'd put the house up for sale immediately while we worked towards saving more money to move, then within two years we'd be gone. We won't live somewhere where we can't grow and raise our own food; it's un-American"

To live in America and be told you can't grow food on your own property is incomprehensible. Time for me to wake up, because it's the reality some people are living with. We once lived in a country that tried, even advertised, to get people to grow their own food. Being self sufficient was encouraged as was: canning, storing, growing and keeping chickens. Today people and our government are so accustomed to shopping at supermarkets, importing food, paying taxes, regulations and restrictions that people don't do much for themselves anymore in the way of food production. Providing for yourself is a great skill to have, but it's becoming a lost art. Growing your own food not only helps people eat healthier, it's also better for our environment (for one there is no transporting of goods to stores). Growing-your-own teaches many skills and fosters hard work and perseverance which is great for self esteem and motivation. This leads to a feeling of high self worth. People who garden have less stress, tend to be happier and live longer. People who garden get exercise and soak up vitamin D from the sun while they work in their gardens. In 2009, a study reported that three-quarters of U.S. teens and adults were deficient in vitamin D.

When I see people who have gardens visible from the street it makes me happy, I actually look for people's gardens each year. I admire the gardens of complete strangers as we commute to and from home. I show them to my kids. I talk about them. One down this way has a metal pan hanging from a clothesline to deter birds and a lawn chair an older man sits in. I love that he watches his garden grow from his chair. One the other way has a plot so big and rich and full that I'm green with envy every year. At the end of the growing season it's tilled up before we even buy Halloween pumpkins. They keep it in wonderful shape. In the spring, before I can even think about tilling, their garden is tilled up again and waiting for seeds. Yet another garden is near the elementary school; they cover it in black plastic each off season with about eight cinder blocks on sides and corners. I watch for gardens and applaud them as I see them. When I slow down as I pass these gardens my family hears, "Look at that garden! It's a good one!" In fact, I totally just did it today on the way home from swimming.

People getting out in nature and doing what's good for their families and themselves should be encouraged on every level.

Old ad's from the past:

This poster was part of the publicity for a brilliantly mounted campaign to encourage the use of homegrown foods. Because commercially canned goods were rationed, the Victory Garden became an indispensable source of food for the home front. The Victory Garden was a household activity during the war and one of the most well received of all home front chores. At its peak, it is estimated that nearly 20,000,000 gardens were grown and about 40 percent of all vegetables produced in the U.S. came from Victory Gardens. By the end of the war the Department of Agriculture estimated total home front production of over one million tons of vegetables valued at 85 million dollars. Source

A Vigil for Blake Litton

Penelope rght after adding her doggie to our box-sign

We held our own personal vigil for Blake Litton tonight. I was proud of my kids gathering favorite stuffed animals and setting up the candles (blue for child abuse awareness). I didn't act like the little kids were going to participate at all. Since they are so young I mainly asked the older kids to help get things ready. The younger kids pitched in on their own though and wanted to take part too. We don't normally discuss violent crime with the younger kids (unless it were to accidentally come up). However, in this situation I saw a teachable moment and even though it was hard to say I told them the truth about what happened. Penelope brought her stuffed doggie to me and told me she was ready. It was really sweet.


I talked to the kids about child abuse in many forms: neglect, endangerment, verbal abuse, and physical abuse. I talked about how this wasn't a stressful situation in which a child was hurt and killed, like some children are a victim of, this was a deliberate and real case of child abuse; where children were harmed purposely and repeatedly many times. (All types are inexcusable.) I talked to the kids about broken homes, broken marriages, trusting others to care for our children as well as and making wise decisions before having children. We've been teaching that to our kids for years so that was more of a 'this is why we've told you that before' type of point to make. We talked about speaking up against child abuse in any setting. We talked about the fact that someone usually knows when kids are being hurt; family, neighbors, friends sometimes know so we need to pay attention so we can help kids if we ever suspect abuse in a home. Lastly I told the kids that five or more children die everyday from child abuse. They were all silent and shocked with a couple mouths dropped open. Sage asked me if that was in the United States alone. I told him yes. They were shocked to think about the fact that every day we could write 5 new kids' names on our board and do this over and over again each day. In fact, we had a picture of another recently killed baby tucked under a stuffed animal on our sign. There are so many children.

We said a prayer and we told Blake we were sorry his life here was so short and painful. I told him I wished I could have helped him and I hope he is feeling our presence and love for him, even though we have never even met him.

The kids then talked, played with the candles (lighting tiny twigs with them), and hung out together out front. Their dad got home from work during the vigil and slowly drove by us to say hi and admire our sign and effort before pulling into the driveway. It was a beautiful night to be outside. We had a cup of coffee together and enjoyed our corner of the world, which is free from pain and sorrow in our own lives, all while wishing Blake and many other children could feel that same security.

We took our sign in because it's supposed to rain tonight and tomorrow. I plan on putting it back out after the rain passes in a day or so. I wanted to leave the candles burning but Ricky said the leaves were too dry around the front garden bed and it was windy. Charlotte said something like' burn down our house mom, that'll get our message out then' and we laughed.

After the vigil I don't feel much different (proud of my kids though). If I think too much I still feel hollow, speechless, lost and sad. I feel good about sharing time with the kids and talking about an important and unpleasant subject with them. I don't like unpleasantness, sadness and violence so I avoid it a lot. I taught the kids to pour loving energy outward instead of keeping it inward. They learned things about child abuse. I guess my gloom has a little less to do with Blake at this point. I try and imagine him wrapped in love now, free of pain. I guess now I just feel defeated, there are so many kids out there hurting. I feel the sting of a selfish society with a slipping moral fiber. (Although I know we've always had pain and abuse so please don't tell me that if you read this and think that.)

Sometimes this planet is such an amazing place, sometimes it's nothing short of horrible. Our world, our lives, our society is only as good as the people that are in it.

Teach your children well... show them how to love. Tell them why.

My commitment in life is to teach my children how to love, how to protect themselves,
and how to help others

I was surprised not one kid smiled for this photo, since it's usually habit

Rest In Peace Blake

We think of you and all other children whose lives were silenced because of the

selfishness and hate carried by the adults you trusted.

Blake Litton

The morning after I wrote this happy, fun post about dealing with Sebastian when he was being a rude crazy kid I woke up to the news of a three year old boy who was beaten to death. The mother's boyfriend beat him to death for pooping his pants. Here's one detailed news story.

Last night at about 6pm I accidentally read the full police report online. I hadn't intended to, but as I was skimming it online and looking for answers I just could not stop reading. When I was done I burst into tears and sobbed until my husband got home from work. He found me in bed sobbing deep uncontrollable sobs. I felt like the world was crashing down around me as I tried to wrap my head around such horror. I felt like air was being squeezed out of me, like how you feel when some one you love has died.

Children being abused hurts me greatly, but there are a couple reasons this one hit me so hard. It happened just a few hours after I wrote about keeping our cool with Sebastian. An attitude problem with him occurred that could entice the type of anger that some parents hit, spank or beat kids over. In my blog I actually said, "I love NOT HITTING my three year old..."  
Sebastian is the exact same age as Blake; whenever you have a point of reference with your child and a victim it hits you extra, extra hard. Blake was brutally beaten and killed by a monster and it wasn't the first time he was beaten. His sister had a broken wrist and multiple injuries/bruises from God knows when, which was discovered when the boy was finally taken to the hospital. She was missing a patch of hair, too.

It just makes me so, so sad. People DO NOT understand children. This is especially true when the child does not belong to you. Something has to be done about the anger adults carry while they care for children. I think it should be common practice and well accepted for parents and caregivers to take anger management classes. The classes should be specially designated for getting through the hard times of children under age eight. Babies, toddlers and children are not "bad." They are little people who want what any adult wants: to be loved, to be respected, to be listened to, to not be pushed around, to not be hit, to be free. I have been interested in teaching newborn and toddler care classes for a very long time and still think about it often.

It can be extremely frustrating dealing with children, but the the anger people carry is pure selfishness.

 Reading the recent news report again makes me so sick and sad. I just want to take little Blake Litton and his sister home with me. I just wish I could have known and somehow convinced those horrible people to let us take them into our home. Why do people hate children to the point that they kill them? How can this happen in a civilized society? All because children cry and have accidents in their pants? It's beyond comprehendable.

Maybe I'm weak, maybe I'm overly sensitive, maybe these stories are so horrible they pass through the news quickly with only a glance because we don't want to acknowledge humans are killing little kids. It hurts to think about it, but I can't stop, 5+ kids DIE everyday from child abuse. This chart makes me desperately sorrowful.

source:

http://www.childhelp.org/pages/statistics/

Blake Evan Litton

Last night I went to bed thinking about Blake and woke up this morning thinking about Blake. I just can't stop being sad for this little boy. I love this toddler more than his mother. In general I find myself wondering about parents who kill their children. What they said, did, or felt when they held their baby for the first time. I wonder if they kissed their feet and played peek a boo and laughed with joy like I do. Did it ever happen once? Did they ever feel that pure love feeling once? No they just couldn't have. There's no way for one second Blake's mother ever looked at her child and felt the way I feel about mine, and then let her boyfriend beat them. I don't see how it's humanly possible to be such a monster if you ever really loved your child. (I read online, unconfirmed, that she's had three other children taken from her care)

I'm going to hold a vigil this Wednesday evening for him and talk to our kids about child abuse before hand. I thought we'd place candles and stuffed animals by the road. I just don't know what else I can do for this child or my heart - it hurts.

I sat with our four littlest kids on the couch today for hours. We *played building brains, *love sandwich, *I am, we hummed together in harmony, we sang, we tickled, we laughed. Every kid deserves that kind of childhood. They just do.

*made up games I should write about some time