2020

As Mother's Day quickly approaches (Wednesday here in Baja; Sunday in the United States), my social media feeds are filling up with tributes to moms, memes about moms, gushy sentimentality about moms. But one Instagram post in particular jumped out at me this morning. It said: "No one can be a better mom to your children than you." This one stood out to me because it's not the world I live in. The world I live in is one where moms are controlled by addictions and abusive husbands and have been rendered incapable of being the best caregiver for their children. Some of our children were found living on the streets, ten-year-olds caring for four-year-olds, with fetal alcohol syndrome, severe handicaps, sleeping in cars, dirty, bruised, burned, afraid, scared and scarred. Three months ago four siblings were brought to us. They had their first visit with their mother on Friday. After accepting new children, we have a three-month waiting period before they are allowe

I’ve noticed that more often than not, when we tell kids to “share” we don’t actually mean it. Randy and I have very different communication styles. I am literal; he is general. Por ejemplo (for example), if someone asks “Is that what you mean?” I will answer “si” or “no.” Randy will answer “mas o menos” (more or less). This is too vague for me. I want to mean what I say and say what I mean. The literal definition of sharing is to “give a portion of something to someone else,” or to “enjoy together.” But when we tell our kids to share, isn’t it true that we are more likely to praise them if they give away their toy and go off to play with something else? Isn’t it true that we are more likely to praise them if they give away a bigger portion of the snack they have and settle for the lesser portion? Yet it would still be sharing if they gave away a lesser portion. It would still be sharing if they asked for 5 minutes alone with their toy first before giving th