Family

                         
Charley has 5 siblings, 2 sisters and 3 brothers.  In the 3 1/2 months of his life, he has seen them twice.  They all held and kissed him, and we took pictures to remember the time spent together.   The two days that we all met together was like any other day for me.  I was hurrying around trying to get myself and Charley dressed, pack the diaper bag, and get out the door.  While we were there, I even let my mind wonder when we would be able to leave.  I enjoyed meeting his siblings, but a part of me had difficulty really digesting what this meant for the kids.  The older two held Charley for a while, but soon grew tired of playing with him, and started playing their own games.  The youngest three acknowledged Charley, but weren't old enough to grasp that this was their baby brother.

Now, weeks later, I'm feeling heavy hearted.  Charley most likely will not ever see his siblings again.  He will have pictures, but no real memories of their touch, the sound of their voice, or the joy of playing together.  His brothers and sisters will be adopted out to at least 3 different homes of wonderful people who want to care for them, but also want to go on with their lives.  I understand that.  It's just part of it...

God has allowed a heaviness to come over my heart tonight for Charley.  I'm feeling very protective...very "mother henish", I guess.  He's such an innocent and sweet baby, that most people tend to forget that life may not be so easy for him as he gets older.  I desperately want a happy life for him.   That is my prayer every day.

If you have a brother or a sister, parents, spouse, or child...give them an extra hug, kiss, pat on the back.  Whatever lets them know that you love them.  Say the words, too.  They may even be surprised to hear it.  I take for granted that I get to pick up the phone and talk to my brother and parents every day if I chose.  I can hop on a plane on any given day and see them face to face.  Not everyone can do that...not Charley.

So, I love you Chris, Amy, Chloe, Mom, Dad, Curtis, and Charley.  I'm sorry that I take our love for granted sometimes.  You guys mean everything to me.

Love to ya!
Shell


Charley and his big sister



One of Charley's brothers (he looks the most like him)




Charley and his youngest brother

 

Time to Get Serious!

Since Charley was added to our household in early June, I have conveniently been "too busy" or "too tired" to workout consistently.  I will occasionally hop on my elliptical trainer in the basement, do the Wii Fit, or go for a run with the dog, but none of these activities have assisted in my quest for weight loss and keeping fit. Curtis has also been threatening to get in shape since about half-way through pharmacy school.  All the sitting through classes, sitting to study, and sitting in front of the TV to relax when he's not in classes or studying has slowly been catching up with him.  So, Curtis and I made a commitment to ourselves and to each other that we were going to "get serious!"

We checked out a couple of gyms in our neighborhood and settled on one that was new, well-equipped with machines, weights, and classes, and best of all (for me)....free childcare!  We were also happy to note that because the gym is so new, there aren't that many members.  This means Charley will more than likely be one of only a few babies in the childcare room this winter when the nasty colds are in season.  Soooo happy about that!

Tonight was our first "getting fit" outing as a family.  We packed Charley up, donned our workout clothes, and headed for the gym to sweat and strain for 2 hours.  I'm happy to say that neither one of us fainted, pulled a muscle, or cursed at a machine.  In fact, we were all smiles as we walked out the gym door...even Charley.  (He loved Annie, the childcare worker)

Determined, I plan to share our "success stories" with you along with a picture of the new, slim/trim, and fit Prichard family, as the new year rolls around.  For now, I will have to share the latest picture of the "not so fit us" taken on date-night at our favorite restaurant, where we stuffed ourselves with yummy food and drink.  A fitting farewell to our old bad habits....let's hope.
                                                 

Love to ya!
Shell

The Court Room

Charley had his first court hearing yesterday.  As a foster parent, I'm allowed to be in the court room during these hearings, and as his "MoMo" I feel a responsibility to be there.  I was anxious.  It would be the first time I would meet Charley's mother (who has avoided me on every other occasion, and has a tendency toward extreme anger, I am told) and I would be given the opportunity to voice any concerns I have to the judge.  This is my fourth court hearing as a foster parent, so one would think that being present wouldn't cause so much angst, but it did.

Ater entering the elevator to the 6th floor, a rush of people shoved their way in  just as the doors closed.  I held my breath as I scanned the people looking for those who may be less than happy that I'm attending the hearing.  Safe...everyone exited on the 4th floor. The elevator stopped on the 6th floor, I walked down the hall, and opened the door to the juvenile court waiting area.  I found myself thinking, "Do I need to duck, dash, or dive under one of the benches to hide?", and actually WHISPERING to the receptionist my name and relationship to Charley.  Safe again...Charley's bio parents were not there, so there was no chance of a confrontation...yet. 

When they called our case to the court room, I stood up, held my head high, and thought to myself, "I can do this.  For Charley".  We walked down a hallway, passing another court room entrance where, over a year ago, I last saw my precious baby, Claudia. I felt my knees and heart buckle a little, but I continued on with renewed strength (thanks, God). 

There were lots of people in the court room, some who were introduced, others remaining nameless.  A ton of documents were submitted and announced that concerned Charley's siblings, but nothing that sounded remotely familiar or having anything to do with Charley.  No one asked me who I was, or why I was there.  I was selfishly fuming, mumbling to myself, "IIIIII am the one who is with him ALL the time. Doesn't anyone care what I have to say about Charley?!"  The answer was obvious, but I sure felt better as I mouthed the words into the wall next to me.

After about 5 minutes of trying to hear what the judge and lawyers were saying (it's very loud in a court room full of people, and it's near impossible to hear what's going on), we were abruptly dismissed and everyone hurriedly filed out.  I was confused, worried, and didn't understand what, if anything, had been decided.  For an instant, I was taken back to one of the last court dates we attended for Claudia.  My parents were with us and it was very difficult to hear what the judge was saying.  The dismal was abrupt, just like this one, and being a worried Dad/PaPa, my father kept asking, "What just happened?".  As we left the courthouse, all I could say through tears and a huge lump in my throat was, "She's going home, Dad"....Wow, the memories we attach to places.  A small piece of my soul had been left on the 6th floor of the courthouse a year ago for Claudia, and now another piece would be left there for Charley.

Nothing was decided yesterday.  Apparently, a continuance was granted for Charley's case, because his caseworker was in another court room and couldn't attend the hearing.  So, here we are...3 1/2 months into his little life, and absolutely nothing has been done to decide his fate.  His future's in limbo.  If you're not familiar with the "system"...it's unfortunately, "par for the course".  The most innocent and vulnerable are many times, the ones we think of last.  Isn't that true in so many areas of life?  Think about it.  We're all guilty of it.  This just brings it to the surface and a little "closer to home".  "Lord, forgive me for not loving like You love...no favorites".

I picked up Charley after court yesterday from my dear friend's house.  When I saw him, I hugged him a little tighter, kissed him a little more, and loved him up "real good".  This is his fate for now...with Curtis and I.  We have the blessing of watching him grow, develop his little personality, and learn to love in a big way. 
For this, I am thankful.

Love to ya!
Shell

His Little Althie

                                                  

(*I took a little hiatus for the weekend.  Computer technical difficulties, sick baby, date night with my hubby-WOO HOO!, and just plain ole' fatigue set in.  But, I think we're rested up and ready to go!)

So, I promised my hubby that I wouldn't share our "pet names"on my blog, but in order to write about him today, I find it utterly impossible to omit this sweet gesture.  When Curtis calls me his "Little Althie", he's affectionately referring to my grandmother, Altha Lewis, aka "Nannie". Nannie was one of the most loving, affectionate women that I have ever known.  I loved spending time at her house and being doted on as a young child.  Curtis didn't have the pleasure of meeting my grandmother before she passed, so everything he knows about her, he's learned from pictures and stories from my Dad.  This poses a significant gap in our perceptions of Nannie, because according to my Dad, she was a very strict, stoic woman who was in control and meant business.  This is understandable if you know my Dad, and know that my Nannie raised him alone for a good part of his childhood.  Sorry Dad, but I think Nannie had no choice but to  NOT "spare the rod". 

Why then does Curtis call me his "Little Althie"? Well, first of all, I'm built much like my Dad and my Nannie.  Large bones and (unfortunately) I'm NOT skinny.  Was that politically correct?  I think my grandmother was beautiful and, yea for me, my husband thinks I am too.  But, most of all, Curtis perceives me as "always in control and meaning business".  It sounds like we need counseling, but really, we frequently laugh about it.  It's funny when inherited traits are so obvious. (Thank you, Nannie AND Dad!) I like the name "Little Althie".  It's very endearing and it gives me the warm fuzzies because not only am I feeling affection from the love of my life, but I'm also reminded of the wonderful person I called Nannie.

                                            

I LOVE this picture.  I'm sure I was such a "stinker" and I bet my Nannie was wondering if I was "Larry Incarnate".  Hee! Hee!  Only difference...she never used the "switch" that she always made us go looking for out in the yard.  Isn't it great being a grandbaby?

Thank you, Curtis for loving me enough to make me feel endeared every day of my life with you.  I am blessed to be your "Little Althie".

Love to ya,
Shell

Remembering Rosie

I had a WIC appointment yesterday.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with WIC, like my wealthy neighbor who gave me a ride to the appointment (LOL!  Funny story....for another day),  it's an acronym for Women, Infant, and Children, a government program for underprivileged women and children.  I have to go to WIC every month to receive checks for Charley's formula, since he's a ward of the state.  Every time I walk into the office, the sheer desperate state of our city slaps me in the face.  There are children and babies everywhere, with parents in all different stages of consciousness.  Yes, I'm serious.  There are responsible, working parents who are there because they just can't cover the expenses of feeding their children, to mothers who are coming off a serious "high" from the night before. 

On this particular visit, I had signed in and just sat down to wait for them to call my name, when I saw her.  Not Rosie, not Rosie's mother, but a woman that I knew.  It was obvious that this woman was struggling to stay awake and not tear the skin from her body at the same time.  She was either high or coming down from a high.  I scoured my brain trying to remember where I had met her, but couldn't come up with it.   Since I started doing foster care, God has gently torn down the walls of my little world that I had created.  My eyes have been opened so many times to homelessness, drug abuse, and child neglect happening right outside my door. 

As I sat there watching her, a heavy sadness came over me.  I felt like my heart would explode.  I just wanted to wrap my arms around this woman and cry for her, pray with her, and tell her there's hope.  But, I didn't...I couldn't. Right?  We were in the WIC waiting room!  If I could have a "do over", that's exactly what I would do.  But, instead, I started praying for her as I waited for my checks, and continued to do so the whole day.  Funny how Jesus doesn't let us forget what's important to Him...like this woman...like Rosie.

Rosie was our "first born".  Well, not really.  She was our first foster child, and since we don't have children of our own, that's how we think of her.  Rosie came to live with us as a 2 month old, drug-exposed baby constantly struggling to tolerate her environment.  She literally stole my heart as soon as our eyes met.  And, I do remember that very moment.  Rosie was with us for 8 months, before she went back to live with her mother.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't at least, silently say a short prayer for her. 

I believed that Rosie was not going back to a safe environment, but the courts did not agree with me.  I had seen her mother coming off of a high, much like this woman, on more than one occasion.  It ripped my heart out to think that Rosie would be left alone with her, and it made me hate, yes hate, her mother.  MAN, did God work on my heart after that!  He pretty much threw me into the woes of what these women go through and showed me that he loves them JUST AS MUCH as he loves me.  So many times, I found myself on the floor sobbing before the Lord.  Humbled to the core. 

So, to this woman...may you find Jesus in the midst of your heartache and if I ever see you again, I WILL wrap my arms around you and show you the love that Jesus intends for YOU.  And to Rosie, my sweet, sweet child.... may God put his hedge of protection around you every day and may He bless your life more abundantly than you ever dreamed.  I will see you again some day.

And to you, the reader, may Jesus break your heart for what breaks His.

Love to ya,
Shell

Good Girl, Sheba!

                                     


Since it was the first day of fall (YAY!), I decided it would be a great morning to take Sheba for a run. There was a nice breeze outside and the temps had fallen a little, so I thought it might be a good opportunity to pray and meditate on some things that have been on my mind lately. I must say, the run was awesome.  Sheba and I ran at a pretty good pace the entire time.  However, the only real praying I was able to do was "Lord, help me get up these hills" and "Jesus, please keep Sheba from eating the other dogs we see or biting the other runners we pass".  Sheba has a distaste for "barky little dogs", and we just happen to pass what seemed to be a thousand other runners of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. But, she was good.  She was VERY good.  No barks, no bites, and no consumption of "barky little dogs".  Sheba is Curtis's dog, but she minds her "mama".  Good girl, Sheba!

Later in the day, one of Charley's case workers came to the house for a visit.  Sebastian was in his usual position, curled up in one of the living room chairs, and Sheba happened to be laying next to the chair, basking in the sun coming from the window.  When the door bell rang, neither of them moved a muscle.  So, I answered the door and brought the case worker into the living room.  We started talking about Charley and his upcoming court hearing.  At some point, Sheba left her position near the chair, retrieved her bone treat, and trotted over to sit directly between the caseworker and me (with Charley in my lap).  She dropped the treat at his feet and nudged his hand, then continued to sit and stare at him.  I could tell he was becoming somewhat uncomfortable, so Sheba was told to "go lay down".  She took her bone, looking defeated, and walked away.  She then dropped the bone in Charley's empty car seat, and turned to stare at the caseworker.  I knew what she was thinking..."Charley is MY PUPPY!  Here, you can take my bone treat, but don't even think about taking my puppy!  Paws off, brother!"  Hee! Hee!  It's so cute to see her play the Mama Dog role with Charley.  Good girl, Sheba!

Love to ya!
Shell

                                   

My Soapy Box

Charley gets a bath every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 1:30 pm, sharp. No exceptions. He has just gotten home from a visit with his bio parents, and quite frankly he wreaks of cigarette smoke. First of all, let me say that I have nothing against smokers. Some of my best friends smoke, and I have even "lit up" a few times. (sorry Mom and Dad! I AM 39! :-0) I do, however, have a problem with people who smoke around children. They don't have a voice, so therefore, they don't have a choice. They can't ask you to stop and they can't leave the room. And, unfortunately, there's not a law against smoking around children. For Charley, spending 15 hours a week in a smoke-filled house is something he HAS to do. Hence....my "soapy" box.

This picture was taken around 1:35 pm on a Friday, while Charley was getting a bath. He's never too happy about bath time after visits because he's sleepy and hungry, but it's a must. No matter how much I "soap"him down and scrub, it takes at least a day to get the smoke out of his hair and skin. It's sad, but it is what it is. I have advocated for change to caseworkers, lawyers, service coordinators, physicians, and just about anyone who would listen. So far, I've just made some people angry or uncomfortable, at the very least. Some were offended. I will continue...for Charley.

So, I will step down from my "soapy" box, and end on a happy note. Since Charley has also been dealing with some severe congestion lately, he hasn't been sleeping through the night. That means very little sleep for Charley AND MoMo. This morning, however, was perfect nap time. A storm blew through with lots of wind, rain, thunder and lightning. Charley had just finished a bottle and was ready to head back to sleep. I swaddled him up, laid him in the bed beside me and we curled up together for a couple of hours of sleepytime.
Heaven on earth...

Love to ya!
Shell

      

Keepin' the Main Thing the Main Thing

I got lost today.  Lost in a sea of self-pity.  And I had a heck of a time getting back "home".  Wasn't until about an hour ago that I found my way.  Suddenly, it all became quite clear.  Know what did it?  A movie.  "Imagine That" - I highly recommend it.  Everything that I was praying and yes, crying about just sort of resolved itself.  This wasn't some religious movie. It was a comedy starring (of all people) Eddie Murphy.  The message of the movie hit me right in the chest..."Keep the MAIN THING the MAIN THING.  That's where it's at...the happiness. 

When God called me to quit my job, I knew he meant business.  I charged through my calling with a vengeance, only to realize that His version of me being a "stay at home mom" was MUCH different than mine.  Besides taking care of an infant, I envisioned a life full of ministry opportunities (I already had them picked out), sleeping late, going to lunch with friends, keeping my house immaculate, and cooking gourmet meals for my hubby every night.  BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!  Was I in for a big surprise!  How about very little time for ministry, because Charley has a crazy visitation schedule AND I can barely stay awake during the day because I don't get much sleep at night (it's ok, Charley.  MoMo loves you!).  I have been to lunch with friends twice because most moms my age work during the day.  Oh, the house!! Let's just say that most of my cleaning involves sweeping up dog/cat hair off the floor and furniture on a daily basis, leaving no time to cook (if I even had the energy by that time of day)!  So, there you have it....That's really where my heart was.  I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.  I was asking God if he was really serious about this "stay at home mom" stuff, cause if not, I could TOTALLY understand.

It's funny how God uses the oddest ways, at the weirdest times to get his point across. During this movie, I realized that it doesn't matter how clean my house is, how many times a week I cook, how many "lunch dates" I have with my friends, or even how much sleep I get.  God called me to take care of my family.  I have a wonderful husband who adores me and just wants me to be happy.  What more could I ask for?  And, I have a beautiful foster son who depends on me for absolutely everything in his life right now.  What ministry could I be involved in that's more important than that?  All the sweet quiet moments, the laughs, the deep discussions, and the unforgettable memories I have with my husband are far more important than any time spent "flying to a meeting" or "driving 3 hours to a client's office".  All the precious time spent feeding, playing, and cuddling Charley make "exceeding my sales quota" SO NOT exciting.  Don't get me wrong.  I think it's great that women have careers where they can excel and earn a good salary.  But, this is where I'm called to be.

I'm makin' the Main Thing the Main Thing.....and I'm Keepin' it that way!

Love to ya!
Shell

Fall Is In the Air!

                                     

Sitting by the fire in my living room is one of my FAVE things to do in early fall.  I sit in my chair (when I can make it there before a furry creature that shall remain nameless. See pic above) and dream about the cool weather, snow, and the Christmas season to come.  I relish the moment knowing that in a few months I will be cursing the COLD and SNOW while wondering why on earth I was ever dreaming about the "white stuff".  But, I do it anyway, and tonight was the inauguration of the fireplace for the season. It was wonderful!  It was a nice finish to a great fall day.  We made a trip to the farmer's market in the brisk, windy weather to scoop up a big bag of fresh veggies, goat cheese, eggs, and even a cute little knit hat for Charley.  We stopped for a big, warm bowl of soup for lunch, then came home and cooked a yummy meal with all our "wares".  A very "fallish" thing to do.

So, in the midst of feeling blessed with a wonderful family and a beautiful day, God showed up in a real way.  I've been praying for opportunities to get to know one of my friends on a more personal level, and have been frustrated because it just never seems to happen.  He answered that prayer today, in the most unlikely way.  I care about this friend and I want her to know Jesus like I do. God knows my heart and He wants to know my friend's heart.  Why wouldn't he answer my prayers for opportunities?  Oh, trust....it's a daily decision.

If it's cool where you are right now, I hope you get outside and enjoy this glorious weather!

Love to ya!
Shell

The Recognition of Love

It's why I do what I do.  I have gotten the comment a million times, "I could never be a foster parent.  How do you do it? Why do you do it?"  How?...  only by God's grace and mercy and the strength that comes from having Him in my heart.  Why?  Besides feeling God's calling to do this,  it's the recognition of love on their faces and in their eyes.  I saw it today with Charley.  I won't lie...my heart literally broke and I couldn't breathe when I put him in his car seat this morning, and handed him over to a worker for a visit with his bio parents.  But, when he returned 5 hours later, he looked up at me from his car seat, smiled a BIG cheesy grin and fell sound asleep.  I knew at that moment he saw it...the love.  Sounds silly, but I saw it when I was giving him a bath and changing his diaper.  He watches my face so intently, and when he knows I'm happy, he smiles.  He knows I enjoy taking care of him and he knows I LOVE him.  It's amazing to me to see this recognition at such at early age.  Lastly, I saw it when "Grandma Betty" was holding him tonight.  He was enjoying himself while on Grandma's lap, babbling to her and smiling, but every now and then he would look over my way, analyze me a bit, then give me another BIG cheesy grin.  Even though I'm not his biological mother, he recognizes my deep love for him...I'm such a lucky MoMo.

Love to ya!
Shell

I Should Be Living on a Farm

Oh, wait...Been there, done that.  Not sure I want to do it again considering all the "locals" referred to me as "Lisa" (think Green Acres).  Honestly, I can't imagine why they would think that this blonde chic even remotely resembled that character.  If you know me and you're old enough to remember "Green Acres", you're laughing at me right now.  But it's ok...

So, back to why I should be living on a farm.  4:38 a.m.-Charley yelling (he doesn't really cry) because he has what he thinks are hunger pains.  I drag myself out of bed and put the bink in his mouth and he's good for another hour.  5:40a.m.-Same thing.  Then the dog starts to "tick tick tick" across our bedroom floor from one side to the other, whining excessively.  Then, the cat starts meowing at our bedroom door!  Meanwhile, Curtis is tossing and turning, and by 6:00 am Charley is literally giving his lungs a major workout in his best effort to coax me into his room for a feeding.  Seriously, wouldn't a rooster be much more soothing?  At this point, I mumbled to myself, "I'm living on a farm....a funny farm."  I roll out of bed, let the dog out, feed the cat, and soothe Charley's hunger pains with a big bottle of warm milk.  The happy ending to this story is once everyone got what they wanted, "Mama" was able to put baby back to sleep, leave the pets outside, crawl back into bed and snuggle up to hubby for another hour.  PURE BLISS!

Love to ya!
Shell

Whew!! That took forever...

So now that I have spent HOURS (well maybe only a couple) just getting this blog up and running, I think I'll share just a little of what's on my mind today.  Charley (aka "Wild Man") had a 5 hour visit with his bio parents for the second time in about 3 weeks.  I'm not used to being away from him for so long, AND it's a given that I worry every time he leaves the house without me.  Will they love on him?  Will they feed and change him when he needs it?  Will they play with him?  Does he cry? Scream?  Needless to say, a lot of prayers go up from the Prichard household during these LONG 5 hours.  So, during my prayer time today, I was reminded of a sermon by Steve Moltumyr (Brookside Church, Omaha, NE).  Pastor Steve shared words from Tony Snow before he passed away in 2008.   "What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand."  

WOW!  We, as believers, all lie in "the hollow of God's hand." HOW COOL IS THAT!?  The picture of Charley sleeping snuggled in God's hand was enough to drive the worries away...nuff said.

Love to ya!
Shell