A Place to Write

Playing with La la Loopsy dolls with the girls: Kaybree to Eisley: "What's your name?" Eisley: "It's me, Loopsy." Kaybree: "No, change your name." Eisley: "Loopa?" Kaybree: "How about ice cream dream?" Eisley: "Ok!"

Last night I put the girls to bed at about 8 p.m. like normal. And just like every night Eisley didn't feel like going to bed. I did my best to ignore her and went to spend time with J (Brendon was at the Suns game.) We played with nerf guns for about an hour and the entire time I could hear Eisley running into my room and back out. The master bathroom is directly above the kitchen. Eisley apparently doesn't know this. But alas, she was quiet and we were having fun so I decided to let her play herself to sleep. At about 10 p.m. I head up to bed. I go to close the door to the girls' room and discover--Eisley has picked out some clothes for tomorrow. My clothes. All her favorites, stolen from my closet and placed on the floor in her room. I shake my head and laugh, pick up my clothes and close the door to their room. I go to my room and get all ready for bed. I didn't turn on the light because I could see just fine from the light in the bathroom. Both dogs followe...

Sweet 16 is supposed to be a magical time. For me it was when I could officially begin dating and driving on my own. I applied for jobs right away to earn some extra cash. It was an exciting day. A birthday I looked forward to. For many kids in foster care their birthday is just another day. They often don't get gifts meant just for them--because no one really knows them. They might get a gift card and a cake. They don't get to see their family or hold a big party with their friends. It's another painful reminder of the past. I didn't want it to be like that for J but nothing can change the fact that it has never been a positive day for him. He wanted to avoid it. So I wrote him a note: Dear J, October ___ is the 7-month anniversary of you coming to live with us. (There may be something else going on that day but we won’t talk about that) I would like to celebrate. I understand you may not want to celebrate so I thought I would give you some options for ...

This is my favorite foster parenting campaign ever: https://www.multivu.com/players/English/8177151-ad-council-adoptuskids-adoption-foster-care/ I'd actually appreciate it if someone would write this book. Cause fostering a teen is weird. Lots of people get excited when you bring a baby into your life. There are countless books about what to do with a new baby. No one knows how to react when you bring a teen into your life and I have not seen a good book that addresses it. These ads do a great job of showing what it's like in 30 seconds or less. It's weird, it takes some adjusting and some trial and error but in the end you just do what you think is best. And it's often real, real funny. My ongoing challenge is getting J to succeed in school. For some reason even though all his classes are set up to help him succeed he still chooses not to work and to fall behind. So now he's stuck doing homework with me each night. I don't know if he's doing that on ...

I have a big fear of sharing my writing. I'm not sure why, exactly. I'm an accomplished writer. I've never written a book or anything but I've written hundreds of news articles. I've contributed to opinion columns and blogs. And yet when I think about making my own blog public I get knots in my stomach. I don't want anyone to judge me. Because a blog to me is so deeply personal. I realize it doesn't have to be but mine is. I wouldn't feel right if it wasn't. I write to vent. I write to get my thoughts and feelings out of my head. I don't write to share it and yet... I sort of feel guilty when I don't? I just listened to a talk from General Conference about using our gifts. And lately I've been doing a lot of training at work around storytelling. I believe my gift is writing. I believe telling my story is important. I believe somewhere someone might benefit from hearing my story. Yet--I'm afraid to share it. It's funny because ...