Here you will find the chronicles of the crazy crook crew...enjoy!

Here you will find the chronicles of the crazy crook crew...enjoy!
I want to live in each season fully, celebrate the chapters as they end, and anticipate the next with only joy! God gets all the glory for the story He's written for our family! A family designed and defined by Him through foster care and adoption. If you've got some time, stay a while...and grab a kleenex;) Each chapter is beautiful and heart wrenching and breathtaking and God is ALWAYS good!

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A blast from the past:)

Well look at that...I just turned 30.  I have no idea how that happened.  Two minutes ago I was in 1st grade listening to Mrs. Burkes explain the art of phonics while I replayed yesterday's episode of Punky Brewster through my mind and contemplating how I might become more like her...Punky Brewster that is:)  30 doesn't scare me...tis just a number.  But it did get me thinking...considering the three decades that together have created this Crazy Mama Crook.
Zero to ten...hmmm.  I remember being crazy and loving my spot at the center of attention...not much has changed there:)  I remember favorite teacher Ms. Joe and my red headed best friend Anna who liked to eat her scabs...a discovery I made during a sleepover.  Had I known prior, I may have picked a different best friend...but probably not:)  I remember kindergarten...I remember talking while Mrs. Luken was talking (a common occurrence), and getting sent to stand in a corner behind where she was teaching.  Bad move on her part.  As she was turned toward the class, I made a face behind her that looked a little something like a big antlered moose with a crazy tongue, and my 5 year old peers were highly entertained.  My crime was discovered and I was promptly removed to the hallway where Mrs. Blaydes (a feared 1st grade teacher) was obliged to witness my one and only school spanking.  Yep...I got a woopin in KINDERGARTEN.  Unbelievable:)  Or maybe a little believable.
In 2nd grade, I remember falling down at recess.  It was a nasty fall, I was wearing a dress with tights and I skinned my cute little knee.  Once we were back in class, I asked to go to the bathroom where I sat on the little kid size potty and tried to peel the tights off my knee where the dried blood had super glued them:(  Poor little me.  You must note that this was back in the day when we had little one toilet bathrooms in our classes.  During my minor surgical procedure, the alarm (tornado season) sounded and my entire 2nd grade class calmly, strategically, entered into their "safe zone".  The class bathroom.  No, I hadn't locked the door.  And this series of events lead to the most embarrassing moment of my date.  Can you believe they stayed in there?  They all saw me, teacher included, sitting there on the porcelain and they stayed!  Cramped, circled around the potty princess, every one of them giggling little 7 year old giggles.  And it was a drill!  There was NO tornado coming.  My self respect and dignity was lost at age 7.  And that was that.  The teacher scolded me while I sat exposed to my classmates.  She said I was taking too long and shouldn't have been in there.  Then I believe she giggled as well.  I could go on and on with childhood stories, but I'll spare you.
Aside from that nightmare, my kindergarten rebellion, and the shocking discovery that my best friend was part 1st decade was a breeze.  I was living life in the fast lane.  I played outside just about every day and enjoyed the wildlife that came with country living.  I loved frogs...obsessed over them.  Held them, kissed them, carried them everywhere, and played with them like most girls play with dolls.  I was a playful, rotten, busy, dirty, funny, weird kid.  My mom kept my hair in a chili bowl cut...I think mainly because I liked to chew on it and keeping it nice wasn't on my list of priorities.  Thanks mom:)

Ten to twenty...I think this decade took forever.  I wanted to be big.  I wanted to be cool.  I wanted to be pretty.  I wanted to be in high school, get my drivers license, graduate, go to college.  I wanted time to go faster.  Middle school was weird and high school was worse.  I must say I didn't super love those years.  There were some highlights for sure...but a lot of drama and insecurity overshadowed them.  I'll save those sob stories for another day.  I met my soul mate at 17 and you already know how that story goes;)  Things got better after high was good and marriage was great:)

Twenty to thirty...WHAT a transformation.  My twenties began with significant importance placed on the size of the rock on my left hand.  Twenty brought me the end of a college career and a forever union with the love of my life.  Twenty-nine brought me a forever family of 5 and the peace that comes with knowing I now have four loves of my life and they're mine...God gave them to me.  In between twenty and thirty, God showed me where my real treasure lies.  He ignited a passion within my soul that's hard to describe and through it, He created something beautiful.  There were definitely mountains and valleys throughout this past decade...He had to break me to remake me.  And that story has been told.  But it all lead me to here...30.  I love where I find myself and I can't wait to see where God takes me from here.  One thing I know for sure...the next decade is going to fly by.  I feel like I blinked at twenty and woke up thirty.  And now that the kiddos are getting big, and school is right around the corner, I know life only gets crazier, busier, and the days go faster.  We shall see:)  For now, I want to relish in these days and live the life out of them.  Our home overflows with laughter and love (literally) and I want for nothing.  Thirty, flirty, and fabulous baby!

In His amazing love,
Crazy Mama Crook

Sunday, July 1, 2012

How about a Happily Ever After?'s the deal.  My God, my hubs, and I have created our family through the miracle of adoption.  And I LOVE adoption...I mean LOVE adoption.  It's my's my God's heart.  And people love to talk to me about it...people close to me and people I hardly's kind of a hot topic I believe.  But more often than not, the adoption stories I hear are negative, sad, unhappily ever afters.  I could go on and on with specific stories I've heard...but they're basically just stories of broken hearted moms and dads whose children grow to resent and defy them and use adoption as their angle.  And for every story I hear, I try to remind myself of a similar story where adoption is not involved...because in real life, children sometimes break their parents' hearts, adopted or not.  But anyway, I'm sure there are lots of happily ever afters, but those stories seem to be rare.  When I do hear them, I get all warm and fuzzy inside and my joy level increases substantially.  I guess either way...even if I did hear positive stories all the time, I think I'd still have the same fears I have now.
The other day, I opened the door to our laundry room...not knowing my daughter was on the other side putting on her shoes.  The door hit her in the back and she said " it lady" with a smile on her face.  I said " don't talk to your mother like that" with a smile on my face.  She replied with the following words..."You're not my mother".  Those words literally took my breath away, I froze, my heart sank.  And just before the tears made their appearance, she followed her "You're not my mother" with "You're my mommy, silly".  And then the tears came anyway.

My heart was rescued by her pure, loving, sweetness.  I am her mommy.  Not her mother.  And I won't make that mistake again.  The truth is my daughter loves me like any daughter loves her mommy.  She watches me, learns from me, she models so much of what she sees from me.  She tells me I "smell gorgeous",  she says my "face is precious" (she loves using strong adjectives).  She tells me she's going to be just like me.  She hates it when I'm disappointed in her, she's always plotting new ways to make me proud.  She wants my attention, she wants my cuddle time.  She never lets a meal go by without saying "thank you for my dinner mommy" (or lunch or breakfast)...even if she just has a bowl of cereal.  She loves making me happy and she succeeds every day.  She's a gift and I simply adore her.  She's not perfect, neither am I.  But we're perfectly mother mommy and daughter.  Thank you Jesus.    

 Someday, during an argument in her teen years, she might pull out the "real mom" card.  And I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  But the truth...the truth is I'm as real as they get.  And although I'm extremely secure in that truth, those words will would (if they are spoken) still cut deep into the heart of this mama.  But maybe I can put that fear to rest for a while...because in the here and now...I'm just her mommy, NOT her mother.  And I think that's the way I like it.

      Crazy Mama Crook