About

I’ve snorkeled with stingrays and barracudas, ridden an elephant, dangled off a runaway horse by the stirrup, and bounced on the back of a jogging camel around the pyramids of Giza. I’ve snow-backpacked and repelled backward down a cliff. I’ve wrestled a bear cub and one millisecond later was flat on my back with his teeth on my neck. I’ve taken a bus to Rosarita on a whim, slept in a hammock on a beach in Mexico, and caught fish with my bare hands. I’ve attended an Irish Republican Army rally in Ireland, smuggled behind the Iron Curtain, and ziplined over a rain forest with a broken clip that left me dangling seventy feet above the ground. I’ve eaten snails in Sicily, ostrich in Kenya, reindeer in Alaska, buffalo in Catalina, alligator in Florida, and pickle soup.

None of that prepared me for the drama of my parenting.

My true love and I married and adopted two children at birth.  My parenting seemed eternally off.  I read The Strong-Willed Child. Twice.  Before my baby was two.  I read every baby book I could beg, borrow, or buy. Nothing ever seemed to apply.

My hobbies, outside of child enrichment, morphed into attending support groups and reading mental health and parenting books.  It’s just plain embarrassing how many counselors, therapists, psychologists, and psychiatrists I met.  In various support groups, I heard other parent’s stories and learned countless lessons. The main reason I learned so much is because – in addition to being an addictive reader and loving to learn – I made mountains of mistakes. If mistakes are golden opportunities, I’m King Midas. My most valuable lesson was that time spent praying and pursuing God’s wisdom was beneficial, rich, and full.

Don’t get me wrong. We also had loads of fun.  We loved the children and lavished attention on them.  We did track, gymnastics, karate, T-ball, cheerleading, dance, baseball, hockey, figure skating, tennis, basketball, drama, choir, show choir, volleyball, private school, Sunday school, mission trips, Awana clubs, and skateboarding. Dad and I attended games and performances. I made costumes. We volunteered. There were shows, awards, ribbons, and trophies. We truly did have a blast.

But things went sideways.  I mean really sideways. Every week, I got calls from coaches, teachers, principals, sheriff’s deputies, and other parents. Multiple therapists refused to work with various family members, myself included. The principal of a school with 2000 students drove to my house to personally hand me suspension papers.  Sheesh.  Then there were the confusing/conflicting diagnoses (ADHD, BPD, severe depression, gifted, bipolar, ODD, PTSD, RAD, autism). Just to be clear, some of those were mine. But seriously, they can’t all be true, can they? The ambulance rides. The sheriff visits. Wrecked relationships. I’m just saying, I’ve been there.

If you are struggling, embarrassed, or flabbergasted, then you’ve got a friend. When our circumstances feel dire and our heart feels crushed, it’s easy to believe we might be alone.  You are not alone.

Now that my children are adults, I am reaching out to anyone suffering what I’ve been through. I am holding out a hand to the parents sinking in quicksand.  Hence, the blog and other writing. It is my hope and prayer that I can give you encouragement and help you through the tricky times. Of course, the real help comes from God Himself, without whom I would be a hopeless puddle. Even if you are at a place where God feels like an impossibility, please still find comfort with us. You are not alone. Soak in the thoughts and prayers for hope and healing.