Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Friday, June 18, 2010


When Tami sister told me she was getting THREE more foster children.
I thought WTF?
She works full time as a director/teacher of a fourth grade Spanish immersion program, and is doing her Masters Program thing at BYU.  Plus all of the Moron responsibilities.  She is a Young Woman's something?
Why would you do that?
No Comprende?
I know how busy I am without those things.
Then they pulled up in their 15 passenger Mormon short bus last week, with NINE children total.  Five of their own, the three I just mentioned and now one more.

(And then she told me that she and her husband just stopped going to the Mormon church.  Are going to a non-denominational Church of Christ.  And that's an entire new year of posts right there.  And I didn't think I could love her more. wowowowowowowowowowoowowow.)

And then I fell in love.  And I got trapped by their three brown little faces and felt so guilty and selfish for ever feeling the way I did.
And then I heard their story.  Which I can't even think about long enough to type it out.  Plus there seems to be some saline in my ocular areas messing with my visual acuity.

Miguel, almost five.
Ricardo, 2.
Nivea celebrated her first birthday here.

Same mother, three different fathers.  She said she doesn't want them back.  She is addicted to Meth and alcohol.  My Sister and BIL are going to adopt them.

Miguel made ten minute rounds.  Play, play, play then check on and touch the face of his two younger siblings.  At four, the tremendous responsibility he feels as the "older" brother.
Cry, Melt, Cry Melt, cry melt, crymelt, crymelt, repeat every ten minutes.

And their self soothing.  They two oldest boys have no concept of seeking an adult for any sort of help.  They don't know how to deal when an adult tries to help.
Only each other.
The two oldest boys also have genital warts in their mouthes.
Just live in that place for a minute.
I hope they don't remember anything. 

And Nivea LOVED me.  And ditto. The way should would snuggle into my chest and sigh made everyone MELT, especially me.  My sister and BIL, the foster parents, were shocked.  She's not a fussy baby, in fact she should cry more, but she isn't a cuddle snuggler either, until ME.  THE AUNT KERI.  The foster parent sibling said it was just because I am brown too.  Good, point.  But I don't care why.  I have some ideas.  But I'll take it whatever way.
And my younger sister who served her mission in Brazil and married a Brazilian and who's daughter, is my amazing niece, I constantly have to say "Noa fallo Portuguese" to.  ...said, a vea in Portuguese means oatmeal.  So I called Nivea, Vea, porridge pants the whole time. How quickly I fell in love with little brown porridge pants critters.

It's just so bare and raw...I want to save them, I want to tell them that they ARE OK.  NONE of us in, The Amazing Sibling Group will ever let them be hurt again.
I want to fix their story RIGHT NOW.

I want them to have happy photographs to hang on their walls.

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  • At Saturday, June 19, 2010 2:16:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Genital warts in their mouths? Jesus. I can't even comprehend. I didn't even know it was possible, and they already have that as their reality.

    SERIOUSLY your sister is my hero. Along with you. Big love to you both. And to the tough little family of survivors. I have hope for them, because of you and your family.

    - wry


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