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Please sign this petition to stop this clown-looking motherfucker.
A July 21, 2020 update on signatures.
I haven't seen many people saying this, but he's likely created this story on purpose, to change the search results for the terms "mark Zuckerberg Hawaii."
That's now the top result, pushing this down
This was a calculated move by a pr team.
No Justice, No Peace. Quote from Emiliano Zapata
Art by Liberal Jane
Foster Parent: God Does Exist
I have not been the biggest fan of religion growing up. So I avoided going to churches and such. I have always believed in God, Jesus, creation, etc but not as some people would like to depict them. So yes, I have attended church but I have never committed to a church or really tried to attend regularly. When I moved to Houston to be a foster parent a plethora of opportunities to attend concerts became available to me. One of those concerts being Beyoncé's. Prior to her show there was a slideshow of places around Houston that meant something to her and one of those slides was St John's Downtown, the church she used to attend. My friend and I decided that we should go just to say we did. Well we did go. I liked my first impression. So I went again. And have continued to go regularly (as I can) since then. It has been over a year and a half and I still feel comfortable. Before I continue this is not why God (currently) exists. Those babies I spoke of in my last post. Those babies that have a soul splitting cry. Those babies that for some reason refuse to be comforted and continue to cry as if they have had a toe chopped off. Those babies that make me not want to take them places. Those are the babies that I take to church with me. The first time I took EVERYTHING, I was prepared for a babypocalypse. But nothing happened not even a peep. God exists y'all, because for those 2 hours every Sunday I can rest assured I will have a quiet calm baby. The thing is, it's been every single baby that has ever cried like a maniac every where else, but not in the sanctuary.
Note: So, I for some reason saved this post to my drafts when I had meant to post it over a month ago. In fact, It was either the Sunday right after or the next one after my last post, that I wrote this one.
Foster Parent: I Feel Bad Admitting This
I signed up to be a foster parent a little over two years ago. When I signed up I knew that my free “me” time would essentially become non existent. When I did this I knew that there would be challenges with behavior due to all kinds of trauma experienced before and after birth. When I made the decision to become a foster parent I knew there would be so much heartache but also unforgettable once-in-a-lifetime amazing memories created. I was prepared for all of this and still I signed on to be a foster parent.
I grew up being the youngest in my neighborhood for a really long time and matured quickly because of this. When I finally was not the youngest and had some independence I spent most of my time taking care of kids, my mom, our apartment, and basically anything else that needed to be done. I grew up taking care of kids, multiple kids at a time. Some of the kids were in foster care and some probably belonged in foster care;some kids, babies, I would keep overnight for multiple nights in a row not knowing when their parent(s) was going to return. They were not always the most easy-going kids, but I did it because they gave me hope. Children have always been these little mystical beings to me; I have loved working with and being around children for as long as I can remember. I was ready for foster-hood.
“I love kids. I love babies. I love you. You cannot help this. I am not doing anything wrong. It is not my fault you are crying bloody murder. It is not your fault you cannot be soothed.” This is what I have repeatedly told myself over the last year. I absolutely HATE to admit it, but there are times where I have absolutely despised some of the babies placed in my care. This is so shocking to me. Me. I cannot believe that I could ever dislike an infant so much. I feel like absolute scum for feeling like this. Then I hear those ear-splitting horrific cries that cannot be soothed and I want to claw my eyes out. That cry makes everything in me turn sour and in those moments that I can do nothing for the baby or myself, I despise the child.
I feel terrible. I feel like a monster. I signed up to be a foster parent. I signed up to take these infants in. No one could have told me I would have ever felt like this... It is the worst. It is even worse than an older child that is bat-shit crazy because you have no other options to stop this child from crying. You cannot offer it up toys, books, playing outside, food, or just plan and simple ask what is wrong. you can do NOTHING and it feels like both of your worlds are crashing down all around you.
And then...it stops. Those horrible feelings of disliking the child goes away. They smile. They coo. They sleep peacefully. And you think that an awful no good horrible person you were. How could you ever feel that way about this poor little perfect creature? He/she is just a baby after all...
No End in Sight
I came to Casa about 2 years and 2 months ago. Before I got here I fully expected to complete my contract year. Once I got here, before even a month had passed I knew I would extend. As my second year was passing I knew I would extend again. I liked to pretend that I might not, but I knew that I would. My second year has passed and I have extended for another year. I can say even now as I am only two months in, as a foster parent who never truly knows what the future can hold, I am more than likely to extend again.
I have no idea what is keeping me here. Is it because this is my calling? Because I am comfortable and do not feel the need to branch out and try new things? Is it because I love what I do? - I do love what I do and I would not trade any of the memories with my kids or the people I have met for anything. There have been people here in the past and currently since I have been here that you just know it is time for them to go.
Some of the people toward the end maybe even most of their time here that were never happy. They were always, sad, mad, angry, or all of the above. I mean these people just seemed to be always angry for one reason or another - it felt like the would seek out something to be angry about all of the time. I have never truly been as angry as they were for any reason since I have been here. If I am mad, I usually get over it within a day or find some where else to place that anger.
Some of them just were never present, regardless if that is physically or mentally. Always choosing to go out and staying out for extended periods and returning not at their best. Maybe just always preoccupied with something else and their heart just not really into it. Yes, I get tired and just want time to my self. Yes, when I feel like I need a break I get on my iPhone or iPad whatever for 10 minutes to play a game, but even then my kids interrupt me needing my full attention. However, 99% of the time I prefer to be with my kids minus my office scheduled time off I even find it difficult to take vacation, because I do not like leaving my kids.
I have no idea what is truly keeping me grounded. I most definitely have no plans to leave my kids, so unless they leave I am for sure staying. The question is, if they leave, will I? I can basically say with complete confidence that I would not. So for me, there truly is no end in sight.
Ignorant Bliss
I watched Selma the other night. It is easy to forget how hateful and ignorant people can be when it is not right in front of my face. Shit is still bad today, but I am not confronted by it in my day-to-day life. It happens in other places to other people, not directly to me or the ones that I care about. I cannot fathom, nor do I want to, how the Holocaust, slavery, and so on happened. I do not get how people can be so hateful. I understand a lot of people were raised to believe it was okay, but at my very core I would know something was not right if I were in their shoes. I may not have been brave, courageous, enough to do anything but I would have known it was wrong. I probably would do my very best to avoid situations where I had to act in such horrific ways if I did not outwardly defy the majority. It is not supposed to be easy, but watching movies like Selma is extremely difficult for me and I left with a headache from being so tense the entire time.
I am happy that my children live in ignorant bliss of all of this. They will eventually grow up and learn in school, the media, and their family all the horrific things that have occurred and are still occurring. For now though, they get to be kids. They think the world is ending when their stuffed animals are removed from their beds when they are goofing around instead of going to sleep. They think the world is ending when they do not get to watch a movie or have to stop playing video games. Their lives are over when they have to come in from playing outside, when clearly that is all they want to do. On some days they most difficult thing they have to do is make their beds.
On the daily I get frustrated with the fits they throw, the way they can be so whiny, and how they think fake crying is going to get them what they want. And yet, they have no idea what horrible bad stuff is out in the world and so they walk around with goofy smiles in dress-up clothes; sometimes they are princesses or lions and other times cowboys and chefs. I get to watch them laugh hysterically while watching movies, crawling around pretending to be animals or monsters. My beautiful children live in ignorant bliss.
I worry for their futures though. I raise them to be respectable and have dignity. However, it scares me to think that they could wear the wrong clothes or make the wrong gestures and be a news headline because they were wrongfully hurt, or worse killed. I hope that by the time my children reach a time where they are able to go out on their own, that we as a society have made major leaps and bounds toward ending discrimination and bringing rightful justice to those who would discriminate.
I am so very thankful that my brave, intelligent, handsome Minja (Ninja) Turtles do not worry about these things, and live in ignorant bliss for now.
Caring isn’t for the weak; caring is for the strong willed, lovers with enormous hearts and good intentions. Don’t be fooled.
I care. (via b0tanicalspirit)
As a foster parent this is about the truest thing I have read in a long time. With all that we go through, especially where I work/foster, it is a wonder that any of us find a way to get out of bed day after day.
Happy New Years
The one time I need the baby who just started sleeping through the night to sleep through the night would be tonight. No, not because I have been drinking and I am too drunk to take care of him.
Earlier on New Years Eve I was playing outside with my kids, all 4 of them, and everything was pretty normal until one of the times I went to bend over to grab the handles of a scooter. A sharp searing pain shot through my lower back and I was instantly stuck in that bent over position. I couldn't go lower and I couldn't stand back up. I was standing there watching my kids play and another house parent talking to me. I almost cried. I told her to call our supervisors and by the time she did and reached their voice mail I was able to stand back up. I attempted to continue with the day and walked the kids to the playground to play so that I could sit down.
I hate going to the doctor. I avoid going to the doctor as much as possible. Every time I go I am at the breaking point. I tried so hard not to go to the doctor. I also hate when I have to depend on other people, ask for favors, or need help. I don't like inconveniencing other people. Yet, I wasn't going to be able to take care of these kids unless I had some medicinal help.
So as I struggle with this acute back pain (medical jargon) I was really hoping to be able to sleep through the night. I may have, I did, think really terrible thoughts when I heard him screaming. Not only did I not get to sleep through the night, he made me realize the back pain was back at full force.
Thanks kid. I was counting on you tonight. Maybe we will be friends again tomorrow.
CPS
I hate when my children are CPS kids.
Being a CPS kid means that they are ultimately going to leave you and you are going to have no clue what happens to them. There are kids you always hear about and are tired of hearing how well they are doing (but you're really actually quite happy they are doing well) just because of the kids you know nothing about. You'll have maybe a vague idea of where they are going and that is the end. You with them the best and you say goodbye.
Five of my kids in 2014 have been CPS children.
I wish I knew how the twins were doing. The boy was my favorite because he was the one I was always with not because I purposely hated on the girl, but I wish I could have seen pictures of both of them from their first birthday and how much they have grown. They should be walking by now and have tons of teeth. When they left he just got his first two and she was beginning to get hers, they weren't even crawling. While they were in our care they were receiving physical and occupational therapy (PT and OT), they needed it but were making progress. I don't even know if they got to continue. I miss them and their big smiles.
Then there was the other brother sister sibling set. They were wild and crazy. They wore me out and bedtime was a blessed thing. Even though I didn't want to be the one responsible for them because she would make false accusations and I did not want to get caught up in that mess I cared for them and their well being. They experienced a lot of trauma and I hope that wherever they went they were sensitive to their needs and had A LOT of time to spend on them.
Then there is that baby that I had since she was born. I did NOT like her at first. Every sound she would make would rub me the wrong way. Her cry was torture. I wanted to pull my hair out. She was known for her first months as the "blind alien baby", can you picture what that baby must have looked like? She was so tiny, didn't focus on anything, and bald. Poor bald baby. She was bald for as long as I had her, who knows if she has hair now. I wish I could see pictures of her just to see how much she has changed. She was another of my babies that brought the PT and OT in to my home. I dreaded the days the PT would come; I was instantly irritable on those days. I wonder if she got to continue? I wonder how her lab work turned out. By the time she left me she was sleeping through the night. Eating 7oz every bottle. Just fitting in to 3-6 months clothing (at 6 months, she was tiny). That baby who had a screeching cry that made me want to scream myself was mine and I loved her. It took a bit but she grew on me, she grew in me.
I'll never know what happened to these kids. I wish I knew.
The Life of a Two-Year
My two year old, is officially a two year old.
Her favorite words, or rather phrases are "why" and "no".
She has a big personality and an attitude to match. Everyone should get to experience her tantrums and when she is sulking. Telling her to do anything that goes against everything she wants to do destroys her whole little being; the world might as well be ending.
She says and does the funniest and weirdest things. This morning she woke up talking about pooping. To be precise, she woke up talking about how Santa was pooping. This girl waits until after Christmas is over, to talk about Santa.
She is so smart. She is super shy, so she doesn't show how brilliant she is to most people. It takes her a long while to warm up. Don't worry though, if you ever come across her she will remember who you are and start talking about you as soon as you're out of earshot.
She is quite particular too. She doesn't like her hands to get messy, or rather she doesn't like obviously messy things. She doesn't enjoy cupcakes with frosting because she doesn't like it on her hands. Correction, she would love to be fed the cupcake with frosting. She isn't the biggest fan of chocolate in large quantities; I think she has a slight affinity to chocolate as does her brother.
I have enjoyed watching her grow these past two years, I hope I get to continue to watch her grow.
Dreams that Disappoint
I just woke myself up from the best, yet the worst, dream. You know when you really want something, because that it invades your dreams. One of the caseworkers, K, that works for casa sought me out saying she had to ask me something important, I hate when people act all mysterious (at least higher ups) so of course I was nervous. The question was something along the lines if I really care about my kids or how would I feel if they left. I of course said my heart would break. K then takes out several sheets of paper (a lot because there is 3 kids) and tells me to sign them. They looked like plan of service (POS) papers POS is when the caseworkers, the foster parent, and founders of the org come together to discuss what is happening with the kids' cases in my subconscious those papers were adoption papers. I signed them and then other nonsense happened in my dream, but I had to get back to K to ask if that meant I could take them on vacation with me in February...that is where I woke up.
I just want this to be real. I am sure I could take care of all of them, I have plenty of family help back home. It wouldn't be (too) hard for me to get a job back home and I would most definitely go back to school. Ugh dreams that are so disappointing upon waking up.
My heart
Roald Dahl
I believe in magic each and every day I see my kids' beautiful faces, hear their infectious laughter, and watch them sleep peacefully. Kids are so resilient. I have seen kids come from terrible places and yet they still manage to live life with wonder in their eye. I am so thankful for all the opportunities I have to spend with my kids. This year was my second Thanksgiving with them and it is about to be our second Christmas together. I am so excited to once again watch them open their presents and just see that absolute delight in their face. My children's face are all the proof of magic I need.
Things I Will Come Home Saying
No Thanks, no thank you
I mean
Was that a good/bad choice?
Listen to my words
Paci
Excuse me?!
Yup, these phrases are ingrained in me so deeply, that I have forgotten that I picked them up here while in Texas.
Always Dreaming
I catch my self dreaming about the future constantly. Sometimes its just a few weeks from now, a few months, or years down the road. I can't help but picture my life with the kids I have currently. I imagine adopting them if I were ever given the chance and that hurts. In reality, I probably won't be allowed, qualified, enough to adopt them. No matter how much I really want to. It is so hard to focus on the reality of life when they are my kids for all intents and purposes.
I see myself doing hair years down the road and perfecting the craft, especially for special occasions such as a school dance. I look forward to the day where every one is potty trained and there is no need for diapers and/or pull-ups, even at night! I see us, as a family, visiting people that have been in our lives - old house parents, volunteers, and other people that have stayed in touch. I envision the growth chard years down the road following how they have changed. I see myself going to grade school graduations, middle school promotions, high school graduations, and being that parent crying as I send my kid off to college. I imagine future holidays and how many hand print decorations that will have been made showing how much they have grown.
I can imagine so much. When my dream is taken from me, it is going to hurt something awful.
No One Ever Said
It would be easy. In fact, everyone said just how hard it would be. There is no way that the difficulty of letting go and saying "goodbye" can be conveyed until it happens. I am sure I have posted about it before, but sometimes there has to be another post.
Being a foster parent comes with (almost) all the joys and pains of being the biological parent. You get to see children's firsts until they leave, you get to be there for the tantrums until they leave, you get to be there for the sicknesses that keep you up all night until they leave, you get to stay up all night just because they feel like staying up all night until they leave, you get to go to school activities until they leave, you get to celebrate birthdays and holidays until they leave, you get to do it all until they leave.
The children that come in to my care, for the time that they are in my care, they are mine. I become super attached and super protective. I become selfish and almost do not want to share my children with others. I get to see so many firsts and deal with so many tantrums and yet I still have to remind myself that "goodbye" will come. Yet, I let myself get hopeful and start imagining the future a couple months out...newbie mistake. Don't do that. Don't ever do it. They leave before I am ready to let go; in all honesty, I would never be ready to let go.
I am never ready to let go, once I have made a connection. A real connection. A connection that is more than skin deep. A connection that can be felt by the heart even if I don't want to admit it. I have had to say my goodbyes to too many children and friends alike. I am starting to question just how much more loss, as a foster parent, I can take. Will there be a point that I just break and cannot come back from it? I don't want to get close to anymore adults, make anymore friends, but I already feel lonely as it is. I can't win. I lose my kids. I lose my friends. I might even be losing me.
I love being a foster parent. I love waking up to kids in the morning and in the middle of the night. I love the friends I have made. I love the overall experience. It is just difficult from time to time.
