This is pretty cool (found here)
a Word cloud!
(click on ‘custom’ to start. If you’re using Blogger, put “www” in front of your usual blog address)
Y’all are WAY too kind
Thank you, thank you for all the wonderful words on my last entry. It makes my heart go pitter-pat to know that so many people think this is a Good Thing we’ve got going here.
Of course, I think you’re all misguided by my “journalism,” but it’s hard to convinve you how truly rotten I feel about my parenting skills and my role as a husband. Suffice it to say that “truly rotten” is being nice.
So, with that being said? I bring you a nice picture of a girl showing off her mangos.
Carry on.
Ocho
I love to read birth stories from other parents, I love to see what they recall and what made each moment for them.
Here’s one from me.
Eight years ago, tomorrow, I came home from work and found three messages on my answering machine. Before I could even listen to the first one, the phone was ringing again.
We have a child that needs a place to stay, tonite. Short-term, just have to clear a relative before they can have custody.
Um, tell me a little more?
‘Baby boy, three months old, apparently healthy. Had to remove him this afternoon from his mom. His aunt will take him but we have to run a background check first.’
My wife and I look at each other. Three months? The bedroom we prepared for our (as yet to be placed) foster kids was set up for school age children. The toys and clothes and beds were all for bigger kids.
In a millisecond we had decided.
“Of course. When is he coming?”
‘We’re in the car, we have a stop to make but will be there in a couple hours.’
After six months of classes, reading, writing, interviews, we were getting our first foster child. A baby.
Oh. Shit.
His aunt, as it turns out, didn’t really want him that badly. His mom and dad had split, his dad remarried. The adoption was final just before his second birthday. Fast forward eight years. He’s now a straight A student in second grade. And an awesome kid, if I do say so myself.
