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See me there????

Someone asked me about my hoops...

I was just on the phone and talking about my hula hoops,  dance, and my secret obsession with walking on stilts (shhhhh no one knows but you and me) and they asked if my hoops were on my blog and OMG!!!! You guys!  They aren’t here.  My total most fun entrepreneurish adventure is not on here.  

Do any of you know what they look like?  Well here are some of the ones I have made over corona. (Just some because I can’t find all of them in my ICloud.  I promise to post when I find them.).  Happy Hooping everyone! 

HurrikKanen’s (a tribute to him and the endless respect for the person he always be to us) His hoop is not finished yet but has been resized and prewrapped.

A new dance hoop for me since my last one was ruined at the beach. 

I also started selling DIY Make your own hoop kits! 

You can check out The Cape May Hula Hoops Facebook page where they are all pretty and posted more efficiently than this. But for now I hope these work! 😊

The saddest post that ever is

It’s Mothers Day.  By the time this post is published it will probably be tomorrow.  My words won’t expire tomorrow or the day after or the next.  These feelings will continue for awhile. It is unfortunate. 

The current events are continuing at such a rapid speed that my digestion and comprehension of the news is non existent.  I have stopped listening.  If that makes me “ill informed” than so be it.

The people that I love are painful spaced 6 ft apart and in my digital view.  The space hurts my heart in ways that isolate me. I simply am not sure how much more I can take and I, certainly, am not alone in this. 

There is evil in this world.  People are dying and are fighting for lives. There is no cure for death.  We all have our beginning and end. It’s a horrible reality and a painful lesson that I seem to need to learn again and again but never really can. 

Suicide is up and mental stability is down. Everyone seems to be at their breaking point and here I sit, at my computer, staring at my computer screen.  Will my words break you more? Maybe my silence would be more beneficial. This blog, a place that I once shared my life and received comodery, friendship, peace, and made a living is now broken with my heart. If I am honest it has been for awhile but it’s worse.  Through Corona the internet has revealed that the vast majority of people that bring me comfort and love are nothing but different than me.  I feel alone. Yet, I know my friends do too.  This mutual feeling does not bring us together.  That is a first and I don’t quite know how to handle that. Churches are fighting, Politicians are being politicians, and people holding the line and on the front line are exhausted. 

All of the things that made me proud to be who I am are now just painful reminders of what divides me. It’s hard. It’s hard. For. Everyone.

I keep waiting for a leader to step up to show us the cool breeze that is unity in disasters like this...... I keep waiting for that leader to bring us together to sing by a campfire in perfect harmony. However, no one  is singing and the metaphorical guitar is startlingly out of tune. I want to shout, “Just sing people! Damn it. Feel better and sing so I can feel better!” Still no one sings but instead everyone seems to be screaming.  Screaming at each other and screaming in desperation. What is happening? 

Where is the leader?  

Who is he/she?  

I need to find her because everything is falling apart. 

Cape May County, I love you. I do.  You aren’t perfect and neither am I. I wish I could see through the political nonsense so I can understand which is the right way and which way is wrong. 

My words are pointless and this post is a waste of time.  Maybe tomorrow I will understand what my roll is in fixing this mess. I guess I have hope but Until then...... this sucks. 🤷‍♀️

Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be able to give them back......

(I wrote this in 2007. But, I could have written it today because someone just said this to me yesterday.)

The most common response I get to being a foster mom is....

.....”I wouldn’t be able to give them back”

....I smile and I am curious if the comment is in admiration or disgust of my character. What kind of response can I give to that common wonder? So I say nothing. Just smile. 

What I want to say is ....

that I I am not able to give them back.  I struggle with it every second of every day of every year and some moments I do not know if I will make it to the next. I suffer painfully and suffer in quiet. I have nothing.  I have no possessions left behind for they usually came with little.  I have no scars on my person because I did not carry them in me for 9 months. I am helpless in easing my own mourning because even though they have left my home they have in absolutely every way remained in my heart.  I think of them often.  They are alive.  They are where they need to be.  I shouldn’t be crying.  I should be happy? My heart is confused.

I pray for them daily.  I repetitively give them to God, my worries extinguished but just for a moment.  A moment till I run into a memory like an innocent lamb on a race course.  It’s awful.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I still subject myself to it over and over again because then I remember why foster moms are foster moms in the first place. 

Every child is worth all the love I have to give and even more.