FF: Crunchy Pork Chops

Even though we have a pretty diverse list of family favorites, I was feeling bored when I sat down, last Sunday to form my two week grocery list. I dusted off The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook (the only cookbook I kept when we moved) and decided to make 14 new meals, that we hadn't tried. We're about five in and would you believe that EVERY new recipe was a huge score for the family!?! That makes me excited for the rest of next weeks' dinners!

Again, there was no thought to a picture...but you'll have to trust me on this. The boys told me this was the best "chicken" they had ever had!

FF: Crunchy Pork Chops
Serves 4
Prep Time: 5 minutes; Cook Time: 40 minutes

1 5oz box of Melba toast broken into rough pieces
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/8 tsp sugar
6 TBSP mayonnaise
4 6oz boneless rib pork chops, 3/4 - 1 inch thick

Put your oven rack in the middle position and heat to 425 degrees. Place the Melba toast, salt, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, dried thyme, and sugar in a large zipper-lock bag. Get your days worth of frustration out and pound the Melba toast until you have coarse crumbs the size of small pebbles.

Add 2 TBSP of mayo to the bag and work it into the crumb mixture. Transfer your mixture to a shallow dish.

Working with 1 chop at a time, coat with about 1 TBSP of mayo, using your fingers (it's totally gross), and then roll it into your crumb mix. Press the breadcrumbs into the pork chop to make sure they adhere. If you want gooey-bottomed pork chops, you can lay them right on a baking stone/sheet. If you want them to be crispier, put a wire-rack in your baking sheet, and put the chops on top. I didn't want to mess with the rack, so I just laid them on a baking stone.

Cook them until the outside is golden brown. 22-25 minutes. For best results let them sit for 5-10 minutes before cutting into them.

I made warm apples to go with the pork chops. I just threw 8 apples into my dutch oven with 1/2 cup of water and a sprinkle of cinnamon for about 20 minutes.

I received rave reviews from the critics and made a note to double the recipe next time!

Feeling Lost

I have half-written a dozen posts in my head before falling asleep on the couch or dragging myself to bed after the kids go down.

How is it going; how are you doing; how do you do it are the questions on loop, right now. I usually state some form of, "we're exhausted...but finding our rhythm." And that's true.

Transitioning Baby Brother has been much easier than the transition with Cisco and Edie was, but I wouldn't call it easy. Having a baby in the house seems to double the amount of responsibilities we have day-to-day...and there are still four other littles that need us.

Three of our five are receiving special services, right now, which adds extra chaos to an already bursting household. But this is part of the call. Caring for lovies that need a whole lot of love+.

Bonding with Baby Brother was quick and easy. I never had that experience before. He is such a little lover and has, truly, brought so much joy to our home. All six of us are enamored. We met with a pediatric psychologist on Friday and she was stunned by the attachment that exists in just three short months. It doesn't matter how tired he is or how bad his gums are hurting (all 6 front teeth found it timely to fall at the same time), Baby Brother is, constantly, showering us with kisses and head snuggles.

He is so, wholly, entertained by Edie. When I watch them wrestle and giggle and take baths together, I get teary and thank God for pushing our hearts to "yes".

Our family has, definitely, found our flow. From managing the house to getting everyone where they need to be (on time), we all do our part. And there really are few complaints.

Ben and I have been very purposeful in filling love-tanks, individually, and just this weekend we took the four "bigger" kids to an overnight water park for some baby-free fun. Ben is also helping coach the older boys' Lego/Robotics club and really enjoys their time together. Last night, they "snuck" out for pie afterward and talked the whole way about the latest news in kindergarten and first grade.

My heart is full from the fullness of this life...but major pieces of my identity have crumpled in the last few months and trying to mash the new me with the me I want to be has been an insightful process. Early in the summer, before the news of baby, I made a very difficult decision to stop working full time and reduced my hours, significantly. Our schedule was too much to sustain.

I cried for days over the change. I love my work and knew that being home was going to take serious adjusting. Once I warmed up to the idea, I found myself looking forward to fall in a way I never had before. All the kids would be in school or preschool during the day, which was going to leave me some quiet time to write and run and pray. I couldn't wait to have a grocery day that didn't include anyone else but me. A luxury I had never experienced.

I enjoyed exactly one Tuesday all to myself. And then Baby Brother came home.

The glowing attributes attached to being home more were swept under the rug so quickly,  I really didn't even have time to process the new change. A baby showed up and suddenly, I was barely surviving. I love to cook and that became a nightmare with two under two. I love to read my Bible, but had to settle for a verse on my phone. I love to work, but even part time requires excessive planning, packing and driving. I love to write, but I am too tired. I love to read, but I am too tired. I love sharing my life with women, but I am too tired. I love playing games with Ben, but I am TOO TIRED.

You get the idea. Maybe you're in the same boat.

I really didn't take the time to reflect on all the changes that happened over the last several months, until one day (a few weeks ago) Ben and I were talking about our exhaustion and constant need for infused patience. While holding my hand, in a very genuine, I-love-you-through-and-through sort of way, Ben said, "You used to smile more."

At first I laughed it off and said (or maybe thought), "Yah...back when I was sleeping."

But slowly, over the last several days, I've allowed the Holy Spirit to use that statement as a mirror. And not in a beat myself up, pity-partying nature.

I, recently, was talking to another mom pregnant with her fifth, who laughed at the notion that we would have our two year olds potty-trained, right now. There was such freedom in connecting with someone who understands.

We do have five kids under seven and I give myself a lot of grace.

But, I am still not okay. And I am telling you, in case you're not okay either.

It's okay to not be okay.

No alarms need to sound nor reinforcements show up at the door. God knows me and loves me and will help me focus my blurry bits.

He might even use this time to show me new pieces I couldn't see before.

I am not a "free spirit", which, admittedly, makes the wandering uncomfortable. But, in the last seven years, the greatest moments of unease, brought about the highest level of reward.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need {Hebrews 4:6}.

FF: Meatcakes

Meal time is so SUPER crazy around, here, but we've managed to find our rhythm, again.

I hated meatloaf growing up, but this is one of the first meals I learned to make (the right way) when Ben and I were first married. It's packed full of flavor, freezes well, and compliments all your favorite feel-good side dishes. Now, we make meat "cakes" because - well - it just makes life easier for mom and dad! The boys pick up the entire (or three) meatcake and dip away.

They only takes about 15 minutes to throw together, but a solid 40-50 minutes to bake. Often times I will pre-make the night before, so I can pop them in when we get home from school.

Here is what you'll need:

FF: Meatcakes

20 min prep/50 min bake at 350

Yields 1 bread pan loaf or 10 cupcakes (we double our recipe!)

Ingredients:

1 beaten egg
1/4 cup fine bread crumbs (I keep Italian style on hand)
1/4 cup milk, water, or apple juice (whatever you have)
1/4 cup onion finely chopped
1/4 cup celery finely chopped
1/4 cup green pepper finely chopped
1/4 cup carrot finely chopped
2 Tbsp of fresh parsley or a good shake of dry
1/2 tsp dried sage
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/2 tsp dried bail
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1 lb of ground beef

For the sauce:

2/3 ketchup + 1/3 mustard + 1/3 bbq sauce + a sprinkle of brown sugar (sometimes I use chili sauce or spicy brown mustard if I have it. Just mix it all in a bowl until it tastes tangy).

In a mixing bowl combine all the ingredients well (I use my food processor to shred the veggies). 

These two are always willing to lend a hand!

You can press your mixture into a bread pan or portion it off into cupcake pans/stones like we do!

Bake for 40-50 minutes at 350 degrees. Top them with sauce as soon as you pull them out of the oven and it will melt in and get nice and gooey while you start plating dinner (this takes time in our house).
I leave the boys' sauce free because they all have personal dipping preferences!

And...I don't have a finished product picture because I had two crabby babies and many finger-lick'n six year olds in my meatcakes by this time. You'll have to visit other sites for pretty food pictures!

Edie curled her nose and pushed her plate away, Baby Brother downed a full meatcake, himself, and the boys made sure there were no leftovers.

I hope your pans are as empty as mine with this one!

More Than Enough

"Mom. I've been looking at this trophy and thinking...do you think we could get a marker and write Pinchback over my old name?"

Before I could answer, Ty piped in, "Francisco. I don't think it's necessary to do that. This trophy is a reminder of who you used to be. You won it playing basketball as a [previous last name]. Just leave it."

I had to smile and sigh at the same time. Tyrus is more like me than I care to admit. Practicality has a tendency to block sympathy in both of us.

I dismissed Tyrus and told Francisco to bring his trophy closer. My heart filled as I wrote PINCHBACK in big block letters on his cheap-o plaque.

In a few weeks, he will have been with us for two years and the progress to family has been painstakingly slow. 

Three of our kids have really big personalities and another is a constant need-machine due to...well...being a baby. Francisco prefers to fade into the background and that's pretty easy to do around, here, with so much commotion. 

In the beginning of the school year, I was concerned that holding him in Kindergarten was giving him permission to regress. The first several weeks mirrored the last several. He couldn't name anyone in his class and was, purposely, choosing not to invest in relationships.

Everyone, including his teacher, kept encouraging us to just give him time.

Today, I was really struck by a theme.

God's love is always enough.

Every time it is whispered to my heart, fresh tears roll down my face.

Ben and I are purposeful in our love for Francisco and intentionally work at pulling him closer, but we've never been enough. We are exhausted most days and get more frustrated than we prefer. We miss opportunities all the time. We are every day people, striving for God's best, but in the failing moments find a measure of peace that our kids will have few memories of these days. We still have time to get it closer to right.

Despite the holes in our love, a miraculous transformation is in progress. Over the last three months, God has been wooing our tender-hearted, skittish boy and because his love IS enough, small pieces of Francisco's heart are not just peeking out, but remaining exposed.

Things that might make other parents smile, spark waterworks and praise in my heart. 

The first change was at school. Francisco announced that he had a friend. A friend who also happens to be one of five. His confidence continued to build when the rest of the class realized he knew most of his sight words and letters. On Ben's birthday, he was proud to talk about our family's birthday traditions with his teacher, and told me that he thought about chocolate cake all day. 

Right before break, he was sent 5 candy grams from classmates. My heart exploded.

He comes home from church and can re-tell the truths he learned.

He sticks up for himself when his brothers blame him for trouble.

When our knees touch on the couch, he doesn't move away.

His favorite  memory of 2015 was his adoption day.

Watching my sweet boy blossom has been such a lesson in faith for me. I get frustrated by the progress and some days wish that I could manipulate the time line and slap "redeemed" over his wounds, so that we can move on...which is, exactly, why my love isn't enough. It's not perfect or all-knowing. It doesn't operate with all the facts or with selfless ambition. 

What a relief to know that we don't have to have it together. God's love is everything. It's enough for me and it's enough for Francisco. His love is at work, when mine sleeps. His love whispers and pulls and moves Francisco at the right time, in the right moments, and earns genuine results.

And the best part is that God's love isn't exclusive. There is a young woman a couple hundred miles away, crying out for God's rescue. Her days are marked for her and the landscape only changes in her dreams where she can darken the light on the bars that hold her prisoner.

The more letters we exchange, the more conflicted I feel. The Jesus and mama in me tussle often over the direction that this is going. My defenses prickle; he nudges me past. I want to hold back; he asks for more.

I feel like I should be better at pride-swallowing, given the sequence of events that we've walked the last several years, but it still tastes bitter. I don't always want to give all of me. I don't always want to blaze an unknown trail.

But...then I get a nose-smashing, lip-touching kiss from my youngest six year old or see the magic dance behind his eyes when he tells a funny joke and I am, instantly, reminded that knowing him is worth sacrifice.

Whether I ever feel that for his mother or not doesn't matter. God's love is enough for her, too. And, right now, he is using me to show her what that means. Francisco's unfolding has been a timely backdrop. 

Sometimes love requires time and God asks us to remain steadfast while we wait.

Adoption Day for Little Miss!

It is with many tears and much joy that I introduce you to our Little Miss. She has been a firecracker from the beginning, a ball of personality, and her fierce independence helped her push through a pretty rough start. Her mama named her Edith - reward of war. We gave her the middle name of Elizabeth - fullness of God.

She fills every corner of our home with loud color and incredible sass. Her brothers adore her and I love her so much I can barely contain it.

Two months shy of two years. That's how long this little light has been in our life.

Her adoption was only supposed to take a few months.

I'm not really a "praise God through the storm" girl. Maybe if I was superhuman I could manage it...but that hasn't been my experience. It's more like a desperate cling to my Sailor as the wind and rain beat the tar out of me. I don't give up or stop believing, but praise for the circumstance isn't usually forthcoming when I'm soaking wet.

I would say that I am the kind of girl that memorizes the waves and praises God for the destruction once I'm through the other side.

It's been a difficult two years. Our hearts were squeezed and twisted well beyond comfort and we were asked to step into terrifying shores, but the reward is great because it surpassed earthly relevance a long time ago.

Sweet Mama and I continue to write back and forth and I am stunned by the beautiful opportunity that God laid in my lap. I feel unworthy of it. Every letter from prison gives me deeper insight into the darkness Edie's mother has faced alone, yet there is the faintest shimmer of hope. Her life is not over; all is not lost. Through our growing friendship, she is experiencing God's love.

Just this week, I sent my application in for approval to visit her.

As we sat in the courtroom, today, celebrating Michigan's adoption day, I was a remembering mess. God didn't close my womb out of cruelty or pack our suitcases and haphazardly push us onto this path. He, methodically, touched a myriad of pain points with his gentle thumb and whispered for our hearts to follow. This is how he makes all things new. This is how he redeems and connects nonredeemable circumstances to life giving results.

Our life has been a series of God-driven question marks and looking back it's easy to see how one yes led to the next. People love to ask us if we're "done" adopting, now. A reporter asked me, today. My answer is always the same. We will stop saying, yes, when God stops asking.

It's easy for our efforts to be mistaken as sacrifice, but the truth? The return on our time and love far surpasses the moments we give.

This was such a wonderful day of celebration for our family. All day, Edie kept saying, "I adopted! I adopted!" There is powerful identity in family. It feels so good to have finality in this part of our story. There is so much more to come from this little girl, her baby brother, and both of their mothers. But, today, we celebrate with tear-streaked faces.

There is one less lovie stuck in a life-sucking system.

Another Homecoming

Baby Brother's foster family spent the evening with us on Friday. There was a heavy knowing in the air, but it was really nice to spend time with them and to hear more of their story. Our kids were crazy. The kind of crazy you try your best to hide from people - especially people that are about to leave a costly gift with you (forever).

Sigh. But this is who we are. I like to think we control the chaos....but I always realize otherwise when people step in the front door for the first time.

Friday night went better than expected. He was only up for about an hour halfway through the night. It wasn't a painful or angry cry, it was more of a I-just-woke-up-in-a-strange-place-and-you-are-not-my-mother whimpering.

Ben joked (truthfully) that he makes the same sounds as Little Miss, only his decibel is about one-third of hers.

Last night was a bit rougher. He was up, on and off, for hours and that familiar beg to God set in, "Lord if you love me, please, PLEASE, let him sleep."

I know it's only been two and a half days, but I am tired. So tired.

People that told me I wouldn't notice a fifth - that anything after three is the same - lied.

It's a lot different.

Ben and I were like underpaid circus crew, this weekend, moving to the demands of the set. It took us three hours to get ready for church, this morning, but when we pulled into the parking lot on time, tears misted my eyes. We did it. And I know it will only get easier from here.

I am overwhelmed by the support that has flooded our doorstep.

Every day someone is handing me a gift card or asking if they can bring a meal. Today, we shared our hearts in front of our church, bringing people close to what God is doing in our growing family. Afterward our pastor asked the congregation to invest in God's work through us. He had us stand at the front of the altar and the stream of people that came was continuous. I cried, as family after family gave and shared their support, thanking us for saying yes.

One precious woman told me she had very little to give, but that she was a fierce prayer warrior and committed to bathe our family and Sweet Mama in prayer. Others offered free babysitting, and meals, and haircuts.

I am stunned with gratitude; I don't even know what to say.

A hot out-of-the-oven meal arrived, tonight, with a box of Tim Horton donuts that the kids went bananas for and I thanked God for his provision. This mama is exhausted, but the surge of energy I felt from all the helping hands around me, today, reminded me that we CAN do this...because we're not alone.

The bills will get paid, our sleep will be multiplied, and the kids will experience love.

Speaking of - I am awestruck at the tenderness my babies give so freely. I was worried about Little Miss. She is bossy and commands attention in every way. I knew she would have the hardest adjustment. Yet, she seemed to grow by years overnight. Sure, she still throws around, "My mommy" every other time she looks at her baby brother, making sure he understands the terms. But, she has been so interested in playing, reading, and helping me, I haven't seen any signs of spite or envy.

Baby Brother is such a bundle of sweetness. I've been wearing him, each day, and playing with him as much as I can (the boys rotate feedings). He is so relaxed and happy it's a breath of fresh air.

Rocking with him at night has been very emotional. The deep, fierce, mama bear love isn't there, yet, but I have this tremendous awareness of what a treasure this little boy is. In a way I've never felt before. I think of Sweet Mama everyday. The kids have been writing her letters and drawing her pictures, too. We popped at least 2 or 3 packages in the mail, this week.

I've been texting Foster Mama every time I think of her to ease her unsettled heart and let her know that we're taking the greatest care with her son.

All the while, knowing that the earthly love surrounding Baby Brother pales in comparison to the love of his Father. Wow.

It was a good, good weekend.

"She Wants You"

Why I bother showing up to court on time, I'll never know. An hour went by - still no movement. I made small talk with Baby Brother's family, read some in my book, and listened to background chatter. To most people it was just another day.

I could hear the clanking of chains behind me before I saw her face. I turned, quickly, in hopes to catch her eyes and as soon as they met, tears streamed both our faces. She mouthed "thank you" a dozen times on her way to holding in the jury box. Everything in me wanted to run to her; squeeze her hand. I watched, helplessly, as formalities began. All I could do was meet her gaze and hope she saw love.

Sweet Mama held true to her letter. She stood firm with her rights and forced the case to begin trial. I don't ever want to experience it again. Words will never be able to convey the brutal reality of what happened. Baby Brother's guardian ad litem and attorney hammered her points until the case was nothing but a bloody carcass, wide open for disease and prey. Sweet Mama sobbed on the witness stand and I, barely, held it together. I, literally, stuffed emotion to my toes, willing for it not to come out in distracting heaves.

Given your history with Cisco and [Little Miss], do you really think, it's fair to make Baby Brother wait over a year for permanency?

She held tissues to her face and, quietly sobbed, "no."

If Judge grants you the time that you're asking for AGAIN, what is going to be different when you're released from prison?

She shook her head and shrugged.

I said, "What is going to be different???? Would you say you're OPTIMISTIC that your addiction will be cured? What support do you have? You come from a family of drug addicts - do you expect them to help you? Did they help support you in the past?"

Mama was lost in a sea of pain and panic. The questions came too fast.

The attorney was relentless. I kept waiting for defense to shout "Objection!" but he sat with his head down. He had given up long before we started.

As the questions pressed on, I let go of my heart and let it shatter to the polished floor. Someone pressed tissue in my hand and asked if I was okay. I shook my head.

"Are you, [Baby Brother's] best option, right now?"

I barely heard her whisper..."no."

"I would like to approach the bench."

White noise came on and the attorneys rushed forward. The judge called for recess and asked everyone, but Sweet Mama and security to exit the courtroom, so that she could have some moments of privacy with her attorney.

When we got to the hall, Baby Brother's attorney explained that they didn't want Sweet Mama to have to endure anymore. They recessed to try and convince her to sign over her rights, voluntarily. Apart from the obvious relief from ruthless questioning, a direct release helps Sweet Mama have some footing should she get pregnant, again.

I walked out in silence, I could barely breathe.

Her attorney burst through the doors and pointed at me, "She wants you."

I heard the clerk lock the door behind me and the security guard verified my identity. I walked over to my broken friend and put a hand on her knee. I didn't bother asking if it was allowed.

"Thank you for being such a wonderful mother," she hiccuped between cries, "You are the mother I always intended to be. I don't know what to do. What should I do? I mean... I know what I should do...but I need to fight."

Tears streamed down my face and I took her hands in  mine. "Baby...you need to fight for YOU. Until you fight for you, you're never going to be able to fight for your kids. I love your kids like my own and I will take care of them as my own. It's time to let go. And trust God that good will follow. Look at this time as an opportunity you've never had. You have two years in a place that is going to feed you every day and keep you warm and safe. Get your high school diploma; get clean. God is handing you a fresh beginning. You just have to take it."

I don't know how long we sat there crying; time was still.

After several moments of sniffling silence, she said, "How are you going to do it? It's so many kids!"

I laughed and cried some more. "I know...but we WILL do it because we love you and we love your kids."

She looked down and whispered..."They're your kids, too. Thank you for writing me. I loved the pictures of Cisco and his brothers. It's helping me get through. If I do this, you have to promise me that you won't let anyone take Baby Brother from you. If I can't be his mom, it has to be you. Do you promise?"

I can hardly see to type this...

I told her about the drawing Cisco made, last night, and let her know she could write to him any time. Her attorney interrupted and told her it was time to decide. I hugged her tight and prayed that she'd feel a surge of strength. She couldn't return the squeeze, but she wet my face with her tears and I thanked God for crossing our paths.

An hour later, court returned to session and the adoption representative was present with signed papers in hand. Sweet Mama cried through all of the Judge's questions as he made sure she was not coerced, paid, or under the influence. Every time she looked at me, I saw Little Miss. Their similarities are so striking, I know this day will haunt me every time I see my girl cry.

Sweet Mama was escorted from the courtroom. I managed a quick hand-squeeze as she walked by and told her not to give up. The door closed, firmly, and I wondered if I would ever see her, again.

Baby Brother's attorney walked the court through placement and adoption recommendations. She looked at me and told the judge in all her years of service she had never seen a foster parent express so much compassion. She told him about my letter to prison, my willingness to encourage her during the recess, and somehow had even picked up the story about Cisco's "I love you" picture.

The judge choked up and told me he has a daughter the same age as Mama. He expressed the heartbreak of her story, thanked me for keeping the siblings together, and noted how Mama's love never stood a chance to her addiction and the addiction that tears through the rest of her family. He explained how easy it is for the players in court to be desensitized to such mess and thanked me for showing kindness.

And then it was over.

On the way out, I asked what will happen if no one picks her up on the day she is released. A likely possibility as she is hours from everything familiar.

"Probably a halfway house."

I sat in my car and sobbed until my meter ran out.

Baby Brother comes home on Friday, but the excitement of our next chapter is dulled by the cost.

There was one moment of connection, where Sweet Mama, Foster Mama, and me were all wiping tears and I thought about the preciousness of Baby Brother. Three mothers representing his past, present, and future, sharing in the agony of his story.

That moment in time can never be replicated. The three of us will never meet, again.

And somehow the weight of that is almost too much to bear.