The kids have recently discovered "The Cosby Show." You remember them - Cliff, Claire, and their five kids? Two successful black people living a typical family existence...this was my fantasy family when I was growing up. Two of the children had fair skin, the rest, deep brown. It was a periodic topic of discussion amidst my playground friends. How was that possible? It was particularly interesting to a little brown girl growing up in a house with white people.

Fast forward 25 years. We've got a checkerboard of people living under one roof. We've had some interesting discussions about race, with many more to come, I am sure. Here was today's, while watching the Cosbys:
Anna: "Mom, they have a white daughter, too (speaking of fair-skinned Denise)."
Me: "Oh no, honey, she's black. Her parents are black, so she is black. Her skin is just light."
Anna: "Oh. I'm black, too, right?"
Mom: "Yep. You sure are. You have one black parent and one white parent. That means you are a little of both. Just like me."

I was left to wonder: what does this mean to my little blue-eyed daughter? I hope that it will mean the same for her that it has come to mean for me, that people are the sum of their thoughts and actions, not their genetic inheritance. I hope it will mean that she moves through the world with comfort and confidence, happy to meet and experience those that cross her path. Thank you, Cosbys, for the laughs and the continuing education.

Meet Kosma - my Ukranian foster son

Do you know what it's like to have a child who bears no resemblance to you? I mean, not even a hint that you share biology? If you didn't know me, and I showed you this picture, I could tell you that I picked up this child up in a Ukranian orphanage and you would be none the wiser. I'm fairly certain I gave birth to him. He's absolutely adorable...but I get no credit. Carry on Kosma!

What a crummy blogger!

This is supposed to be a detailed, accurate account of the happenings at Chez Croskey! I am re-committing myself as of NOW. As I type, it's a Friday night and my poor husband is working until 9pm. The kids and I ate dinner at 5pm, which I found depressing. The kids are watching "Breakin 2: Electric Boogaloo." If you haven't seen it recently, you are missing out.

Shawn and I have new church gigs. He was ordained a High Priest last week and we are waiting to see exactly what new challenges lay in store for him. I have been teaching early-morning Seminary for about a month. It's so rewarding to HAVE to study the scriptures every day. I love my students. I don't love going to bed at 10pm (10:30 at the latest) during the week, but I knew I would have to grow up sometime.

Here's some pics of our trip to Seaside last weekend. We had a great time with the Lee and Jackson families. They are just about enough to make a girl want to stay in Oregon for life.

Miracles

We've been talking in Primary this month about miracles performed by Jesus Christ. It's caused me to reflect on some of the miracles that have taken place in my adult life. Shawn and I met almost 15 years ago, while working at Village Inn in Tempe, Arizona. He was apparently struck by my beauty (and who can blame him?). He stalked my car and decided to ask me out, even though he saw a Gloria Estefan tape on my dashboard. We had about 2 weeks to meet, go out, and become inseperable, because Shawn was fired from Village Inn for giving a friend a free glass of orange juice. There are many more details to this story and I will bore you with them, if requested.

There's no way that Shawn would have considered marrying me, had I not joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He was in love with me (and who can blame him?), but his committment to the church was unshakeable. I had no intention of joining the church, but talked to the missionaries more out of curiousity than anything. When I prayed to know whether the Book of Mormon was true, the witness I received was undeniable. I have never turned back and my life has been immeasruably blessed by that decision.

Our efforts to start a family were futile for several years. It became a daily struggle to keep going, keep fighting, keep paying, and keep praying to have this dream become a reality. There were so many times that I wanted to give up. I remember the day, about 3.5 years after starting the journey, that we saw a little heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor. It was an amazing moment. It's just gotten better over the years, even though she is the most willful, emotional, argumentative child I have ever known.

We were considered moving to California and received a very strong answer to our prayer about it: NO! We were flummoxed as to why the Lord would care about where we lived. We had no idea why we needed to stay in AZ, but we went with it. About a week after this prayer, I started working with the woman who would eventually lead us to Leon. Though adopting our sweet boy has not been without trials, I believe strongly that he was always meant for our family.

Prayers and pleading for Christian started when Anna was a little over a year old. Now here he is! All approximately 18-20 pounds of him! I have no idea why my life has been so blessed, but I am grateful for it, and my ability to recognize it.

Tell me about your miracles.

718 days of summer

I'll be honest...the 1st two or three days of summer were depressing for me. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the fact that my energetic, VERY chatty, contrary children were going to be in my care ALL the time. So, now that's down to the final month, I have actually felt the slight hints of sadness that come with the beginning of fall. Am I sad enough to let them stay up past their bedtime? No! Here are a few highlights of our adventures so far.

He wants to be one of them already.

Maybe by the time he is old enough to want to murder me for this, the blog will be lost in cyberspace. Please forgive me, son, I couldn't resist.

My favorite part to wash is underneath his chin. It's all squishy and plush!

Anna with one of her idols.

This is what happens when your mother is too cheap to pay your admission into the petting zoo.

My big kids at the California State Fair!

When you gonna feed me some ribs?

OMH

What do I think of my first two months as a mother of three? In honor of my Utah friends, I share this phrase: Oh My Heck!

I would like to report that I am generally on top of things and that I shower before 2pm every day, but I can't. I am so sleep-deprived that I hallucinate extra family members at times. Shawn calls these companions my "shadow people." I am at a loss for words, not eloquent words, just words like "table" and "carpet." It turns out that sleep is necessary to maintain a vocabulary and the ability to drive. My kids are getting used to phrases like, "You'll have to do that yourself", "You're going to have to wait for that", and "I can't hear you when the baby is screaming in my ear." I am getting used to the two rolls of fat that refuse to leave my abdomen. Do you think the half-bag of pita chips I just consumed has anything to do with that?

Motherhood is a marathan. Dinner and flowers are great, but here is what you should do for a mother who is still raising her children: grab her gently by the shoulders and give her a little shake. Look her in the eyes and tell her that she is smarter than her children and that she can do it! Give her a pat on the butt and send her back into the trenches with a fistful of chocolate.

Christian is my little slice of heaven. Shawn gave him a blessing yesterday at church, which was so beautiful. I am so thankful for a kind, dutiful husband that holds the Priesthood. I have had to fight and beg for each one of my children and they have all been worth it.

So, where's my chocolate?

Christian's birth

I started having mild contractions while watching Lost on Tuesday night. Shawn got home late from work and we both agreed that we hoped the contractions would go away, as we were too tired to have a baby that night. As we snuggled into bed and exchanged goodnights at 11pm, I felt a pop and my water spilled out onto the bed. Suddenly, we were wide awake!

I had been examined the day before and was already dilated to almost 4cm, so I was a complete 4 when we got to the hospital. It was surreal to lie there and know what was going to happen in what I thought would be a few hours. I labored for a few hours through painful contractions, but decided early on that an epidural was the way to go. The doc seemed to have a handle on the procedure and it went well. I could feel the contraction pressure, but no pain, and I had almost full use of my legs. As the night wore on, our very young and chipper nurse hung out in the room for what seemed like long periods chatting and typing into the computer. She was very sweet, but I wanted to be alone.

By 6:30am, I was dilated to 9cm, but the baby was still very high and refusing to come down. The nurse and I were hoping to get him out by the end of her shift at 7am. Didn't happen. 5 hours later, I was still at 9cm, but the baby's position had not changed. Shawn said that he was like a bat clinging to the inside of my uterus. I was given pitocin to regulate my contractions, which it did. My epidural was proving to be not quite strong enough to ward off the pain, and I started feeling the contractions. This frightened me. Another doc came in and gave me a dose of something to take away the pain. It did, but I was exhausted and emotional by this point. Our nurse was terrifc and understanding. At about 1pm, she had me start pushing and called the doc to tell him what was going on.

As she and Shawn were flanking my sides and pushing my legs back, I pushed with all my might. I could feel progress, but honestly was feeling like I would rather die than ever do this again. I told Shawn as much.

Just when I thought I could not muster any more energy for pushing, I felt a lot of progress and the nurse jumped up from the bed, half-yelling, "Stop pushing! Stop pushing! Just breathe!" She was crossing the room to call for the doc and backup. I cannot describe the amount of effort it took to stop the pushing and breathe. I was so afraid that I wasn't going to be able to comply, that I started sobbing and saying, "I can't. I can't." If you know me, you know I don't display emotion like that. The nurse hurried back to me while she was waiting for help. As the baby was coming out, she was muttering that the cord was wrapped around him. I could hear fear in her voice, which caused me to panic and sob some more. I heard the doc enter the room and very calmly, he pulled the baby out. I am told the cord was wrapped around his body in a figure 8 and then around his neck. I opened my eyes to see the room full of people and heard someone say "NICU", which made me continue to sob and say, "Is he ok?" "What's wrong?" over and over again. The baby was put on my chest, but all I could see was his purple head. He was wisked over to a respiratory therapist and we waited in agony until we heard his first little peeps. His first APGAR score was a 3 and his second was a 7.

We've had some feeding issues (he's been slow to it) and we've supplemented with a little formula, but he appears to be getting on track. We came home today and I am so sad that this precious little bundle is going to grow up. He's sleeping in his daddy's arms right now and he has no idea what a blessed little boy he is.