Hi, my name is Tyler, and I’m 12. I came home two months ago from foster care. I am adopted with my Dad. These are my feelings on adoption.

I was feeling a little scared at first like any kid would be. Yes moving from foster care is scary. Yeah, you get used to legal documents for everything, but then you don’t because its adoption, no more paperwork. I’m still in the adjustment period but I’m getting use to LA. I’m used to hearing a lot of bad things about the city of LA. Like downtown gangs and drug dealers, but our city isn’t like that at all. It’s very quiet, I mean If you go to a nearby city there’s some parts anybody would want to avoid but others that are fine. Yeah, it is scary with an adoption, so if any kids are reading this you are not the only one. Trust me millions of kids have been adopted and yes it is scary that is my conclusion. So far adoption has been hard and easy, but my Dad and brothers have dealt with it, and helped to put it behind us. I think adoption can be a wonderful thing, but you need to be matched up with the right family.

Magnar left about 9:30 last night, and Calina and I managed to pack up the computers at 10ish ... very early for us these days ... and in my usual check of the kids -- Magnar had put them both to bed and they were fine at the time -- found puke all over Sam's bed, Cj's pajama top on the floor, also vomit-covered, and her asleep on her bed.

Seems she'd tossed her cookies, then stoically tidied and moved.

What is it with this kid?

Photo: Magnar teaches Sam and Cj to groom a horse

After 10 days with their dad, Sam and Cj are now home again, and home is once again a calm environment, albeit punctuated with girly giggles and the occasional squabble.

This reality, the one that has them having another place that's home-like with the man who is their father, along with some woman I've never laid eyes on ... and a baby on the way ... is one that I never saw coming back when Mark and I were going through the adoption processes for them.

I'm not going to whine on here about ends of eras or dashed dreams or bumpy roads. In fact, I'm not going to whine at all.

My husband and I brought our infant and eldest son home from the hospital in January 1974, over thirty-four years ago. The day he was born, Egypt and Israel signed a cease fire. It was a challenging two day trip home for his father who was still in active service in the Israeli Army serving as a tank commander under Israeli general and former Prime Minister Ariel (Eric) Sharon, and then stationed across the border in Egypt following the Yom Kippur War.

It was a cold winter day in Israel, meaning about 50 degrees, and it was raining intermittently when we brought our baby home. His sweet face poking out between the multiple layers he was wrapped in was framed by a sprinkling of black hair; I was happy beyond my wildest dreams – my husband had survived a horrible war that took the lives of over 2,656 men and women with over 7,200 wounded in a country that had a population of around 3,000,000 at the time, and my son was healthy, adorable and bearing a strong resemblance to my paternal grandfather whom I had adored. Two miracles in one month were a blessing indeed.

*because raising children can be like living on a sharp edge

Last Sunday I shared my most recent challenges with my daughter Ella; she had become annoying, disobedient and unpleasant to be with in the last month. Behaviors such as running away every time I called her, throwing toys, breaking things, slamming doors, having a crying fit when she didn’t get her way, and basically ignoring everything I said to her were becoming routine. I knew I had to take matters in hand quickly.

I decided to use the time out system as I do not believe in physical punishment. Every time Ella was out of line I would give her one warning – but only one. If she did not correct that behavior, she would go to time out for three minutes (one minute for each year of age). Time out did not need to be in a bedroom or a room with a closed door; it was enough that I made her stay in a designated area such as a hallway. I would tell her that she would stay there until I allowed her to come out. If she came out before the three minutes were up, I would gently but firmly put her back. Would she go willingly and happily to time out? Are you kidding? Often she was kicking and screaming and always crying as if the world had come to an end. My daughter is quite the drama queen and can produce tears at the drop of a dime. But I did not relent, and each episode of time out she had to stay in the designated area for three minutes until I announced that her time in time out was up. At home I usually set a timer for three minutes.

It is day two of Tyler’s visit to my home. Yes, last night’s refusal to take his shower and change for bed was testing. He woke up cranky, still wearing everything including his jacket, and needing a shower. I told him we could get going after his shower. He saw no point in that. After a bit he was up and ready to go, again, we can leave after your shower. More time, he appears in different clothes and his hair is wet. I smelled a rat. The towel was dry and so was the shower. Later, he appears in a towel, letting me know that the showerhead doesn’t work well. Water all over the floor, yes he had taken a shower. ODD? Yes, thank you.

My new, soon to be son, Tyler, called me this morning as he and his worker were driving south to Sacramento, where they would catch a flight to Long Beach. He started off with, “Hi Dad...” That was the first time he had called me that. They were on schedule. The worker had MapQuest directions, but the streets leading to our home are confusing. I talked Tyler through the route, there was the car, and my son was coming home for the first time. This is an unusual visitation, he would be with me for four days, on day five we would fly in my airplane to his city, where I would sign the adoption placement papers and then we would return home. Once he was out of the car, we would not be separated again.

*because raising children can be like running on a sharp edge

Guilty as charged I’ve been spoiling my daughter and I'm not suggesting that I spend too much time hugging and loving her because I don’t believe that love and affection spoil a child. What I’ve been doing is letting her get away with unacceptable and annoying behavior, such as ignoring me when I ask or tell her to do or stop doing something. Additionally I have been giving in to her on occasions when I want to avoid conflict or am tired. And since I’m visiting my sister, I see how bent out of shape she gets when I talk to someone else for more than a minute or two.

It is quite amazing how quickly this situation evolved. A month or so ago this was not the situation, but it certainly is now. Smart and strong willed, my daughter could manipulate a statue, and on days when I’m not on my toes, she manipulates me as well. Producing crocodile tears on demand is her forte, and I’ve realized just how influenced I’ve been by those tears. So now it is time to do damage control.

I've been out of country for the last week, (you can just call me the traveling blogger at Adoption Under One Roof) and it has certainly been an eye opener to view our country during election time through the eyes of citizens of the beautiful country to the north. Without a doubt, the Canadians in this vicinity are huge Obama supporters and believe that he will be a more likeable and admirable figure to lead our country. I missed being in the U.S. for the elections; it is hard to discuss the politics of your country with people who don’t actually have to “live” those politics.

But moving onto another subject, Ella and I have been walking around this charming and beautiful little town tucked in the mountains, and I don’t think I’ve been in such a racially homogeneous environment in years. I wonder how my daughter would fair growing up here with not one other person of Hispanic or Mayan origin? Would she feel special or painfully different? It can go both ways. I know of one family whose Guatemalan daughter was the only non-Caucasian child in their town and she felt very special and enjoyed her unique status. It is important to note that this young woman is a very confident young woman with terrific parents, probably an important factor in the big picture. Personally I like the fact that Ella can get together with other children born in Guatemala.

When foster parenting teenage girls dating boys is bound to happen. On the one hand, you want your foster children to lead as normal a life as possible. On the other hand, most teenagers in foster care are emotionally immature and have poor boundaries do to years of neglect or abuse. These are not good qualities to have when a girl is alone somewhere with a teenage boy in the throws of puberty. Is there a safe middle ground, a way to let your foster teenager have fun and yet offer that extra bit of protection?