Friday, October 12, 2012

A little more of your time.

When I was young, we had very few fundraisers. The fundraisers that we did have were always SUPER fun for the kid and rarely, if ever, fun for the parent. Now, maybe your parents and mine did things differently, but as I remember it; my parents did the bulk of the work. My biggest role in the fundraising process was to knock, smile like a twerp and pretend to understand the corny jokes being spat at me. "Heyulk! You don't have a pen? That's not a very good business-girl " Well, have you ever tried to scale the neighborhood with a folder, a pencil and a growing competitive hunger for the prize on level II? Yeah, I'm guessing not, so order the cherry cordials and let me get to the next house!

It was a thrilling time to be a kid with a mission. The adults too, seemed to be unburdened by our rare visits, and our simple pleads of patronage. But, times are no longer so simple, or thrilling. Now, it's as if there is a fundjacker waiting around every corner. The days of, "Yeah, I'll take it to work and leave it in the break room" are gone. Now when your kid comes home and you see the tell-tale signs of a fundraiser your mind starts to race. "CRAP! WHY ME?! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS!?"
Now, I am on both sides of the line here. Not only do I participate in a LOT of fundraising events. I'm usually in the market price range of your average bake sale, lollipop and raffle ticket bracket. But I'm also a repeat money-raiser. Yes, I giveth while I taketh.
So, please friends if the two paragraph hook and introduction simply weren't enough for you allow me to cut to the point.

I. Want. Your. Money. 


I know I tend to get wordy and heck, maybe even a little dramatic when I write about things that I am passionate about. That creates a problem for me already, because I have a ton to say and it's so important that you guys take the time, however many days it may be, to read this in its entirety.

I have this friend that I met a while back. Over the years we exchanged small talk, offered advice, support and commented on the incredible cuteness of our kids. She lives on the West coast and I'm obviously on the East. She's married to this really exotic looking guy who wears hipster glasses and I'm married to a polish guy whose beard gives me butterflies. She has FIVE sons with names like, "Kumaka" and I just have a dinky tribe of 3 with names like, "Isabelle" Don't quote me on this but I think Kumaka means, "The mightiest volcano in the mountains of Volcanicsburg!...with a sword!" (Everything is cooler with a sword.) And Isabelle's name is spanish meaning, "Katherine Hiegl's character on Grey's Anatomy..with a scalpel!" (See? Not as cool.)
Aside from sharing a mutual love for blogging, we are as happily opposite as two pair can be! In fact, there is probably no reason for our paths to ever cross. Except they did, because of one common denominator. Spina Bifida.
Tracy has five boys, her youngest, the previously mentioned Kumaka has Spina Bifida and as you know my middle, Roman has Spina Bifida. So while connected and fused together in our bustling Spina Bifida community I learned something new about Tracy. She wants a daughter! But not only does she want a daughter, she wants to ADOPT a daughter! And not only does she want to adopt a daughter, she wants to adopt a daughter with Spina Bifida.
This is Tracy's story, and it's going to be marked, I'm sure, with highs and lows and happiness and frustration. Even with the bad she'll get the good and it's the good that she'll want to share and tell, because it's her story. I'm just here to let you know that it exists.

Can you imagine the happiness in the moment when Tracy's family was matched with a baby in Eastern Europe? This family is preparing for battle in the biggest contradiction on earth; the battle for love. Tracy is ready to tackle the paperwork, conquer the government requirements and sucker punch the paperwork. She's ready to wrestle with phone calls, e-mails, signatures, clearances, paperwork and all of the labors of love involved in international adoption. In a word, paperwork.

Sofi needs to be with this family.
Not just because they need help adjusting the boy/girl ratio, even though they totally do. And not just because Tracy is an SB expert and would be the perfect mommy to Sofi. Not even just because they are an absolutely gorgeous family with gobs of love oozing from their perfect hair. Sofi needs to be with this family because they were made for her, and she was made for them. Because her future without them is bleak, at best. It's forgotten, ignored, overlooked. It's lacking in essential medical care, supervision and quality. It's lacking in touch, stimulation, conversation and growth. It's lacking in love. Sofi needs to be with this family, it's quite literally a matter of life or death.

In most cultures, being disabled means being dispensable. In a lot of cultures being disabled is very much like being a living ghost. For Sofi, she probably has no idea how loved she truly is, how wanted, prayed for, wished for, hoped for. Think for a moment how despairing it must feel to love your child, but not be able to tell her. They want affection, but you can't hold their hand when they reach for you. You know they are crying, under the same sky as you, and you can't dry their tears. They're sick, and you can't heal them. Scared and you can't comfort them. Alone and you can't sit with them.

I believe Tracy and I were brought together for far more than just commending each other on having adorable kids. More than I want Tracy to know the joys of having a daughter, I want Sofi to know the joys of having a mommy.
So, if you've ever wanted your mommy, cried for your mommy or needed a hug from your mommy. If she's here or in your heart, down the road or across an ocean. If your mommy ever kissed a boo-boo, played hide and seek, and made you drink your milk. If you think Sofi deserves to have those same things and the love and protection of 5 big brothers and a dad with rectangle glasses, her own room, her own toys, warmth, protection and bundles of love-Help her.

Please, go to Tracy's page and donate. Give what you can and don't be embarrassed to only donate 3 or 4 or 5 dollars. Don't think, "Oh, what's four measly dollars going to do?" A few dollars can do more than you think.  It can save a life, it can complete a family. A few dollars can mean a second chance.

I know I've asked you for a lot. I know I've begged and bothered and pleaded and cried for money for the Spina Bifida Association. And here I am, begging again. But I'm passionate about my cause, I'm heartbroken for this child and I need to rally for her and her hopeful mother. Go to her page, read her story and donate a couple of dollars to help her come home. Please. Please.

Click here to help sweet little Sofi
(This will open in a new window and is 110% safe. Which is like, really safe.) 

Thank you for letting me beg for money from you guys again. I promise that this will be the last time that I beg for money until the next time that I need to beg for money.

Thank you Tracy for letting me share your story. Thank you for letting me cry for you, and hope for you, and wish on stars for you.
Sweet Sofi, you have a lot of people trying to get you home. We're doing our best for you. Hang in there, doll.

-Your friend,


  1. You forgot to mention the joy of lugging that giant flag colored suitcase style box of crap home from school. Usually we got those on days we had to walk from the elementary school to your house :)

  2. Love u sis no one could ask for a better friend