The Return of Idealism

Gratitude

2012-01-23T17:50:00.000-08:00

Grateful for relaxation!

I've been wanting to write about gratitude for a long time. It's a touchy subject, especially with adopted kiddos. How do we teach our kids to be grateful without undermining their pain and loss? I'm not sure I know, but I think it's a value that cannot be neglected.

One of my children has a bit of an issue with gratitude. I've never expected him to be grateful to us for adopting him. I often expect to be hated for it. That said, I can see how he's robbed of joy when he's lacking gratitude. He becomes downright difficult to live with when he doesn't appreciate the people that care about him. Two weeks ago he received a rather large birthday present from him brother. This gift led to a large two day meltdown because it wasn't the toy he wanted. His ungratefulness made him miserable. So how do I teach a kid to be grateful when he's been robbed of so much? How can I, someone that's had a pretty easy life, preach to a kid about gratitude? What do I know?

I do know one thing. I know the gift we've been given through Christ. That's a pretty remarkable gift. When I see that my son is struggling with gratitude, I've found that a "come to Jesus" talk reminding him of what he's been given by a man on a cross is so incredibly healing. My son's love of Jesus provides a wonderful gift to us both. For him, he's able to see clearly how much has been done for him because he's cherished by the great God of love. We start with Jesus and work our way through teachers, friends, brothers and sisters, then on the talents and intelligence he's been blessed with. For me, I'm able to teach him gratitude without making myself the recipient. When God is first and foremost in praise, gratitude for all enters every aspect of our lives.

Gratitude can sometimes seem like such a dirty word. When we treat it like something that's owed or should be demanded, it is a burden. When we treat it like something that makes our lives sing with joy, gratitude feels like a tremendous gift we've been given that allows us to bless the world. I've come to believe that a grateful heart is a peaceful heart.

My son's grateful heart has returned. Tonight when he left for piano lessons he wrapped his arms around me and messed my hair a bit with his hand. He had a joyful smile on his face. His gratitude inspired gratitude within me. My own gratitude will sustain me and bring me joy. Gratitude is a gift we are given that should then be shared with others. What a beautiful thing to give our children.

On the subject of gratitude, I am extremely grateful for the 5 days my husband and I were able to spend together in the snowy mountains of Idaho. We haven't gone away alone together for seven years. This time we spent together was much needed and we made the most of it. I'm grateful to my mother-in-law for being willing to watch the kids while we were gone. I'm grateful for the resources to be able to spend this time away. I'm grateful for a spouse that has been my best friend for over a decade. I'm grateful for a safe return to a house full of lovely children that mean the world to me. I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve God on this earth for another day.

My littlest girl

2012-01-22T23:06:00.000-08:00

It seems as if it were only yesterday when my youngest, Hot Lips, was just a little baby. When did she grow up? When did she become only a semester and a summer away from starting kindergarten? Where did the time go?

I did what everyone said to do. I savored it. I've savored every minute with that kid. I love being around her. She's smart and funny and crazy and sweet and loving and sarcastic. Sure, she can throw a temper tantrum with the best of them but that's because she knows what she wants and what she likes. You've got to be tough to be the littlest in this household.

Tonight I was going over some sight words with the big kids. After I had sat the last kid down to study with me, Hot Lips piped up. "It's my turn!" I smiled and told her to come sit next to me. As I showed her the first sight word I noticed that she was actually sounding the word out. Where did this come from? You see, I don't push reading with my little kids. I figure they will learn when they are ready and the time frame for that is different for every kid. I think as long as they are surrounded by books and pencils and paper, they will discover language when it's right for them. That hasn't failed me so far. Anyway, I hadn't done any language or phonics practice with Hot Lips. I hadn't known what she was capable of. I wrote down a series of -at words and much to my surprise, she read them all. My little tiny baby is learning to read. From here the world completely opens up to her.

I'm so excited to see who this child becomes. She is, as I often say, "a piece of work." I find watching her grown up to be so very bitter sweet. I love who she is and I want to see her become.....but it's hard to start the process of letting go. The world is hers now.

I can't "fix" this

2012-01-03T13:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I realized something. I have this idea that I'm supposed to "fix" things that seem wrong. For the past several months I've been fighting to "fix" Clark. I know, I know. That sounds awful. I simply wanted to find a way to make everything better for him. My heart broke when I watched him struggle to do things he used to do with ease, like having a conversation. He'd changed and it was getting worse. When the IQ tests confirmed that the cognitive decline was indeed occurring, I set out to find out why and how to fix it.

The doctor was of no help so I had to do my own research. I insisted on all sort of tests to see if we could get to the root of the problem. All these tests have led us no where other than the realization that I can't do anything. I can't fix this, and that makes me angry. I'm worried and scared for him. I want to take care of my son, but instead I have to accept reality.

Through all of this, Clark is the happiest child on the planet. Isn't that really all that matters? Sometimes I get so wrapped up on him being "normal" that I forget to look at what a gift he is to so many people. I have no idea how things will progress for him. Maybe nothing will change and he'll simply struggle with a few things. Maybe he'll get worse. No matter what, I know he will always have a big smile on his face and a great outlook on life. Instead of trying to "fix" him, I should really be spending more time learning a few things from him.

Why is ethics in adoption even up for debate?

2012-01-02T19:23:00.000-08:00

Adoption and ethics are very much a hot topic. If you've been involved in adoption for five minutes you already know that adoption is the root of all evil and that UNICEF hates you for even considering it. Okay, it's not that severe but it's a topic that tends to polarize people. As I see it, the world is full of "wicked problems". Recycling often requires more energy than it's worth, but saves our landfills. Arming the "bad guy" in order to defeat a common enemy creates people like Osama bin Laden, but it assists in ending the Cold War. Adopting an orphan from a developing nation gives a child hope, but it fuels child trafficking. What in the world are we to do?

We live in the era of "movements". Everything's a movement. They are mainstream and grassroots. They are secular and religious. They are Republican and Democrat. We are told we should start one, or at least buy in to the guy that thinks he has. Whenever I read about a new movement I think to myself, "How is this going to jack up the world?" Wicked problems. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In other words, for every movement we create, another movement will be created in an attempt to "fix" the problems started by the previous movement. And so on and so forth. This is the way it's been since time began and humans first decided to rape and pillage the world. In other words, when certain groups got all crazy about an "orphan movement", why would it surprise anyone that the next movement would be "Let's Fix the Errors those Crazy Orphan Loving Bastards Created"? The next movement that follows will be, "Help Me! I'm a Kid Dying in an Orphanage because Adoption Regulation Prevented Me from Finding a Family!"

Here's the truth: I don't love adoption. Nope. I've never been comfortable with it. There are about a million better, more productive ways to serve God and humanity. But here's the thing, some of us feel a strong calling to parent and love a child that has no one else. Orphanages are horrible places to live. Horrible. I hear the stories regularly. There are times I want to tell UNICEF to shove it. I don't like their pretentious self-righteousness. After all, I think I did a good job of following adoption ethics. My children could not be served in their country. That is indisputable. So why, pretentious global child-hating organization, are you picking on people like me? I've done a good job of helping my children retain their heritage, their culture, and their birth family. Then I remember something that happened when my parents visited Ethiopia.

My parents visited Clark's aunt and uncle in very rural Ethiopia. You should know, white people visiting a home in rural Ethiopia is a big deal. It's like a celebrity has knocked on your door. I felt really weirded out by it because I'm a sensitive white lady from America post-Civil Right movement....but I digress. When my parents were visiting, a neighbor woman asked my mom to adopt her child and take it back to America so it could have a good life. She had seen the pictures of the life Clark was living in the good 'ole USA. Here was smiling, healthy Clark riding around on his brand new bicycle. She wanted her child to have that too. My mom, because she's funny and all, felt uncomfortable and said, "Why don't you ask my daughter when she comes?" (That still makes me laugh when I think about it.)

Even when we go out of our way to find that "true" orphan that's sick and has the perfect orphan story, we still send a message: "We can provide better for your children because we're rich." What a slap in the face of the poor widow. Is there anything more demeaning? Why don't you just point at her ragged clothing and laugh on your way out of her village in your fancy-schmancy van?

My point: We're responsible for this. You and I. Even if we dotted our Is and crossed our Ts in the grand game of "I'm more ethical than you", we ALL contributed to someone feeling unworthy...and that's at a minimum. We should all be seeking to do something about this. That's my goal for the year. Hmmmmmm...........maybe I'll start a movement or something.

Not what I was expecting

2011-12-14T07:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we did indeed get MRI results back on one child. The MRI showed brain atrophy. It seems to be mild, which is good. But no atrophy at all would be a lot better. I really wasn't expecting this. I was thinking that maybe there would be a little TB scar or something like that. Instead the entire brain has been impacted. We aren't quite sure what this means. Our infectious disease specialist finally realizes that we need to see someone with more experience and knowledge. This will mean going out of state to some of the best doctors in the country. I'm glad we have the ability to do that. I think I'm okay with the results of this MRI. We now understand why she's struggling so hard in school and now I can just smack down the teachers that say she's not trying hard enough. She can start getting the kind of educational support she needs.

What I'm really worried about is the results we're receiving today for Clark. What concerns me that no matter what the MRI says, we've got to work fast to figure out what's going on with this poor kid. He's not doing "bad", he's simply doing far worse than where he was at. Here's the problem I've found: he's a smart kid. Before people outside of the home see what we are seeing, he has to fall along way. The school is just starting to see it. I'm worried that unless things get really bad, no one is going to do anything. That said, I don't want the MRI to find something bad. I want it all to be a figment of my imagination.

So today I wait impatiently for results while I'm supposed to be studying for a statistics final. Bleck!

Desperate for answers

2011-12-12T20:52:00.000-08:00

I hate evenings like this. I become desperate and irrational. I hate desperate and irrational. I feel the need to "fix" and if I don't "fix" right now my world will spiral out of control and nothing will ever be good again. I doubt my belief that there's something big going on in my child's brain and I assume all the problems are because I'm too laid back as a mother and this child obviously just needs strict discipline. Oh, I'm such an idiot. I yelled at the child that I believe is suffering from significant cognitive impairment because he couldn't make sense of any of the questions I was asking him. Sounds logical, huh? But I wasn't as angry as much as I was desperate, and not wanting to face the reality.

Tomorrow Clark goes in for a brain MRI and lumbar puncture. I'm terrified. What if I'm wrong? What if I'm right? What if there really isn't anything there? What if they really find something? What if everything he's experiencing is just in my head and I'm simply a crabby, over-demanding mother? What if I have to learn to be a new kind of mother? What if the "expert" doctor is right and there's nothing wrong? What if that so-called expert is as wrong as he is mean? There's so much riding on tomorrow and right now I'm an absolute wreck.

I hate saying this but I'm desperate for them to find something. I know, that sounds awful doesn't it? I want there to be something wrong with my child. But I guess I already know there is. It's quite apparent. It's becoming more and more clear each day. Once upon a time I used to sit down next to my child after he did something he shouldn't have. We'd talk though the choices he made, why it wasn't a good idea, and what he can do to change things in the future. I remember those days. They weren't very long ago. Now conversations like this are impossible. He can't bring up thoughts and ideas. He can't put together sentences. Sometimes he beats his forehead with the palm of his hand over and over again because he can't access the information in his brain. It's so painful to watch and more painful knowing that there's truly nothing I can do to help him. Nothing.

We know that he's experienced a rather troubling decline in executive function in the past year. We've got IQ tests that show this. It's scary. Trouble with executive function is commonly associated with ADHD and that was the initial diagnosis, but I (and the therapist) think we've moved past where that diagnosis seems reasonable. This is not the same kid that I knew a year ago. And he's changing rapidly. All the things it could be that are causing this scare me to death.

We could really use all the prayers and good vibes you can muster. I have a feeling that we are in the beginning phase of a very long and tedious process that's going to be very emotional and often painful for our entire family.

I knew her back when.....

2011-12-11T20:34:00.001-08:00

Today I got to do something extremely special. It all started a couple years ago. I met Tanya, THE StyleSpyGirl, at a party a good friend of mine was throwing. I immediately thought Tanya was pretty awesome. She had a lot of spunk, a kind demeanor, and she was great fun. Over the past couple years I ran into her throughout town and at other parties. Early this year I decided to enlist her help with my wardrobe (it had taken a serious downturn in the past couple years). We had our initial meeting but then things got a little crazy in my household. I had to hunker down and put things like finding clothing that fit or something that made me look female on the back burner. I was a little disappointed. Life, God, the universe had other plans for me at that time. And while I would have preferred to look good while being challenged, I had to focus on the big issues of the day.

Fast forward about 8 months.....I got a phone call from Tanya asking me if I'd be interested in being in her pilot episode for her new makeover show. Ummmm.......YES!!!! I had no idea what the show would be about but I didn't care. It sounded like fun and I'm game for just about anything. Over the months, things started coming together and today part of the pilot episode was filmed. The kids thought it was totally rad to have a production crew in our home. I loved that I got to "stuff" Freckles on camera while playing basketball.

I'm truly excited for Tanya and am honored that I got to be a little part of the Every Woman Project. There's still more to film.....the best part is yet to come. She announced today the idea behind the show she's creating. I love the idea. I think you will too! Check out her ideas behind the show and what she hopes for women.

I can't wait to say, "I knew her back when................."

A long way to fall

2011-12-06T11:52:00.001-08:00

Today I had a heartbreaking conversation with a dear friend about fear. It's the fear that we all feel when it comes to putting it all out on the line. This dear friend has brought me through my own fear more than once. Her words and prayers are what get me through the fear, whether real or perceived. What if I move outside of my comfort zone and lose it all? How will I cope? What will happen to my kids? How will I be able to pick myself back up? At the end of the day none of this matters except faith, my love for God, and the heart of this dear friend.

If we follow the call we've been given, we will be provided for. That doesn't mean we won't fall. After all, the average American has along way to fall. God doesn't promise a 2,000 sq. ft. home. He doesn't guarantee health care, our sanity, a smooth ride, or lots of pats on the back. God promises nothing but his love. John Piper gave an incredible sermon on the subject of living in faith, specifically in regards to adoption. He quotes Hebrews 11:29-38:

By faith the people crossed the Red Sea as on dry land, but the Egyptians, when they attempted to do the same, were drowned.

By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days.
³¹ By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.^[a]
³² And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, ³³ who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, ³⁴ quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. ³⁵ Women received back their dead, raised to life again. There were others who were tortured, refusing to be released so that they might gain an even better resurrection. ³⁶ Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. ³⁷ They were put to death by stoning;^[b] they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— ³⁸ the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.

The moral of the story is this, when we walk out in faith we might end up living in holes in the ground. When we adopt in faith we might put our financial state on the line. We might be putting our safety and the safety of our other children on the line. We might be putting our own mental health on the line as well. Or our pride, our public image, our friendships. As a society living in prosperity (even considering the current economic climate), safety, and privilege of freedom, we have along way to fall.

Fear is real. Fear is our body saying, "Crap! This is going to be uncomfortable!" That's why God gives us community. The sermon of Hebrews was spoken to a group. It was not written to an individual, the one guy in the room that obviously wasn't getting it. Nope. He was talking to an early group of Christians and unknowingly, every Christian that ever came after. That fear lives in all of us. That's why we reach out our hand to our fellow Christians that need us. We WILL NOT let them fall in their service in Christ. No, we will not. We will scoop them up in our arms and hold them close. And if our fellow Christians do that for one another then what does God do?

This dear friend that I speak of is directly responsible for the lives of two of my children. She is responsible for the joy I feel daily in raising these dear children. Without her I would have been too afraid to move. She was on my side, on my team. She raised me up. She had confidence in me. She had my back. Last week I was in the car driving somewhere with Freckles and Rose. They were both talking about adoption for some reason. Freckles said, "Wow. If I wasn't adopted I'd still be at the orphanage. That would be bad." Rose piped up, "If I wasn't adopted I'd be dead right now." They both turned to me and said, "Thank you, mom." I said the first thing that came to my heart, "Thank God and Ms. Nicky, because that's who gave me you."

Phew!

2011-12-02T08:34:00.001-08:00

Over the past several months I've been pushing hard on some medical issues with the kids. I couldn't get our doctor to listen to me. If my concerns weren't just ignored (which they often were), I'd hear horrible things like "That's just how Africans are." I wanted to leave that god awful doctor but everyone said that he was brilliant and I didn't really have any other options. I was stuck and I was finding ways to manipulate the situation so he'd be forced to take certain issues seriously. For example, I took one child off of ARVs so the doctor would be forced to do SOMETHING. Of course taking the child off of ARVs was the right thing to do and said doctor is giving himself credit for deciding to do this. (Jerk.) I found myself stressed out and beating my head against things often. I wanted to help my kids but this doctor, the only specialist within 450 miles, wasn't doing what was necessary. I was the manager of my kids' healthcare and that was dangerous because I had neither the power nor the proper education to handle it. Regardless, I did a pretty darn good job.

I finally decided to seek care elsewhere with a regular, run-of-the-mill pediatrician. I am experiencing such a HUGE relief. I can now be a mom worried about her kids health rather than a mom fighting against people far more educated than she is. This doctor brought up multiple tests that should have been done but weren't. She brought up referrals to specialists that haven't yet been consulted. She's willing to send us out of state to the best specialists in the country if that's what it takes (I'm shooting for Johns Hopkins). I left with no worries over whether enough is being done. I trust that my kids are being taken care of. This is the first time I've felt that way since they've come home.

I have a feeling this next year is going to be tough. I think there's a good chance we will be facing some pretty serious realities. I know it sounds weird, but I am glad I get to offer compassion and love to my children without having the anger and mistrust of a doctor hanging over me. This will allow me to be "just mom." I haven't had the chance to be "just mom" in a long time. Now I just get to sit back and worry like any mother should.

What it means to me: World AIDS Day 2011

2011-12-01T08:33:00.001-08:00

It's funny. The illness is a part of our lives but it's not something I think about often. In fact, I often forget that I have kids with AIDS. Weird. But then World AIDS Day rolls around and I'm reminded of how much more needs to be done, how I need to advocate more for my kids, and that I need to do a better job of standing up against stigma.

A couple years ago I was at my doctor's office getting some paperwork completed. I was getting physicals completed for a camp for kids affected by HIV and getting medical paperwork signed to complete our most recent adoption. I needed the results of the HIV test to complete the adoption paperwork. I asked the medical assistant if the results were in. Her response was, "Not yet. But I'm sure it's negative. You don't look like someone that has HIV. Anyway, most come back negative. Sometimes you get a positive test back and you're like 'Ewwwwwwwwww!' You don't want to touch their chart anymore." I sat there with a dumbfounded look on my face. She was holding my HIV+ son's chart as she unknowingly degraded my child and our family. I walked out of there without saying anything. I was honestly afraid that I might physically assault her.

When I got home I called the doctor's office. I told the office manager what happened. She promised that it would be dealt with. I stayed with that doctor but moved my son. It was obvious they didn't have what it takes to handle his medical care. Just recently I went in for a check up. I hadn't seen this medical assistant in two years but there she was. And I was forced to deal with her. The rage I felt was immeasurable. I wanted to say really horrible things to her. Two years later and the pain was still there. I changed doctors the next day.

Has the stigma against HIV gotten better? Yes, it has. But it's not easy to undo the decades of previous stigma and ignorance. It hurts. It hurts to be told that your child is "icky". It hurts that a public school needs to have a "PR plan" in place in case your child's HIV status gets out. It hurts when people make ignorant comments about HIV/AIDS, not knowing that you are dealing with children that suffer from this illness. It hurts when you can't find a doctor that seems to care for HIV+ children in an emotionally healthy manner. I can't recall all the harsh and ignorant words we've heard over the past several years since HIV has entered our lives, but this is nothing. We haven't even entered the dating years. I look at the girls at school that drool over my son and I think about how challenging this is going to be for him to handle in the years to come. And this all occurred when the stigma is at the best it's ever been.

There's along way to go. People in this country living with HIV are still being prosecuted for being as human as you and I are. They are still being treated as if they are a danger to society by merely existing. Not only that, people are still dying. Families are still being torn apart. People are living in pain and isolation around the world because of this disease. Commitment that extends beyond December 1st is essential. This is a human problem that affects us all. With compassion and knowledge we can do something about this but commitment has to come first.

Disclaimer: The information I'm providing you might change tomorrow

2011-11-07T12:54:00.000-08:00

I'll never forget the first 48 hours of basic combat training. We got in late at night and had to spend the entire night processing. I figured they'd let us go to sleep at some point that night and we'd continue processing the next morning. That didn't happen. When the sun rose as we completed processing I assumed that they would let us get a bit of sleep. That didn't happen. Surely they wouldn't make us do physical activity after sleeplessness! Nope. They can do whatever they want. This the Army after all. This is where I learned a very important lesson. Don't make any assumptions about what the Army will and will not do.

I have a feeling that a lot of people think I'm a flake. And maybe I am. Yes, I know I am. But in all honesty most of my flakiness has to do with the Army changing it's plans whenever it feels the need. That's just the way our life operates and it's something that I've learned to just accept. I sometimes forget that this isn't the way most people live.

Since we got a general idea that John was leaving Iraq, plans have changed dramatically. First I was told he'd be driving out of Iraq. He didn't have to (although the rest of his unit did). He got to Kuwait a week earlier than I thought he would and is scheduled to head to Ft. Dix later than we initially thought. Then there was the matter of his transportation back home. It initially looked like they would be taking commercial flights home. They wouldn't come home to any sort of pomp and circumstance. I had planned to have John surprise the kids at school. That's since changed. They are coming home on a charter flight all together, meaning there will be a well-planned homecoming celebration. As for now it looks like they'll be home between the 18th and the 21st. But really, who knows. That date depends on the demobilization going as smoothly as possible, and "as smoothly as possible" rarely happens in the military.

All that really matters is that John is coming home.....and in one piece. That's something that I do not take for granted. Whether he comes home this month or next, at least I know he's safe and sound. There are so many families that don't get to experience that joyful homecoming. Yes, John's homecoming date might change. Big deal. Of all the problems in the world, this isn't one that I worry about too much.

Mom the hypocrite

2011-11-04T19:40:00.000-07:00

I tell my kids not to be ashamed of their mental illness. It's not their fault. It's a disease, just like any other. I'm proud of how hard they fight to conquer their illnesses. They should be proud of their successes, not embarrassed by their low moments. The thing is, I know how hard it is to accept severe mental illness within yourself.

Six years ago I was in the midst of Postpartum Psychosis. This was the serious stuff. This is what made Andrea Yates kill her children. I was a first time mother of a baby. John had just deployed for 18 months to Iraq. My child (who we later found out was suffering from sleep apnea) woke up every single hour all night long. I was already dealing with the hormonal imbalances, then losing my spouse for such a long period of time and extreme sleep deprivation took a rather scary toll. To be honest, I don't know how I made it through. I tried to seek treatment, but I was turned away from the ER. They said, "Try to remember that your husband has it worse than you." No one was taking me seriously. I was scared and didn't know what to do. A couple years later I saw a therapist after Hot Lips was born because I was scared of enduring the same horror. The therapist explained to me how miraculous it was for me to come out of that with no significant harm done. That's very rare, especially when someone isn't getting adequate treatment.

Just thinking about it causes me to tremble. The experience was so very scary. I can't believe I'm still alive. I'm also incredibly ashamed over that period of my life. I've talked about it on very rare occasions and it's painful to do. I feel nothing but self-hatred and grief. Yes, I know how my children feel when they're faced with remembering their actions in their own scary moments.

My experience with Postpartum Psychosis has allowed me to understand my children in a way that I wouldn't be able to otherwise. I will go so far as to call that experience a gift. I also need to hear the words that I'm telling my children. There is nothing to be ashamed of, especially if we're doing the best we can to help ourselves. The thing is, we have to be told how. The stigma of mental illness is cruel and only deepens the wounds. I feel the need to own up to my own break with reality so I can help my kids deal with theirs.

As always, older child adoption is an incredible gift. It's hard. It's really, really hard. But I find the amount of mutual healing that takes place to be amazing. If we're honest with ourselves, we adopt older children because we think we have something great to give them. It's pretty likely they have something great to give us too.

Learning to listen to my gut

2011-11-02T21:36:00.000-07:00

My gut tells me a lot of things. I have a problem with this. Guts don't actually talk. Yet we have this indescribable feeling telling us where to go or what to do. Being the unfaithful cynic that I am, I tend to roll my eyes at my gut and refer strictly to the experts. This has been one of my biggest mistakes.

Lately I've been seeing the kids' therapist without the kids. I haven't wanted to pull them out of school and for one of my children going to the therapist is like torture. (Talking about icky feelings is not something he enjoys.) I go and talk about what's going on with the kids and how we should proceed with testing and managing their struggles. Last week the therapist called me out on ignoring my gut. She told me to stop being a sissy and start being a better advocate for my kids. I have an obligation to my children that doctors don't have. While doctors might be smart and educated, they aren't responsible for the overall well being of the child. That's my job. I should not outsource that job like I have been doing. We've got some big changes happening all because I decided to start listening to my gut.

Clark is on a break from ARVs. We've got to find out why he's having a regression in cognitive function. Is it a side effect of the meds? Is it HIV disrupting the white matter in his brain? Yesterday I called the doctor and told him it was time to take his off the ancient medications he's been on for years. We needed to try something different. I was ready to argue but I didn't have to. He agreed without reservation. The doctor admitted that he has no idea what's going on, but acknowledged that what I'm seeing is real. (The neuropsych eval confirmed everything I've suspected, and Clark has started noticing it too.) He's on board to try to figure out what's causing the issues Clark is facing. Finally. We're getting somewhere.

Freckles is going to be switching schools in January. I love the elementary school my kids go to. The teachers are fantastic. Clark and Hawkeye are thriving there. Freckles isn't doing bad, but he needs the extra ESL help. I told Rose what I was planning on doing and she screamed, "Yes! He's learning nothing at that school. He needs ESL." Rose has spoken, therefore I must be right in my thinking. I'm also going to be bringing other professionals on the team to help Freckles. He needs a male psychologist. He also needs a psychiatrist that can manage his medications. The way it's handled now is simply not working.

I feel good about all of this. While none of this is likely going to solve anything, at least it's an attempt at serving my children the best I can. What I've truly found amazing is that when you speak with confidence and resolve, the professionals actually listen to you. That feels good.

We're the family with problems.

2011-10-31T21:36:00.000-07:00

I need to accept this, embrace it even. We aren't your normal, average family. Yes, we have the white fence in our front yard. My kids play joyfully in the cul-de-sac. I have pretty fall decorations on my front porch. I smile and love on my kids when I pick them up from school. Despite being a family of multiple races, we LOOK very much like a normal family. We are not.

I like to keep our private business private but sometimes that's not possible. Sometimes it spills out into the neighborhood. You are left helpless as you see people staring at you. You feel foolish when the police pull up to your home. I see the eyes peaking out of the windows through the blinds. I am humiliated. What are they thinking?

Unfortunately, I think I know what they're thinking. You see, I think a few years ago I probably would have been pretty judgmental had I witnessed my family from afar. "That mother is obviously not doing enough to control her children. And her child is probably running away because she's mean. Poor kids. As if they haven't had enough bad in their lives, now that have to deal with this woman who obviously doesn't know what she's doing. I bet she's like that woman that sent her kid back to Russia."

Over the past year I've learned tremendous humility. I've learned what humility is and isn't. For example, saying that I'm proud of all I've done over the past year does not undermine my humility. I am proud. I have made many mistakes, but I think in the end we're stronger, better and healthier despite my human error. I should give myself credit. I never gave up in the face of tremendous adversity, and I fought hard for my kids. But I've also been brought to my knees in a way that I never thought possible. As painful as it's been, it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

I'm still processing so much. I have so much I want to say but I don't know how to say it. I'm hopeful but hopeless. I'm joyful but sad. I'm scared but faithful. Rich experiences provide so much wisdom. I've been given the gift of humility. What that means for my life, I'm very unsure. For now I appreciate the new eyes I've been given and the empowerment I've received. Now if I can just keep my kids relatively sane all will be good.

I needed a hobby.....

2011-10-02T22:35:00.000-07:00

......so I got one.

There's a downside to having five kids. All that fun stuff you used to do before? You really can't do it anymore. Last year I tried to get back into cycling (more specifically mountain biking) but getting out to the foothills, getting a good ride in, and then coming back to our side of town was really time consuming. I only have two short periods a week that I can do that (when Hot Lips is in preschool) and I usually have to use those free period for various appointments. I needed something that I had a passion for like I did cycling, but could do at home and with kids. After a year of trying desperately to come up with something, I finally got into beer brewing and I'm completely obsessed.

I brewed my first batch a week ago with a friend. Today we took it off the yeast and started the secondary rack and dry hopping. (In the future I will be leaving my beers on the primary rack for more like three weeks....but I was excited.) Tomorrow we'll try our hand at an all-grain chocolate cherry porter. I'm really excited about this beer because I've really personalized it and developed part of the recipe myself. I think I'm becoming slightly obsessed.

Beer brewing is an ideal hobby for me. First, I love beer. A lot. I don't like to be intoxicated, but I enjoy sipping a delicious brew with lots of flavor. Second, I really like science (but not as much as I love beer). Beer brewing involves as much or as little science as you'd like. Everything from the water temperature to the amount of oxygen in your wort impacts your beer. And that is exciting to me. Third, brewing is a relatively inexpensive hobby. Since I'm already buying beer, this hobby will end up saving me quite a bit of money over the long run. This is a win all around!

I find myself lying in bed at night dreaming of all the delicious ingredients you could add to beer. You know that Ethiopian spiced tea? I think those spices would make a stellar fall/winter ale. And that watermelon that's been sitting on my counter for two weeks? That could make a great sour beer. The possibilities are endless!

I'm in love. Beer brewing is great therapy and I think I'm going to have a very happy husband.

Oh, you mean he's in the middle of a war?

2011-09-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

This deployment has been weird. There seems to be very little going on in Iraq, at least from John's perspective. I haven't worried about his safety at all. The first deployment was quite a bit scarier. Lots of mortar and rocket attacks. I'll never forget the first time he called me from Iraq back in 2006. The sirens went off and then the phones cut out. He couldn't communicate back home for several days as this mortar attack resulted in a casualty. This became the norm for his time over there and I got used to it.

This time there have been very few communication blackouts (these occur so that the military can notify family members of hurt or deceased troops officially, before it gets back to them via gossip). I hate communication blackouts because you know it means somewhere someone like you is getting some very, very bad news. And sometimes you wonder if it's going to be you that gets that knock at the door. But, as I said, we've experienced very few communication blackouts this deployment. Not only does that mean I get to communicate with my husband regularly, it also means that very few people are getting that horrible news. It's been great.

The last 24 hours has been a reminder that there's still conflict going on over there. There seem to be a lot of bad guys set on doing some damage. John sent me an email last night as quickly as he could to let me know there would be a blackout in communication starting very shortly. He didn't give me too many details (OPEC and all), but it sounded pretty bad and it also sounded like it hit pretty close to him. I had trouble sleeping last night. I lay in bed thinking of how it was possible for John to get any sleep, knowing that there were people out there that were planning to drop explosives on him.

John's got just over a month left in that place. I'm hoping that this increased activity does not continue so I can go back to pretending that he's just away on business.

My little one

2011-09-28T09:21:00.000-07:00

With the school year in full swing, our life is adjusting back to the routine. The start of school is always tough for me. Not only do I miss the kids, but I struggle with the busy-ness. I don't like being a busy person. I like a simple life. I'm made for a life of leisure. But now things are falling into place. That's a wonderful feeling.

School also means lots of special time with my littlest one, Hot Lips. I've been enjoying our time together so much. She's such a great companion. This is our last year before kindergarten so I'm taking in every moment and storing it away so I can keep it forever. Trips to the zoo and the playground, walks around the neighborhood, swim lessons, chatting over coffee (she drinks cocoa). It's hard to believe that this magical time together is almost over.

I know it's such a cliche, but I can't believe how quickly they grow up. In one year all my kids will be in school. In just 3 years I'm going to have a kid in high school. In 6 one will be moving on to college and all of them will be middle school aged or older. How did this happen? My childhood seemed so long and never-ending. It's amazing that when you're on the other end it just flies by.

One more year of this precious time. It's so very bittersweet. Watching your kids grow up is the greatest gift anyone can experience, but it's also such a reminder of how little time we have to love and to serve.

Getting it together

2011-09-27T07:52:00.000-07:00

This has been a work in progress for a while now. As many know, getting doctors to listen to your concerns in regards to your child's mental health issues is a huge challenge. Mental health issues are so easy to dismiss when you're not living with them. In fact, I'd argue that mental illness is so hard for people to be compassionate about. We know how to love and care for a person with a physical illness, but we don't know how to do that when the illness is more vague and misunderstood. We've broken through that barrier after a long battle. My kids are finally getting the support that they need to conquer their illness.

I'll never forget the first time I brought up mental health issues with the kids' doctor. His response? "This is how people from Africa are." I wanted to shoot him, but realized he's the only infectious disease doc in the state. I kind of need him alive. I dropped my concerns and just let it go. I knew better, but what choice did I have? Maybe I was just being too critical of my child....expecting too much.

Then Freckles came home. I knew he needed help from the moment I met him. That first and second night together he didn't sleep a wink. It all makes sense now but at the time I had no idea what was going on. Freckles' behavior escalated when we got home. It was quite terrible. I'm not going to lie. I had no idea how to help this child. The thousands upon thousands of pages I'd read about helping children like him meant nothing. In fact, all the "stuff" your supposed to do to help hurt kiddos just made things worse. I finally had to throw it all out and just do what it took to survive, to keep him and the rest of the family safe. When I brought it up with the doctor he didn't seem too concerned. In fact, he suggested it was normal behavior for a child that age. He finally gave us a referral to a psychiatrist who diagnosed him with ODD. Both Freckles' teacher and I were dumbfounded by the diagnosis of ODD. That didn't make sense. It was such a lazy diagnosis. There was no way this child had ODD. He wanted so badly to do the right thing but was incapable. My heart broke for him because I knew that he wasn't going to get the help he needed.

Finally disaster happened. I had one child that exhibited severe behaviors that raised major red flags. His issues were finally taken seriously and he received a referral to a neuropsychologist. It took months to get in and he's doing his final testing today. We'll get answers how to best assist this child. We can give him what he needs and help him to keep himself and others safe. That brings me so much hope for him.

Then Freckles' broke down. It came on suddenly. I was lost. I had no idea what to do or who to call. I tried to get him help but it was insufficient for the magnitude of the situation. I ended up taking him to the ER and from there he received the care he needed. It was a heartbreaking experience for all of us. I felt so hopeless and lost. I couldn't help this child. We were going to lose him. I was sure of it. I had little faith in the professionals and even less faith in medication. I didn't know what we were going to do. But then I got a phone call from a psychiatrist that was treating Freckles. He had a name for what was going on. It wasn't Freckles' fault, or my fault, or the fault of anyone that cared for him previously. It was likely something he was born with (combined with enough trauma and loss to drive anyone mad) and there was hope for him.

Freckles has been properly medicated for a little over a month now. He is the person I always knew he could be. Sweet, helpful, fun, kind, thoughtful, and hilarious. His teacher (the same teacher he had last year) has noticed a significant change in him from last school year. He's focused and friendly. He's outgoing and shares an easy smile. Freckles is currently thriving on a soccer team, something that I didn't think he'd ever be able to do due to his unpredictability. He's thriving in a family, something he finds both annoying and wonderful at the same time. I still have moments where I panic when I hear a noise that sounds like the beginning of a rage, or a scowl that looks like he's starting to go downhill. But these scowls and noises are usually jokes or a normal reaction to something he doesn't like. He no longer falls down the hole of despair. I'm learning to trust that things are getting better.

Getting it together for my kids has been an uphill battle but we're finally achieving success! This is the healthiest I've seen them. Now I've just got to work with my own grief, something I've been repressing while I've had to remain strong for the kids. There's also some grief from a couple of the other kids. This has all sort of rocked their world. I aim to make their pain over this situation a positive thing. It's going to make them strong, more compassionate, and more patient....at least that's my goal.

Keeping up the fight is so absolutely worth it. There was a time when I thought our life would never get better. And maybe it's too soon to be so optimistic. I don't care. It feels good to know that everyone is safe, healthy and happy. I'm going to revel in that while it lasts.

The gift of humilty

2011-09-25T11:24:00.000-07:00

It's easy to be miserable. It's easy to take all the bad and turn it into a source of bitterness, cruelty and anger. What happens when we take the time to value our bad experience and let them really help us grow? Today at church we read the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector. I've read it a million times. Two years ago I helped teach it to some middle schoolers. It's a parable that I've always liked and I thought I "got it". I now see that I didn't "get it". "Getting it" is a lifelong process, I think.

As I listened to the sermon I saw something so very beautiful. I've never been an "I'm better than you" sort of person....at least not really. I've never been a goody-goody. I've made a lot of big mistakes in my life. I've been foolish with so many things. This is why I think I've always identified with people outside of the church and never really felt like I belonged in the pews on Sunday morning. I realize now that I identified on a level that wasn't exactly pure. While these people that were in prisons or homeless shelters felt more like "my people", I always felt lucky that I didn't end up with the consequences they were dealt. I was thankful that I was able to jump off the path of destruction before it was too late. While I never felt as if I were better than they were, I always felt like I was better off. Avoidance of disaster does not make us better off in the eyes of God.

From the eyes of many, my life looks like a disaster right now. It's very painful and we almost lost a child for good. As the adrenaline stops pumping and I let the emotion sink in, I find myself grieving so desperately. We could have buried a child and life would never, ever be the same. For so long I wouldn't allow myself to feel the reality of what was going on. I couldn't. I needed to be strong and power through one of the most difficult times of my life. But you can't be strong and powerful forever. No one can. We weren't made that way. That's a gift.

This morning at church I realized that I've been humbled in ways I could never imagine. Yes. To most people our family looks like a disaster. I look like that poor woman that seems like she's falling apart. Oh well. I don't need people to fix anything. You can't fix this hurt. You can't take the hurt away. But you can stand towards the back with me, humbled and on my knees. You can share with me your weaknesses, your mistakes, your tragedies. That's humility and that's why it's such an amazing thing.

I find it interesting how eager we are to avoid situations that might humble us. We're all guilty of this. People shy away from older child adoption because of how damaged the kids are. Is that really the reason? Or is it that we're truly afraid of being humbled? Are we afraid of being reduced to a teary eyed disaster that realizes that she can't quite do all of this on her own? Because I know I am.

The answers to our pain isn't in parenting books or classes. There are no answers. There is simply growth that comes from humility. We need to find ourselves in the midst of broken people that allow us to expose our own vulnerability. It is my opinion that humility and brokenness and honesty serves our children and our families better than any psychologist or parenting class or word of wisdom. Humility is where it's at.

Last week I was listening to an interview on NPR of two young men who grew up in gangs. They left the gangs as the result of an organization that served gang members. One of the young men was asked about whether there was a father figure in his life. He told about a stepfather that was a heroine addict. He was an abusive father and caused a great deal of pain to his stepson. The young man told about his stepfather's death. Right before the father died the stepson held his hand and said, "I love you and I forgive you." That sort of forgiveness is radical and takes incredible humility. That resonated with me so much. We've become so obsessed with being ideal parents and giving our children ideal lives. When and where will they see humility?

And then the light shines

2011-09-16T07:48:00.000-07:00

Wow! It's amazing how quickly things can go from gloomy to wonderful. Today is a good day and I'm thankful for it.

Yesterday I didn't take any kiddos to therapy. I went myself. I unloaded everything I'm feeling and it felt incredible. I left with a good attitude and a happy disposition. I find it a lot easier to deal with everything going on when I'm happy. I like being happy. I don't ever say this, but I think someone must have been praying for me. Thank you.

I find the first week of school to be horrendous. I take this first week to play catch up and do things that I have put off all summer. I'm finally starting to get caught up and back into the routine, as are the kids.

Freckles is doing good. I get a lot of 9-year-old angst from him. But I'm his mom. That's supposed to happen. He seems more stable now than he's ever been. I think we may have found the right meds/dosage for him. His teacher has also noticed a significant change in his behavior and disposition since last year. Freckles had to reach rock bottom before he could get the help he needed, but now that he's got it he's the person he's destined to be. I'm so happy for him and I'm very optimistic about the school year. I'm also thrilled that we're starting to heal our relationship. That relationship took a substantial hit this summer. The rebuilding is slow, but I think it will be more solid than what we had before.

Hawkeye, hater of first grade, is doing better. He decided to give school one more try, but I don't think it's going to last. He's going through a really tough time right now and his sensitivity is peaking. He needs the shelter of his mom and family. I remember going through the same thing at the same age. We'll homeschool as long as he needs to help him through this period. I think we all need special accommodations at different times in our life. There's a time to be strong and a time to fall into the comfort of people that love you. I don't think children (or adults) should be made to feel that strength is the only virtue. If I've learned anything over the past year, it's that finding comfort with others is far more important than toughing it out......and sometimes it requires a lot more courage.

Rose, middle school social butterfly, is thriving. She's redoing the 6th grade at the local middle school. Almost all of her classes are with the ESL teacher so she's getting a lot of the help she needs. She struggles a lot more with English than my other kids have. She missed out on a lot of vital education when she was younger because of her illness. Things are finally starting to click and she's working really hard to succeed. I couldn't be more proud of her. This is why I spoil her rotten.

Clark, second grader of all second graders, is doing quite well. He's undergone some testing with a neuropsychologist. He did the initial testing and the neuropsychologist needs him back for even more testing. This means it will be a while until we get the results back, but it also means we will likely get a better understanding of what's going on with him. We've noticed some regression in behaviors that we're a little worried about and I'm hopeful that this gives us an idea of where it stems from. The good news is the therapists are seeing the issues too and are taking it seriously. That's a huge relief.

And then there's Hot Lips, preschool class clown. She's doing fantastic and is growing into an amazing little girl. Spending the days with her is so much fun.

Mrs. Bad Attitude

2011-09-14T15:37:00.001-07:00

Being joyful has been a struggle lately. I feel like all the good is being sucked away. I want to be happy and energetic and positive. I want to find comfort in the little things again. Unfortunately, I'm not there right now. I'm in a season of sadness and grieving. While I understand this is a normal part of life, I fight against it daily to no avail.

Right now I'm not a mother that one particular child likes very much. I try not to take it personally but it hurts my feelings. When you give a child everything you have and it's met with hostility and disrespect, it's hard to keep giving in such a way. I know his behavior is very, very normal given the circumstances. I know it's not ME. I'm not really the bad guy. It still sucks the joy out of life.

And then there's Hawkeye, my 6-year-old. He is struggling with school right now. He doesn't want to go back to first grade. This has been a tough year for him. He's handled himself with incredible strength. Right now he wants to cling to mommy. He wants to homeschool. This has been something I've secretly wanted since he was a baby......but it breaks my heart that it comes out of pain. That's not what I want for him. And while I want so badly to homeschool him, I'm afraid I'm not in a place to do that right now.

For the past year or so I've been suspecting that I have arthritis, but that sounded silly. Surely the pain was all in my head. I was so convinced that it was in my head that I refused to bring it up to my doctor. Last year I had my wrist x-rayed as it was injured and I thought it was fractured. Luckily it was not, but the doctor mentioned that there was joint damage that looked like arthritis. I rolled my eyes and put it out of my mind. There was no way I had arthritis, or was there?

Over the months the pain started getting worse and it was in most of my joints. It was bad enough to wake me up at night. It came and went, and because of that I ignored it. Here lately it's gotten so bad that I could hardly complete one page of school enrollment forms. By noon I can hardly keep my eyes open I'm so exhausted. I have no energy to be the mom I want to be anymore. I finally confessed my issues to the doctor thinking he's chalk it up to being a woman with five kids. He did some blood work and it pointed to the strong possibility of rheumatoid arthritis. It's not the worst thing in the world, but I hate anything that limits me. And this is likely going to limit me.

Because of this I talked Hawkeye into giving school another chance. He had a heart to heart with his kindergarten teacher from last year, and then discussed his desire to homeschool with his current teacher. He decided to give it another shot. I breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately within minutes the emotional and overwhelming temper tantrums came back. Just minutes ago he stomped to his room while screaming at the top of his lungs. He needs to be home with me right now. He needs him mommy. Don't we all need our mommies during stressful times? But I don't know if I can be there for him in the way he needs me right now. And that hurts.

Limited. The bad guy. No fun. Tired. Missing my husband. Missing my hurt little boy. Negative. This isn't who I am. This isn't who I want to be. But this too shall pass.

Acceptance does not mean ignoring problems

2011-08-20T11:14:00.001-07:00

One of the big problems in parenting children with special needs is the fact that everyone wants to assure you that your kids are normal. I'm with my kids 24/7. I see the stuff that nobody else does. You spend an hour with my kid and want to reassure me that my kid is the world's most perfect child? Please.

Let me be clear, I think my kids are fab. They are all smart, kind, and fun for me to be around. They all have their strengths and weaknesses and I aim to parent while appreciating who they are. But that doesn't mean that I should overlook areas where they might need special help.

My 8-year-old is adored by so many people. He's got a smile that lights up a room and he's always happy. People spend a small chunk of time with him and think he is the most well adjusted child on the planet. Here's the thing, you don't see what I see. What I see are red flags waving in every direction. What I see scares the crap out of me. What I see breaks my heart. I'm afraid he's going to endure so much pain in the future.

Trying to get people to take his issues seriously is quite difficult. We finally got a neuropsychology referral for him but that took a lot of time and insistence. I know that his brain is not processing information the way it's supposed to. Brains are awesome and will rewire themselves in a way that works. But the shortest route between two points is a straight line. Most of our brains operate like this:

But when you've suffered unfortunate life circumstances as a child, malnutrition and AIDS, the brain operates more like this:

What's heartbreaking is that you can actually kind of see it. You can watch the delay in processing information. You can see how the information gets distorted. I see it many, many times a day and I often have to fight back the tears. I'm scared that he'll be teased. I'm scared that he won't be able to realize his dreams. I'm scared that he won't be able to keep himself safe. I'm scared it's going to take years of pain to get to the bottom of this. And I'm scared we never will.

I find it very troubling how quickly HIV related cognitive impairment is dismissed as a possible cause. There are numerous studies that suggest that at least 1 in 10 individuals on ARVs suffers from cognitive impairment as a result of HIV infection in the brain. HIV can cross the blood brain barrier but ARVs are largely excluded. I understand that we want to believe that HIV is always a chronic, manageable condition. For most people that's true, but for many people it is not.

So for now we continue to fight the good fight. I fight to get professionals to acknowledge that my son is struggling even though he's as happy as a lark. I fight to get people to stop dismissing my concerns. Being a nice person isn't really an option.

Being the typical American family....without being the typical American family

2011-08-19T23:58:00.001-07:00

I don't hide our chaos. Oh no, I do not. If people ask, I tell. "Why yes, things are totally messed up. Thank you for asking." And I take no offense. None at all. I never wanted to be that perfect slice of American life anyway, so I enjoy that opportunity. I never want to pretend we're anything other than a family that works their butt off (with a lot of mistakes) to make it work. That said, I still want to fit in and most of the time I feel we do. Sometimes too well.

People that know us casually see us as having this life where having five kids is the hard part. We're kind of like a trashy version of the Cosby's with white people thrown in for good measure. Tonight I was chatting with some neighbors and Rose noticed a sunburn on my back. She said, "You should just stop being white and become black like me." Hahahahhahahahaha. Cue laugh track here. To most people my life is a series of one-liners and racial diversity.

But that's not my life. And would I want it to be? I mean, if I really believe in peace, love and all that jazz, would I desire something so easy, so superficial? What would I really be sacrificing of myself? And why would I feel such majesty when I look at my sleeping children at night, knowing that we conquered another day together.

Two years ago I listened to a sermon from a priest that I truly respect. I always clung to his sermons but this one captured me. He began his sermon with the story of a young women in Rwanda just after the mass genocide. She was raising her five orphaned siblings. And let me tell you, I'm pretty sure those orphaned siblings were not always a joy to be around. The police came knocking at her door, asking her to take in more children that had been orphaned. She, without question, did.

I think of that woman often. Did she have Kathryn Purvis to help her navigate the messiness of parenting children with PTSD? No. Did she have fellow adoptive moms that she could get together to make unsavory jokes with? No. Heck, she didn't even have a huge grocery store, a steady income, or security. Perspective's a bitch, ain't it?

Parenting children from hard places is hard work. It's a freaking thankless job with a lot of messes to clean up. And you're likely to get hurt in the process. But who said working for peace would be easy? If it was Kingdom of God thing was easy, wouldn't we be living in it about 2,000 years ago?

I think there's something beautiful about families that are willing to say "Screw it!" to societal norms and live a life of crazy for the sake of love. To the casual observer we may look like something out of an idealistic sitcom. We do well in public. But the truth is we're a messed up lot of ragamuffins and I think that's something to be proud of!

From the mouths of babes

2011-08-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

We're a pretty matriarchal household. This is mostly because I have a large personality, and both my mother and mother-in-law are strong women. I never needed to hear that men and women are equals. I saw it first hand. Before I had kids I dreamed of raising strong, confident daughters that excelled at math and science. Why does life taunt me so?

It's bad enough that I have a teenage girl that's now hanging Twilight posters on her walls. (How quickly can someone become completely Americanized? One year.) That's nothing compared to the exchange I had with my 4-year-old daughter:

Me: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Hot Lips: "I don't know."

Me: "How about a rocket scientist?"

Hot Lips: "Girls can be rocket scientists?"

Me: "Of course? Why couldn't they build rockets?"

Hot Lips: "Because building rockets would be hard for girls."

Me: Dumbfounded look.

Hot Lips: "I think I want to be a cheerleader princess when I grow up."

I laughed until I cried. Or I cried until I laughed. I'm not sure which one.

I find it incredible to see how set in their ways kids can be. The big challenge of being a parent is not making our kids into something that we deem appropriate, it's accepting them for who they are. My little girl is a cheerleader princess inside and out. And God help me, I'll do everything in my power to make sure she has every opportunity to become a cheerleader princess when she grows up!

He's home.

2011-08-14T16:47:00.000-07:00

Today one of my favorite boys in the whole wide world came home. It was wonderful. Better than I expected. We all missed him so much, and he really missed us. He's not angry at me, which is a huge relief. Today I am not the bad guy. I love being the good guy every once in a while.

We went out for lunch and a movie to celebrate. As we devoured more than our fair share of buffalo wings, Rose sighed and said, "I wish daddy was here too." I had been thinking the same thing. A few months ago I would have said in a chipper voice, "I know you do, sweetheart! I'm so sorry you're going through this but I promise it's going to be okay." Today all I could muster was a lazy, "Yep."

We're 8.5 months into the deployment with another 3 months to go. We're all ready for it to be over. We're tired. We've had some huge challenges over the last few months. It will be wonderful to resume the carefree days of having dad home. When someone isn't here, their presence is truly missed. Today we got part of our family back. I can't wait until we're complete again.

Good day

2011-08-10T22:40:00.001-07:00

I had a wonderful visit with my wonderful son today. I'm not naive enough to think that everything is "fixed". No. No. No. No. Things have really just started. We now know what's going on and we start the process to find a solution. I'm game. That's why they call me "mom".

The hardest part of this whole thing is having people suggest that adoption hasn't worked out for us. Yes, we have two kiddos with some significant issues. And? If Hawkeye were born with a thumb growing out of his nose, would people assume that childbirth hadn't really worked out for us? Doubtful.

I blame the countless musicals about "grateful" orphans that just want a family to love. Who are these grateful orphans? And why do they always sing on key and have jazz hands? We didn't adopt to "save" sweet little orphans from their life without parents. We adopted to stand hand in hand with kids that were struggling. We knew we had the resolve, the passion, the muscle to be with them until the end.

I don't feel like we made a mistake. With every crisis I feel honored to be standing with these kids in their moments of pain and confusion. I get to see them at their most vulnerable. I get to cry with them. Because I am safe, I get to be the person they lash out to. They share with me their darkest secrets and their biggest hurts. When you stand with children though all of that, they also share with you their greatest victories. And those victories are pretty awesome.

Lessons learned

2011-08-09T09:51:00.001-07:00

I've learned more in the past 48 hours than I could ever imagine. This is a blessing in disguise. That's usually how blessings work.

First, I'm realizing how vital it is to stay calm. You have to be on your A-game. Yes, you look like a heartless mother that doesn't care. But who cares how you look? Staying calm sets a good tone. Freaking out serves absolutely no purpose. When you adopt older kids you sign up for crisis. It should never surprise you or catch you off guard.

Second, it's good for other people to visit your children, to become part of their lives. I can't visit for several days as instructed by the professionals. Thankfully, I've got good people that are going to visit my son and be with him in his pain. I've found it important to brief visitors though, letting them know that the child will be looking for tremendous pity. I say give them the pity they are looking for! There are times that we all need pity! Be that comfort, but also realize that you will likely not get an accurate picture of what's really going on.

Third, I think it's important to realize the role culture plays in mental health issues. While I love Ethiopia and it's people, the secrecy drives me nuts! I find out more and more everyday about my child's life in Ethiopia. It's heartbreaking. If I had known all of this we could have addressed this earlier, but alas, that didn't happen. Working with so many unknowns combined with tremendous secrecy is quite challenging.

Forth, reaching out to the community is so absolutely important. I like to maintain a lot of privacy BUT I also know when I need support. Sometimes my need for support must outweigh our privacy. I've been overwhelmed with phone calls and visits offering support and love. I'm amazed at the level of support people are willing to offer. Word gets out quick when disaster happens. At first I didn't like that, but now I'm seeing it as how community is supposed to operate.

Fifth, new normals are not necessarily bad. And more often than not you have to endure the struggles to get to the good stuff. I know it's worth it. There isn't a question in my mind.

Another loss

2011-08-08T21:04:00.001-07:00

This Sunday at church our pastor mentioned in his sermon that the average person has a crisis every 18 months. How boring the lives of the average person must be. We operate on more of an 18 day cycle.

I'm not too big on saying I'm awesome, but let me just say that for the most part, I'm damn good with crisis. I can do crisis. My mind stays clear. The only problem is my blood pressure shoots up and I'll probably die of a stroke at the age of 50, but I can deal with that another day.

I think it was just Thursday afternoon that I was complaining to myself about being bored out of my mind. I'm not a homebody. I wanted to go do something but the kids just wanted to sit around and play with their dumb friends. It was misery. I actually felt sorry for myself. Five kids and none of them wanted to hang with me? They didn't need food. They can get their own popsicles. What good am I anymore? I'm just there for transportation and grocery shopping. Blah! When will I learn to just revel in the boredom?

On Saturday evening another crisis hit. It was bad. Real bad. Like, it required actual effort and stuff. Mom tried to come to the rescue but for the first time, mom wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. But I'm supposed to be enough, aren't I? I've worked so hard for the past 15 months. I've given it all I have. We've built an incredible relationship. Our tears, our sweat, it's taken all of it to make this work....and it was working. We laughed together when others didn't get our joke. We held each other extra tight at bed time. He gave me a hard time. I gave him a hard time. He thought he was tougher than me and I never let him win. We still had our challenges, but they were always redeemed after a heart-to-heart talk and a snuggle. We belonged on the Hallmark Channel.

I knew our happiness and peace was too good to last. That's the bitch of severe mental illness. Relationships aren't enough. I'm not enough. So I have to take my beautiful little boy and put him in the hands of a professional. "It will only be a few days", he says. But I know that few days is enough to sabotage what we've built. I'm eternally hopeful when it comes to healing, but I also know when it's time to accept reality. Those carefree days are gone, at least for a long while.

A new chapter.

Threats of murder?

2011-08-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

The other day I was upstairs getting ready to start the day. The kids were downstairs eating the Ethiopian breakfast that Rose made for them. Out of what seemed like nowhere I heard Freckles say, "[Hotlips], if you don't stop I'm going to cut your heart." I froze where I was standing and screamed for Freckles to come upstairs.

What was this? Were behaviors escalating? Had we watched too many violent movies? I started thinking about my game plan to handle this. First I'd figure out why he'd say such a thing. Then I'd probably call the therapist. We'd go from there. When he got upstairs I sat him down in a chair and started trying to get in the bottom of this. While I was mid-sentence I heard a conversation downstairs about hearts and injera. Huh? I stopped talking and went downstairs.

Rose had made heart shaped injera for everyone. Wow. I literally fell to the floor and began laughing hysterically. I laughed until I couldn't laugh anymore. It was fabulous.

I love laughing. I love laughing at really messed up things. The more messed up the better. At the end of the day, it's how I survive. I can see the looks of judgment from others when we joke about things that aren't exactly mature, responsible, reverent, politically correct, age appropriate or wholesome. Yep, we're a different sort of family. A healthy dose of cynicism combined with a sick and twisted mind have served me well in motherhood.

Over the past several years I've learned to embrace who we are as a family. There's no need to be the type of family that people want us to be. We can be exactly who we are and laugh about whatever we want.

"Welcome CPS. Won't you please have a seat?"

2011-07-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

Today I enjoyed my very first visit from CPS. It was a "good" visit but I've resigned myself to the fact that the system doesn't work the way I'd hope it would. Getting help isn't as simple as asking for it. I've been practically BEGGING for help and have held out hope that help is there. The reality is, it's not. And it's painful and defeating to resign myself to a lifetime of keeping this all together on my own. But I'll do it.

There are a few potential services out there that might help us but I've got to figure out how to get my hands on them. I'm learning about psychosocial rehabilitation and hope that we find a way to open up those services to us. I wish navigating the system were easier. Thankfully navigation has become less complicated with the assistance of CPS. While they can only do so much, at least they are willing to do what they can.

This whole thing has got my brain churning. I'm finding a sense of optimism and hope in believing that through this I will learn so much and will be able to be there for another mother going through the same thing in the future. I will do all of this not only for my son, but for her as well.

Mom the Lighting Rod

2011-07-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how many times that I've heard that your aren't supposed to engage your child in their anger and frustration. When the child is trying to anger you, you are supposed to ignore them. I'm not as experienced as the professionals that offer such advice, but my experience has shown me that making this a hard and fast rule might just be a mistake.

When a child starts the day from a bad place, they often seek out ways to lash out at those around them. On better days the child can use the tools he's been given to regulate his anger and frustration. On really bad days it can be quite difficult to utilize those tools. Even I have days like that. I "know" how to respond in a healthy way but I don't have the state of mind to act out those healthy behaviors. Given the divorce rate in this country, I have to assume that I'm not alone. I think the vast majority of us don't have the ability to handle things in healthy ways at all times. So why do we expect that from kids? Especially kids that have struggles that most of us can't truly appreciate.

That's why I'm here. I get to be the lightning rod. I can take the cruel words and actions. I can have anger directed at me without taking it personally. (At least usually.) We can engage the child in their anger, allowing them to throw their negativity at us. I don't mean that we should fight with our children. I'm learning how to get the child to direct the anger at me without engaging in an actual fight. It's become a sort of art. And I think it's helpful.

We had an incident on the trip that could have been tragic. I was scared and didn't know what to do. I tried the conventional wisdom of not engaging. That just escalated the situation to something truly dangerous. I knew I had to do something. But what? I had to be careful. That's when the words just slipped out. Something a teenager would say to his younger sibling. In all honesty, it was kind of funny. Looking back it makes me giggle. That doesn't matter. It was not a moment of stellar parenting. But you know what? He moved instantly away from the dangerous situation and directed his anger towards me. I got to be the bad guy. He needed a bad guy. Don't we all?

As my kids get older I'm seeing a major shift in how I have to parent. I have to be that lighting rod. I have to be a safe "bad guy" sometimes. That doesn't mean that I should be cruel or unkind. Not at all. It just means that sometimes I have to be willing to take it.

There's always reprieve

2011-07-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

That's hard to remember when your in the midst of the yuck. The world feels like it's crashing down and life is over forever. Then you get to rest. You get to relax. You get to be the family you've always been. You know that the bad stuff will come around again, but in these periods you get to be you.

I've been exhausted for the past week. I've been absolutely emotionally drained. Behaving like an adult in the midst of some of your worst fears takes a lot of energy (and margaritas). That's something that I need to take the time to appreciate. If I go out and spend a day doing something very physically exhausting I give myself the next day to relax. I take it easy. I'm trying to remember to do that when the emotional stuff leaves me exhausted. Today I laid in bed until about noon. I could see and hear the kids playing so I knew all was well. It was exactly what I needed.

I need to not feel guilty or lazy for taking care of myself when things become too much. On that note, I think it's time for a margarita.

The fight to love

2011-07-20T14:26:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I had a little boy and a baby girl. Life was simple and even though I didn't realize it, it was quite easy. Love came naturally and my only fear was over irrational things like asteroids falling out of the sky or kidnappers that wanted my precious, perfect children for themselves.

I look back on that life and I wonder if I'd choose to go back if that were an option. I picture myself baking cookies in the kitchen with freshly picked flowers in vases all around the house from my perfectly manicured flower garden. My kids are sitting at the table studying French as we plan for our fabulous trip to Europe. I drive a Subaru Outback and shun everyone with gas guzzling SUVs. I spend hours researching schools, hoping to send my children to one that doesn't have any of those "troubled" kids that disrupt the classroom and the learning environment. What am I talking about? My kids would be homeschooled and we'd spend our afternoons eating sushi and discussing American history. In the evenings we'd play baseball together before tucking them quietly into bed. I'd kiss their foreheads, stare at them longingly as they drifted off to sleep, and retire downstairs missing them dearly.

This is not my life. It will never be my life. I'm okay with that.

My idea of "normal" has changed dramatically. I deal in chaos. Complete and total chaos. I spend my days struggling to understand the needs of children that have lost so much. I work hard to remain calm and collected. Being a good mom requires more effort than I've ever had to give. And more than anything, I fight to love without condition.

Love in this house can sometimes be a great fight, a bloody battle even. It means forgiveness for things that our society says we don't have to forgive anyone for. It means seeing the best when your mind is dwelling so much on the worst. Would I go back? No way! I've learned so much about the nature of love and what it truly is. I've learned the total freedom that comes from forgiveness. It's humbling to say the least to know that my hugs, my kisses, my kind words in the face of something that is scary as hell to me can heal in ways I never could have imagined.

It's an uphill battle but I have to believe it's worth it. I know it is. I believe in adoption. I believe in loving beyond what I thought was possible. I believe in forgiveness. I believe that children can heal. I believe in the type of radical love that makes us abandon the pristine life and dare to take on what we most want to hide from.

Welcome home! Ha!

2011-07-19T09:02:00.000-07:00

The issues are back. I saw it coming but I didn't think it would go towards this again. I foolishly thought that I could make my 8-year-old child see the magnitude of what he had done and would stay far, far off that path in the future. I wouldn't have thought that if this child hadn't been my son for 3 years now. I would not have been so naive if he wasn't someone I thought I knew as well as a mother could know her child.

The truth is, for 3 years I got to know a facade. He created for himself an identity that he knew people would like. At times I would see through the facade, but I thought it was me just being a hateful jerk. Everyone LOVES this child. Don't get me wrong, I loved him (and still do) but I thought I was simply a bad mother for not wanting to "ooh and aah" over this child like everyone else does. I gave in to the facade so I could see what everyone else saw in him.

Here's what sucks about the system, I'm basically on my own in dealing with this (outside of a therapist, of course) until he hurts someone so bad that he's charged with a crime. What kind of messed up situation is that? Because I'm proactive and catch major issues before they escalate into a complete and total nightmare, there's nothing that can be done. Because I'm not at a point where I'm willing to dissolve our adoption, I'm stuck dealing with this by myself.

This kid should not be in my home right now for HIS safety. Would you have an alcoholic live in a bar? No. To get proper treatment the individual must be in an environment where they are not tempted. That just seems like common sense to me.

So the course of action is just more ineffective counseling. (Don't get me wrong, I think therapy is great. But I don't think it's going to "fix" this child.) I got the spiel about the "safety plan". Uh........I've caught it early. I think I've got the whole safety plan thing down. That isn't a solution.

As always, I hesitate to blog about this. I'm pretty protective of my kids' privacy. I'm sure I'll be judged for putting this out there. I don't care. People need to know about the failures in the system that don't protect children from THEMSELVES. Not to mention, this is my story now. It's a story that's dominated my life. I get to talk about it.

I changed my mind, I want to go home

2011-07-17T07:22:00.000-07:00

We have now reached the "pissy" part of the road trip. I'm impressed that it took a month to get here. I've got quite a few kids acting out, some significantly. I'm finding it harder and harder to be a reasonable parent. We've had a great trip. The kids have been fabulous. We've seen and experienced enough. I was going to take a few days to cross Wyoming and Idaho, camping at some neat places along the way. Nah. I've changed my mind. We're hitting I-80 this morning and heading west as fast as we can. 737 miles to home.

I don't want to go home

2011-07-14T21:35:00.000-07:00

This trip has been wonderful. In fact, it's been more than wonderful. We've had some minor hiccups in the road, a couple of which have scared me a bit. Having your trailer brakes malfunction on a small highway in western Kansas is not a whole lot of fun. But we survived and all is well.

The kids are doing fantastic. I've loved watching them explore and learn. We've done so much. Caves, hot springs, pelicans, geysers, grizzly bears, moose, dinosaurs, Native Americans, American history, bison, prairies, grasslands, forests, deserts, lakes, rivers, swimming, hiking, fishing, hot, cold, storms, tornado sirens, ancient volcanoes, cowboys, diversity, horses, farms, problem solving, encouragement, grandma, grandpa, laughter, tears, working together, campfire stories, ghost stories, flood, new people, park rangers, singing, mountains, snow, humidity, army, air force, the list could go on.

So far we've traveled 2,400 miles, with another 1,000 to go. I wish it would never end. In fact, I'm dragging out those last miles into as many days as I can get away with. I will remember this trip fondly for the rest of my life. I hope my kids feel the same. We've had so many great adventures together. We have built some incredible memories. My only regret is that John wasn't here to share it with us.

The road to who knows where

2011-06-16T20:40:00.001-07:00

We've anxiously getting ready for our month long road trip! We leave next week. We aren't sure what day as I have to wait for the kids' meds to show up from the mail order pharmacy. Annoying. But outside of that we're pretty much ready to go. I took the kids to Goodwill tonight to load up on summer clothes so we can go longer than three days without doing laundry.

The main purpose of this trip is to visit my husband's family in Missouri, which I'm excited about. I enjoy my mother-in-law and always look forward to seeing her. I also enjoy Missouri and I can't wait to take the kids to all the places their dad enjoys when he goes back home. I know John will appreciate that.

While we looked forward to this trip, getting there was going to be an issue. Plane tickets are outrageous. And what about when we get there? No one has a vehicle to transport us all. That meant we'd have to rent a vehicle. I thought about a quick road trip staying at hotels, but we'd have to stay in two rooms. How is one adult supposed to supervise two rooms? That wasn't going to work. That's when I decided to become an official Idahoan and purchase a travel trailer. It's little but it fits all of us. I love it and it's going to allow us to continue to travel as a family of 7.

We have some great things to see and experience between Boise and Missouri and back. Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, the Great Plains, the Air Force Academy (that's for Hawkeye), the Rocky Mountains, just to name a few. I look forward to going to these places but the kids and I wanted this trip to be about something MORE.

There's one thing that most of my kids and I have in common. We LOVE people. We love meeting new people. We like to hear their stories. We like to see different ways of life. Most of my kids enjoy that more than geysers and some old guys that are carved in a rock. (I do have one shy kid that hates that his mom talks to people.) So the basis for our road trip is going to be about meeting people, serving people and serving God. We aren't completely sure how we're going to do that. We're working on it. The kids really want to go to Joplin and do SOMETHING, but we'd surely just get in the way. But we're looking for whatever we can do. Yard work for single moms, cleaning up at a shelter, ANYTHING! If you know of something that might be on our route please let us know!

I love what Rose has planned. She's got everything she needs to be a proper Ethiopian cook. The injera grill, the mesob, the coffee pot, the coffee cups. She wants to make Ethiopian food for as many people as she can. She made her older brother buy her all the stuff that she needs so she could do this. I think it's fantastic.

I just want my kids to have an opportunity to see how incredible people are everywhere in this world. I want them to learn how to reach out and have the confidence to do so. Kids are so often put in a corner and we wonder why we've become an antisocial society. Look out! Here we come to change that!

Report cards!

2011-06-14T23:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I finally got the kids' final report cards. Report cards are so exciting to me. I love to read what wonderful things people have to say about my children. It makes me so happy. That said, it's difficult for me to get a less than stellar report on behavior on one of my kids. As the type of child that always behaved perfectly at school (outside of school was another story), I cringe when a teacher writes that my child isn't respectful or kind most of the time. Yes. I know this. He called me a "booger" this evening. Freckles is not respectful. That's not his nature. I some how need to find a way to deal with my kids being less than perfect at school.

Outside of the respect issue, the kids did great. Their school doesn't use a traditional grading system. There are no letter grades. The report card notes whether they are at, below or exceeding grade level. I like this system, especially for kids that have so much they need to catch up on.

Rose has made great progress. Her strong suit is mathmatics. She still can't read or write English, but she's made huge progress. We'll be working on that this summer and I hope by the end of next year she'll be reading early readers. I'm really proud of her. She started out the school year this scared, quiet little girl. (Given that it was her first year at a new school in a new country, why wouldn't she be?) Her confidence has exploded. She's a great friend, a good student (Okay, not really. She hates any and all school work.), and a fabulous daughter.

Freckles made huge progress in English. He's reading well and his spelling is quite good. His struggle is math, but that's mostly because math in 3rd grade involves a lot of word problems. That's tough for someone that can't read English. I think next year he's going to make huge strides.....and hopefully he'll be nice to his teacher. This school has teachers teach two grade levels so Freckles will have the same teacher next year. This is good. She knows how to handle him and what to expect.

Clark is officially "fluent" in English according to ESL testing. He's really become a great writer and storyteller this year. This is definetely where his talent lies. He told me the other day he wants to grow up and make movies. I have no doubt that he will. Clark's exceeding expectations in most everything. He's a smart kiddo with a giagantic imagination.

Hawkeye amazed me this year. He's very shy and reserved, yet managed to become a leader in his class. His teacher described him as a sweet, sensitive, charming boy (which made me so happy). He's gained so much confidence and responsibility this year in school. He had an amazing teacher and I'll forever be thankful for all that she gave him. I had no doubt that he'd succeed academically (he's a really smart kid), but I did worry about the social aspect of it. He did good! I can't believe he's a first grader now!

Hot Lips survived her first year of preschool. She was only naughty once the entire school year and it was funny naughty so it made me proud. She had lots of fun being the little social butterfly that she is. She is, without a doubt, her father.

The summer of discipline as a team

2011-06-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

I love my kids' school. (We had some questionable periods, but overall I think it's fantastic). I wanted to cry on my way home from picking them up on their last day yesterday. The teachers, the students, it's one big family. Their school is incredible and I'm so impressed with the progress that they all made this year. Not the mention, the kids have so much fun learning. There wasn't a day that I had to fight with my kids to go to school. They all enjoyed the style of learning that the school promotes and they all felt like a valued and respected member of the school. All that said, I think there's one thing that my kids are not learning at school....and that's discipline.

The first day of summer break has been annoying. :) I had a list of chores that had to be done, most of which I took on. I asked the kids to do a few things. Rose, as always, did exactly what she was told and did a better job than I would have done. The boys on the other hand try to do as little as possible and claim they have completed their project. I asked them to weed the flower beds out front. They each picked a blade of grass and told me they had weeded. I wanted to scream.

Discipline. Not the kind of discipline that involves punishment and time outs. No, I'm talking about the discipline that's required to be part of a team. The discipline to work together to complete a project. The discipline to work hard and be proud of what you've done. I think my kids are lacking that sort of discipline and I'm making it a priority to teach and encourage this sort of discipline this summer.

As Clark said this afternoon after I lectured them on being the worst weed pullers on the face of the planet, "Discipline is taught at home." That's right, and learning the joys of hard work and discipline will be the theme of this summer. And that doesn't just extend to the kids. I've been slacking off more than I'd like to admit. My desk is a mess. I haven't been exercising like I used to. Healthy eating hasn't been a priority, nor has folding laundry. I've always valued organization, exercise, and healthy eating. I need to be more disciplined in my own life.

While summer vacation is awesome in and of itself, I'm thrilled to have a "theme" or purpose. I like goals. I also feel the need to de-weenie-fy me children. You don't get to pretend that your super tough ninjas then complain that weed pulling makes your hand itchy.

As a parent I don't give up my right to be human

2011-06-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

It happened. I knew it was only a matter of time. I assume it happens in most families even with biological children. It's part of growing up. It's part of figuring out the power of words. Regardless, it's still awful.

I've been feeling particularly insecure lately. I've bent over backwards to plan a wonderful, adventurous summer for the kids. The excitement over our road trip has almost consumed me. I'm so excited for them and I'm excited to teach them and show them a little part of the world. To put it mildly, they don't care. They are far too heartbroken over leaving their teachers and friends for the summer. What kind of children are depressed over the start of summer vacation?

I'll be honest, this has hit me hard. I try not to let it get to me but it hurts. I want nothing more than to be with my kids and they want nothing more than to be at school. I've put my feelings aside and worked hard in validating their feelings and helping them through this. It's like salt on the wounds. I loved summers as a child. The freedom and time with my family.....there was nothing better. I want to give that to my kids.

So I've been nursing these wounds like a mature, reasonable person. I haven't let my hurt impact the kids and I've kept it to myself. I've joked about it a couple times, but I've never let them know how I truly feel. I don't want to put that burden on them.

Tonight we loaded up in the car to head to a local coffee shop to purchase gift cards for their teachers. On the way we talked about all the people we love from school. I mentioned one of Freckles' friends' mom. I told the kids how much I liked and appreciated her. Freckles all too quickly said, "Me too. All the time I wish she was my mom instead." My heart broke and I tried hard not to collapse on myself as I drove down a major highway. Pain. Gut-wrenching pain.

I didn't speak for several moments. I wanted to resort to passive aggressiveness. "Oh yeah! Let me tell you all the kids that I wish were my son instead of you!" I came up with many hurtful responses but I kept them all in. I just took many deep breathes and just let myself feel the pain. THE PAIN! He needed to know the pain he caused me. If Freckles knew how much his words hurt me surely he'd apologize. Of course he would! He's a nice, sweet, loving boy. He doesn't want to hurt me. I took another deep breath and confessed my feelings. "Freckles, what you said really hurt my feelings. I love being your mother so much. What you said broke my heart." The response? Nothing but a smug look from the back seat.

I know this is normal for the age. I know this is very, VERY normal for adopted children. I understand the psychology behind it. Freckles is going through a period of conflicting loyalty combined with a growing attachment. It's normal to try to sabotage and push away. But do you know what else is normal? The hurt that's felt when your child, the child that you've been so patient, loving, accepting and encouraging towards says this to you with no regard for your feelings. In fact, they feel satisfied with themselves because they've hurt you.

We so often say, "But they're just a child, they don't know better." But I'm just a human, and my feelings still get hurt. I get to feel what I feel. When I became a parent I didn't surrender my right to feel anger and hurt and sorrow and more anger. And my children get to see the consequences of their words and actions. Why? Because I'm a person too. As an adult I might be the minority in this house, but my feelings still matter.

Movie night

2011-05-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

It was 2006. John was deployed to Iraq. I was in Columbia, MO. I was driving down Forum Blvd. listening to NPR when I heard them discuss Akeelah and the Bee, a new movie that was coming out. I didn't know why, but I wanted to see that movie so badly. Life got in the way and I never got around to seeing it until this evening.

Tonight I sat with my beautiful 12-year-old daughter and watched the movie I've wanted to watch for 5 years. It was just a movie, but it spoke the words I had been trying to say to my daughter for a year. "You are beautiful and smart and incredible. Don't be afraid of that. Embrace it!"

Movies don't make me cry. They never have. But I couldn't help it in this one. That girl on my television was my daughter. No, Rose can't spell for anything. But it's not really about spelling. It's about living into your potential and not being afraid of your gifts. After the movie was over I told Rose that that movie was about her. I told her that she was powerful beyond imagination, she just had to believe it. For the first time she didn't argue with me. I think she saw it too. She just said, "Thank you, mom."

I wasn't made to be the mother of this girl. There was already a woman that was made to be her enat. I was made to be her ally, her advocate, her teacher, her biggest supporter. I'm contantly in awe of her. I'm so lucky that she calls me "mom". It is an honor beyond my wildest dreams.

We also watched Top Gun this evening. My boys now want to be fighter pilots and they think that kissing Kelly McGillis is disgusting. Typical little boy. I love it!

What do I want to be when I grow up?

2011-05-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm moving into an interesting phase of my life. In less than two years my youngest will be in kindergarten. That will free up more time than I know what to do with. For the past several years I've thought that I'd spend the next ten to twenty years as a homemaker and supportive military wife. While I know I could be happy doing that, I'm also starting to see the possibilities. The big question is: What do I want to be when I grow up?

This is a question that has plauged me for twenty years. The truth is, I LOVE EVERYTHING! I could be happy doing just about anything. I love to do and to learn and to know. There isn't a subject in this world that doesn't interest me. I'm passionate about so much. The concept of picking a career truly makes me want to cry. I want to do it all! This is why I love being a homemaker. I get to work on cars, fix bikes, garden, bake, research how to do things I've never done before, nurture and teach kids, study philosophy, think about the world, counsel, support, encourage, write, joke, balance a budget, learn how to brew beer, spent time in nature, need I go on? Being a mother and a homemaker is my ideal job. Do I really want and need more?

To be honest, a lot of it is pride. We do just fine on one income. We have to be frugal but we don't do without. At this point I don't "need" to work. But there's a big part of me that wants to be taken seriously. I want to be able to say, "Hi! My name is Marissa and I'm a doctor, lawyer, teacher, social worker, whatever." Homemakers ARE NOT taken seriously. I've been told my entire life that I could do anything I put my mind to. I believe that. I'm smart. I'm capable. I'm committed. But I want to do it all. There isn't a job in the world outside of homemaker that allows for that.

Maybe homemaker really is the ideal career path for me. It doesn't pay well, and it requires a great deal of continual education. Nobody thinks it's worth much to the world, but I know it means the world to my kids and my husband. And I will be truly fulfilled and satisfied. With every year I'll become better at what I do. I won't be able to introduce myself as Dr. Marissa. I won't impress anyone. But I'll be joyful, satisfied and at peace. What more could I ask for?

My beautiful, amazing, wonderful, machete wielding daughter

2011-05-24T21:10:00.000-07:00

Today Rose had an appointment with her pulmonologist. She's been doing so great that I honestly thought he'd say, "Why are you people here? You don't need to see me anymore." Rose has made it through the past year with only one initial hospitalization. Her cough has improved significantly. She's actually running and participating in PE. She even hiked up to Table Rock last weekend. Rose has grown about a foot and put on quite a bit of weight. I think she's missed a total of 2-3 days of school this year due to illness. It's so easy to look at her and see a healthy young woman. There's nothing remotely sickly about her. Or so it seems.

Today we found out that at some point she's going to need to have a total of half a lung removed. I was sort of dumbfounded when he told me. I kept telling him over and over again how healthy she was. Denial? I think so. This guy is a great doctor and I trust his judgement. Not only that, he took Rose's chart to a pulmonology conference and everyone agreed.....the lung tissue would have to go. Thankfully there's no need to do it now. They will continue monitoring her closely and when things start getting worse she'll need the surgery. This is a good thing. The lung removal should improve her quality of life. No, she'll never be a track star but she wants to be a diver anyway.

While the doctor was in the other room I showed her a picture of the lungs and explained to her what they were going to have to do. She said to me in a very matter of fact way, "Huh, maybe I die." I just smiled at said back to her, "Little girl, if you haven't died yet you won't be going anywhere for along time." She laughed.

Rose is such a fighter. I take her health for granted because she's a force to be reckoned with. (Seriously, I don't mess with that girl.) Then I have these reality checks. What the heck is she doing here? How is it remotely possible for her to be alive? I get all weepy and thank God that she is. I don't know what I'd do without her. How did I ever make it through a day without Rose? She is truly incredible.

Protect whom from whom?

2011-05-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

I often hear people suggest that one of the roles of the adoptive parent is to keep the "good" kids safe from the "bad" kids. No. Those aren't the exact words they use, but that's essentially what they are saying. I've had to assure a police detective that I'm keeping the "other" children in my home safe from my perp child. Humbling to say the least.

There's something about that way of looking at it that just seems wrong to me. I think this mentality has the potential to turn one child into a villian and prevents us from seeing him as broken and hurt. Seeing hurt kids as "bad" and potential prison inmates is easy to do......until they're YOUR kid. I can't see one child as someone I must protect my other kids from. Instead, what I see is a child with so much hurt that they must be protected from themselves.

This afternoon I had a child melt into a rage. They began throwing things, screaming at me. At one point a chair became airborne. All I could think about is what would happen if I let this continue. It would get worse. At some point somone would get hurt. Likely it would be me. That phyical injury and pain would go away in a short time. What about the emotional pain of the raging child? I know he'd feel aweful if he hurt someone. His guilt would only fuel the next rage. And what if it got so bad I had to call the police? The fear would erode our trust. My desire to protect him, not myself or the other children, allowed me to respond properly. Yes, I had to restrain him. I hate doing that, but it's better than the alternative.

As children become larger and their rages become more intense, I can only imagine it gets more difficult to protect them from themselves. But that has to remain my goal. I never want one child to become the "bad guy". I never want to give my child the opportunity to punch me in the face (which he attempted today). It's not him in those moments. I've seen him. He's sweet and loving and gentle. Rose always becomes upset when her little brother loses control. She's afraid for him too. I tell her, "Look at how sweet and gentle he is with [Hot Lips]. Is that how someone that's bad acts? It shows how much good there is in him. There's so much hope." There really is. He's a sweet little boy that's a victim of his own pain.

I vow to protect that little boy from himself. That might mean I need to build some muscle mass as he does the same. It will take physical strength to keep him from doing things that he'll regret. Sadly, my continued ability to restrain him is essential. Luckily I'm one tough broad and find it somewhat amusing to see a child throw punches at me. Thank God for Army boot camp.

As an aside, I heard "You aren't my REAL mom for the first time today." Big milestone! Welcome to the world of parenting preteens! They are adorable in their own funny way.

Yay for weekends at home!

2011-05-20T15:59:00.000-07:00

I love a relaxing weekend.
Pizza and movie night.
Yard sale morning.
Cleaning.
Hiking.
Fishing.
Church.
Potluck with friends.
I don't think you can get much better!

Build them up, even those that you don't like so much

2011-05-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

Orphanages. No one pretends that they're ideal. They certainly are not. In fact, my daughter describes life in an orphanage similar to how people describe prison. The difference is that in American prisons they can't legally beat you with a hose or force you to eat your own vomit. Orphanages are the best chance so many kids have. What a tragedy. You watch your parents die then you have two choices: live on the street and rely on yourself for survival or find your way into an orphanage and risk being treated like garbage. Don't get me wrong, there are many decent orphanages around the globe, sadly I don't think it's very common.

When I hear the stories of the brutality my children received in the orphanage I try not to judge their caregivers. They tend to be poorly trained and underpaid. In countries where poverty is the norm I can only image how tempting it is to steal from orphans to care for your own family. I can only imagine how hard it is to care for an orphanage full of traumatized children. There isn't the time to consider feelings. I'm far from a perfect parent and caregiver. I've made some pretty big mistakes, but I know the are mistakes and I aim to do better. Do these caregivers even know they are wrong? I don't know. Maybe they think they are doing the best they can given the battle that they face with these children. Maybe they're jealous that many of these children are escaping from poverty to come to America while they remain in it. We can judge these abusive caregivers all day long but what are we doing to love them? If we really want to love orphans we should also be building up the men and women who are on the front lines caring for them.

Whenever something reminds me of the brutality my children have experienced I breath a sigh of relief that they are here now. It's not a perfect place to live, but at least you don't get beaten for accidentally breaking a glass. My mind then goes to all the children that are living that brutality now. I can't adopt them all. (And if I did I might turn into one of those caregivers.) So what can I do to make life better for them? I know it's not sending them candy or toys. Child sponsorship? Yes, that helps. But to make life better for them I think I've got to help make life better for the people that care for them.

I watched Annie a few months ago. I was surprised with what I came away with. I felt sorry for Miss Hannigan, not Annie. (Annie was kind of a brat.) This woman is taking care of countless little girls all by herself. Of course she drinks. This a world before anti-depressants. What was a woman to do? And I'm sure the state paid her next to nothing. Why wouldn't she make moonshine? It had to have been pretty lonely for her so she threw herself on any man she could. When her brother approached her with a proposition she saw her way out. Don't get me wrong. Miss Hannigan wasn't justified in her action but her behavior might have been avoided if someone was there to support her and pay her a decent wage.

When I walked into my daughter's orphanage, I looked with disdain at the caregivers. I was angry at what she had experienced. I regret that. I didn't do or say anything, but I wasn't kind and gracious. I wish I could go back and act differently. I think holistic orphan care involves building up the people that care for these children. These people are surely dealing with their own pain, their own difficulties.

Think of what a world we'd have if we spent more time building people up and less time telling people that they are wrong. That's something I'm going to work on.

A sigh of relief

2011-05-18T11:23:00.001-07:00

Life in finally settling down around here. In fact, it's going back to normal.....but better. Not perfect. So much that isn't "normal" has become our normal. It's just life.

Clark is doing incredible. I think he feels safer than he's ever felt. "Deer in the headlight" (shutting down when too scared to deal with something) used to be a daily response for the past 2.5 years. I haven't seen "deer in the headlights" in over a week, maybe two. I'm starting to see a little boy that's comfortable in his home and his family. Does he finally believe that our love is forever? Maybe. Was this what the whole "incident" was about? Finding out if we really will be there for him no matter what? I think it's quite possible.

Freckles started therapy this morning. His English skills are finally at the point where I think he will benefit from it. I'm quite optimistic about it. He left the therapist's office today saying, "I can't wait to talk about my feeling stuff!" This is a big deal for a boy that hides and internalizes every negative feeling he has.

We're in a good place for the time being. I know enough to know that crisis will always been on the horizon. With this much trauma under one roof how can it not be? The up side is I'm getting better at handling it, as our the kids. We can't run away from it but we can receive periods of rest, which are much appreciated. I know how lucky I am to have those peaceful periods of time.

Pride from 8,000 miles away

2011-05-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

Sometime in the next several hours, somewhere in Iraq, my wonderful husband will be pinned with the rank for Sergeant First Class. It's an honor to be married to a great father, a great husband, and a great soldier. Our marriage has had a lot of ups and downs, but we're always each other's biggest and loudest cheerleaders. I don't know at what point we stopped being married people and started being each other's family, but it's such a wonderful feeling of security and peace. John and I often laugh over the fact that neither of us had any business marrying one other. None. I think both of took lemons and made really great lemonade. I love being married to John and I love the path he's led us down.

I often feel a lot of sorrow over what John's dealing with over in Iraq. I pray everyday for him to find a purpose in being there. I have to image it's quite difficult to leave your family and home for a year for what feels like no reason whatsoever. The first time around I took a lot of hope from his stories about interacting with the local people. I think his experience and our time away from each other is what led us to adoption. What will this time away mean to him? To us? I hope to someday have the answer to that.

John is missed a lot around here. I miss not having my best friend around. The kids (amazingly enough, all of them) are longing for their dad to return. The loneliness is really starting to creep in. There is an absence around here that's felt by us all. We are so very proud of John, which makes it even harder to not have him here. To all of us he's a hero.....in how he lives his life, the sacrifices he makes, and the type of father and husband he is.

Congrats Sergeant First Class!!! You make even this liberal hippy proud!

The beauty of grace

2011-05-14T09:37:00.000-07:00

"I don't think there is anyone who needs God's help and grace as much as I do. Sometimes I feel so helpless and weak. I think that is why God uses me." -Mother Teresa

A big part of parenting kids from tough places is teaching them to learn coping skills to deal with their grief and loss. But what coping skills do we have? We're adults, we should have them right? WRONG! We haven't experienced the kind of tragedy that our kids have. I think most of us have decent coping skills to help us navigate the stressful experiences we have been faced with. Prior to adopting older children how much experience do we have being punched, screamed at, restraining a dangerous children, helping a child with sexual abuse, or dodging toys as they're flung at your head in a violent rage. It's hard to admit but I think the fact of the matter is, few of us have the coping skills that we are trying to teach to our children.

I've made a lot of mistakes over the past three years. A lot. Sometimes I hate looking at myself in the mirror because I can't believe what I've thought, what I've said, or what I've done. Who is this person? I want nothing more than to have compassion and love for my children, and I do. But sometimes it all becomes too much and I, like the children we are trying to heal, freak out. I may have more restraint physically, but inside I'm a mess of disregulation.

I've struggled with my faith since as long as I can remember. Through our adoptions God has shown me a couple of truths, one of which is this: I have never so desperately needed God's grace. I couldn't get up everyday and be a good parent without it. There would be no moving forward. I would forever be defined by my mistakes.

On Thursday we had an "incident" after school in the parking lot. I hate when this stuff happens in public. HATE IT! But I did fantastic. I did everything just the way I'd always wanted to. It wasn't pretty, but that doesn't matter. I feel confident that I served my child with all the love and compassion I had inside of me. The experience was one of the most wonderful of my life. I didn't do it "right" because I read something in a book or listened to the therapist. No, I did it right because everyday with every mistake I make I understand what my kids feel. I have felt the unworthiness. I have felt unlovable. While I will never be able to completely feel what they've experienced, I truly understand how vital forgiveness is. I am a better servant to God and my children because of my horrible failings.

Attachment: Dysfunction and chaos

2011-05-10T20:57:00.000-07:00

For the past 3 year the word "attachment" has become very familiar to us. It's almost a way of life. So often it seems the days are spent thinking about and grieving over attachment. Sometimes I wonder if I'd know it if I saw it. I wonder what I've done to hurt attachment and to grow attachment. I think no matter how much I read and observe, attachment will always remain an elusive concept.

That said, there is one thing I've learned with certainty about attachment. The process of attaching does not look like this:

Rather, it looks like this:

At times the attachment process is chaotic and dysfunctional, not to mention painful and gut-wrenching. It's hard when the child your beginning to attach to pulls away from you and pushes you away. You might know this is normal and healthy, but your heart hurts. Understanding and accepting are two very different things.

I'd like to think I know more than I did 3 years ago. I think I do, but I'm often more confused and baffled than ever. But isn't that part of learning to love without condition? There's something so remarkable about choosing to love in the face of such turmoil.....and that goes for both parties in the attachment process.

Thankful for great health

2011-05-10T07:51:00.000-07:00

We have made it through the flu season without a hospitalization!!!! Woohoo!!!!

I was worried, really worried. Rose has taught me to never take my kids' health for granted. (And believe it or not, it's quite easy to do that with HIV+ kids.) She was so sick for so many years. Since coming home she's been doing incredibly well but she still has to deal with the fact that a significant percentage of her lung tissue is dead. Thankfully you only need about one functioning lung to breath effectively. The issue is that dead lung tissue is a great host for bacterial infections. That's scary.

In Ethiopia, Rose was hospitalized often. There was very little they could do for her with what they had available. They were doing what they could to keep her alive until she could come to the US. Once she got here they were able to treat her with the right antibiotics. She was also able to breath clean air and receive a steady and nutritious diet. It's incredible to see how great she's doing. That said, all it would take it one nasty flu virus to put her in the hospital. I can breath a sigh of relief knowing that she's healthy enough to recover from all the illnesses that winter ushers in.

I love watching Rose flourish. She's only missed a couple of days of school this year for illness. The other day she came home so proud of herself. In PE she outran all the girls in her class! I still can't get her to do the breathing exercises she's supposed to be doing to empty her lungs of mucus because she's a stubborn preteen girl. Despite that, she's pretty darn healthy. I am so grateful to be her mother and watch her grow into a healthy, smart, kind young woman.

Happy 8th!

2011-05-08T20:51:00.000-07:00

Happy 8th birthday to Clark!!!! It's hard to believe that I've been his mom for almost three years!

I'll never forget that feeling that I had when we were first drawn into adoption. There were feelings of joy, excitement, and incredible sorrow. I remember it feeling like there was a little boy out there in the world calling for me. I told Clark this recently. He told me he did call for me. He sat next to a drain pipe at the orphanage and called out to us in his mind with tears in his eyes. He believes we truly heard his cry and sometimes I think we actually might have.

I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling that feeling again. It's really not like me to feel this way. I tend to be a pretty unemotional person. When I start having "feelings" I get freaked out. Maybe this feeling isn't what I think it means. I don't know. I'm not one to jump into things without talking my husband's ear off about it for at least 6 months and changing my mind 50 million times. Then there's the other party involved in this, the father. I suppose he gets a say. :)

To be honest, I don't see it happening. The cost of adoptions has gone up tremendously. I can't see us coming up with that kind of money this time around. Maybe it's for the better. Maybe these "feelings" are about actually having a real heart for all the children around the globe that go to bed every night without a mother or father tucking them in. Every night when I tuck my kids into bed and kiss them goodnight I feel a tremendous sense of honor. I'm humbled by what I get to do, the task that has been given to me. I just can't help but wonder, what's next?

Miracles in disguise

2011-05-04T20:42:00.001-07:00

Just a few weeks ago I didn't know if I'd ever be able to love my child again. I was in so much pain, maybe the worst of my life. I remember going outside one night in the cold rain and sobbing like a fool. That moment was and still is so surreal to me. It was like something out of a movie. I truly felt hopeless. When John left to go back to Iraq he told me to keep my expectations low. If I felt like I could only be a caregiver to my son that was okay. To be honest, in that moment I didn't even know if I had enough love and compassion in my being to even do that. I was falling hard and fast.

I can't believe it but my relationship with Clark is better than it's ever been. It's more real than ever. We both hit the lowest point of our lives together and we are bonding while we build it back. We are both learning how to forgive, each other and ourselves. We are doing it hand-in-hand and I can't believe this is happening.

On Saturday night as the kids were getting ready for bed Clark did something that he wasn't supposed to do, delaying the bedtime for everyone. (You know, normal kid stuff.) I had him come downstairs and "owe me some time". After he helped me fold some clothes we sat and talked. Our discussion focused on his fear of me. It has always hurt so much that he was so afraid of me. Was I that mean of a person? I didn't do anything that John didn't do, or his teacher for that matter. Clark expressed fear over me simply being mad. How unfair is that? The sheer act of me being angry made my son scared. That hurt so badly. We spent a good half an hour trying to get to the bottom of this. Had I done something that scarred him? If so I wanted to fix it and make amends.

Clark finally said something that took my breath away. "When you're mad I'm afraid you'll give me to another family." I know, I know. It's in all the books. This isn't a surprise. But hearing him verbalize it was so meaningful. I then asked him how long he's felt this way. His response? "Since the first time I ever lied to you." My jaw was almost on the ground. That's some pretty significant insight for an 8-year-old! I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I had been so selfish, so foolish. "So....so.....you love me? You actually love me?" was what I responded with. "Mom, I love you as much as I loved my Ethiopian family." Clark then jumped onto my lap and I rocked him to sleep. Perfect.

I asked Clark's permission to share this. I was reluctant to do so because it was such an intimate moment. I'm doing so because 1) I don't want to ever forget this and 2) I want to shout the hope that I feel from the roof tops! We are going to make it! It's going to be hard and it took hitting such an aweful low, but that aweful low has been such a miraculous catalyst. Those moments that seem hopeless, senseless and horrific can sometimes be miracles in disguise.

Reminder that I'm not "just a mom"

2011-05-02T15:06:00.000-07:00

Freckles' first driving lesson

The day-to-day often gets to me. I'm a housekeeper, a nanny, a chef, a taxi service. I am so very prone to jealousy towards people living lives I see as more meaningful than mine. Accepting that for much of the rest of my life I'm going to be "just a mom" is a lot to stomach. The thought wears me down, just as it does so many women. Sometimes I need reminders that I'm more than "just a mom". I'm shaping lives here, darn it! That's so easy to forget.

This afternoon Freckles came home from school in a foul mood. He wouldn't talk to me and the scowl on his face was severe. I asked him repeatedly what was wrong. He'd mumble the word "nothing" and walk off. I pulled him aside and sat him down. It took some prodding but I finally got it out of him. A girl at school had hurt his feelings and stole his best friend. Don't we all remember how HUGE that was when we were children? I pulled Freckles onto my lap in the rocking chair. I talked to him about how crazy girls can be and how wonderful he is. He sort of melted into my arms. I could see the smile he kept trying to hide from me. Before too long he jumped off my lap and was ready to play.

I'm not "just a mom". I'm the mother to little boys. It's such an amazing role to take on. I adore my girls like any mother does, but there's something so very special about that mother/son relationship. It's impossible to even explain. Being the mother of a little boy is like becoming royalty in the eyes of someone, and it also gives you the power to work magic.

I find it hard to believe that orphaned boys are so often overlooked. They are so often diamonds in the rough. They get labeled as "disobedient", "unruly", "angry", "hostile", "deviant". With firm boundaries, a nurturing cargiver, a lot of patience and a healthy sense of humor, a little boy that has been described in all of these terms can become so very loyal and loving to his mom. I am the luckiest person in the world.

Please help spread the word!

2011-04-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

To all the bloggers out there: Could you please share this? Lola is doing amazing things and needs as much support as possible! Thanks so much!!!

To celebrate Lola's very first year, From HIV to Home is giving away this beautiful quilt sewn by one of Lola’s supporters.

They are also giving away several additional items - two Starbucks Jonathan Adler limited edition (Red) travel mugs, a Starbucks (Red) gift card, and our very last "embrace" necklace! That means that for every entry, you have five chances to win!

To participate in the giveaway, simply visit FHTH's donation page at Network for Good to make a donation to the Lola fund. 100% of donations to this fund go directly to the work of Lola Children's Home. $5 is worth one entry (so $50 is ten entries!). Please be sure to note "Lola" in the designation box of your giving form and include your email address so we contact you if you are a winner.

Since Lola is a new organization, we depend hugely on word of mouth. If you share this info on your blog or website together with a link to our donor page, email jennifer@fromhivtohome.org with the web address for your post, and we will give you a free raffle entry!

Drawing will be held on May 7 - World AIDS Orphans Day.

What a legacy

2011-04-27T21:44:00.000-07:00

The Time to Eliminate Pediatric AIDS is Now from EGPAF on Vimeo.

I have to steal a quote from my friend Lisa's blog, A Bushel and a Peck. "With all that is happening in our family, sometimes I forget just how amazing it is that my children are alive."

I too often take their very lives for granted. Thank God that they are alive as they are such a gift.

"I got this."

2011-04-25T20:36:00.000-07:00

That's my mantra. That's what I tell myself with each and every new challenge. Having John home made me realize that I don't have this on my own. I don't want this on my own. Doing it on my own isn't serving my children, my family and it certainly isn't serving God.

What don't I have? Well, I have no idea how we're truly going to help Clark. Mental health, unfortunately, isn't an exact science. We've got a great team of doctors and specialists and I just have to put it in their hands. That's hard for me. I so badly want to be a mother but mothers are not therapists. And therapists don't have magic wands. And doctors don't have fairy dust. There's no pill or formula. It's going to be years of hard work and a lot of patience on everyone's part.

What do I have? I have a lot of hope. Isn't that why any of us choose to adopt? Hope? There were a few hours a few weeks ago that I wanted to give up on this child (and I think there were a few days where he wanted to give up on me). Someone recently asked me if I felt like the last two and a half years were a waste based on what happened. I was dumbfounded. A waste? Not a chance. While there might be distance between Clark and I due to attachment issues and my lack of understanding of him, at the end of the day we are both fighting a major war. We've lost a few battles along the way, but we've won some important ones too. We're in this together and as long as we remain on the same team, I think there's a lot to be hopeful for.

So I'm learning to be okay with, "I don't got this.....but I have hope that we'll make it through."

Getting away: Hells Canyon

2011-04-25T08:51:00.001-07:00

I'm loving the weekend getaways. I get excited when Spring starts showing itself and we can finally enjoy the outdoors. I am not a winter person. I try, I really do. I try to love skiing. I don't. I try to love building snowmen. I hate it. I love warm weather and I love to get out and go camping.

This past weekend I decided that sitting at home and missing John for Easter was not a fun idea. We headed up to Hells Canyon on the Idaho/Oregon border. It's a great place for some Spring camping. It wasn't very busy, and because it wasn't too hot it was a great time to do some hiking. I will say, it's not my favorite place in the world but it was a relaxing weekend.

This upcoming weekend we're going to explore the Owyhee Canyonlands if the weather holds up.

Yes, I'm a petty child

2011-04-19T07:42:00.001-07:00

Typically I don't talk about the truly brutal realities of adoption. I like to preserve the dignity of my children and maintain their privacy. But this is really about what a schmuck that I can be and in pointing that out, I'll reveal a little bit of reality.

Yesterday I was attempting to have a healthy conversation with my attachment challenged child. I don't know why I do this. It's truly pointless. We spent over an hour last night and everything he had to say was what he thought I wanted to hear. None of it was honest. Yet I do this, thinking that maybe, just maybe, someday I'll see a spark of who he really is underneath the mess.

We talked about how angry he was with me about how I reacted when we had the big "incident". I apologized and asked for his forgiveness. He said he would not forgive me. Fine. I was okay with that. He needs time, just as I do. I explained that I forgave him (in the moment I truly thought I had) and when he was ready, we could start building our relationship again. All very healthy. I was quite impressed that he shared all of this with me. I considered it that breakthrough that I had been looking for. It's the first time I've ever heard him be honest about his feelings. He went on to explain that he didn't think he did anything wrong. He didn't see how he hurt anyone. Fine. I went with it. I offered understanding and kindness. I was patting myself on the back for how calm and decent I was being about such painful words.

I walked away from the conversation with my own dignity intact. I didn't react. I just went along with it. Okay, that's not entirely true. Over dinner I did make a few passive aggressive comments, but I think most of them were over his head. Fast forward to dessert. We got doughnuts for the kids. I cut them into pieces for them to share. Attachment challenged child started eyeing the largest doughnut piece. Then he went for it. I got the mean squinty eyes and snapped, "You do NOT get the biggest piece! Pick something else."

Yes, I used a doughnut piece to get even with my child for what he said and all we've been through over the past two weeks. A doughnut piece. Not a proud moment in parenting. Thankfully John was there to hold me accountable. He smirked and shook his head. That's when I knew I had reverted to the mentality of a 7-year-old. It felt good in the moment, and to be honest, it still does. I'm still glad he didn't get the big doughnut piece. Regardless, this is one of those behaviors that is vital to keep in check.

Parenting my other children is typically easy for me. They certainly pose big challenges, but they react to the world in a normal, healthy way. Parenting a child with significant attachment issues makes absolutely no sense. He's extremely confusing. And I'm just as confusing to him. We're talking two different emotional languages. But sometimes we both speak hurt and petty child.

A new chapter?

2011-04-18T08:36:00.000-07:00

Four years ago I got a call from John. "Boise or New York?" I couldn't scream Boise loud enough. We had been talking about moving to Boise someday for over a year at that point. We knew very little about the area but it just felt like the right place for us. It was so exciting that the military gave us the option to move here. People thought we were crazy when we chose Idaho over New York. All anyone knows about Idaho is potatoes, but I had a feeling that there was more to it than that. If I believed in "meant to be", I'd say it about moving to Idaho.

This weekend as I watched my kids play in the sand I thought to myself how influencial Idaho has been in shaping our family. Without the move here we would not have three of our kids. I'm sure of it. I've had the great honor of forming friendships with people living incredible lives. I admire them and they are constantly a source of inspiration and support. There's not a day that goes by that I don't revel in how lucky I am to have them and to have Idaho.

Two weeks ago we got some news. John was promoted. He had been working hard to avoid promotion. He knew that with promotion came a PCS move. We both decided that staying in Idaho was worth forgoing a pay raise. John's personnel file was not complete. It was missing some important documents. We assumed that when his file appeared before the Department of the Army board (which comes up once a year) they'd take one look at it and cast it aside. Not so much. Apparentely John is just that good. He was selected for promotion and immediately contacted about his next duty station. I was so proud of him it didn't even matter. (Every once in a while I can be a dutiful Army wife. I swear.) I did feel a bit of sadness that we'd be leaving all of this behind. Incredible friends. A house I love. The only place my youngest has ever known. The beautiful outdoors. I. LOVE. IDAHO. It's home and always will be.

When John gets home from Iraq at the end of the year we're only guaranteed another 90 days here. We have no idea where we could end up. We've passed up Hawaii twice so I am guessing that's off the table. Besides, Hawkeye is totally against moving to Hawaii because we couldn't take the travel trailer. I've been thinking about South Carolina and living like Jimmy Buffett for a few years. I could do that I think. No matter where we end up I know we'll make the most of it. I love the diversity of this country and finding a new way of life.

All that said, my brilliant husband has been working on finding a way to keep us here for a couple more years. There may be a position opening up that would be perfect for him, plus it would save the military a lot of money (moving is expensive). I'm optimistic that it will work out, but I'm not hanging my hat on it. I'm starting to get my heart and my kids prepared for a big move that will mean leaving so much behind.

Five years in one place is impressive in the military. We have been lucky to be here this long. The sense of adventure in moving is exciting........unless we get stuck in Wisconsin. Then I will go kicking and screaming.

Relaxation

2011-04-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

This weekend we got away and enjoyed some relaxation. We went to Bruneau Dunes and spent some really wonderful family time. I love Bruneau Dunes for a lot of reasons (and I hate it for just as many, mainly the large amount of sand in my trailer). I love that the kids can just go wild without worry. They can gleefully tumble down the side of a hill or have a sand fight. They can yell and scream and be the crazy kids they are. It's complete and total freedom!

And I spent the weekend in complete and total peace. I couldn't believe how unstressed I was. I was happy for sunshine. I was happy to be warm. I was happy to see my kids happy. I was happy for all the laughter and memories. Not once did anxiety creep in. I didn't worry about today or tomorrow. It was exactly what I needed.

I'm so glad that I've got five kids that love to camp. They may not enjoy hiking, getting away from the swarms of people that inhabit state park campgrounds, or giving up their weekend movie watching, but I can work with that. I just call them a bunch of weanies and they laugh at me.

The only negative of the trip is my camera battery died as soon as we got there. I love taking pictures at Bruneau. The light in incredible.

Respite

2011-04-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

I'm always amazed at how much there is to learn in parenting adopted children. It's very much trial and error. I would say that I learn something new daily. I've recently discovered a great need to have respite care lined up BEFORE something bad happens. I was tremendously grateful that my parents stepped up and offered to care for our son for a week. It gave us an opportunity to get our heads on straight, to calm down, to be the people we needed to be, to deal with what had happened. Without their help I don't know where we'd be right now.

A week of respite care for this child helped me to see how drained I had become in parenting him for the past two and a half years. I truly had no idea. This seemingly easy, compliant, sweet child was taking so much of me. How is that possible? The time apart solidified to me how much more of an advocate I needed to be for my child. I could no longer let his adorableness mask what was going on inside of him. I feel validated in being more bold with doctors, therapists and teachers in making sure he get the help he so desperately needs.

I have learned that the availability of respite care is vital. In a crisis, options are more limited than you might think. After it all happened I spent an hour thumbing through the phone book, not knowing what I was supposed to do. Who was I supposed to call? How was I supposed to get my husband home? In the end the organizational support systems that are supposed to work didn't. Not even the Red Cross, who is the link between family and deployed solider, was willing to help. They even suggested I could be making up the story in an effort to get my husband out of his deployment. I had to rely on individuals. Friends and family. Without them this would have been a disaster.

When your adoption agency asks you to prove that you have these support systems in place, they aren't doing so to be intrusive. There's a reason. The difference between a healthy family and an adoptive parent that puts their child on a plane back to Russia is a strong and willing support system. We were never meant to exist in a vacuum and we certainly weren't meant to parent children that come from hard places alone. Willingness to let go of your pride and ego is vital. In our society that's not easy. We aren't very communal and far too many people look down on those that need help. They OBVIOUSLY took on more than they could handle. It's their problem now. That's just not fair. With patience, compassion, love and support families can take on more than they could ever imagine.

Adoption isn't for everyone but supporting adoptive families can be.

Redemption

2011-04-13T07:42:00.001-07:00

For a few moments here and there I've fooled myself into believing that life is just as it always has been. Reality then comes crashing in, shattering those peaceful moments. That reality encompasses more than I want to acknowledge. Who my child is and how I dealt with seeing that scares me. I hate myself for not dealing with this the way I think I should be dealing with this. I want to handle it with grace, patience and compassion. Instead I'm angry and heartbroken. There's a colossal difference between the mother I should be and the mother I am.

We have always known the risks involved in older child adoption. That's why I've always been vigilant. It's why I was able to step in very early, before the behavior progressed. What I wasn't prepared for was how it would feel to live with this particular boogieman. People are constantly telling me to take it one day at a time. That's hard to do because I know I'm going to end the day just as scared and depressed as I started the day. When I look forward I can at least hope for a brighter day.

When we love children that come from hard places we invite their horrors, their fears, their grief into our hearts. There's no way around that. We can become people we no longer recognize because we are learning our own coping mechanisms. Just as our children make a mess of dealing with their own grief, we often make a mess of dealing with our own. We might know on a conscious level what we need to do to help our kids, but the inner human all too often stands in the way. Just as our children lash out in fear, anger and sadness, so do we sometimes. It's not something I'm comfortable with at all. It's a weight on my heart. I know how good it makes my children feel when I forgive them when they lash out. I need to know that feeling too. I need redemption as much as they do.

This world is such a messed up place. The people that need our unconditional love the most are those that are the hardest to love. My own desperate need to be forgiven for my mistakes makes me see how vital it is to hand out forgiveness to those around me. Maybe our mistakes matter and in some strange way lead to healing for someone else. Maybe the world is not as messed up as it seems.

This morning I sent a little boy to school with an empty hug. It broke my heart because our goodbye embraces are always so meaningful. They always have been. This afternoon when he comes home I look forward to reaching out to him with forgiveness. I refuse to continue with a hard heart for myself or for him. Loving a child from hard places is a risk and it leads to some very, very dark places. But I have faith that tomorrow will be beautiful again.

Finding special moments

2011-03-14T16:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the hardest part of being one parent to five children is finding the time to connect with them individually. It's truly not that I don't make the time. Rather, my big kids have better things to do than to hang out with mom. I'm learning my own little tricks to make those alone moments special.

My new favorite thing is Little Debbie snacks. I don't typically buy stuff like this so getting a pre-packaged treat is a BIG DEAL. Whenever I find myself alone with one of the kids I get a sneaky look on my face and tell them to quietly follow me into the kitchen. I disappear into the back of the pantry and return with a precious Little Debbie. I tell them to be quiet about it, don't tell their brothers or sisters. This is just for them. No one else can know about the Little Debbies. Then we hide together, away from the other kids, and talk. I love these moments and I hope they do too.

Why? Hmmm....that's a good question.

2011-03-13T11:07:00.000-07:00

He was seventy-five years old
and God's first word to him
was 'Go.'

I think of Abram
when my plans go awry,
when happenstance

pries my fingers loose
from the grasping illusion
of control over life.

'Go,' God said to Abram,
giving no address,
disclosing no destination.

Taking an unruly family,
trusting God to show the way,
Abram went.

On that wild journey
he, too, had fingers pried loose,
heard Sarai laughing, learned

the blessing comes
in the going
and the letting go.

- Bonnie Thurston

This week I'm doing an interview with our homestudy adoption agency. The interviews will be filmed and used to assist future adoptive parents as they walk through the process. I think it's a wonderful idea and I'm glad to be part of it. I am going to be talking about older child adoption. It's something I don't get to talk about often and I'm quite passionate about it. I can't wait.

The first question I'm going to be asked is: Why did you decide to adopted older children? I've been thinking about this question for days and I have no clue how to answer it. Everything I come up with doesn't really answer the question honestly, or it makes our kids sound like charity cases. The truth is, I have absolutely no idea how we got here and haven't spent a lot of time thinking about how it all came about. People ask me this question quite a bit and I usually just say, "I really don't know." and move on.

When we started looking into adoption we had no idea that this was the path we'd take. I can't remember all the details, but I'm pretty sure we thought we'd wind up with a baby or a young toddler. So how did we end up with our three adopted kids being older than our biological children? Adopting out of birth order is very much discouraged. So is adopting older kids when you've got little kids in your home. Never mind the fact that the first time around we had no idea what we were doing.

I'm trying to come up with an answer that honors how incredible older child adoption is but also respects how difficult and challenging it can be. I tend to make light of the issues surrounding the adoption of older children. I do this because I don't want people to think of me as some martyr. (I most certainly am not. Yesterday I was really sick and my older kids spent the day stepping up and taking care of me and the younger kids. They spoil me rotten.) I also respect how two of my kids feel about their behavioral issues being made public.

We stepped out into the challenging world of older child adoption on faith. We realized that this didn't mean it was going to be easy. We knew the risks, but there's risk in everything we do. There's risk just stepping out of bed in the morning. We still get up each and every day with faith that we'll find ourselves back in that bed safe and sound at the end of the day. And if we don't, we work through it and take each challenge as it comes. I see dealing with the challenges of older child adoption very much the same way. You begin every day with faith that things are going to be wonderful. When they aren't you adjust expectations and work with what you've got. What other choice do you have?

I guess I could say that our decision to adopt older children came from how we view life. Being a military family helps. We accepted along time ago that our children won't have the ideal life. We knew that Hawkeye and Hot Lips were facing a lot of challenges by having a dad in the military. That was our reality. What choice did we have but to take it one day at a time, deal with the issues as they came and adjust accordingly? We became very good at this as a family and realized that this could be an asset to us in caring for other children that came from tragic circumstances. If I can make peace with some guy in Iraq shooting RPGs at my husband, I can make peace with the any anger or grief that my kids throw at me.

As a military family we often experience pity. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I really like throwing a pity party and having someone listen. I think John feels the same way. We all have moments that we feel incredibly sorry for ourselves. At the end of of the day though, I think we both feel quite lucky in being forced into taking life one day at a time. It's provided us the ability to endure things that I never thought possible. That endurance doesn't mean we take it all with a smile. I've had many sobbing sessions as a result of the challenges my kids have thrown at me and the realities of war.

This still doesn't answer the question: "Why did you adopt older child?" Maybe we're just sick and twisted adrenaline junkies that don't want a single day to go by without having to rely on God.

Summer adventure

2011-03-10T09:42:00.000-08:00

Everyday I grow a bit more excited about our big summer adventure that we are departing on in late June. Everything is coming together to make this adventure awesome.

I've always loved tent camping and swore I'd never buy an RV. That's not camping in my opinion. I turned my nose up at those that didn't endure the discomfort of sleeping on the ground. Five kids later and a body that doesn't recover as quickly from sleepless nights, I ate my words. I'm now the proud owner of a slightly used little travel trailer and have decided that only suckers sleep on the ground.

This summer we're loading up and heading out for a cross-country road trip. We don't know how long we'll be gone. I'm only going to plan the trip to Missouri to visit John's mom. After that everything is up in the air. The kids want to make it to Washington D.C. We'll see. I hope to do some WWOOFing along the way. I'm also going to make it a point to meet new people, visit old friends (if you'd like a visit from us, let me know!!!), and serve where we can. I also hope to teach the kids as much as possible about history, nature, the environment, people, culture, and working together. If we don't end up in a ditch somewhere I think it will be a rewarding trip.

Sawtooths, Yellowstone, Northern Wyoming, Black Hills, Mt. Rushmore, the Great Plains, Native Americans, early settlers, farmers, dinosaurs, geothermal activity, wildlife, grasslands, cities, towns, leave-no-trace, rivers, lakes, laughing, singing, fighting, forgiveness, and celebrating. I can't wait.

The first days

2011-03-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

I love dinnertime. For some reason sitting at the table eating dinner always prompts Rose and Freckles to talk about Ethiopia. I get to hear all sorts of stories that make me laugh, make me cry, or just leave me looking like a deer in the headlights. I've learned so much about my kids and their past over dinner. Last night the kids wanted to talk about our first few days together. They share their feelings and then we all laugh about it. It's such a therapudic conversation for all of us.

Those first days were, simply put, hell. No, I'm not being overly dramatic. There was no honeymoon. I felt so defeated. So foolish. So miserable. So scared. The kids, it turns out, felt the same thing. Little did I know, but Rose and Freckles were considered the "bad" kids at the orphanage. Freckles got suspended from school frequently. In fact, when I went to bring him home he was in the midst of a suspension. What was the suspension for? Doing his trademark broken finger magic trick. Rose's attitude was not seen as desirable. She's stubborn, sarcastic and sometimes argumentative. These are qualities that I find to be great assets for a preteen girl, but I can imagine when you're trying to care for a group of children at an orphanage a kid like this just makes your life more difficult. The kids saw me as yet another adult that wouldn't care about their feelings, their loss, or who they are as people. I can't blame them for the hell they put me through. They were going through hell themselves.

The Frankfurt airport is a frequent topic of conversation at dinnertime as well. Rose was sick and miserable and Freckles was being horrendously defiant. On two different occasions he ran away from me down the wrong way through security. Deep down inside I wanted to let him keep going and have the German police deal with it. But I didn't. I chased him down. Talking about these low points has given us the ability to forgive and heal.....all of us.

I am in constant awe of how well these two remarkable kids are doing. The last thing they are is the "bad" kid. They aren't perfect, but the progress we've all made is miraculous. To be perfectly honest, it really doesn't make sense. And then again, maybe it does. I'm not some kind of "good" mom. These are two kids that merely wanted to be validated, heard. They wanted to be treasured and appreciated. They've found that throughout our entire community. Simple acts of kindness and love really resonate with these two and they don't take it for granted.

Last night Rose shared with me that while her older brother was visiting us in January, they called their former orphanage. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than telling the orphanage staff that Freckles is doing GREAT and he hardly ever gets into trouble. I love her for that.

Absolutely nothing to blog about

2011-02-21T20:54:00.000-08:00

I take that as a sign of success. I've had absolutely nothing to blog about for weeks. Life has been moving along smoothly. Rose and Freckles are really adjusting well. It's quite incredible to see. I can't believe how used to their new life they are. I can't even tell you the last time Freckles has had a meltdown. Rose is still struggling with learning to read and write English, but she's improving. It pains me to see what a challenge it is for her. Deep down inside I think her struggle with learning has a lot to do with her overwhelming desire to be social and silly.

The little kids are doing good as well. Clark was recently tested for ADHD and it seems we may have found what's been going on with him. Now that I know what's going on I feel like I'm a lot more understanding. Today I took the kids skiing (not alone, with friends). Clark would start down the slope and lose focus very quickly. He'd be so distracted by a bird, a person, a snowflake that he'd lose his balance and fall down. Then he'd sit there for a good five minutes daydreaming and eating snow. Previously I probably would have tried to motivate him to get up and keep going, but now I realize it's part of who he is. Now we start the great "Do we medicate?" debate. That should be interesting.

Hawkeye is doing very well. He's been a great student and I'm very proud of him. He's beginning to write stories and is reading so well. It's hard for me to believe that he's six. Wow! He's as passionate, loving, and argumentative as ever. I really wish he's elect to homeschool but alas he loves regular school. I suppose that's a good thing.

Hot Lips is as naughty and adorable as ever. She keeps me busy and drunk. Okay, not drunk. But I think about my need to get drunk after spending a day with her. She's struggling the most with John being gone, which is typical based on her age. I find my biggest struggle is comforting her and trying to make her feel okay with everything.

We're now about a quarter of a way through this deployment. That's hard to believe. Time is truly going by very quickly, which is a relief. John is doing pretty well. There have been a couple close calls, which hit home to everyone (including me) that Iraq is still not a friendly place for Americans. John is thinking things are going to pick up in the next few months as it is his experience that insurgents don't really like the cold weather so they're hibernating right now. I hope that's not true. The one thing that's made this deployment so manageable is believing that none of those guys will get hurt. Let's hope Iraq stays boring.

Not the day I wanted, but beautiful none the less

2011-01-15T15:26:00.000-08:00

Today I had a sad day. John left for Kuwait yesterday, which means I can no longer call up my best friend anytime I want to. I really wanted to talk to him today. I was crabby and a couple of my kids (ehm...the biological ones) were being particularly defiant and disrespectful. I had all sorts of things I wanted to do with the kids today, but early in the day I realized today wasn't going to go as planned. It was going to be one of those days I'd just have to endure. I didn't want to call anyone up just to complain about my kids, so the loneliness set in. I went to my room, shut the door, and for the first time in a long time I bawled my eyes out. It felt good.

Hot Lips was napping (Joy!) so I took some time for myself, about an half hour. I didn't hear yelling or screaming coming from downstairs so I assumed all was well. Eventually I decided it was time to go downstairs. I opened the door and there taped to it was a note. It said this: "mom. im srore. I no you fele sad. i no you will fele good tomaro. I love you." Then it was signed by all the kids. Sometimes I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet.

Hawkeye could really use some prayers right now. Since John's left he's stuggled a great deal. He's become increasingly defiant. I've never seen him like this. I know it will take time and patience. My heart just breaks for him. I can't imagine what he's feeling.

Stretching and reaching

2011-01-14T08:51:00.000-08:00

Faith is a constant battle for me. At my very core I'm an atheisty agnostic. (Yes, I just made that up.) I don't know what it is exactly that pulls me toward Christianity. My brain says it knows better and wants to reject it. I don't "need" faith. But there's another voice inside that is fulfilled and empowered by a faith in God. That voice is like a seed, and faith is water and nourishing sunlight.

I go through periods where I literally laugh at myself for believing in a God and going to church on Sunday. That mockery builds on itself and before too long the brain is more powerful than that seed. My children will have to remind me to say grace before meals or pray on our way to school. I'll go through the motions to appease them, but I'm rolling my eyes the whole time. No. I am not a "good" Christian woman.

Then out of the blue something will happen. It will be something tiny and seemingly insignificant, and it will bring me to my knees and remind me how very real God is in this world. They wouldn't seem like obvious reminders to anyone but me, but those moments are so nourishing to my soul that for at least a while the brain is thought to be the idiot.

Last night I had one of those experiences. I was reading downstairs when I heard Freckles talking in his sleep. I could tell he was having a nightmare, which is nothing unusual. I then heard him get out of bed and come downstairs. I met him at the bottom of the stairs and he practically fell into my arms. He wrapped himself around me and wouldn't let go. For mothers that have children that were adopted at an older age, they know how incredibly significant this is. I took Freckles to the couch and I cradled him like a baby. Finally. He's allowing himself to be vulnerable. I was awestruck.

Here I am this flawed, impatient, sarcastic, obsessive human being. I am nothing special. I am no one. Yet God has allowed me to be a part of His healing of this child. It blows my mind really. How is it with all my mistakes, all of my humanity, I get to be a part of this and experience such beautiful things? I find it incredibly humbling and life-giving.

I never talk about my faith. I tend to believe that most Christians would find me heretical and most atheists or agnostics would find me pathetic. The truth is, I don't really care anymore. What I've seen and experienced is finally too big to stay within the confines of my good sense. While I certainly make a poor Christian, Jew, Hindu, Muslim or Jainist, I do okay as a perpetual agnostic always stretching to reach the amazing God of this world.

I often wonder what the true miracle in all of this is. Is it God's healing of these beautiful children, or is it the children healing me in areas where I didn't even know there were wounds?

Lord help us all

2011-01-11T20:03:00.000-08:00

I'm one of those assholes that too often believes that she knows better than the doctor. Sometimes I've been wrong, but every once in a while I'm right. I think this is one of those times.

Today Freckles had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Our primary care physician recommended medication for his anxiety and before jumping on that boat I decided to get the opinion of an "expert". The psychiatrist I went to was not of my own choosing. At the request of Freckle's doctor I utilized a service designed to get children into the mental health professionals quickly. I didn't like the idea. I've got good insurance which allows me to pick my own doctors. Why wouldn't I take advantage of the ability to research and find one best suited for treating Freckles? But alas, I complied because it just wasn't worth the battle with the primary care doctor.

Today I found myself in a residency clinic which mainly treats lower income individuals. I must admit, my good insurance has made me a bit of a health care "snob". What was I doing in this dirty, noisy place? My insurance buys me therapists offices with soothing waterfalls and relaxing music. I quickly put my snobbery out of my mind and reminded myself a good doctor isn't about waterfalls and music. It's about skill.

After we were called in to see the doctor and the resident, the hour went by fast. I couldn't believe how quickly he was throwing questions at me. It was like taking one of those "Does your kid have [insert trendy new childhood disorder that all parents are in a panic about]" quizzes on the internet. I was instructed not to elaborate in my answers as it wasn't necessary. You know, because there's absolutely no nuance in mental or behavioral health. When we left the office Freckles had two shiny new three letter diagnoses. Yay for him! And I've been instructed to watch a video about parenting. He suggested that the video might even help me with my other children as well. This man will forever be remembered in my mind as Dr. Suck It.

How do you diagnose a newly adopted older child that has endured tremendous, overwhelming trauma with Oppositional Defiant Disorder in roughly 50 minutes? How does ODD even make sense, especially when you say the child is never defiant at home? How do you tell a mother to parent differently when she tells you that her child has made amazing, remarkable, miraculous progress in six months? Freckles does not need 1-2-3 Magic. He needs love, compassion, understanding, and room to mess up. He does not need more time-outs. He needs more, "I get why your feeling the way you are and maybe we should spend some time resting together before you feel the need lash out."

Tomorrow I'm going to back to the child psychologist's office with the relaxing music and soothing waterfalls. I'll get tools and someone that isn't a walking DSM. I'll forget what Dr. Suck It said and laugh at the cliches he calls diagnoses. After all, I've got the luck of great health insurance. I don't need that crappy health clinic. But thousands of people do. And thousands of children will walk away with shiny new diagnoses that don't really touch at the heart of who they are and where they've been. And we wonder why poor children are failing in schools. We wonder why our prisons are bursting at the seams. It couldn't be our drive-by mental health system for the poor that doesn't recognize individuality or complexity of experiences? Nah. That makes too much sense.

Sad is good

2011-01-09T16:39:00.000-08:00

This past weekend we got a special visit from E. (who is now referred to as Freckles) and Rose's older brother. I can't tell you how fortunate I feel to have Dawit as a resource. He's so wonderful with all the kids. They just adore him. He also provides a lot of background on the kids so I can really get a better idea of where they're coming from. Last night after the kids went to bed we sat and talked about Freckles and Rose, and the life they had before coming here. He shared a story with me about how he used to go get Rose's medications for her from the hospital so everyone would think he was sick instead of her. He was sheltering her from the stigma. What an incredible brother.

I didn't want Sunday to come. I knew it would be messy. Rose can handle saying goodbye, but Freckles tends to lose it. I was preparing for a really, really, really bad day. I thought walls would be punched and kicked. I thought toys would be thrown. I was ready for nasty insults to come my way. But that didn't happen. He just cried. And cried, and cried, and cried and cried. But there was no anger. No rage. NO RAGE!!! Do you know how HUGE that is?!?!

After I gave Freckles ample time to cry I told him that I understood how he felt and that it was okay to feel sad when someone we love leaves. Sharing that with him seemed to really give him a sense of peace and calm. Oh it was wonderful to see. He let me hug and kiss him. This time he didn't push me away. It was all such a relief and I'm so happy for him.

I love watching kids heal, but it's bitter sweet. It's hard to think about all the kids that won't have the opportunity to heal. They remain alone, trapped in a world not of their making. Just a few months ago Freckles lived in that world that seems so far from where he is now.

Theraplay

2010-12-30T09:40:00.000-08:00

In the past I haven't had much luck finding a good child/family therapist for the kids. One that was highly recommended to me ended up causing actual damage as I don't think she was familiar with adoption issues. It took us at least 6 months to undo all that had been done, and needless to say I wasn't exactly eager to walk back into a child psychologist's office. I knew I had to find someone that listened to me and my concerns. I needed someone that realized that sometimes behaviors that we find "cute" and "endearing" aren't exactly healthy and come from a place of insecurity and pain.

As I've previously written, we finally found that wonderful child/family therapist that has a great deal of experience working with adopted kids. She understands the language, the behaviors that are a result of their experiences, and how important attachment is. She listens to me and my concerns. The emphasis isn't on her treating the child. It's on helping me find ways to help my child.

Yesterday Clark and I had our first Theraplay session. It went very well and I think it's perfect for us. Clark enjoyed it and I enjoyed the special time with him. In the past I found it bizarre that I'd need a therapist to learn how to play with my attachment challenged child, but it's starting to make sense. Yes, I know how to play with kids. But there are specific tasks that serve a particular function. In other words, chasing my kids around the house with a light saber is not necessarily going to nurture attachment. While light saber attacks certainly have their place and are very important, they don't address all aspects of what a child needs from a parent through play.

I'm looking at Clark and I's relationship with a lot of optimism. There was certainly a lot to be optimistic about to begin with, but now I feel it will be even better. That's exciting!

Pathetic plea for money

2010-12-29T10:19:00.000-08:00

If you haven't heard me rattle on about the virtues of Lola Children's Home, Abebe Fantahun, or how essential programs that keep families together are, then you haven't spent much time listening to me. Over the past two years I've become amazed, impressed and passionate about the work that Lola is doing. The comfortable home is well staffed by compassionate and involved caregivers. They facility is clean. The children are well cared for. Every time I get a new child profile in my inbox, I'm reminded of how necessary this program is. But like every essential program, it needs money to operate. Small donors, big donors, child sponsors......these are all valuable parts of the Lola family.

Lola doesn't have the fancy YouTube video, or the shiny website with the latest technology. I have to wonder though, when did these become necessary for a worthwhile organization to drum up support? Lola is small, grassroots, and affects lives on a very local and direct level. The possibilities are endless if people like you step forward to commit to the lives and welfare of these children and families. It's time to prove that the "little guy" can really change the world. People like Abebe Fantahun CAN change the world. He put everything he has on the line to assist these children. It's time that we support him in a really big way.

I'm asking for everyone I know to share the mission of Lola with someone. The website offers the details. Just email the link the a friend and say, "Wow! Look what this really cool and gutsy guy is doing." If you feel like doing more than that, feel free to donate a few bucks (or maybe even a few hundred bucks) to Lola. All donations are put to good use and Lola's books are transparent. Maybe you feel like you can do more than that. Awesome. Maybe you feel up to sponsoring a child. Lola's got a growing sponsorship program that needs you. Maybe you're up to doing ever more. Want to help spread the message of Lola in your community or host of fundraiser? I think Abebe would really feel honored. There's even the option of traveling to Lola. While airfare isn't cheap, lodging is. Spend a month in Mekele, Ethiopia which my parents dubbed as Ethiopia's tourist destination of the future.

I get it. You've got other obligations. You support other causes. I get that. I really do. And I bet those causes are equally as worthwhile as Lola. In that case, just take the time to think about Abebe and thank the heavens that there are people out there like him that make this world a glorious place to live.

Disclosed!

2010-12-19T14:19:00.000-08:00

I feel we are no longer a family living with a big secret! It's never really been a secret, but when you can't share with people the major battles you and your children are fighting, it starts feeling like a secret. We've had so many recent triumphs in health, but it can be difficult to celebrate the joy with other people. Like I said, it's moments like that where it seems like we are hiding the kids' HIV status.

I've talked to Rose for a few months now about how she wants to handle disclosure. I left it up to her and told her that we were in this together and she was not alone. There has never really been a reason to disclose, but early on I could tell keeping her status quiet was something stressful for her. She's grown up with incredible stigma and I knew she wondered what HIV would mean for her here in America.

Two weeks ago Rose came home informing me of a sleep over at a friends house. I was happy that she was going to be enjoying her first overnight sleepover since coming home. I did have to remind her that I'd have to talk to her friend's mom about medicine, but assured her it wasn't a big deal. I also assured her that her friends loved her and if she ever wanted to tell them her status I'd support her. Just like that, the next day she went to school and told two of her closest friends.

Rose told me she was scared, but amazed how her friends handled it. Her closest friend just shrugged her shoulders and said, "It doesn't matter." She came home from school that day so happy. She went on and on about it. She couldn't believe her friends would still want to touch her after finding out this information. She went to her sleepover excited and without worry. I was so happy and relieved for her.

I don't fool myself into believing that it will always be this easy for my kids. As they get older it will get a lot more difficult. I'm glad to have such a wise and mature woman to learn from in Rose. She's going to be teaching me how to assist my two younger boys. I'm always amazed at how she handles these big battles with such confidence and grace. She's a great role model for this entire family.

Because I'm writing about disclosure, I had to include what I found to be a rather adorable story. Clark has recently claimed a girlfriend at his school, despite our insistance that he not worry about girls until he's finished grad school. She's definetely his first love (if you don't count Belle). He told me a few weeks ago that he told his new girlfriend that he has HIV. We found it rather adorable and charming in a very strange way. He's a responsible kid.....but we kindly told him to wait until he's a bit older to make such a big decision. I think that's going to be one of those family stories that we'll be laughing about for years.

Wise kid

2010-12-13T08:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, in the midst of my bad day that would never end, I crawled into my bed and put my covers over my head. I love being in my bed and often wish I could stay there all day. It's a peaceful place and it makes me happy.

I was a bit annoyed when I heard little footsteps entering my bedroom. Who would dare enter my room and disturb my quiet time? I then felt two arms wrap around me. I knew who it was by the hug. It was Clark. I pulled the covers away from my face and Clark snuggled in close and gave me a big kiss. We sat there for a moment in quiet and then he said, "I forgive you." My first though was, "What!?!?! You forgive ME?!?!!?? What have I done today to require forgiveness? I'm not the one that's been bouncing off the ceilings, arguing with his mother, and just being generally nuts." I didn't say that to him. I think I said something like, "Well, I forgive you too. But you're still not going swimming today."

When I talked to my mom a few hours later I told her about this and how annoyed I was. To me it was just something else that added to my insecure day. Saying "I forgive you" to someone who really didn't do anything wrong is generally passive aggressive. But, as I've said previously, I don't think Clark has a passive aggressive bone in his body. My mom reminded me of this and she took it to mean that I have a little boy that's so wise that he can see that he's got a mother that needs to forgive herself. She was right. That's exactly what Clark was doing.

Clark has a lot of behaviors and feelings that scare me a little. They aren't scary in and of themselves, I just appreciate how significant they are. At the end of the day though, he's one of the sweetest, most thoughtful children I've ever met. When I've had a rough day with E., Clark is always there to give me a big hug and tell me that I'm a great mom. I've always felt uncomfortable by this. I didn't want him to feel like he needed to take care of me. But I'm learning that this is something that makes him feel powerful and strong. This is his way of connecting to me and making himself an important part of this family. Maybe it's all kind of messed up and dysfunctional. I don't know. But it makes him proud, and I'm proud of him.

Oh what a day

2010-12-12T20:57:00.001-08:00

This is probably one of the worst days I've had in along time. Wow! I think I called John about a hundred times. I called my mom at least once, maybe twice. I worked hard at not running far, far away from home. I'm not sure that the kids were especially trying today, (Although E. worked overtime to make me mad. I should give him a medal for his commitment.) or if I was feeling especially insecure today. I'm leaning towards the latter. Insecurity has a way of taking a sorta bad incident and turning it into the worst thing that could possibly happen.

I realized something today. While I know that I've got this next year under control, I'm worried that I will appear incapable or overwhelmed towards other people. I already get, "How can you possibly manage 5 kids on your own alone for the next year?" far too frequently. And the pity. How I hate it so. I feel like people are always watching me, waiting for me to fall apart. Today at church I looked like I was falling apart. One of my kids was running through the crowd of people after church, chasing a girl. He's lucky he didn't take down a little old lady. I had another son (the one that was working hard to make me mad) go into the sanctuary and start yelling to hear his echo. Then I had a 3-year-old that was running around like a crazy kid. I had another child that told his Sunday school teacher that his mom knows ALLLLLLL about Satan. Basically, I had a group of kids that were acting like....well......kids. More often than not I get compliments on my kids' behavior in public. No compliments came our way today. They were just your old fashioned run-of-the-mill children.

Normally I would've calmly instructed my kids that their behavior at church wasn't cool and that next time I'd expect better from them. They'd nod their head, apologize, tell me it wouldn't happen again. Then it would be over. Not today. I cared way too much what other people thought of me. I became cranky mom and the kids just got further and further out of control. I was not the fearless leader they needed. I was the person I'm most afraid of becoming......a spineless weenie.

So here I sit at the end of the day reflecting on the disaster that was Sunday, December 12th. I'm not going to hold myself responsible for my kids' behavior. That's on them. But I do bear a good chunk of the responsibility for turning this day into the miserable, never-ending, failure that it was. I wasn't strong. I wasn't bold. I didn't command the kids' attention. This scared the kids. It's amazing how much better kids do with a strong, fearless, confident parent. Their world makes sense then. No one wants to see their leader cowering. A good commander in the military tries to never show their fear or doubt. That can be seen as arrogance, but it also provides a great sense of security.

I usually start the day pretending that I'm an Army commander and my kids are my troops. We usually march out of the house each morning with a smile on our faces. They answer me with a salute and a "Ma'am yes Ma'am!" They love it, but not just because it's silly. They love it because they feel they are being led by a great commander who will take care of them. There's nothing to worry about when your the troop of Cpt. Mom. There's a whole lot to worry about when you're being led by the crazy lady that moved in this Sunday. She's currently packing and on her way out the door.

.....or maybe it's something else.

2010-12-10T07:55:00.000-08:00

At the risk of sounding like I'm putting my head in the sand, I'm going to say that I don't think my son has RAD. What?! Is it denial? Is it ignorance? Maybe. I don't know. I do know that in medicine the simplest answer is typically the right one, but there's nothing typical about my son. Yes, he's got the early life experience that make him a prime candidate for RAD. Before he came to us he went through too many caregivers. Collateral damage of AIDS. Losing primary caregivers over and over again is exactly what can cause RAD. So why do I think it could be something else?

Clark finds following rules and the routine at home a challenge. I've always been convinced that this has nothing to do with disobedience and everything to do with the inability to understand and follow through. Everything about his inability to follow rules and routine seemed so innocent. It wasn't until I came across information about RAD that says often kids can be passive aggressive in their actions that I started questioning my son's subconscious motivations. As hard as I try though, I can't see Clark's actions as passive aggressive. And maybe it's not passive aggressive.........maybe his subconscious has simply found a sure-fire way to get non-stop attention. It works. It really does. But I spend all my time with him gently helping him to follow the rules instead of developing a strong, meaningful relationship. I'm not his mother. I'm his nanny.

I crave the fun, joyful times with Clark that I have with the other kids. I try to make those moments happen, but they just aren't possible with him right now. John struggles with the same thing. We both adore Clark and really want that attached relationship with him. Building it is going to be horrendously difficult. It might mean that I'm going to have to just let Clark be responsible for himself for a little while. Maybe I'm going to have to stop reminding him every day to get dressed, brush his teeth, eat breakfast, get his backpack, get his coat, put his shoes on, tie his shoes, etc. Maybe I just need to stop babying him.

On the other hand, all of this sounds very typical for a child that is suffering from disinhibited RAD. I just don't want it to be. Yes, I'm in denial. He meets the diagnostic criteria. Accepting this is going to be hard.

Accepting RAD

2010-12-08T10:22:00.000-08:00

You don't hear much about Reactive Attachment Disorder outside of adoption circles. Within the adoption community it is sort of a big, bad wolf. The horror stories are out there for all to see. (Isn't it rather sad that mental illness in adoption are referred to as "horror stories", while the issues that happen within our biological children are "tragic" or "heart breaking". I mean, no one says, "I heard this aweful story about this mother that had a baby and the child grew up to have major issues. I don't think I'm willing to take the risk of birthing a child." But I digress.) RAD is the diagnosis du jour for adopted kids. That doesn't mean I don't think RAD is real. There's just a lot of talk out there about it, and some of it is hard to listen to. I don't like the language that's used. I don't like how hopeless it's presented as. And I really don't like that the burden of attachment is placed squarely on the shoulders of a child.

Today I sat in our family therapists office and admitted, after 2 years of him being home, that we probably have a child with RAD. Yes, I mean that sweet little boy that is kind, polite and always has a smile on his face. Not the face of RAD you're used to seeing is it?

I've decided to start writing about attachment and our progress. It's something I need to do for me. Making it real is important to me. It breaks my heart to know what my child is dealing with. I haven't wanted to accept this as a reality. Even though I have absolute confidence that we will work through this and come out on the other side with a strong relationship, it's still hard to face.

I want to be clear, I'm not looking to change my son. I love him for who and what he is. He's no more "messed up" than I am. We are in this together and we will work together on building that relationship. It's not his job to change. It's my job to meet him where he is.

Saying Goodbye

2010-12-06T15:39:00.000-08:00

Saying goodbye is never easy. Saying goodbye to your best friend, the only father you've ever known, or the man that just became the person you call "dad" is gut-wrenching. It's especially hard when you are sending that person off to war not knowing when you're going to see them again. It's all very surreal, but incredibly meaningful. Through pain, strength and healing can happen. Families can be pulled closer, and previously horrifying experiences can be seen in a different light.

Sometimes I feel downright awful bringing E. and Rose into our family. They get a taste of having a father, only to turn around and say goodbye to him. They get brutalized by the military in one country, then turn around and have to celebrate the military in another. How does any of this make sense? Somehow, in some strange way, it does. I can't explain it. I can't tell you why this all feels right. It just does. I see children learning how to grieve in a healthy manner. I see past trauma being reconciled. I see learning to laugh in periods of sadness and stress.

In 52 long weeks I may be eating my words. I may be saying that this was the worst period of my life. I may be at rock bottom. I may have kids that are much worse off than when we began this journey. But I don't think so. I would never have wanted this for my myself, for my husband or especially for my kids. Right now I'd give just about anything to end conflict in the Middle East and bring my husband home. That's not a reality though. There's nothing that can be changed. So we are going to make the most of it. We are all going to grieve and we're going to do it well. We are going to celebrate tears and the response of comfort. Three of my kids don't take that for granted.......and I think there's something to that. I don't want to get ahead of myself or be too optimistic. But there's something going on here. I can feel it.

Best compliment ever

2010-11-30T15:31:00.000-08:00

I've often thought to myself that if I could write a book on older child adoption it would include a simple phrase: Laugh. A lot. That is my mantra. It's how we go from angry to giddy in 2 seconds. It's why we enjoy most days, even the really hard ones. Laughter is truly what makes me love being a mother. Some of our jokes are distasteful. Some are gross. Many would make people give us looks of disgust. Every time I'm at the doctor's office our doctor hints that I don't take things seriously enough. I don't care. Ninety-five percent of the time this is a happy, chaotic home filled with hugs, kisses, and fits of laughter. We came home from our road trip to California with new phrases such as "diarrhea pee" (the creation of Hot Lips) and "milk sh*t" (a misunderstanding of Rose's). I may be a very irresponsible mother BUT I've got joy. Joy speaks for itself.

On Saturday morning I was sitting downstairs at the lovely Air Force lodging at Travis Air Force base with E. and Hawkeye. (Military lodging is totally worth joining the military for.) These two are awful but hilarious. No one makes me beat my head against walls like these two do, yet no one makes me laugh like they do. They were being quite funny at that time and I think I may have threatened to eat them on Donner Pass. After about ten minutes or so an older man sitting across the room spoke up. He said to me, "I don't know who's funnier, you are the kids." At first I wasn't sure if he was insulting me or being nice, but after chatting with him a bit I realized he simply enjoyed watching the exchanges between me and my very bad boys.

I hate it when people call me a good mom. Just because I have five children doesn't mean I'm a good mom. If I were to do an honest self-assessment I'd say I'm adequate. I feed my kids. I clean them. I clothe them. I try to get them to do the right thing. I make sure they're educated. I hug them and kiss them and tell them I love them. I meet the lower rungs of acceptability in mothering. Telling me I'm a great mom means you haven't really seen me in action. That said, I take a lot of pride in being a funny mom. I love that I can make my kids laugh. I love that they work hard to make me laugh. Being a funny mom is awesome and the best compliment I've ever been given.

Do you ever.......?

2010-11-29T09:34:00.001-08:00

Do you ever worry that you won't be enough?
Do you ever worry that you won't be able to help your child?
Do you ever worry that you're really just making things worse?
Do you ever worry that any progress that you actually see is just superficial?

We just returned from a road trip to Disneyland. All went very, very well and we were thankful to spend this time together as a family. John and I had a lot of time to talk on the way there and back. So much of our conversation revolved around who we are as parents, what we need to do differently, and how to keep our expectations in check. We talked about our worries and fears. We talked about our hopes and our goals. It was time well spent.

I'm so thankful to have a husband that has experience in working with children that come from really hard places. He looks at behaviors that I see as horrifying and puts it into perspective for me. He reminds me of how much hope there is for our children. That keeps me optimistic at the end of the day when my worries come to the surface.

I will not be enough for my children. I need family, friends, therapists, and teachers. I won't be able to help my children, just assist them in helping themselves. I will probably make certain things worse, but that's part of being in a family. We bring out the best and worst in each other. It's okay for progress to be superficial at first. Sometimes I fake it so it's okay if they do it too.

Five kids has taught me my role in this family. I'm not everything and I don't need to try to be. That's liberating.

I have found her

2010-11-04T09:26:00.000-07:00

After three years of searching I've finally found her. I have found the therapist of my dreams. She's well versed in adoption and attachment issues. She has experience in international adoption and knows what these unique kids need. As if that wasn't incredible enough (because I think most adoptive parents realize how hard it is to find a therapist that has experience with adoption), she also has experience in counseling individuals living with HIV. I'm doing a happy dance as I type this.

I can't express to you how good it feels to have this resource. So often I feel so torn in making decisions for the kids. So many choices that we make are not clear cut. Sometimes it's very difficult to know which direction to go or how to handle a situation. (And I also have a tendency to overthink things, but I'm not going to admit to that right now.) You can rarely get feedback from others simply because older child adoption offers such unique challenges. Having a guide on this roller coaster provides so much security. I am not alone.

Today I feel like I'm going down this path with a lot more ammunition. I've got my kick ass therapist and a copy of The Connected Child by Karyn Purvis. Now if I could find out where to get ahold of the patience of a saint and the energy of a 4-year-old, I'd be unstoppable.

Why a parent should feel threatened

2010-11-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

"It is the nature of the child to be dependent, and it is the nature of dependence to be outgrown. Begrudging dependency because it is not independence is like begrudging winter because it is not yet spring. Dependency blossoms into independence in its own time."

Do you remember that episode of Lassie where Timmy loses Lassie and she's found by some other kid. I can't recall the details but at the end they put Lassie between the two boys and they both called him. Lassie looks back and forth between the two boys, and finally runs towards Timmy, proving that Lassie really loves him the best. I'll never forget that episode because of how it made me feel. I hated that stupid little boy that thought Lassie was his. I wanted to punch him in the nose. When we put our newly adopted children in school too soon we are turning our kids into Lassie and we can only hope that our children choose us, like Lassie chose Timmy. And we often find people that we want to punch in the nose, not because they are bad people but because they care about our kids too.

I'm sure many people disagree with my assessment. That's okay. This has simply been my experience. I see school as a huge threat to the attachment of my newly adopted kids and find it challenging to send them to school every day. I am threatened by how they work so hard to make an institution such an inviting place. I am threatened by how hard the teacher works to connect with my child. I am threatened by how little my input matters. I feel like I'm losing my child before he even became mine.

I don't have this feeling at all with my biological kids. Nope. I send them to school and I'm happy for them. I know they will have a great day with great people. It's a positive experience because I have a firm attachment with my biological children. I don't hesitate anymore when I send Clark to school either. We still have lots of attachment work to do, but the foundation is there. School is no longer a threat to our relationship. With E., on the other hand, it's a different story.

On Friday and Monday E. wanted to come home from school mid-day. He asked his teacher on both days if he could. They told him no. They made him stay there. After he was told no he lashed out. On Friday he pushed and kicked a teacher. Yesterday he was simply disobedient. As a parent I'm jumping up and down. Him wanting to come home when he's feeling disregulated is a HUGE deal. That means he feels safe here. He wants to come home and be with ME. This is an enormous victory. I think this is what every adoptive mom wants for their child and it's frustrating when the school and teacher don't see it as a victory. They see it as a problem. That's when I start feeling threatened. I feel like "the man" is undermining my relationship with my child and that's a very VERY good thing to feel. Why? Because that means that attachment is forming on my side. He's MINE. MY son. No one is going to tell my son that he can't come home to his mommy. And while adoptive mothers in the process of attachment are a huge pain in the ass to teachers, it's the battle that leads us closer to our child I think.

I don't know what's in E.'s future for the rest of the school year. In my gut I know the best thing for him is to pull him out and let him be at home. Pulling out Clark last year was the best parenting decision I've ever made. I just can't do it to E. First, he would be extremely angry with me. Clark was quite angry too, but Clark and E. manifest anger is very different ways. I know that if I pulled E. out he'd go over in his head every day how unfair it is that all the other kids go to school but not him. (Equality is a huge issue for E.) This anger and jealousy could possibly get in the way of attachment, which is exactly the opposite of what I want. On the other hand, I'm dealing with a school system that doesn't really understand adoption attachment. They are fantastic in reaching kids with special needs but I don't think they really get how necessary this mother/child relationship is. They treat kids that fall into a certain category the same way. I get why. Most troubled kids have a tough home life and relying on the parents isn't going to work. But E. has a huge asset, and that's a loving home and a house full of people that will do anything to help him on his way. This lack of acknowledgment is a fatal flaw in how E.'s being served.

Today I'm feeling very threatened. I feel like someone is putting a wedge in the middle of my relationship with my son. What I'm attempting to learn is how to properly respond to that threat. Punching people in the nose will only cause greater problems. I've got to find a way to do it that is gracious, polite, firm, and nonviolent. Sometimes I feel like an absolute lunatic, but fighting for that mother/son relationship is completely worth it!

The messy business of attachment

2010-11-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

There are some defeats more triumphant than victories. -Michel de Montaigne

Attaching to an adopted child is, in my experience, full of tremendous highs along with overwhelming lows. Both parties, the parent and the child, are experiencing this together and that fact only adds intensity to the ups and downs. They are magnified. I experienced this with Clark. For the first 12-18 months I'd have periods where I felt so close to him and was so thankful for the family we had. Then I'd go through periods where I wondered what the heck we had done. I know he felt much of the same thing. Some days he thought we were the greatest family in the world. On other days I could tell he wasn't so sure. Eventually this stabalized. Two years later I feel that we've finally reached stability in attachment. The relationship flows naturally. It's such a wonderful place to be.

Four months in I'm starting to experience those attachment ups and downs with E. There was a few week period where he and I were the most awesome mother/son team you'd ever seen. We enjoyed each other so much. We laughed at the same jokes. We teased each other. It was blissful. Then late last week something changed. I could see him start to push away from me. He didn't want me to hug him. He started to get cranky. That meant I got cranky too. As much as I tried not to take it personally I did. Let's face it, when you are emotionally invested in someone it's practically impossible not to allow their feelings to affect you. Just like that the joy I had been experienced was beginning to be sucked out of me. But not to worry. There was a weekend coming up which would give us ample time to reconnect and have some fun together.

Then Friday came. E., for the second time, pushed and kicked a teacher. Why? Why? Why!?!?! I've asked myself this question a hundred times. He's never laid a hand on me. Why does he do this to his teachers? I have some ideas and I think at the core of it is attachment, but that's just a guess. Whatever the reason we started off the weekend on a negative. It wasn't a bad weekend and E. did great at home, but it was strained.

Now it's Monday and E.'s off to school again. I woke up in a bad mood. We had no real ability to connect in a real positive manner this weekend as he's still distant. He's back to spending eight hours a day away from me. I feel like we need some positive time together but that's not going to happen right now. Then I remembered, attachment isn't about the good times. It's not about sharing a laugh or enjoying a movie cuddled on the couch together. Attachment is about enduring the tough times and coming out stronger on the other side. That's where family is formed. In the midst of it that's sometimes hard to remember.

Yes, attachment is a very messy business. The lows that I've experienced in enduring it are some of the greatest lows I've experienced in my life, but what grows during this period is something quite incredible. I look at the relationship I have with Clark now and I see great evidence of this. Had you told me a year ago that Clark and I would have this kind of relationship I wouldn't have believed you. In fact, I probably would have collapsed in a fit of tears and told you that it was impossible. Our relationship was hopeless. But here we are. Our relationship isn't perfect and I'm sure I screw him up a little more each day, just like any decent mother does, but we have a very strong bond and connection that will endure a lifetime.

I've talked to so many adoptive parents that have experienced these highs and lows but are afraid to talk about it. We're living proof that someday it really does happen. Now if we could just do it without any more teacher casualties, that would be great.

Lola Children's Home

2010-10-29T09:54:00.000-07:00

Lola Children's Home is a small, loving orphanage located in Mekele, Ethiopia that serves children and families affected by HIV. Lola is the dream of Abebe Fantahun, an Ethiopian social worker that saw a tremendous need for services for HIV+ children and their families in the Tigray region of Ethiopia.

Lola Children's Fund is now offering sponsorships for the children and families it serves. This is where we need your help! We are asking you to consider sponsoring a child. If you are unable to sponsor at this time, we ask that you please spread this message through blogs, email and Facebook. We need all the help we can get to make this project a success! There is so much that can be done through Lola Children's Home and you can help make Abebe's dream a reality.

Lola Children's Fund offers three different sponsorships. The family sponsorship ($25/month) provides families affected by HIV with food, medication, education and other necessary services. These monies go directly to serve the families. Family sponsorships are currently limited but the need will grow as more families reach out to Lola.

The other sponsorships available through Lola are the Daycare ($30/month) and Resident ($35/months) programs. If you sponsor a child at Lola you will receive timely updates highlighting exactly how your donation is being utilized. These updates will include videos, photographs, or letters from your sponsor child along with a report from the orphanage. Our small sponsorship program allows for the outstanding opportunity to be connected to your child. We offer each sponsor the chance to correspond with their sponsor child on an annual basis.

Lola also offers the opportunity to provide special gifts to your sponsor child or the orphanage as a whole. This might include a birthday party, a Christmas celebration, an outing, or books for the children to enjoy. Your donation will be well documented so you too can enjoy the experience.

Because the sponsorship is entirely electronic, overhead costs are very minimal. This allows a very high percentage of your donation to go directly to the children. Transparency is important to everyone involved.

If you are interested in sponsorship or have any questions, please contact Marissa Baker at sponsorship@lolachildrensfund.org. We appreciate you spreading the word!!!

What I miss

2010-10-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

It's funny. When your spouse leaves it doesn't take long for you to figure out what contributions they made to the family. Because John comes and goes quite a bit, I don't take him from granted much. (I'd be lying if I said I never took him for granted. I certainly go through those periods but they don't last long.) I know very well that John contributes a lot to our household, but sometimes you don't realize the subtle but very large things that they do.

I have no problems running the household while John's gone. I can manage to feed, cloth, discipline and nurture the kids. The problem is, I don't always do it with a big joyful smile on my face. Why? Because I miss the gratitude. I know that kids are, by nature, ungrateful. It's one of the endearing virtues of children. At the end of the day I could always count on John to remind the kids to be appreciative of what I've done for them. He thanks me for making a nice dinner and taking care the household. The kids follow his cue and do the same. It's nice to feel appreciated and I return the favor to him and the kids. I didn't realize what a great job he was doing building up the household. The lack of gratitude in our home has been shining through over the past week. The rate of tattling, fighting, and general yuckiness is at an all time high. Don't get me wrong, they're still doing great. I just miss my joyful home.

This is an area where I'm going to have to step up. Gratitude. I need to take over the role of building up my kids because I know how far it goes in building a healthy family. I know if I do it first the kids will follow suit, but it won't be enough. They can't take the place of John. He does a remarkable job of inspiring me and helping me keep perspective. When he's here I feel good about myself. There's nothing like a house full of children and nothing but children to sap you of your self-confidence. And I say that in the most loving way possible.

While I may not enjoy it in the meantime, missing these things is what I appreciate about being a military family. While it may mean that we spend months on end apart, it also means we truly value the time we have together.

A new battle

2010-10-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

We're entering a new world....the world of learning disabilities. It's something I was concerned about since Rose came home. I could tell she was extremely intelligent but she just wasn't picking up visual information (the alphabet, letter sounds, colors) as quickly as the other kids did. I chalked it up to her being older and missing a lot of school in Ethiopia. As time went on I noticed things weren't really getting any better. The tools that had been so beneficial to Clark and E. weren't working with her. I had no idea what to do.

Rose recently started working with the special services coordinator at school for ELL assessment and assistance. In the weeks working with her, the counselor agreed that there was something going on. She's just not picking certain things up. Her vocabulary is growing daily, but she's not getting anywhere with letter or color recognition. We also recently found out that she wasn't able to write well in Amharic either. I'm pretty sure that my child is illiterate. To be perfectly honest, as a mother I find that word more troubling that the other 3 letters that she lives with.

I'm frustrated knowing that it's going to take a lot of time to figure out what's going on exactly. The federal guidelines require that children all follow the same path in diagnosis so it seems there might be some hoops to jump through before she gets any real help. It's frustrating, but the process has begun. The counselor is working with her as often as she can. She is using the same tools she uses with special ed. students to see if she finds something that clicks.

I am completely clueless about learning disabilities. It's going to be a long road for Rose, and I've got a lot of reading to do to figure out how I can help her. Thankfully the school is doing as much as possible. They've been fantastic with all the kids. I may not always agree with their choices, but I know they are working very hard to help E. and Rose.

More than anything, I'm just so sad that Rose is going to have yet another battle to fight. She's an amazing girl with so much potential. If anyone can fight this battle it's her. She's very smart, very disciplined, and she's not afraid of much. My life is devoted to getting this girl to college and allowing her to live her dreams. I know she can do it!

So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, goodbye

2010-10-13T20:12:00.000-07:00

I honestly can't believe the day is almost here. John is leaving. For a year. I've done this before. I'm not scared. I feel composed. But I'm not happy. In fact, I'm really, really sad. Part of me really appreciates these feelings. Sadness and grieving are an important part of life. That doesn't mean I enjoy it.

I've been really careful about telling anyone that I feel any bit of sadness over this deployment. In fact, I've bent over backwards to minimize it. I have been terrified that people would judge me for my displeasure. I'm used to the "Well, you guys signed up for this!" routine. Or my personal favorite, "Remember that he has it much worse than you." I've heard that more than once and honestly it doesn't do much but make me laugh anymore. The one that I'm truly terrified of hearing is, "If you knew your husband was going to Iraq and you were going to be sad, why did you adopt more kids?" I'm terrified of hearing this because I'm not sure how it will affect me. Will I feel angry? Devastated? Hateful? Desperate? So I've been keeping a stiff upper lip and not allowed anyone to see how miserable I am over the fact that my best friend is leaving, and his overwhelming feelings over leaving his family. I mean really, can you imagine saying goodbye to your children for a year? I cannot. I don't know how he does it. I don't know how any of them do it.

I don't want people to think we can't hack it. We can and we will! When people see a sad military wife they assume that she can't handle being a military wife. That's just not fair. We are a strong, capable family that is going to grow so much in the next year. That doesn't mean we don't get to cry and allow ourselves to feel the tremdous emotion we are feeling.

I believe we're in a good place right now. The kids are doing well. A couple of them are starting to grieve over dad leaving, but that's normal and it will get better. We've got a lot of support that will get us through the next year. There will surely be very, very hard times but I've been down this path before and I know that we will come out stronger on the other side no matter how miserable it might feel in the middle.

And because everyone loves a video montage set to sappy music:

Glimmers of the past

2010-10-10T18:13:00.000-07:00

I think just about every adoptive mom I know longs for one thing.........a connection to their child's past. It doesn't matter if your child came to you at 5 months or 5 years of age, finding a glimmer of your child's past is priceless. When I was in Ethiopia and visted Clark's home town I took in everything I could. I found myself looking into the faces of the little boys along the road, trying to find my son in their eyes.

This weekend we got to experience a glimmer of E. and Rose's past. It was the past before the orphanage, that place where horrible and beautiful reality happens. I know these connections mean a lot to the kids and I am so incredible grateful to have this small picture of their life when things were "normal" for them.

Sometimes learning about where they came from and what they experienced is somewhat devastating. As a mother you often feel all the bad stuff in the world happens to other people's children.....or at least you hope it does. For the past two years I've been learning to accept that my family is not isolated from all the bad stuff. Disease, poverty, hunger, injustice, violence.......it's all right here in my home and all too often I don't know what it means. What do I do with all this information? I don't know. I just don't know.

On a happy note, we got to visit some incredible friends that I feel so lucky to know. They are truly inspiring. It was a great weekend.

Best school ever

2010-10-06T18:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so maybe not the best school ever, but it's pretty great. I was a bit nervous about enrolling them in a charter school. While I knew middle school wasn't the right move for Rose, I didn't know if this school was right either. I just held my breath and hoped for the best. I'm now so thankful for choices in education that allow us to choose the right school for the unique needs of our children.

Hawkeye is doing great in kindergarten, but I didn't have any worries there. He was made for kindergarten. He's so excited to go to school each and every day. I get nothing but raves from his teacher. And his teacher is incredible. She is a personal hero of mine. Seriously, I wish I could be her when I grow up. She's got the combination of joy and firmness in relating to children down to a science. She is the ideal teacher for Hawkeye.

Clark is doing well, but that's not a surprise. He's got a really cool teacher and he has aced all his spelling tests. He's made so many friends and may have his first girlfriend. (He's still waiting to see if she said yes.) Clark really loves school, but this year he's actually happy to see me when I go pick him up. The firm attachment has finally been built. It's such a great feeling!

E. is doing pretty good. I think everyone is still holding their breath. E.'s teacher is phenomenal. Without her this wouldn't have worked. Yesterday I met with her and the counselor to complete E.'s IEP. After the meeting she said, "You know, I've never met a child that so desperately wants and needs to be punished." I wanted to die of laughter. You don't know how many times I have said this exact same thing. It's bizarre. Truly bizarre. But E.'s getting used to the dynamics of his class. He's not really a "friend" sort of kid, but there are so many of his fellow students that are looking out for him. They encourage him a great deal and make sure he never gives up. He's in good hands.

Rose is also enjoying school. She's struggling with English much more so than E. is, but she's getting there. She's made so many friends and is always smiling. Her teacher says she's starting to open up and he's starting to see the "real" Rose. He's a gifted teacher as well and I'm so glad she's in his class. Next week Rose is starting the First Lego League team, a competative engineering league. I'm so excited for her and can't wait to see what she does with this.

This school is truly like nothing I've ever seen before. There is heavy emphasis on community. The school serves children K-8 and children from all the grades interact on a regular basis. They have "community circle" and "book buddies." The students are encouraged to support one another and offer each other appreciation. It's amazing to see this entire school look out for E. and Rose. Their fellow students work hard helping them with their school work. The kids seek to understand the difficulties that E. and Rose are facing. The other day one of the kids in Rose's class went to the counselor to ask why Rose was having such a tough time in English. He couldn't understand why she didn't know the letters and their sounds. The counselor got on the computer and showed the child the Amharic alphabet and how each symbol represented a more complex sound. The counselor said the child left with a real appreciation with what Rose is going through.

It's rare to see almost an entire school living in community with one another and trying to pull their fellow students up. The other kids have made cards, bought gifts, brought clothing for E. and Rose. When E. is gentle on the playground one of the kids in his class takes notice and makes sure to tell him. The big kids know my kindergartener and first grader. The little kids in the school know the big kids. It's really a dream come true. And they are learning.....so much. Frequent field trips, nature hikes, daily art project. It's everything I've ever wanted for my kids. Yay public schools!

Personality

2010-10-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. -Carl Jung

Yesterday as we were getting ready for church, like many parents John and I were pulling our hair out. Clark has a tough time getting ready for anything. We laugh that Clark spends more time in the bathroom than his pre-teen sister. Of course he has to find his way to the bathroom first. He often gets lost on the way there. Clark is always the last one out the door in the morning and nothing I do seems to change this. The kid struggles with maintaining focus and staying on task. Yesterday morning John and I were discussing what we should do about this. Does he need to see a therapist? Does he have some sort of disorder? John and I often spend a lot of time worrying about Clark and yesterday morning we realized that we couldn't just talk and worry about it anymore. We had to do something.

Then we got to church and I checked the kids in for Sunday school. The children's director pulled me aside to discuss Clark. Ugh! It's true! There was something wrong. It just wasn't what I expected. Clark's Sunday school teacher thought that Clark would do better if he moved up a grade at church. She said he was completely bored doing first grade stuff. He knew everything that she was teaching and he needed more of a challenge. She went on and on about how smart he is. I practically fainted, then I started laughing hysterically until I was almost in tears.

We decided that we'd need one more confirmation of Clark's ability to focus in a classroom setting. After all, the people that run Sunday school aren't child development experts. So I emailed Clark's teacher. She stated that she has not noticed any issues with his attention span and is doing really well in school. She even stated he was an excellent reader. I pretty much jumped for joy!

The funny thing is, Clark is exactly like John was at this age. John had all sorts of issues with focus. He often got bored and fell out of his seat at school. He was put in remedial classes because the teachers thought he had a low IQ. A few years later they found out he was extremely intelligent and was bored with all things school. Thankfully education has changed a great deal since then. Clark loves school because there's always something fun to do. There's very little time spent sitting at a desk completing phonics worksheets and the like. His success at school has everything to do with being challenged and engaging in activities that he enjoys. His time at home is spent living in his fantasy world, stimulating his imagination. That's a good thing to do at home.

I think us adoptive parents struggle with understanding what traits in our children are due to adoption, trauma and loss, and what traits are based in genetics. When I look at my kids I see people that are who they are based on the personality they are born with. I don't mean to minimized the effects of trauma and loss at all. That said, I think the first step in helping our children is understanding and appreciating who they are. I've found that this can be extremely challenging when the child has a personality that's the opposite of your own. So much of their behavior seems "wrong," especially when you have a personality like mine.

It's interesting to see how the personalities in our family are broken down. Hawkeye, E. and I are all ISJ personality types. This is why I tend to "get" Hawkeye and E. in a way that most people probably don't. Rose and Hot Lips (although we took some major guesses on Hot Lips because she's a bit young to assign a personality type to her) are ETJ. These two are quite similar and get along really well. John and Clark are ENP. It's funny that I have such a hard time understanding Clark yet married someone with the same personality type. That leads me to believe that ENPs grow up to be fantastic adults.

A few months ago I realized that I had two choices with Clark. I could spend my time trying to change him by attemping to teach him strict discipline and self control. Or I could accept who he is. I pictured Clark as an adult and decided that adult Clark would appreciate a mother that accepted him for who he was and offered him patience when the realities of the world conflicted with his personality. That's a huge task for an ISJ but I'm working on it.

Here's a great little personality test for kids. While I don't think it's wise to put a lot of stock in a website, I think it's a good starting place.

My naughty child

2010-10-01T13:22:00.001-07:00

The most phenomenal aspect of E. feeling better is that he gets to be purely naughty. I love naughty children. I especially love catching naughty children being naughty, disciplining them for their naughtiness, and then laughing about it behind their backs. That is truly one of the best gifts of being a parent.

E. has done really well in school for the past week. That said, he's still a naughty little hellion that tests each and every boundary to its limit. I can respect that. While he has my respect, I make it clear that he has absolutely met his match. Sometimes I feel like I'm a little too "tough" with him. None of the others kids in the house require the firmness that E. thrives on. That makes me feel a little guilty. No more.

On Tuesday I got a call from E.'s teacher. E. was yelling "no" to all the teachers and refused to do what he was told. I rolled my eyes and knew exactly what this was about. He was messing with them. I really love the kids' school and I think E.'s teacher is fabulous, but she's a bit too nice. She told me she wanted to send him to timeout but she knew he'd refuse to do it. She didn't know what to do. I instantly got into the car and drove to the school. E. was at lunch when I showed up and he gave me a big smile when I walked into the lunch room. I gave him "the look" (which has never worked on any of my children) and he wiped that big smile off his face. He knew that mom knew what he had done.

I took him into a classroom for a little chat. I laid down the law. I threatened him with homeschooling and a week of picking up dog poop in the back yard. He now has to refer to his teacher as "ma'am." I also told him that I know everything that goes on in the school and he can't get away with anything. (At least this will work for the time being.) I left after my 5 minute lecture with my fingers crossed. I felt like the big, bad mean mom. In a school full of educators that believe in positive discipline I felt as if I had failed. Surely they saw me as a demon mother who didn't deserve this precious little boy with the charming dimples. (And those dimples don't work on me.)

When I picked the kids up from school E.'s teacher said he was angelic for the rest of the day. Wow! It worked! My firm hard-ass mother routine actually made a difference. But at what expense? Surely I completely destroyed the mother/child attachment process. But what happened when he got home? E. wrapped his arms around me with a big smile of his face and told me how much he loved me. It was a moment of pure bliss.

I feel that I've broken every single rule of adoptive parenting with E. but somehow it's worked for us. The moral of this story is that there are no hard and fast rules in adoptive parenting. Every child is different and every child needs something different. I can't believe how fantastic it feels to know that I can be just what this delightfully naughty child needs. (At least for now.) What is even more amazing is that I can be exactly who I am with this child. He loves my sarcasm, and I love his. He loves my mockery, and I love his. He loves my teasing, and I love his. He loves my firm hand, and I love his naughtiness. Lately we've been spending practically every moment of every evening together. We spend so much time laughing while he pushes the boundaries and I call him out with my drill sergeant voice.

I worried so much early on about E. I thought there was no way I could handle this little boy. For the first two weeks he was home I spent so much time crying and feeling absolutely hopeless. E. and I talk about those early days now, which I think is so therapeutic for both of us. We laugh about it together. I'm so thankful and in awe of the bond we have formed over the past few months. I love my naughty child and wouldn't want him any other way.

Embracing the "bad"

2010-09-30T16:18:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks I've been attending a great Bible study on Thursday mornings at the wonderful Amber's house. It's a study of the Parable of the Sower, which is such a great parable (and wonderful sci-fi book by Octavia Butler). Today in the study we talked about compost. My good friend David taught me to love compost more than the plants that grew in my garden. Compost was the root of it all. Compost required more tending then the plants themselves did but the result was a beautiful, rich, life giving substance that you can't buy.

So what does compost have to do with us? Compost is all the icky stuff from our gardens, yards, and kitchens. We throw it into a pile, turn it over on a regular basis, allow nature to work its magic...and viola! That's quite similar to what the Christian life is all about. We take the bad, the pain, the suffering, the icky.....things that look quite horrifying to just about everyone.....and we allow God to work within us and turn that ickiness into something rich, beautiful and life giving. Don't get me wrong, I don't subscribe to the love affair with suffering philosophy. I love to read works of the saints but I'm quite uncomfortable with the religion of suffering that so many of these earlier leaders expressed. That said, I think it's beneficial to find a purpose in suffering.

This got me thinking, how am I passing this virtue on to my children? Some of them know a level of suffering that I will never understand. I work hard to try to "fix" their suffering. I try to create new pathways in their brains and fill up their tanks with love. In this am I doing anything to help them embrace what they've been through? I don't think so. That said, I feel very wrong in asking them to see any sort of goodness in what they've been through. That's not my place. That said, I don't want them to necessarily see all the "bad" (and please note that the word 'bad' is in quotation marks) traits they have picked up along the way as bad. Instead I think I'd rather them try to utilize these traits to their full advantage. I know that I have MANY undesirable traits and I've found peace in them by trying to make them an asset, knowing that I can never truly change who I am.

Teaching this lesson to my kids is going to be tricky business, but I think doing it well will serve them more than trying to rid them of their more unappealing personality traits. This is a work in progress and I haven't decided exactly how I'm going to lead them down this path. For now it's just a thought....and probably a rather unpopular one.

Night and Day

2010-09-28T14:52:00.000-07:00

When the kids came home we were most worried about Rose. We knew she had some major health issues and were only hoping we could get to her in time. When she came home she went practically straight to the hospital. Since then she's been doing so wonderfully health wise. She's got a lot of work she needs to do but there's a great deal to be optimistic about. What we never anticipated was that we should have been equally as worried about E.

After meeting E. I noticed he had an ear infection. No biggie. Lots of kids get ear infections. The doctor didn't seem concerned so we didn't worry about it either. Labs showed that E. was in incredible health. He was among those 1% of people in the world that are able to fight off a certain infection for years and years on their own. He was doing well without medication so there was nothing to worry about at the moment. Wrong! Turns out he had more than just a simple ear infection. He needed surgery quickly and is now on IV antibiotics. It seems his body was working so miraculously in one way that his immune system couldn't fight off other opportunistic infections. This meant E. was chronically exhausted and miserable but he didn't know any differently as it had been going on for so long.

We're now a week out from surgery. John and I both noticed a dramatic difference in his temperament and behavior. While it was great to see, we weren't sure if we were seeing things that weren't really there. Our observations were confirmed when I talked to E.'s teacher yesterday. Night and day difference. He's doing independent work, staying in the classroom, getting along with his fellow students. It's amazing. At home he's doing more playing with the other kids than he had previously done. He's happy and joyful almost all the time. He asks me frequently if his ear is really fixed and when I tell him that it is he just beams.

I can't tell you how incredible it is to see this kid emerge from the absolute misery he'd been living in. I am so thankful that he's here.

Little things that are so big

2010-09-24T08:01:00.001-07:00

Life has been crazy around here for the past couple weeks. School, doctor appointment, homework, and activities. It's a crazy whirlwind of chaos that should settle down soon. I'm looking forward to that.

When we got home from Ethiopia our focus was on Rose's health, but little did we know that E. had some pretty big issues going on as well. He just had surgery and is now on IV antibiotics. He's doing okay. He tried going to school yesterday but that didn't go well so he may be home for the next 2 weeks while he's taking this medication.

E. is doing well overall. We've seen significant changes in him at home and at school. Oddly enough, he struggles less at home than he does at school. For older adopted children it's often the other way around. E. loves being at school, but often does things that cause him to come home early. It's frustrating but I know that it's going to get better. He's a good kid that's struggling with a lot. Patience and consistency will go along way with him.

While I really enjoy E., there are times where I wonder if I'm the right mother for him. I think most adoptive mothers ask themselves this question more than once, and I'm no exception. E. and I spent about 6 hours in the hospital waiting for surgery this past Monday. He was bored. I was annoyed. I did my best to be kind, patient and understanding with him. When he left for surgery I was relieved to get a break and didn't feel a twinge of sadness when he screamed for me as they led him down the hallway to the OR. I walked out and collapsed in a chair where I spent an hour and a half feeling sorry for myself.

After surgery the doctor came and talked to me. Instead of telling me the details of his surgery she went right to asking me questions about his adoption. How long had he been home? How did we go about finding this child? I answered her questions in a rather unemotional manner. She then told me about how E. had woken up mid-surgery and began looking for me and asking for mommy. She told me she had worked with many adopted children and she's never seen anything like this. She was amazed with how much he saw me as his protector, his comfort, his mother. Right then my hardness began to melt away and I realized how much hope there was for him, for our relationship, and for me.

I have no idea what the future holds for E. and me. I don't know what our relationship will look like in 2 years. I do know that I've never seen a little boy that needed a mother so badly. And I've never met a mother that found so much healing in her child simply referring to her as "mommy." One of the fantastic things about adoption is there's very little room to take anything for granted.

Great days ahead

2010-09-02T09:15:00.001-07:00

I've been completely and totally obsessed with school for the last couple week. Trying to get everyone transitioned (including myself) has been a challenge, but I see a lot to be excited about.

E. had a rough start. He's had to come home early a few times. I won't go into detail, but it was scary. I wondered if school was going to be a possibility for him at this time and I knew homeschooling wouldn't be good for our relationship. Thankfully he seems to be doing a bit better. While they still have trouble keeping him in the classroom, he's doing a better job of regulating his emotions. At home we've worked hard on making him responsible for his actions. He's free to grieve, to be sad, or to be mad, but he has to express himself in a responsible way. When he doesn't express his feelings responsibly, there are consequences. (These consequences are NOT punishments and are always logical.) When he expresses his feelings in a healthy manner he is given everything that he needs to help him. I love to see him cry. (I know, that sounds weird.) For the first month and a half I never saw him cry. I only saw him rage and scream. He's come along way. I'm so impressed with him.

I had a meeting this morning with the entire team that works with E. at school. That was a bit intimidating, but I think beneficial. I got to explain where E. is coming from and the best tactics we have found in helping him. It seems that my approach is in line exactly with the school's philosophy, so I think we've got a good match. I've started getting really good communication with them, which has helped me to help E. I'm very optimistic. The counselor has started teaching him the piano to help him calm down when he starts getting overwhelmed. I was really impressed with them using the piano as therapy. What a great idea! E. loves the piano and can already play "Mary had a Little Lamb." He is very talented and is going to do well in a school focused on the arts.

The rest of the kids are doing fantastic. Hawkeye's teacher was in the meeting this morning (she doubles as the PE teacher for E.) and afterwards talked to me about Hawkeye. She told me how well he is doing and that he's a natural leader. That's always wonderful for a mother to hear! Clark, as always, knows everyone in school and everyone LOVES him. Nothing new there. But this year is different. When he comes home he's a "family boy." Last year he'd ignore me when he came home and our attachment was threatened significant. I don't see any hint of that this year. Rose is also doing fabulous. I haven't talked to her teacher yet, but she always comes home from school happy. When I go pick up Hawkeye from kindergarten she's at recess so we get a chance to talk and touch base. Her friends (and she's made many) tell me about what she's done that day. They are always waiting at the fence for me. I love that.

While we initially had some communication issues with the school (they hadn't seen E.'s struggles yet at that point) I'm really happy with where they are at. The entire school is a tiny little community that's interconnected. They get the opportunity to explore their strengths and talents. They have so many opportunities to explore outside of the classroom. I'm very, very impressed. I wasn't sure about how I felt about an arts based charter school. It sounded good in theory, but how did it really work? It's incredible. Initially I was really irritated at the idea of having to volunteer at the school. I was overwhelmed by the idea. Now I'm excited about it. I got to go on a mini-field trip with E. to the wetlands (the only way he'd go is if I came along) and had such a great time. I can't wait to do it again.

The first child

2010-08-25T12:32:00.000-07:00

It seems a little weird that my first child is off to kindergarten given the fact that I've got a 1st grader, 3rd grader and 6th grader. This is my very first experience with a "normal" school experience and I must say I find it quite liberating. I don't have to worry about stress, anxiety, learning issues, language issues, developmental issues or behavioral issues. I can just enjoy the fact that my kindergartner enjoys kindergarten. It's relaxing.

I've always wanted to homeschool Hawkeye. He's so inquisitive and I know he would be so much fun to educate. I also said that if my child wanted to attend school I would not stand in his way. Hawkeye has been excited about school for some time so I knew I had to put my wants aside and be happy that he knew what he wanted. I'm doing just that. I really am excited for him. I love picking him up and hearing all about his day. It helps that I adore his teacher. I think if I could pick out any teacher in the world for Hawkeye it would be her. She's awesome.

Maybe someday far in the future I'll have the chance to homeschool Hawkeye, but even if I don't that's okay. There are not too many things more wonderful than watching your child enjoy school and talk about their day with such excitement. Let's hope it lasts for a few years.

Adventures in school

2010-08-24T15:34:00.000-07:00

For some reason I thought that when the kids went to school things would get easy. I'd get to kick my feet up, relax and be lazy. Ha! Instead I'm shuffling kids to doctor's appointments, trying to get back in time to pick up the 5-year-old from kindergarten, then get the grocery shopping done and snacks made in time to pick up the other kids. Somehow I then have to squeeze in one-on-one time in with the younger kids during the early afternoon. There isn't even enough time to clean! By the second day of school I thought I'd have half my to-do list knocked out. I haven't even started. I think I'm putting the to-do list aside until I get into the groove of things. I'm not complaining. Just surprised. It's been along time since I was forced to be on any sort of schedule.

I'm happy to report that the kids are doing great in school. The only kid I really worried about was E. I had this on-going joke with myself over how long it would take E. to get suspended. I know it's only the second day of school but I'm feeling that he might just do great. He's apparently had a couple crying spells here and there (he said he was afraid I wasn't going to come get him), but overall he's doing good. He has had one-on-one time with the counselor already and is going to work on English while playing the piano with her. I thought that was a very cool idea. What really surprised me about E. is how happy he is to see me when I pick him up. He runs up, gives me a HUGE hug, and tells me how much he missed me. I didn't have this experience with Clark last year. Instead Clark and I quickly took a huge backslide in attachment. E. is so different though and I'm already believing that we may be able to work on attachment even if he's gone most of the day. Overall I think this school (a public arts charter school) is going to be a good fit for all the kids. I'm excited about the school year!

My only complaint has to do with communication issues and I think it's simply a matter of me needing to be pushier. I've had to decipher broken English from E. to even find out he's seeing the counselor (I have no idea what triggered the visits with the counselor) and that part of his work will be on the piano. It would be quite nice if the school would take the time to talk to ME, the parent, about these issues. It's a total pet peeve of mine and I think I'm just going to have to get over it. I have to assume that they don't know what it's like to be an adoptive parent who's trying very hard to help their child heal from years of orphanage care and abuse on top of trauma.

I'm just wondering, when do I get to sit back and watch soap operas all afternoon?

Hair, etc.

2010-08-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

Given that grooming isn't a top priority of mine, maintaing Rose's hair and skin has been a bit of a challenge for me. I'm proud to say that I think I've successfully learned to care for black hair and skin easily and without great expense.

I started out using Curls and Carol's Daughter products. They are wonderful but they are much too expensive for me. I'm cheap. Looking at the ingredients at the products I was sure I could make my own. I did a lot of reading and tried new things and ended up finding a great way to care for hair and skin without paying much for them. Here's what I've found.

Shampoo and Conditioner: Trader Joe's Nourish Spa. It's $2.99 a bottle and it's fabulous. We shampoo maybe once or twice a week and use the conditioner as a co-wash every other day.

Leave-in: I make a spray composed mostly of water, a little bit of a natural oil mix I bought at Walmart(Africa's Best), and some jojoba oil. I add a couple drops of lavender oil and tea tree oil to benefit the scalp. This is used daily.

Styling creme: This is still a work in progress and I'm going to try different things in the future. The base of it, which won't change, is flax seed gel. Flax seed gel is simple to make. You just take a handful of flax seeds and a couple cups of water and simmer it until it turns into a snot-like substance. Strain out the flax seeds (I use a mesh strainer) and you've got the perfect gel. I add a little bit of shea butter (which acts as a moisture sealant), a little almond oil, jojoba oil, and coconut milk. I also add a couple drops of lavender essential oil because I like the smell. I keep this in the fridge for a couple weeks. This creme not only moisturizes really well, but it makes beautiful curls. I am in love with flax seed gel.

Weekly deep treatment: Mix honey, olive oil, jojoba oil and coconut milk. Heat until honey is melted. Put on wet hair with a cap to hold in heat. Sit for 20 minutes, then wash with shampoo.

Skin: We use either shea or cocoa butter, but for Rose's face (and I've started using it on mine) I use straight jojoba oil. It's wonderful. It leaves the skin really soft and it's made a dramatic difference in the condition of Rose's skin. I'm waiting to see if it provides any benefit to scarring, as it is supposed to.