We have a big crack down the windshield of our van. Bummer. It got hit by a rock or something on the interstate. The boys have had fun watching it make it’s way across the windshield. Zee swears he can see it move.
We were driving down the interstate when, from the backseat, Zee yells:
“Brian, your crack is getting bigger! I can see it! Your crack is growing! It’s getting bigger by the second! Wow, look at it – it’s getting so big!”
Aahhhahahahaha. Hilarious.
There’s a birthday in our house today…
A very special person is turning 10…
Lots of present opening….
Piñata hitting….
Rock climbing….
Jae, I hope you’ve had a good birthday. I know this is a hard one for you, and I know that you are wishing you could be with your mom on this special day. Every once in a while I see a glimmer of the real Jae, and I know you will be a great man when you grow up. I hope that when you look back on your tenth birthday, you will be able to remember that you were loved, and that we were so honored to get to celebrate with you. Today I asked you how it felt to be ten, and you wouldn’t give me any more than a “fine.” But Zee was very happily added on that it made him feel great for you to be ten! So you’re brother is very excited about the double digits.
I love you Jae. Even though you hate it that I do. Even though I have to steal hugs.
Happy Birthday.
Last night was a very rough night. (How many blog posts could I start with that sentence? Ha!) But really, probably one of the top five worst nights since the boys came to us – almost three months ago – how is that possible? We were having a wonderful evening, and had just gotten home from practicing their baseball skills at the park. It was like a buzzer sounded in our house signaling the boys to completely lose it.
One minute we were having lots of fun, and the next minute there was yelling, there was name calling, there were toys being thrown from one end of the house to the other, there were doors slamming, there was screaming, and there was more disrespect than any one person should endure in one evening.
And really, I would do it all over again. Because afterward,
Jae talked to me. Like really talked.
He told me how he’s feeling really stressed. He told me that he just gets mad so quickly, and he doesn’t know how to change it. He told me the things he’s worried about. He told me that he’s upset because his birthday next week will be the first one without his mom. He expressed to me that he doesn’t think that it is ok for him to cry. He told me how much he misses his mom – how he misses watching t.v. with her, and helping her with the dishes. He told me how much he misses his other two siblings. He said sometimes it just feels like he explodes. He told me the things that he’s sad about should their case go to adoption. He told me how he’s been praying that he will go home. He cried.
I listened. I tried to empathize. I cried. I prayed. I comforted.
It felt so good to actually get to talk to Jae. Not to his anger, or to the wall he has put up between himself and the world, but actually to him. We talked about how it feels better to get to talk to someone about all the feelings instead of keeping them inside.
I know that this is not the end of his anger – but it is a beginning. I can’t help but feel like this is progress, that maybe some very small part of him is beginning to trust me. There will be lots more hard days, but I pray that with every hard day there is a rainbow like last night – a promise of redemption.
Everything in me knows that last night was a result of prayers for his little heart. Thank you so much for the e-mails letting me know that so many of you are praying for them. It is making a difference.
Today there is a court hearing for the case. It is likely that today, this afternoon, Mom will be ruled inappropriate for placement, their goal will be changed to adoption, a very strong anchor will be cut from these boys’ lives. My heart is so broken today – I hurt for these boys deep in my heart. Please pray for them.
Today is likely the worst day of their lives.
Pray for their hearts. Pray for Brian and I to have wisdom, empathy, and love strong enough to help them through. I know their hearts will break, but please pray that they are mendable. Pray that they’ll know our love, that they’ll know God’s love, and that it can be a shelter and a comfort to them.
It don't have a job
Don't pay your bills
Won't buy you a home
In Beverly Hills
Won't fix your life
In five easy steps
Ain't the law of the land
Or the government
But it's all you need..
Love, will, hold us together
Make us a shelter
to weather the storm
And I'll, be, my brothers keeper
So the whole world will know
That we're not alone
It's waiting for you
Knockin' at your door.
In the moment of truth
When your heart hits the floor.
When you're on your knees then...
Love, will, hold us together
Make us a shelter
to weather the storm
And I'll, be, my brothers keeper
So the whole world will know
That we're not alone.
The boys, Sylvie, and I spent the long weekend visiting my parents. We just got back yesterday afternoon. Actually, I served as the only adult on a five hour road trip with all three kids, so forgive me if my thoughts don’t flow well – I’m still recovering. I got out of the van at the end of the trip, opened the side door, and found that sometime during the five hours Sylvia’s arm was mysteriously colored a nice shade of red. But Jae didn’t do it, and neither did Zee, just ask them. {Obviously my daughter has a profound ability to use a marker, and her dexterity is off the charts.} There was also magic disappearing ink all over my back seat. Here’s to hoping the folks in China weren’t joking when they made that label. I’m also fairly sure that someone (obviously not Jae or Zee) spilled milk all over in the back – it’s beginning to smell like a baking sippy cup in there. My poor vanborghini. Ahhhh – so now, 5 hours, a bottle of disappearing ink, a container of milk, one very large tattoo on Sylvia’s arm, and a combined total of 150 minutes of earned time spent in respective rooms later (oh, and somewhere in there I had to explain what a tampon is) – we are home.
Things always go really well when we’re out of town. Very little yelling, very little cussing (except for the choice words they decided to introduce my nephew, Simon, to.), very little smarting off. Which is a blessing, cause who wants to be stuck home with kids in their rooms while you’re out of town? Not me. It also tells me that they are capable of being respectful and listening when they want to.
However, as I said before, we are back home. And it’s completely obvious.
Jae is grounded this morning. We only ground when they use any kind of physical force to get what they want. We have to keep a tight reign on anything physical because we have Sylvia. He also lost his privilege to play in his baseball game last night. He then spent said baseball game sitting behind Brian and I on the bleachers mumbling threats and disrespectful comments about us. Everything was a battle all day.
Having said all of that, I do really feel like we’ve made a little progress with the boys. They’ve adjusted to our discipline techniques, we’ve adjusted to their needs in discipline. They are always aware of what choice they are making with any bad decision they make. They are able to tell us why things are not ok. I’ve even gotten a few unprompted ‘sorry’s’. It’s just such slow progress, that sometimes in the middle of the day when I’m being yelled at for the 200,293’d time it’s hard to see.
Baby steps. And according to the caseworker we’ve got plenty of time to work on things. Time we have. I’m just not sure how much longer my van is going to hold up. Ha!
I don’t make it a real habit to meet new people at the gym. In fact, I find that most of the time I try to avoid it. I want to get in, get out, and get to everything else I have to do (such as the laundry of 5 small children. which is a lot of laundry.).
This morning I was sitting on one of the machines taking a short break between reps when I noticed this older gentleman looking my way. There are a lot of older people who exercise at the same time as me, and I rather like listening to their banter – but this guy, was he? Oh no. He was making eye contact. The kind of eye contact that says, “I think I’ll start a conversation with that random person over there working on toning her inner thighs.” (But not in a perverted way, because that is definitely how that sounded.)
He walks over, and I smile, because 80 year old men automatically prompt smiles (why is that?). He points at the stickers on my shirt that the daycare gives you so that they don’t give your children to someone else. On this particular morning, there were three of them.
“Now I have a little bit of a personal question, ma’am. Because you’re a pretty little thing, but you don’t look any older than 12.”
“Oh, I know sir, I get that a lot. (And still don’t appreciate it, when is that supposed to kick in?) I’m actually almost 25.”
“Well, I know that you just had a baby, but I was just noticing that you have several child care stickers on your shirt, and because you are so young, I just didn’t know how it was possible?”
(Do I really have to explain to an 80 year old man how that’s possible? Because by the time you’re 80, buddy, you should know.)
I explained how we’re foster parents, and how at the moment we have five children, but that we don’t always have that many kids.
“Oh, well, I was just wondering, being from Southern California and all, with all you religious freaks out here with all these kids – I just thought I’d ask.”
Ummmmm. Seriously? Seriously. Who says something like that? w.o.w.
I kind of wanted to point him toward this post. But instead I just smiled. I think there’s also something about being 80 years old that gives you some unmentioned permission to say whatever you want.
So we leave the gym. I load the kids into the car, we start home.
I’m on the phone when I turn around to see that Carter has this MASSIVE glob of glutinous, green, disgustingness hanging from his nose to his lip. The kind that makes you think, “Wow, he really must have an oversized sinus cavity. Or maybe his entire head is one big sinus cavity.” That big.
So I look around in a frenzy for the tissues and can’t find them. I explain to him that I can’t find them, but that he should just sit there very still until we get home and I’d wipe it off as soon as I could.
So we continue home, and I finish up my phone conversation. We pull into the driveway and I go around to get him out of the car.
oh no.
where did they go?
where are the boogers? The MASSIVE amount of boogers?
I start looking around the van for them, on his clothes, on his booster, the arm of the chair. I can’t find them.
Carter, what happened to all of the boogers?
He looked at me as innocently as can be, pointed to his face, and opened his mouth.
Guess we can skip lunch. Because wow, that many boogers must be proportionate to a three course meal.
We went to our monthly foster parent support meeting early this week. They are put on by our agency, and it’s a great way to meet other foster parents. Since it is Foster Care Awareness Month, they put on a little open house dinner-ish thing for the foster parents. It was very nice of them. I really enjoyed it.
A couple of our closer foster parent friends were there – (they are the ones that had X-man’s brothers, and they are who he moved in with when he left our house.). They had a couple of little boys with them who had been placed with them the night before. Intake had actually called us with these boys the night before, and we had to say no because we currently only have one twin bed open. (Anyone know where I can get some bunk beds real cheap?) We sat down for dinner with them and Zee piped up, “Those are my cousins!” I really was thinking he probably had them confused, but then one of the other boys said, “Hey look! That’s Zee!”
What are the chances? We are two hours away from where they are from, and their cousins just happen to be placed with a couple in our agency who we know well? CRAZY! Their cousins also have two siblings in care (about ten minutes from where we live). So if Jae and Zee’s brother and sister end up moving in with us, there will be 8 kids from the same family in foster care in the same town.
If that’s not an example of the cycle of poverty doin’ it’s thing, I don’t know what is. (By the way this is a great book about the cycle of poverty, and is very helpful in understanding where a lot of these kids come from.)
Imagine that you grow up in a small town, or a big city for that matter, and your family is poor. Not by any choice of your own – maybe both your parents work as hard as they can, but can’t make ends meat, maybe your dad is into drugs, maybe your mom is really depressed, maybe they are both gone all the time, and you’re really not sure what is going on.
And then there’s the abuse. Everybody is stressed out and no one knows what to do. Maybe sometimes your mom hits you, maybe sometimes your dad touches you, maybe there is never anyone there to get you ready for school, maybe all three. There’s no food in the house, and you’ve pretty much had to figure out how this world works all on your own.
You’ve never left the town you were born in. You live in a poor neighborhood, and most of the people around you are in about the same situation. You don’t really have any role models, no one to look up to that seems to have it together. Since you’re in a poor neighborhood the schools are no good – most of your classes don’t even have textbooks, and most of your teachers don’t have college degrees.
So what is it that tells you life should be different than this? Who is it that helps you to change? What will motivate you to live a different life? How do you know that any of this is wrong?
These aren’t excuses. But they are reasons. This is the cycle of poverty.
It doesn’t keep me from ever getting angry at bio parents whose children are hurting on account of their decisions. It doesn’t keep me from venting, or wanting to point fingers. But it does help to realize that when it comes to their kids, 99% of people do the best they can with what they know. I don’t want to act like I am responsible for being where I am. I don’t want to feel entitled enough to act like that person I described couldn’t have easily been me. I feel so blessed that it isn’t.
I don’t know where Jae and Zee’s mom came from. I don’t know what she’s been through. I don’t know if she had anyone growing up to tell her that there was more to life than what she was experiencing.
The truth is, I was in the middle of a post venting about their mom’s lack of effort. And sometimes, I really feel like I need to just because it is so difficult dealing with the aftermath and these boys’ broken hearts. Instead I should pray for her though. And love her. I’m challenging myself, while being realistic, not to judge their mom and to do my best to support her.
I wasn’t great about taking pictures this week. Oh well.
Sylvia really started pulling up on stuff the beginning of this week. Now she’s a pro. Nothing is safe anymore.
Our family worker came to visit this week. (Not to be confused with the kids’ caseworker, whom I have never met, have only spoken to once on the phone for approximately 4 minutes, have left numerous messages for, and who has not visited the boys since they were placed with us a month and a half ago. ahem. that is all.)
Maybe I should start over. sans rant. I promise.
Our family worker came to visit this week. She doesn’t have a ton more info than I do. She did offer a couple of updates though:
~Mom has made no progress. period. since the case started. Chances of going home? Somewhere between zero and nil – of course that’s what they said with X-man too. So I’m not going to hold my breath, but we’ll see.
~She was very happy to hear that we have found a couple methods of discipline that seem to be effective. Hallelujah! {More on that later?} Not to say things around here aren’t still crazy – but even baby steps feel sooo good.
~The caseworker would like to know if we would be interested in doing some pre-placement visits with the boys’ siblings (5 and 10 years old). Their sister is having the same behavioral issues that the boys are. Their brother has some delays in speech, but doesn’t seem to display many behaviors.
We told her that we’d be happy to do some pre-placement visits to see how things go. It would obviously be in the best interest of the boys to be with their siblings. This is not to say that if the visits end in me feeling like my house is imploding, we won’t decide that it is not a good idea. It’s a big, fat we’ll see.
So, if the caseworker ever ends up calling me (no rants. I promised.) then we’ll be back at five kids, if only temporarily. I should start praying now. In fact, that’s the best idea I’ve had all day.
I just found this new blog, Profoundly Seth. I love reading her thoughts, and her kids are stinkin’ cute! The writer’s name is Ellyn, and she recently posted on God using challenges to refine us. She is facing challenges that I cannot imagine. It just got me thinking.
Goodness knows that God is using these boys in my life. Through them he is teaching me the art of patience faster than I ever really wanted to. I’ve always prayed for God to teach me patience – momentarily forgetting the mode in which he does so – and really, although I’m sure that I will appreciate it at some point, I think in retrospect I would have asked to learn a different fruit of the spirit.
However, you’d be shocked at how quickly I can de-escalate my fuming, anger stricken, if-you-roll-your-eyes-at-me-one-more-time-I’ll-tape-your-eyelids-shut self these days. These boys are doing wonders for my self talk. ha!
The point being, he is absolutely refining me. He is using these boys to help me know Him better, be who He created me to be, and realize that if I don’t want my buttons to be pushed, I should just lose the buttons {go touch-screen if you will}.
In fact, maybe He even chuckled a little when he heard Jae utter that terrible word that starts with a ‘B’ in my direction. (That one that makes my blood turn to fire….yeah, that one.) He says, “Oh Maggie, loosen up. Do you know how many times you’ve said things that I could get bent out of shape over, and look here – I still love you.”
This quote came up on another blog I was reading today:
If Jesus gives us a task or assigns us to a difficult season, every ounce of our experience is meant for our instruction and completion if only we’ll let Him finish the work. I fear, however, that we are so attention-deficit that we settle for bearable when beauty is just around the corner.
Beth Moore
So we’re stickin’ this one out guys. Let’s see what God has in store.
In her blog post, Ellyn also talked about how she doesn’t think everything happens for a reason, but that God can bring amazing things from the ashes. (Not sure I agree that everything doesn’t happen for a reason. God allows things to happen, and uses them for His glory. But he already knew what would happen ahead of time – so no sure where that leaves us. My mind just exploded.)
Anyway, that led me to think about the situation that the boys are in the middle of. Their small hearts are so full of ashes left over from the fire that ripped through their world. They don’t even know what to do with all of their hurt.
But God is bringing beauty out of those ashes.
I see it in small things. Like when Zee asks me if God is listening to his prayers. Or when Jae finally breaks down and cries with me. Or when we have short moments when I can tell that the boys trust us, and know we love them. Beauty. Straight from ashes.
God is incredible.
In June of 2009 our membership to our community recreation center expired. No big thing. At the time I was going every day anyway (this was prior to giving birth to a child. Now…not so much: a.they don’t take kids under 6 months old at the childcare center. b. I’m pretty sure my stomach muscles still don’t even connect in the center. But I’ve started back…slowly). So during one of my trips, I stopped by the front desk to renew the membership.
I was making small talk with the man at the desk while he clicked away on his computer, occasionally asking me a question regarding our membership renewal, and our faithful attendance to the rec center every day. In the shuffle, he asked me how many children we would be adding to the membership. “None right now,” I said, “but we’re foster parents, so our kid status varies.” From the look on his face you would think I had just said that I’d be bringing my two cats in to take dips in the pool every so often, but not to worry, they’ve never pooped anywhere but the cat box. He looked at me like I was crazy.
He asked me to wait a minute, and turned around to whisper on the phone like I had just caused a code red. When he came back, he told me very politely, that my foster children would not be welcome at the rec center on our family membership, and that if I ever wanted to bring one of these foster children with me, I’d have to pay the $8 they charge non-members. I was confused. I’m paying for a family membership, I explained. “Yes, I’m aware,” he replied, “but your foster children,
they don’t fit our definition of “family.”
Cue livid, boiling anger rising. Steam out of the ears. Seeing spots kind of angry.
I kindly told him that I’d be looking for another place to exercise, and that I’d let all of my friends know not to go there in case they didn’t “fit their definition of family.” (After cooling off I wrote a very pointed e-mail to the head of recreation for our city. I suggested that they change their definition. He let me know that we could attend the rec without issue, but that their definition of family suited them just fine.)
All that to say – this kind of thing happens a lot as foster parents. Projects at school that are about family get a lot more difficult. People (well-meaning people) say things that make it sound like your foster kids don’t count. When introducing your family, people make distinctions between your foster kids and your biological kids. Before Sylvie was born people would tell us about parenthood like we had never been parents before. When we have our second child, I’d place bets that we get comments like, “Just watch out, two is a different ballgame.” It’s frustrating. I don’t fault the individual though, I think it’s our society. Why do we define family so narrowly? Adoptive Mama Of Two posted on this a while back, and she quoted,
"Losing ones family obliges us to find ones family. Not always the family that is our blood but the family that can become our blood." - Sean Connery in Finding Forester
Some people have to find their family. Our family grows by the year unlike most. But these kids are my kids. And we are family.
{First I’d really just like to say a humongous thank you for all of the ideas and encouragement sent via comments and e-mails. They have been so helpful, and above all they have lifted my spirit, given me hope, and helped me to keep my gaze on the eternal rather than the temporal. Thanks so much. It really has meant so much.}
Helping Jae and Zee through this transition has definitely had it’s challenges. But not without a few laughs as well. (I mean other than the incessant laughter about the most recent fart.)
Zee randomly makes up these ‘rules’. Just rules of life I suppose, but some of them are pretty comical. I thought I’d share a few of these, just in case you might be breaking some of them.
“That’s the rule. You should never feed a baby too much, or it will blow. Isn’t that the rule Maggie?”
“That’s just the rule, if you fart in public, you shouldn’t wave it around. Besides, if you do that, they’ll know it was you.”
“I guess that’s just the rule. Mom’s get to eat chocolate and pop. Kids don’t.”
{I like this rule. Of course it was followed by lots of whining about how it’s not fair. But as long as I have the chocolate, I can deal.}
“That’s the rule. Don’t go into a public bathroom without shoes and socks. You’ll get nasty yellow grime on your feet. That’s from all the pee. And it GROWS.”
“Maggie, what are you doing?!? That’s the rule! You can’t feed Sylvia outside! Someone might see your nursers!”
And my favorite:
“So that’s just the rule. God loves me and forgives me even when I yell at you. It’s just the rule.”
{Zee has initiated several conversations about God. I have loved so much telling him how much God loves him. Those conversations have been the sweetest refreshment in the midst of all their anger.}
Ok, so, the boys behavior continues to snowball.
In the last 24 hours I have heard:
I won’t go on – you get my drift. Once about 5:00 hits our house is filled with the lovely sounds of defiance. Just. straight. defiance.
They are angry about not being with their mom. They are sad. They have never had any supervision or authority figure at home. I’m fairly sure that they have picked up on the fact that mom does not seem to be making progress.
This all comes together to make two very angry, very confused, very defiant little boys.
We have behavior charts for them – clearly listing consequences for specific behaviors, with positive reinforcement for progress and good days. We have tried to be consistent with discipline. As of today they will no longer receive allowance just because. They will get stickers for good behavior, and each sticker will be redeemable for .25. We do not raise our voices, we never so much as touch their shoulder during discipline.
We are Love and Logic – ing our hearts out.
We are Shepherding our Children’s Hearts.
We are Connected Parenting.
But I can only be called a ‘B’ so many times before my eyes pop out of my head and roll around on the floor. Just lookin’ for a little respect. (Cue Aretha Franklin – I’m singing along.) It is true they have only been here for a month, but none of this seems effective.
We are running out of tools.
Suggestions are welcome. Actually I may kiss you if you leave a good idea.
Foster parents give me your wisdom!!!!
Update: Just got a call and mom won’t be at the visit tonight. This should make for a fun weekend.
So all the posts this week have kinda been downers. I promise to end this one on a positive note. Maybe a picture of a cute kitten or something else smile inducing.
The truth is, this has been a rough week. And I’m not here to make foster parenting look easy – I’m here to show that it’s hard and brings challenges, but that it is doable and completely worth it. No one signs up to be a foster parent thinking it’s all going to be roses and I love you’s (although I’ve received both during our time as foster parents, so all hope is not lost!). Someone I was talking to, or possibly reading the blog of {let’s hear it for modern communication} was telling me their thoughts on the difficulty of fostering. I think it was my friend Katherine.
It is hard. And there are struggles. And there are tears.
But doesn’t every child deserve to be loved enough and cared for enough that someone finds them worth tears?
And that’s also the example Christ gave us. He loved us even though it hurt. He found us worth tears, agony even. He took us as His own when it wasn’t required of Him because he loves us. And he is going to stick out the good times and the rough times with us until we find ourselves home.
So. Given the opportunity to love these kids through the hurt, I will (try, and surely fail sometimes) to count it all joy, count it all joy, count it all joy. (Any Adventure in Odyssey fans out there?)
I have been leaning so heavily on these verses this week:
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be made mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.
James 1:2-5
and of course this one:
Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.
James 1:19-20
And, on a positive note, I am SO thankful that:
(I mean, all biases aside. But not really.)
Last night was rough. The boys are missing their mother. They don’t know how to deal with it.
They were having a lot of trouble listening and being civil with each other (i.e. not biting each other.). Both had been in and out of ‘cool down time’. As we were sitting down for dinner Jae was cooling off in his room for spewing his 587th smart aleck remark of the evening at Brian and I. Things all came to a head when Zee accidentally poured half a bottle of BBQ sauce on his burger. He just lost it. BBQ sauce was obviously not the culprit of this emotional outcry.
We talked about him missing his mom. I talked to him about what his favorite things are about her, what they did for fun, what his favorite memory is. I’ve found talking through these things – being able to share – generally has helped the kids we’ve had cope with their heartache. We talked about when they played volleyball and how he liked it when his mom let him help clean the house. (I’d be thrilled to let him work through that with my vacuum cleaner.) We talked about how they went camping, and how he just misses being with her.
I went up to their room and talked to Jae about his attitude. I asked him if he thought he might be having a rough day because he is missing his mom. He said no – he seems to have more of a wall up, he doesn’t want to discuss his mom, missing her, or even Zee missing her.
I left to go to book club. (Praise God! I needed some time out.) But these outbursts continued for Brian for the rest of the evening right into bedtime.
I got in the car and immediately Coldplay came through the speakers:
It’s just so hard. I want to fix it. I want to mend their broken hearts. I want to have the answers. I want to make it better.
I want my love to be enough. I want my love to fix it.
But it won’t.
It can’t.
It never will be enough.
And that makes it so hard.
I just feel so much like I am at the very frontlines of what they are going through with my hands tied. I can’t make it better. As foster parents you get all of the hurt, right there, in your face. And all you can do is stick it out with these kids and hope they learn something of love while they are with you.
So I guess that’s what we’ll do. I guess that’s my answer. We’ll stick it out with these boys through whatever this throws at us. We’ll love them, and tell them about it everyday. We’ll teach them about God’s love and how they are so precious to His heart. And we’ll pray.
The boys are starting to become comfortable and transitioned here. The kind of comfortable where you run through the house in your underwear screaming like a banshee, run through the front door and out the back door without closing either one, and are vocal about the incredible dislike of the dinner I just spent 2 hours preparing. (Could do without that last one.) They’ve had a more difficult time adjusting than our other kids have in the past, but at least we seem to be settling into a routine.
They’ve fully recovered from any honeymoon period (in fact, looking back I’d say it lasted somewhere around 24 hours.) and are testing us whenever they get the chance. Jae is the more passive aggressive of the two. He listens really well and is relatively calm, but then mutters mean things to his brother or to us under his breath. All in all, if you met him you wouldn’t probably even know he was dealing with any of this. It’s mostly at night that it all surfaces. There are tears and questions.
Such hard questions.
Why are we here? When do we go home? Why can’t I see my mom right now?
Zee is dealing with this all in a completely different manner. (Said ‘banshee’ is his preferred way of expressing himself.) When we discipline him (‘cool down time’, time in his room, holding hands when he won’t listen in public, duck taping his mouth shut – i KID, i KID) he gets very angry. He escalates quickly and yells at Brian and I. He covers his ears and refuses to listen to what we have to say. This is easier to deal with at home, but when we’re at the store or park and he starts yelling at us, it gets a little more difficult. At the store this weekend he tried to run away from Brian when he tried to discuss his attitude with him.
The major issues are a combination of all of the stuff they are going through right now, and the fact that when they lived at home they had absolutely no structure, no rules, no consequences, no authority figure. none. at. all. They did what they wanted, when they wanted. So all of this is foreign to them. Listening, choices, consequences – they are having to learn to think about their actions before doing them, and that’s gonna take some time.
The difficulty is in the feeling that I am walking on a very fine line. Offering grace in knowing what they are going through, while also enforcing consequences so that they can learn to function in a healthy family. This balance seems so difficult at times.
So we discipline. And we are consistent. But in our discipline we always are reminding them that no matter how they behave, no matter what they do, our love for them will not change. We will love them no matter what. Also reminding them that the reason for consequences is because we love them. Even when Zee is covering his ears, I hope this gets through. L.O.V.E. unconditional. consistent. clear. love. Slowly we are watching their hearts unfurl. Slowly they are trusting us.
In every bedtime prayer with them we pray that their family be restored, but in the meantime that they feel safe and secure here. They pray every evening to get to see their mom (which STILL has not happened since they’ve moved – but all that for another post.).
These boys are sweet. We love them. I hope they know that.
The boys in action playing kickball after a picnic at the park.
Sylvia trying out some food. Not a huge fan.
Brian giving the boys haircuts. They thought this was pretty cool.
SCORE!
I picked up this ottoman during large item trash pick up day in another neighborhood!
What’s wrong with it? There’s a tiny hole in one corner. I think I’ll leave it this way, but it would be easy enough to recover! I l.o.v.e. large item trash pick up day.
Buying honey stix at the Farmer’s Market. The boys loved the market – as do I.
X-man got to come hang out with us on Saturday! He was very into giving Sylvia high fives and hugs. So sweet. He is getting so big!
Reading with Daddy. She’s already a bookworm like her Mommy.
On Thursday we left on quite the expedition.
Ten hours in the car with all three kids – road trippin’ to the grand city of Chicago. Overall the car trip went really well, and the boys were very excited to get to see a big city. We got to hang out with Brian’s whole family – celebrating the birth of a beautiful baby boy, and the second birthday of his big sister.
Zee entertaining Sylvia in the car…
Sylvia not being very entertained.
(Probably the most repeated phrase of the weekend.)
Zee, give me the camera. Now.
Finally there to see a sweet little boy, and a red headed beauty.
On the metra on the way into the city. The boys were very excited, they had never been on a train before. Sylvia was obviously thrilled.
(She has great balance.)
The boys in front of The Bean.
The birthday girl!
This is my father in law climbing a tree to get a ball out. My mother in law has warned me not to let him babysit. (just joking Grandpa Richard :) )
The boys (by boys I mean the little ones and the big ones.) had a lot of fun playing outside. It was a lot of fun getting to hang out with the family and just enjoy each other’s company. It was also fun getting to travel with the boys (they had never left the state.) and getting to introduce them to so many new things. Fun times were had by all in the windy city.
Brian snuck and got some pictures of me and Sylvie sleeping just before he hit the sack. Snugglin’ up with my baby girl at night is by far one of my favorite parts of my day.
Sylvie at the beginning of our 10 hour road trip to Chicago.
Fortunately she only did this for about 20 minutes of the whole trip.
(Road trip coverage to come.)
Waiting for the train to take us into the city.
Dirty toes = fabulous spring day.
Monday was Zee’s 8th birthday. It just broke my heart that in the midst of all of this change was his birthday. Holidays and special occasions are hard enough for kids in foster care – but I knew the timing of this one would really take a toll on his little heart.
We wanted it to be special. For him to know that we were really excited to be celebrating HIM. That even though he misses his family, that we are there, and that we love him enough to make his birthday special.
Brian covertly figured out that the boys really like baseball. They had not, however, ever been to a major league baseball game. We can’t say much for our team here (really we are diehard St. Louis Cardinals fans.) but we picked up some tickets last minute.
When the boys figured out that we were going to a game they were so excited. We got hotdogs and really had out the whole baseball game experience.
Yes. Jae also has assorted kU apparel.
You’re killin’ me smalls!
Yesterday, (on his actual birthday) we also wanted to do something special. While the boys were at school {after spending 3 hours getting them enrolled. ugh.} I went and picked up the supplies.
I told Zee he could have ANYTHING he wanted for dinner. ANYTHING. What is your very favorite meal? It’s your birthday, you can have it.
Folks, we had hotdogs and mac ‘n’ cheese.
But I said anything. During dinner Zee dropped a few hints about wishing he had a birthday cake – which I purposely let roll right past. After dinner I snuck and got the cake out of the other room, while Brian snuck and got his birthday presents. When we came around the corner you should have seen his face! He was so excited!
So we had cake and opened presents. Brian took them straight to the park to try out the new soccer ball, and to run off said cake. I think overall he really enjoyed his birthday.
Later that night there was a little bit of a breakdown. Through tears Zee told Brian, ‘I just really miss my mom.’ All we can do is be there for him. There’s nothing we can say that can fix his situation. We just have to let him know that we love him. And that we are so excited and blessed to celebrate him.
