Author Archives: middleofthemadness

Foster Parenting in 5 “Easy” Steps – Think about it!

Posted on by
Reply

It’s Mother’s Day. My eldest woke me up at 6:38 to ask if he drawing2could give me his gift yet. I said “A gift would be leaving me alone and letting me sleep in.” He asked, “Why isn’t there a Children’s Day? Can’t I just go downstairs and get your present? Are you ready to get up yet? Okay, I’ll wait until 7:00.”

He will be ten in twelve days, but I met him two days after his birth when he became my “foster son.” A couple years later, he became my son and I was a mother for the first time! May is National Foster Care Month; a time to raise awareness about foster children and their need to be loved and cared for in their moments of transition.

Foster children range in age from newborn to the late teen years. They may stay in a placement for one day or for a couple years. They are like every other kid. They play, eat and sleep. They have fears, hopes and dreams. And like any child, they need someone to love them, encourage them and guide them as they grow.

There are few things more challenging, and yet more rewarding, than being a foster parent. Almost anyone can become a foster parent. Foster parents can be single or married. They live in apartments, homes and town homes. They live in the city, suburbs and the country. They come from every walk of life and are alike solely in their desire to make a difference in the life of a child by providing a home of comfort and love.

And there are children right now hoping for a family, especially the older children (Check out the Foster Goodness project). If you’re ready to consider foster parenting, here’s how to start in five “easy” steps:

  1. Consider whether you’re ready and your network of family and friends is supporting you. According to one foster parent, “Adding a foster child to your family is like adding THREE new kids at once.” Generally you will be spending more one-on-one time with the foster child and juggling new schedules and new needs. Be ready to accept these new challenges.

Consider your physical and social-emotional health in terms of whether you’re able to meet the physical and developmental needs of a child. It helps to have a sense of humor, a willingness to be very flexible, and an ability to work well with others. You also need to know that you are able to “let go” of the children after their stay with you. They might stay two days or two years, but in general the goal will be to reunify the child with his/her biological family and you must be willing to help with that reunification.

It’s also important to make sure that your family is ready. If applicable, is your spouse or partner as eager and willing as you are? How is your family structured and will adding new children fit into your current life and daily routine?

Finally, strengthen your support group. Garner the support of any family around you. Find other foster parents to connect with, ask questions of and learn from them. Talk about your plans with your friends and ask them to support and help you.

  1. Evaluate and organize your house. Every foster family will have to pass a “home inspection” and have at least one empty bedroom for a foster child. In addition, the house must meet sanitary and safety standards, such as child-proofing, smoke alarms (which work!) and fire extinguishers. While many people might take the following items for granted, every foster home must have a toilet, running water, a working heating system, and a telephone.
  1. Choose a foster care agency and apply to become a foster parent. Every county in the state of Pennsylvania has its own Office of Children and Youth/Family (CYF) which manages the foster care system. In Allegheny County, the CYF office contracts with individual agencies to recruit, train and maintain foster families. When CYF needs to find a home for a child, they call one of the agencies and that agency then calls a potential foster family that they think would be a good fit for the child. (Click here for a list of agencies in Allegheny County.)

There are numerous agencies that recruit and maintain foster families. Each agency has a slightly different “flavor” in terms of its initial training of foster families and the amount of support provided along the way to foster families. It is generally recommended that interested individuals call at least three or four agencies and attend “open house” or orientation events to get a feeling of which agency might be a good match for them.

  1. Undergo training to become a foster parent. Usually each agency provides its own training and there can be a wide range of time commitment, typically between twelve and thirty hours. In addition to the training to become a “certified foster parent,” each year foster parents are required complete a certain number of “maintenance” training hours. Training covers such topics as expectations for foster parents, child development and discipline techniques, first aid and CPR training and much more.
  1. Keep your phone with you at all times in anticipation. You have absolutely no idea when it will ring with the question, “Hello. We have a ___ age little boy/girl. Would you be interested?”

The fact that the child can arrive within a 15-30 minute window, makes you want to have some essential items available. If you’ve decided to foster infants, having some diapers in various sizes, basic clothing, and bottles sitting around can be helpful. For preschool and school-age children, it helps to have a “welcome bag” for the child with some toys to engage them when they arrive. Have your family and support group on stand-by to jump in and help you the moment that you get a call.

Most importantly….

Be ready.

Be ready to hurt. Be ready to cry. Be ready to love and to let go.

Be ready for intense joy and deep sorrow.

Be excited.

Be humbled.

Be strong.

Be brave.

Be courageous.

Be there for a child who needs you.

 

And, if you know foster parenting is not a commitment you can make, there are many other ways that you help. Consider supporting agencies that are doing the work by visiting their websites and making a donation or becoming a volunteer. You might also reach out to families in your community who are foster parenting. You can help by providing meals, offering to provide childcare or run kids to activities. Or consider becoming an advocate for foster children by becoming a Court-Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) volunteer.

It takes a village to raise up the next generation and there is a place in a child’s life for you.

 

Additional resources:

 

 

Rescuing our kids with a secret “Extraction Code”

Posted on by
3

I would not consider myself to be a Helicopter Parent. In fact, unless you awaken Mama Bear, I’m probably more like Mama Bird – “here, honey, let me give you a little boot out of this little ol’ nest and see if you fly. Come on, kid, FLY!  Huh….”

I do, however, spend a lot of time contemplating the shift to a digital connected world, its affects on social interactions, and the very real dangers associated with the vast anonymous internet. My kids are not yet digital. Other than school, relatives and babysitters, my boys are rarely apart from me, so I haven’t felt the need to equip them with digital devices. That is all about to change as the oldest continues to push into more independence.

The past few weeks, as an Internal Medicine-Pediatric physician (trained to care for kids and adults), I have filled in more on the pediatric side of the medical office. And when sitting with 11-year-olds and 14-year-olds and even 17-year-olds, I’ve found myself giving each of them (and their parents) a little bit of advice.

To the kid:

That cell phone you have in your pocket is a very important and potentially very dangerous device. You can get reach out to friends, family, and a whole host of people, which is really awesome. But you can also get yourself into deep trouble with that phone by texting or talking to the wrong people or putting up photos or a whole bunch of things. But, the reason your parents got you that phone in the first place is most likely they wanted to keep you safe so that you could call them whenever you needed.

What you need to do – tonight – is sit down and talk with your parents about your “secret code.” Your secret code is a short phrase, known only to your family, which tells mom or dad that you need them absolutely positively NOW!!

For example, you might text your mom with the sentence, “Gosh, I sure am hungry for pepperoni pizza.” The minute your mom reads that sentence, she will stop everything she is doing (and I mean everything), jump in her car and drive immediately to where you are. She will make up some really stupid crazy parent excuse for why she has come to pick you up. “Dear, the cat is sick and we need to take her to the vet now. I’m so sorry, but I need you to come along.” (Don’t have a cat – make it your sister….but not to the vet….maybe to the doctor!). Then you will roll your eyes, text your friend “my mom is nuts!” and get in the car.

You see, I can tell you’re a smart kid. But every single smart kid at times in their lives gets into uncomfortable or bad or stupid situations. Maybe you’re visiting a friend and maybe another person comes over too. And maybe this other person starts to do something that you just don’t want to get into. Maybe it’s making prank calls. Maybe it’s lighting up a cigarette. It could be anything. If you find yourself in any uncomfortable situation, you pull out your phone and text your “secret code.” Your parent will read it and come. Right then. Your friends will read it and say, “Dude! That’s stupid. Are you really hungry? You want pizza?” And your parent is already in the car and on their way.

To the parent:

Now, we all know the reason you got the phone is so your most precious Jenny or Johnny fits in with the social crowd….well, and because you want to know she/he is safe and because it helps with managing our crazy busy lives and schedules.

You also know that the phone can be a very dangerous possession and I’m sure you’ve already talked with your son or daughter about the dangers. I’m also sure that you randomly confiscate the device and check all the texts, Snapchats, Instagram and whatever other apps and accounts.

What you will do – tonight – is sit down with your kid and develop a “secret extraction code.” (see above) And you will, at the moment that code comes in, drop everything you are doing (and I mean everything – your meeting, your treadmill run, your quick errand at the grocery store, your nice warm cozy bed) and you will turn on your tracking device, see where your kid is, jump in your car and drive over there.

The whole way your heart will be pounding in your ears and you will be scared about what you are about to walk in on, but you will take deep breaths and think of your stupid extraction excuse. “I’m so sorry, Johnny, but your little brother is sick and I need you home now.” And you will promise yourself over and over that these are the only words you’re allowed to say when you see Johnny.

In fact, you’re not even allowed to talk to Johnny when he jumps into the car. You’re not allowed to say a word except “I love you” until he begins to talk. And if he doesn’t talk for minutes or hours or even until the next day, the only thing you can say is “I love you. I am always here for you.”

Johnny needs to know that you’ve got his back. Johnny needs to know that no matter what, you are there for him. Johnny needs to know that you love him so much that no matter what he was doing, no matter what his friends were doing, no matter what – you will keep him safe.

Every parent has looked at me and nodded their head. They know. Deep down we all know the world can be a scary place. We all pray that our kids will make good choices and will never need their extraction code. But we also need our kids to know how to call for help in a way that doesn’t jeopardize their safety, that doesn’t embarrass them in front of their peers, and that doesn’t put the blame on them.

Our kids need to know that we love them so much that we will do whatever it takes to keep them physically, emotionally, mentally safe. No matter what. Mama Bear/Papa Bear will be there.

What’s your extraction code?

Parenting – An Endless Quality Improvement Cycle

Posted on by
Reply
jump zone

Landing zone of every pillow in the house, effectively blocking the front door

Lately I’ve been contemplating some of my extraordinarily ineffective means of parenting. I mean, I’m particularly effective in letting them bounce around the house in underwear as often as they’d like; empty all the Tupperware onto the floor and “feed” each other bowls of milk as “puppies,” and stack all the pillows at the bottom of the step to land from sliding down the stairs on a toddler mattress.

But I’m amazingly ineffective on a wide range of issues. Eliminating swear words from my eldest son’s vocabulary is driving me absolutely nuts, for instance. I’ve attempted rewards, punishments, endless grounding, extra chores, “paying” me all of his saved up money, and even washing his mouth with soap. Yes, everything.

I’ve realized recently that parenting is a Quality Improvement Cycle taken to the nth degree. You just never get anywhere. Plan, Do, Check, Act….didn’t work…. Plan, Do, Check, Act ….didn’t work…repeat.

PDCA-Multi-Loop

Take for example, the very simple act of getting out the door to go to school:

  • Plan – We need to leave at 8:40 for school. I’ll start getting the boys ready at 8:15.
  • Do – “Boys, get your socks and shoes on.”
  • Check – Nope….not a single one has responded
  • Act – Recognize the lack of progress and move to next iteration

Next iteration:

  • Plan – yell louder
  • Do – “BOYS, I SAID SHOES and SOCKS NOW!”
  • Check – Nada
  • Act – “I mean it, let’s go!”

Really?!?!

  • Plan – put a consequence on it
  • Do – “Boys, if you don’t get your shoes and socks on right now, you’ll have a time out in your room after school.”
  • Check – one out of 3 has one out of 2 socks on
  • Act – raise blood pressure by 5 points

As noted, “A fundamental principle of the scientific method and PDCA is iteration—once a hypothesis is confirmed (or negated), executing the cycle again will extend the knowledge further. Repeating the PDCA cycle can bring us closer to the goal, usually a perfect operation and output.”

However, one must realize that while “iteration” certainly applies to parenting, repeating the cycle does not necessarily move you closer to the goal of “a perfect operation.” It tends to move you closer to insanity and glasses of wine, but rarely closer to perfection. You might, however, get close enough to approximating your goal that you are able to leave the house:

“Check:”

  • Super Tall Guy appears to have on shoes without socks, one shoe tied and one hopelessly knotted
  • Mr. Ornery has boots on and as he does not have “phys ed” on his school schedule today, I’ll let this slide
  • The Little Guy has found shoes, they are on the wrong feet, but as that is his “norm” about 98.4% of the time, we are OUT the DOOR!

Now, back to planning my next attack on the sailor mouth issue….

“Somebody Else’s Kids”

Posted on by
Reply

Somebody Else’s Kids. That was the title of the message at church this week. It was a good message by the CEO of World Vision calling the church to follow the Biblical call to care for “the least of these” and the “stranger” and “foreigner living among you.” The primary focus of the message was about the Syrian refugee crisis and the need for the church to step in and help. Half of the 12 million Syrian refugees are kids. Kids who are loved by their family and loved by God. Kids who have seen war and death and need a hope for the future. My heart breaks for what breaks God’s heart.

The title struck me in a different way, though. Somebody else’s kids. I looked down at the almost 10-year-old Super Tall Guy, sitting on the floor of the church creating a military battle scene on the back of the message card. He’s huge. He’s almost up to my nose in height. He’s wearing size 10 men’s shoes. He can lift me off my feet. He looks absolutely handsnothing like me. He’s Somebody Else’s Kid. Or, he was. He was born somebody else’s kid, but he’s my kid now. He never lived with anybody else. He spent two days in the hospital, but other than that, and a day here and there, he’s always been with me. He’s my boy. My son.

But it was a long process. For a while, Super Tall Guy and his brothers each were somebody else’s kids and the “somebody” was the state of Pennsylvania. I loved them and kissed them and rocked them to sleep every night, but I couldn’t make any major decisions about their care, including whether they needed a haircut. It took a court visit, an “I do,” and a signed piece of paper to remove the “somebody else” and make them my “kids.”

Yet I know that they started out as somebody else’s kids. They know it too. We don’t mention it frequently but it does come up every once in awhile.

The Little Guy will be five in a few weeks. At the dining room table the other day, he looked up at me and said, “I want to see my birth mom.” I don’t remember him ever using the word birth mom before. I don’t know why he was thinking about her or what sparked any thought about other moms. Maybe he was thinking about somebody else’s kids. Maybe he was thinking about adoption. Maybe he wasn’t really thinking about anything. Maybe he was just being five. But it’s something all of these kids are going to think about at some point and probably over and over again as they contemplate their journey and their place in the world.

And I’ll be right there alongside them as they go, figuring it out myself as we work on it together, grateful for Somebody Else’s Kids.

 

Donald Trumps says things that I discipline my children for!

Posted on by
5

My eldest son was at it again, torturing his younger brothers. You know the drill, he’d fake throwing a football at them. They’d scream. My ears would ring. We were running late. I was tired and stressed. I did the calm “please” technique to alter his behavior. I tried the old “counting to three” technique without any change in his aim. So I got up and removed the hard ball from his hands to which he replied, “You b**ch.” Yes, my son has learned words that I didn’t know until I was an adult. But, contrary to his desires that morning, such disrespect for his mother earned him a serious consequence of being grounded from outside play and the worst punishment of all (in current scale) – “no trampoline today.”

Reflecting later, I realized that one of the front runners in the political field this year is a man saying the very things to which I dole out serious consequences. I am working hard to shape my young boys into caring, considerate, compassionate men and I have before me the very antithesis of this behavior seeking applause from his supporters.

“I love the old days, you know? You know what I hate? There’s a guy totally disruptive, throwing punches, we’re not allowed punch back anymore…. I’d like to punch him in the face, I’ll tell ya.” –Donald Trump on how he would handle a protester in Nevada, sparking roaring applause from the audience, February 22, 2016

Here, one of America’s most “powerful” men (only because people seem to want to equate power with money) is expressing his desire to punch another human being in the face in response to an action. What do I tell my boys over and over? “We use our words. We do not hurt other people.”  “Hands are for helping, not hurting.” It is in their very nature to respond physically. My boys are always wrestling. They are always walloping each other. It is with time and with love and with constant correction that I shape them to respond to each other with kindness, to see another’s point of view, to control their temper and their bodies, to seek peace and reconciliation. It is an exhausting process and yet I persist because it matters.

“I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay? It’s, like, incredible.” –Donald Trump, speaking at a rally in Sioux Center, Iowa as the audience laughed, January 23, 2016

There were 23 mass shootings over the course of 20 days starting February 19th, from California to our neighbors here in Wilkinsburg. Across 17 states, 128 people were shot and 42 died (from Esquire). There is unspeakable grief for at least 42 families. And, this is just “mass shootings” and doesn’t count the shooting deaths of just 1 or 2 people (like the remarkable physician in Texas who was killed by her husband last week, leaving two young children behind). Should one of our most visible “leaders” be promoting violence, the kind of violence that kills people? The kind of violence that takes kids from their parents, parents from their kids, brothers and sisters from each other, best friends split forever? Violence that leaves emptiness and pain in the hearts of so many.  Violence the type that I talk to my sons about and ban them from video games that make it seem realistic and that disassociate it from the pain and consequences it produces.

“Women: You have to treat them like s–t.” –Donald Trump (italicized quotes from a recent compilation)

I don’t even know where to begin on this one. I am a single woman raising three incredible sons whom I adopted from the foster care system because there are kids in this country who need a family and need love. And I am trying my hardest to raise my sons to respect people – all people, men, women, children, people of different backgrounds, people of different faiths, people of different skin tones (because our household is a blended tone one), people of all walks of life. In fact, I am teaching my boys not to treat anyone like s—t!

I am a lucky, lucky mother. My children are young. They do not watch the “real” TV, they watch episodes of Pound Puppies and Octonauts. They are not exposed to the news. They probably don’t even know that Donald Trump exists. I am lucky. I do not have to explain (yet) how a grown man who is displaying so many things that every parent works to correct in their children is getting so much attention. I do not have to explain why people are afraid and how their fear is driving their praise of this behavior rather than disgust. I have time to prepare.

But, one day we will talk about this complicated mess. And I only hope that on that day, I will have a much better role model that I will be pointing my sons to and saying, “My boy, that is the kind of man you need to be. Strong and courageous. Kind and compassionate. Empathetic and understanding. Humble and willing to serve. Be the man God has created you to be.”

 

 

 

What? You’re not listening?

Posted on by
2

I love books. Absolutely. No questions asked. Give me a good book that I can sink into and I’ll mourn the loss of my new friends at the end of it. I laugh. I cry. And I’m just talking about kids’ books here.

More than anything, I want to instill this love into my children. I’ve done everything I can. My house is cluttered with books – look around and you’ll see bookcases and bookcases booksof books. At any given moment you’re likely to stub your toe on a book on the floor (after you gingerly step over the recently fired Nerf gun bullet and landed on the sharp edge of a Lego, that is!). I treasure the “favorite” books (list below). I gift the boys a new book for their birthday and for Christmas with sweet love messages written on the inside cover. I read to them every single (almost) night. I even recorded every book I read to Super Tall Guy throughout a whole year once. (Mr. Ornery – I started, but I definitely read less to him. And Poor Little Guy….well, they read a lot at the day care center!)

But I am waging a battle against the lure of a flat screen and the opinion that the “movie” version is the way it’s “supposed to be.” I can’t seem to get across the concept that an author actually sat down and WROTE the book first with the complete intent that the reader should create in their own heads what the characters actually looked like and what really happened.

I know that Super Tall Guy could care less about “reading the book first” before watching a movie. I thought it endearing when we would get to below 50 or so pages of a Harry Potter book and he would bring it to me in bright daylight and ask me to read so we could finish the book! And of course, his motivation was to get to see the movie on the weekend, knowing that I’d put it off until the following “movie night” time if we didn’t get that book done in time. I thought we at least had something great going.

Until tonight when he completely deflated me. We are reading “Fish in a Tree” (even though there’s no movie to dangle at the end) and every once in a while I like to stop and ask a question, partly to check on his level of alertness (ie, “is he asleep yet?” though the snoring should tell me!) and partly to bring home a good point that may have been made. Tonight when I stopped and turned to ask a question, he said, “Mom, I never actually listen to what you’re reading. I just like to hear you talk.”

“What?!?” I said, “You’re not listening?!? Since when?”

He replied, “Since you started reading Harry Potter” (like over a year ago!) “I just wanted to get to the end to watch the movie. That’s why I play while you’re reading. I’m not really paying attention.”

I laughed and playfully punched him. But also felt a bit sad. I thought in my head, well, I could just read my own books aloud if all he wants is the drone of my voice as white noise to fall asleep by. I might just try reading my Internal Medicine Board Review book aloud tomorrow night!

But I shall persist. Because somehow and in some way, I’m determined to make a reader out of these boys. To bury within them the love of pages. To develop a deep yearning for learning through stories of others’ lives and the printed word. To help them know the comfort of snuggling under covers with a good book in hand. To set them on adventures in new worlds and with different people. To live. To learn. To grow.

Well, we certainly aren’t getting in the recommended “20 minutes” of reading every night and Mr. Ornery struggles to read fluently, and Super Tall Guy clearly isn’t listening, but I shall battle on!

Here are some of the books we’ve loved:

Preschool:

  • Goodnight Gorilla
  • Goodnight Moon
  • Where’s Spot
  • The Very Hungry Caterpillar
  • Five Little Monkeys

5-7:

  • Library Lion – absolutely love – almost cry every time
  • I Need My Monster – have read too many times!
  • Tony Baloney Buddy Trouble
  • Fly Guy – any of them
  • Robert Munsch – any of his!

8-9 (that’s as far as we are):

  • Harry Potter
  • Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Super Tall Guy probably stopped listening to me when we started this as our first “longer” chapter books)
  • Holes
  • I Survived …. Series
  • Magic Tree House…. – read many of these

 

 

 

 

The worries of a mom when work changes up….

Posted on by
Reply

Parenting is tenuous. Every single moment, there are worries. Are the kids okay? Are they healthy? Are they safe? Are they well-rested? Are they fed?

And above that level is the bigger picture. Are they in the right school? Am I parenting them well? Am I doing everything that I need to be doing for them? And for a single parent, there’s always the “big” worry of providing for the kids. Because you can love them and you can kiss their “boo-boos”….but if you can’t keep a roof over their head and food in the fridge, then there’s a lot more stress in this life.

We all know that life is fragile. At least we say that we know that life is fragile. But when you’re texting with a friend and mother of four who has been sick in bed for over two weeks and not able to work or get up and really care for her kids, you know that life is fragile. You can’t imagine how stressful that must be.

And when you’re sitting in a board meeting and talking about cutting your work hours and eventually closing the non-profit that you work for because the state in which you live has not passed a budget and therefore no money is flowing to the non-profit sector, then you know that life is fragile. You realize how much you take for granted that you’re going to go into an office every day and you’re going to have money magically appear in your checking account every two weeks and you tend not to stress about it.

But then one day, you’re really stressed. And you spend the weekend trying not to snap at the boys about every little thing they do because you know it’s just your stress within that makes you so cranky. And you wonder how much to share with your kids and how much you protect them from the fragility and the stresses of the world.

And you try not to worry. You know that you have umpteen degrees behind your name and are capable of doing so much. Yet you mourn the loss of your current job and the way that you have been able to have flexibility with your hours to be there for the kids and help with the parties at school. How life was going smoothly for a moment and now the next bump is hitting you in the journey. You know that you will bounce and come through it, but as the kids yell and scream and cheer and jeer in their football game on the road out front, you still sit inside worried. Worried about the next step. Worried about making it through the valley.

Working hard to be Superman in the dark world of Batman….

batman

Mr. Ornery’s new T-shirt front

Oh to be a kid playing football without a care in the world except to the fairness of the game. But the game of life is not really “fair.” It’s fragile and tenuous. It’s stressful and scary sometimes. Yet we still play and give it our best, knowing that the Lord knows what’s on the other side of this valley.

I sure do wish that I did.

Onward, SuperWoman!

The Most Important Day for an Adoptive Parent

Posted on by
4
Nate cake

Mr. Ornery’s whale picture turned into his birthday cake

It has been a week of celebration. The anniversary of Mr. Ornery’s adoption was on Tuesday and his birthday was on Thursday with a party on Saturday. Super Tall Guy was adopted seven years ago on Friday. And The Little Guy’s “Adoption Day” was on February 12th. These are all big milestones in the lives of these boys. Not ones that they really understand yet, but ones that they currently look forward to solely by virtue of the fact that there are “gifts” involved! And that, as we all know, is really the key way to celebrate a momentous occasion!

But to me, the real “celebration” day was yesterday, two days after Mr. Ornery’s birthday. It was on that day seven years ago that my sister received a call from the foster agency that Super Tall Guy had a younger brother who needed a home and would we be available to get to the hospital in 15 minutes to pick him up?

You see, that’s how life functioned in the world of foster parenting. The phone was always nearby in case there was a call. And if we didn’t answer or weren’t available for a child, the next family was called. Some people have eight months or more to prepare for a child. We responded to a phone call, went out and bought diapers and formula, and spent the next few months without sleep at night. Life was chaotic, but exciting and good.

Yesterday, I quietly honored the day I met Mr. Ornery. That’s his birthday to me. That’s the day I looked into his small eyes and stroked his soft skin and said “hello.” That’s the day I lifted him into my arms and breathed in the secret baby smell. That’s the day I introduced him to his older brother and said, “Look who just arrived.” That’s the day my heart jumped and the journey began. The wait. The stress. The worry that he wouldn’t stay with us, that a biological family member might claim him. The long nights and the never-knowing. The ache to claim him as my son and the reluctance to grab onto that hope.

Yet for this child, the family court judge was realistic. She had seen this too many times. She offered birth mom her chance and when she didn’t respond at all, the judge moved the process along so fast that the Adoption Day happened two days before his first birthday!

And on that day, I welcomed my second son a second time.

You see, there are Birthdays and Adoption Days and in foster parenting there are “Change of Goal” days and “Termination of Parental Rights” days, but really in the life of an adoptive parent, the important ones are the “I just met you” Days. That’s where the story begins.

I am so glad to have met you, Mr. Ornery.

Thank you for becoming my little boy.

 

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up!

Posted on by
Reply

He didn’t need to bend over. The cheeks were showing as he passed into the dining room. “Little Guy, where are your underwear?”  Shy smile. “Go get some on.”

Five minutes later: “Little Guy, go get your underwear on.”

Five minutes later, he comes down with socks in his hand. “I asked you to get underwear on.”

Walking into daycare, the pants yield enough view as he climbs the stairs. “Little Guy!!! I told you 10 times to get underwear on!  Ahhhh!  Hope there’s some in your cubby.”

Hmm….just a shirt….bummer.

“Oh, I put them in the car, Mom.” Of course, why not just carry them to the car?

Back upstairs and get them from the car. Enter the bathroom to have him change: “Little Guy! Where are your socks?!?!”

Pretty sure I need to institute some kind of 5-point inspection before we leave the house in the morning!  Drill Sargent style. Teeth. Underwear. Socks. Shoes on the right feet. Backpacks. Sure the boys are going to love it.

Little Guy really is my easy-going (other than the whining), never have to entertain him, and usually can’t find him kind of guy. But this week has been a doozy for him.

Toilet in the boys bathroom is not even two weeks old and it overflowed the other day. Man, I said to myself – what in the world is wrong with this thing! Boys, what is wrong with the toilet?

“Um, I think there’s a car in there,” Little Guy responds helpfully.

“You think?!?”

I don’t even want to call the maintenance men tomorrow morning. Thought I’d give them the weekend off and just have the boys run downstairs for toileting (because you know full well that my master bathroom toilet seat shall not be “adorned” by them!). But really, what am I going to say? Hi, guys, mind taking up that new toilet you just put in and dig out the Matchbox car?

And to top it off, this morning I bolted out of bed when my savvy nose indicated some kind of burning occurring. Rushing into the kitchen, I find Little Guy with red oven mitts on his bakedhands and the microwave door open – charred bits of a tortilla shell scattered on the tray. “There sure was lots of smoke coming out the top of that thing,” Little Guy says all wide-eyed, knowing pretty well that the Mama creature does not look at all pleased with his attempt to fend for himself for breakfast. What’s wrong with the cream cheese on bagel you usually get for yourself? Or the yogurt you leave half-eaten at the dining room table? What in the world made you want to “cook” this morning for your first time ever?!? So much for trying to laze in bed for a minute on a Sunday morning!

A friend texted the other night, “Is your puppy as bad as she is cute? Because I feel like that adorable face would get her out of a lot of trouble. Kind of like The Little Guy.”

“Nailed it,” I replied.

My good little boy is vying with the elder siblings for “who can cost the most” award and it’s a good thing he has a sweet elfish smile and an adorable face!

Boys.

You can’t make this stuff up!

 

Learning a Little in Giving Valentine’s Day Cards

Posted on by
Reply

Super Tall Guy was not going to move from the green lacy Victorian sofa. He had a stack of Pokemon cards in his hands and was intent on “studying” them for as long as this process was going to take. Mr. Ornery and The Little Guy hung on my legs impeding forward movement. It was an unusual sight for them to be sure; about fifty elderly men and women sat around tables in groupings of three to six. “One of them has a helmet,” whispered The Little Guy. “Yes,” I replied, “he does, but we aren’t going to point. It’s lunch time for everyone.”

A lot of cajoling and a few bodily shoves eventually moved the fifty- and thirty-pound little boys towards the open doorway. They stood frozen with red Valentine hearts clasped heartbetween stiff fingers. The delight of making the cards, the joy of writing their names, the discussion of visiting “older people” had all faded when faced with the unknown. A woman looked up and smiled. “How about handing her a card?” I questioned.

You could have heard a hearing aid buzz in that silence. I fought to overcome my own discomfort and prod my boys toward handing over some cards. Little by little they realized that their simple acts were being met by smiles and delighted “Oh, look, it’s a little Valentine’s Day card” responses. One was even rewarded with a small white chocolate Kit Kat bar from a sweater pocket. Mr. Ornery surprisingly and graciously replied “oh, I don’t need one” when the woman confessed she didn’t have another for him.

It was readily apparent that we had not brought enough cards for everyone, though. We had never visited this home before. I had no idea we’d be walking into a room of senior citizens spooning chicken noodle soup. I felt terrible that we didn’t have enough and uncomfortable about leaving some people out. I turned to my friend and offered to run home for some more cards, but lunch would likely end before then. Next time, I thought.

As we drove home, we reflected on what a lovely time that had been. It was brief and little interaction, but the boys learned something that day. They learned that sometimes older people live away from their families. They learned that sometimes older people have to sit in a wheelchair or use a walker to help them move. They learned that sometimes they fall asleep while eating lunch. They learned that when you give a little, you make others smile and have a moment of joy.

They learned that they can bring joy to someone else with small acts of kindness.

Well, Super Tall Guy still has a bit of learning in that arena. He spent the way home asking if we could go to Target and buy him a new toy. But I have high hopes for him. I know that he approaches new situations warily and with great caution. I was that way myself. He’ll come around. It will take awhile, but he’ll come around to the idea of service (I have great hope!).