My Mother

My mother is turning red right this very minute. Don't worry, Mom, I only have about 10 readers... on a good day. This is mostly for you and me. And because I think you're hilarious.

Yesterday was one of those days. It wasn't terrible, mind you, and I wasn't in a bad mood (believe it or not). But it was, none the less, just one of those days. It started when I burnt the pancakes. Almost as impossible as burning soup when you consider I don't mean I burnt one batch on one side. No, every last pancake was crispy, and a few non-edible. Pretty sure pancakes shouldn't be crunchy. It set off the smoke alarm, and I opened doors to get some of the fog out of the house. So we sat, eating crunchy pancakes under the fan in the freezing cold. Nice.

Blessing melted under the noise of the fire alarm, of course. I'm very much so realizing she definitely has some kind of sensory issue, mostly with noises though some seams and tags/materials bother her, too. I already knew it, but it seems more pronounced lately. Do things like that get worse?

It was very cold and wet here, but I actually kind of like those days occasionally. I wasn't feeling the best in the world, and so it was a great day to spend curled up with books (currently re-reading Karyn Purvis's Connected Child, The Dragon Rider to the big kids, and a Junie B. book to the littles) and movies and stay in pajamas. As the day went on I felt worse. I never actually took my temp, but I'm assuming I had a high fever since I was alternating between chills and then that cold sweat that feels horrible. I spent the better part of the day in the recliner, piling on blankets while I shivered, and then agitatedly throwing them off while I sweat to death.

In the morning I had sent my mom a text message. My sister and I love to text each other, and we've been on Mom hot and heavy to join us. My mom is young and hip (is that laying it on too thick?), and never once did I think it was about ability, but about being frugal (she doesn't have a texting plan). She's also kind of turned off to it (as was I before I got addicted) by other people's rudeness with their phones. My text was just a typical, sweet, Good morning, Have a good day kind of text. My sister and I had decided to send her a text everyday until she gives in and gets a plan. Because you know she can't leave them unopened. The suspense would kill her.

That evening, I got a text back. In all caps. Mom, that means you're yelling. Did you mean to yell at me? The text said, "I CAN DO IT BYE". I busted out laughing. Which was needed cause currently 6th grade math had both Faith AND I in tears. I told ya, one of those days. Faith was reading the text(s) along with me, and we both needed that smile. I quick texted my mom back, saying glad she can do it, but I can't do math. Explaining we were in tears. Now if that doesn't rise a compassionate response from your mother, what will?

Then I get back, the same message a 2nd time, "I CAN DO IT BYE". Now Faith and I are really laughing because it's obvious she can't. Even though she did yell at me twice and I was already in tears, we over looked that part and wittingly replied, "Are you sure you can do it?". And then we quit math and giggled over it more while we soothed ourselves with chocolate and coke. I said , "Math sucks". And then Faith (12 years old) gave me a speech about the word "sucks". I'm getting that mother-of-the-year award this year, dang it.

46 months

Blessing was 23 months old when we first met her.

Which makes this month the month that she's been with us half of her life. This is supposedly a big mile marker for us. I can't say I see any difference. I suppose it's sort of like a birthday. Today, she's really no different than she was yesterday. Or at least, the growth is to tiny we can no longer see it. But we're here! She's lived with us half of her life! Woo-hoo!

But it is amazing to think back on what she was like in those first days, months, and even her first year. She's not the same kid at all! Just a few days into her stay with us, she was sick and I took her to the doctor. I'm not sure there has ever been a single situation that was harder than that one. This was a little one who would scream when I held her for any length of time. A few minutes she could handle, if we were looking at a book, or walking to the swing. But quickly holding became threatening, I suppose, and she'd go rigid with her tiny little body. She'd scream. She'd kick. She'd bite. She'd spit. A place like a waiting room was horror. There was no keeping her in my lap or holding without the rage. There was no letting her down, either, because she'd quickly run over to someone else and bite or spit at them. Hours I felt the scrutinizing gazes of other parents who were certain I was a terrible parent. Certain I had caused this little one to be so defiant and out of control. Lovely day, that was. I also distinctly remember that after an hour of trying to console the inconsolable, as I was walking around the waiting room with her fitting self in my very tired arms, she reached her tiny hands out to an older black gentleman sitting in a chair, also waiting. Blessing had lived with a black family prior to living with us. He was familiar.

He reciprocated the reach, and I let my baby go. She laid her head on his chest and went to sleep. It took all I had to choke back tears. It was bitter sweet. Thankful for a moment of comfort for her. Thankful for his willingness. Yet feeling not only scorned by the mass waiting parents, but also wondering if she would ever view me as her mom. I loved her so much but she reciprocated nothing.

And something else I couldn't really explain.... she walked. It was like walking was her therapy or something. For months I could stand in one spot, and hold her hand as she walked around and around and around me. Eyes down. Arms out and up for balance though she was too old to still do that. Or if I walked with her, she'd walk for miles. We spent hours walking. And hours in our front porch swing. TheY were about the only 2 places she was relatively happy.

Her hair would fall out in globs when I brushed it or pulled out a rubber band. Her gums bled when I brushed them. Not to mention the screaming she did about it all. A bath? pure torture. I had to sit on her and hold her arms down with my knees, and pry her mouth open to brush her teeth. If my husband or I started at her quickly, even if it was in play or to grab for a quick hold, she'd fall to the ground in the fetal position and throw her hands over her head. She only grunted one or two (I only remember one... "dog", oh wait, maybe she said, "shoe"). They were deep throat grunts, not toddler sounding words. Know what she said the other day? "I'm not going to be your friend No more! I called thousands of times, and you didn't answer!" Full sentences. Completely understandable. Very big words for someone not talking at all at 2. I know you can't be as excited about that as I am.


And what else today? Well she can certainly be a defiant little cuss. And there are some neurological/developmental issues that show their head occasionally. I think there will likely always be some hints that she was exposed to drugs and alcohol long before she took her first breath. But they aren't going to stop her from living a life that's full, abundant, or from accomplishing anything she wants. She's bright. She's beautiful. She eats with a fork (hey, let's celebrate the little things, too). She is very likely our most affectionate child, very sweet and can be very sympathetic towards her sisters (something we were beginning to think we'd never see). I'll never forget the first time we hurt our feelings. Oh, she cried, and threw fits all the time when she didn't get what she wanted. Or when I was brushing her teeth. But not that sweet cry even Mercy already does if my voice is too harsh. Or the cry you get from most toddlers when they realize they did something wrong. They wanted to please. They were trying. We didn't get that from her for a very long time. When we finally did, and she tuned up and cried real, genuine tears; my husband and I looked at each other and cried, too. I've never been so glad to hurt a kid's feelings! ;)

These pictures are literally her first hour with us. Sweet aren't they? They look very different than the picture I've painted. But, you know, she didn't decide she didn't like us until that night at bath time! tee-hee! ;)

Walking Commercial

... for Ergo, that is. Because this is how we spend most of our day. And when people say things like, "Do you hold her all the time?". They really sort of mean it in a you're-spoiling-your-child-and-you-don't-know-what-you're-doing kind of way. But that's ok. I don't mind. Because I do know exactly what I'm doing. I'm making my bed. And I'm the one who will lay down in it (I think, it's looking that way, anyway). You see, parent a RADling, and you'll be all about attachment and bonding, too. I promise. Especially for a little one who is quite at risk for the same thing.

But the truth is, even if she wasn't, I'd be doing the same thing! ;)

Oh, and, by the way... the kitchen and cooking were photoshopped in. Because I would never wear a baby on the front and cook at the same time. What mother would do that? So unsafe!!!!!! Maybe I should have done a "Not Me Monday". ;) And, the picture was taken by a munchkin, hence the cut-off head. At least you can see my smile!

2009

I'm through reflecting, now... on to the new year! I used to never ever make new year's resolutions. I figured why make them only to feel like a failure when 6 weeks in life was still the same.

Then I grew up. A little, anyway. I realized the problem wasn't with the idea, it was the unrealistic expectations I set forth. Or the perfectionism in me that throws me into fits of guilt and failure when I don't live up to my own bar. Grace, love, and mercy from my God was something I knew for others, and knew He had for me. I had not yet really accepted it for myself. And some preacher man called that what it was.... faithless. Not really believing God is who He says He is. And I let go a little and allowed myself to fail without it affecting my worth.

Well, some days, anyway. That's a daily struggle. Along with patience and kindness and most of the other fruits of the Spirit. Some moments it comes easily. Some moments it gets acted out with clinched teeth. Some moments it just doesn't happen at all, and I'm looking around for all the fruit. Where the heck did it go?

And I'm rambling on like this was not a planned post. That's sarcastic, by the way. I really had no direction at all as I sat down to type. I just knew today's post had to have something to do with the coming year.

I did make resolutions of sort, I suppose. But they aren't any different than the resolutions I make every morning before my feet leave the warmth and comfort of my bed and dive into the morning. Today, I'll be more patient. Today, I'll get agitated less. Today, I'll enjoy my children. I'll love harder and gripe less. I'll be gentle and soft spoken and meet my family's needs without a hint of frustration. I'll spend more time with my God, and less with the TV. I'll have supper on the table when my husband gets home (always, but most of the time it's half eaten and he eats by himself - something isn't quite right about that), and we'll all greet him with enthusiasm.

Maybe. Maybe not. The good thing is, I can try again tomorrow. That's what life is, anyway, isn't it? Striving for better, for more of what we know is good, and less of what makes our skin crawl with regret. Here's to a new year. A new journey. And giving God all the glory along the path.

Practice Sessions

It must be some new fad I've bought into about raising kids. I can't tell you how many practice sessions we've had since Blessing's arrival in our home over a year ago. When Charity joined our family, then the ghost, practice sessions hit an all time high. I wish I had video taped some of them. I mean, we practice things "normal" kids don't usually need to practice. Like, with Blessing we practiced looking at the dog without falling into the fetal position and screaming bloody murder. Really. We would stand her in the room, tell her "Let's practice". Pull a stuffed animal dog out complete with mocked growling, and ask, "what are you going to do?" and I'd hold my arms out so she'd know to come to me when she was afraid. At first she didn't get it, but eventually the game of jumping into mom's arms became something fun. I'd laugh and squeeze her, and make a big deal. Then we'd put her back in the middle of the room and call Toby. Of course it took her awhile to come to me in the real situation, but you get the idea of a practice session.

Oh, the things we've practiced. We've practiced saying, "yes, mom" with a smile rather than folded arms and pouty lips. We've practiced putting an empty plate into the sink without licking it down, first. We've practiced a low, normal toned voice rather than whining. We've practiced getting in and out of the car seat quickly. Patting gently rather than way-laying. Petting rather than kicking. Looking at who you are talking to in the eye. Telling the truth. And the list goes on and on and on.

Just a few days ago I summoned all 5 older ones to the rug, where I then told them we'd been having some trouble. I told Faith to tell me "no" when I asked her something. I said, "Faith, will you help me put these dished away?" She said, "No". And then I threw the biggest, exaggerated fit possible. Really. Got down in the floor and kicked and screamed and said phrases common to the two born of the heart babies. "It's not FAIR!!!" and so on and so on. I did a good job. ;)

Then I asked her again. Again she said "nope." And I folded my arms and pouted and whined. You get the picture? We went through that cycle several times, with me giving different, yet inappropriate responses. The giggles were fantastic. Did you know throwing a worthy fit is exhausting? I had no idea my little ones were getting so much exercise! Whew!

From there, I suggested the kids ask me for something they commonly ask for. Then I had them first give the WRONG response. Then I had them give the RIGHT response. This was hilarious to me, because each one actually asked for something that they ALWAYS ask for. Something that drives me crazy, especially when they ask at the most inopportune times. Then, each one did EXACTLY what they usually do that is wrong. Might I remind you I did not tell them what to do, just to do the wrong thing. Faith rolled her eyes. Hope looked pitifully sad. Charity whined with all the flare we usually see. Grace did some fake crying complete with real tears. And Blessing cocked that little head to the side, jumped up and down, and proclaimed, "But, Mom...." and then fell into her fit. Really funny. It proves how devious they really can be, how fake the fits are, and how they often ARE in control when I want to chalk it up to something in their past. I'm NOT saying there aren't times when rage-full fits are a result of being overwhelmed and their little bodies' way of releasing major stress, but more times than not it is something they can control... or at least should be learning to control. Any way you think about it, it was certain proof they absolutely understand their normal responses are not correct, and they are fully capable of rising to the occasion and responding appropriately.

So... go practice! (If your kids need it, like mine!)

Morning Routine

So the picture has absolutely nothing to do with the post. I was looking for an image (without uploading from my own camera) that would go with getting kids up in the morning. For some reason, my search words pulled this image, and I thought it was hilarious, and fit my exhausted mood. So there you go, the link between the post and the picture! ;)

I was telling a friend yesterday about our morning routine. Now, I must warn you that just a few short weeks ago our morning was NOTHING like this. At that time, we were home schoolers. We slept till 8 or so, mornings were leisure like, and it wasn't really until lunch or after that any real work was accomplished, chores/school or otherwise. The combination of choosing to put our kids into school, learning more about how to help RAD kids, and a need to affectively get everyone ready and in the car by 7:25 without spending my morning yelling and nagging, spurred my husband and I to hammer out a routine that works for us in the morning. I'm proud of how well it's gone, and thought I'd share.

First of all, I did some practice sessions with the kids. I talked, explained, posted some rules and chores, and even had the kids literally walk through the "morning" the way we expected. (Remind me to dedicate a whole post to some of the practice sessions we've had. You're sure to die laughing) Then, we started the first morning with a bang. I think one of the main keys to making this work is that we committed to not ask the kids over and over to get their things done. They don't get them done, breakfast is not served to them. I have had kids come to the table, only to be completely ignored as I spooned every one else's breakfast onto their plate. And yes, even my slightly delayed 3 year old knew what needed to be done and completed it without being told again. She screamed for awhile first, certain we'd break and remind her. And I'll even admit I wasn't sold. I wasn't convinced she understood why I was ignoring her and not putting anything on her plate. It was hard not to tell her again that her bed needed made and her shoes needed to be on her feet. You know what? After only a few minutes of ignoring, she went to her room, finished up, and came to the table with her shoes on. SUCCESS!!!! And then a little anger on my part, because that means the little toot has had me repeating myself senselessly when she really knows what she should be doing. ;) They're so much smarter than we give them credit for.

I wake them at 6:30. You'll be happy to know wake up call comes in the form of beautiful, loud singing on my part, "Rise, and Shine, and Give God the Glory, Glory!" Complete with enthusiastic clapping and ripping of covers to expose pajama'd bodies to the cold. Faith, just this morning, said with hands over her ears, "Really? I mean, really... must you? Must you do this EV.ERY. MOR. NING.?" In fact, Blessing is the only one that seems happy to see me and joins in song. I picked the right name for that one, huh?

I serve breakfast at 7. But only to children who are at the table, fully dressed with shoes on, whose beds have been made and rooms are clean. They also must have already brushed the hair and teeth. I realize the teeth thing is slightly out of order, but, I assure you there is NO WAY anyone's teeth would be brushed at all if we waited until after breakfast. Can you imagine? 5 girls gathered around one sink right about the time we should be walking out the door? Besides, nothing can be held over them as incentive if breakfast has already been served. The oldest 2 do have a couple of extra morning chores. They make sure the bathroom is back in shape, including kitty litter and sweeping around her litter box. Often, the kids are actually done before I'm done with breakfast. In that case, they each go to their "Think within yourself" spot, and do a brain gym we call strong sitting till I'm ready. I'll try to remember to explain that one a little later, too, but for now just know they are still, quiet, in one spot practicing some self control while thinking or praying. Blessing, because of the drugs she's been exposed to, has the most trouble with this part, but is getting better all the time, and poor impulse control just runs strong in her veins. I usually have her sit close to Faith, who just reminds her to sit back down every time she gets up, and that's usually enough to keep her on her spot.

Now, sounds great, doesn't it? And most mornings it really does go that well. Don't get some picture perfect idea in your head, though. This morning was one of those that just didn't go right. We still have those. I'm not even sure exactly how it went wrong this morning, but no one was strong sitting. In fact, 2 kids had oranges on the way out the door, 1 will eat at school, and I told the others we'd eat when we returned home. Blessing left with NO shoes on her feet, Charity was crying because she couldn't find her jacket, I was still in house shoes, and Hope was desperately trying to find a book she was suppose to return today. So, every morning is not that smooth... But most have been, and I'm proud of how every one is doing. Charity even helped Blessing put on her socks yesterday morning. For those of you who can't appreciate that, you should know that Charity has shown very little interest in helping anyone but herself unless she has a 2nd agenda. Blessing is neurologically challenged and socks give her the worst fits! Those seams, the feel on her feet, I'm not sure exactly what goes through her mind... but putting on socks is usually an ordeal and they must be pulled back of and put on again several times and there are often tears and throwing the socks across the room and kicking involved! ;) Which, by the way, is the beauty of the morning routine. I'm not fighting with her anymore. No socks and shoes? No breakfast. No emotion. No pleading. Just ignoring. And eventually, she gets them on herself and appears at her place to be served! And I congratulate, tell her how nice it is to see her this morning, and all is well! How 'bout them apples?

The Trio's Song

My two 4 yr. olds, and my 3 yr. old are walking through the house with their arms around each other, singing a song in ever-so-lovely-and-loud voices. The actual words to the song are:

"There's no better time to worship you. There's no better time to worship you."

What they are singing:

"There's no better time to wear shampoo. There's no better time to wear shampoo." It does kind of sound like "worship you." ha!

Reminds me of a certain other little singer (Faith) who, after hearing in church "I've got peace like a river", ran through the house one day on her way to the bathroom singing at the top of her little lungs, "I've gotta pee like a river, I've gotta pee like a river!". She was 2. I laughed so hard, my protruding pregnant belly shook like Santa's. And then my pressured bladder had to pee like a river, too.

Lord, don't let me forget the good stuff.

WHAT WAS I THINKING???????

The clan:

1 sleep deprived, and rather naive, normally laid back but pushed to the limit mom

1 RADling who never does very well in public

1 tiny dynamite package who was exposed to drugs in utero and can only talk at decibel 5, and "hyper" is the understatement of the year

1 thus far very relaxed and content baby who suddenly thought the world was out to get her

3 other girls without any specific ailments unless no tolerance and no patience is considered sickness

About 50 more coughing, sneezing, THROWING UP (I kid not, 2 seats over from my preemie, no attempt to even leave the room just cradling the trash can she brought from home!), feverish people in a much too little waiting room

3 hours, people, THREE HOURS!!!! I really thought I was going to have a full out panic attack. I'm an idiot. I think that was even more stupid than going to Wal-Mart with all of them.

Satisfaction? Shmatisfaction. I'm sure that feeling will return, but for now the girl who wrote that is no where to be found!

Satisfaction

- Six beautiful little girls snuggled safely in their beds,
Good night kisses still fresh on their heads.

- Coos of an infant, and big brown eyes.
Baby smells, and baby sighs.

- A glance in the mirror, each buckled in their seat.
"Little Bunny Foo Foo" becomes a goon in defeat.

- A tiny babe's warm breath against my neck,
stealing midnight glances, just one more check.

- Dances, giggles, squeals, leaps and twirls,
and all the glamour in a house full of girls.

- The tug on my finger, "Come on, Mom, Pleeeeease?"
Butterfly kisses and a little hand's tight squeeze.

- Daddy lets me sleep in, after a wakeful night.
But sleep eludes when little girls are all squealing with delight.

- Knees worn from prayer, tired bodies falling in the dust.
A knowing Father, for He walked ahead of us.

Camp

For all of those wondering, we do not a baby girl yet. I did not get a confirmation call, however I wasn't holding my breath, either. Last time we received an infant for placement I was supposed to get a phone call first, too, but they just showed up at the door. So, I still have no idea whether she's coming or not. She was not scheduled to be discharged from the hospital until today, though, and the case worker had already said she would not be able to go and get her until later this afternoon/evening. So I may not know for some time, still.

On to more news. We will be traveling out of state for a week long camp by LeeAnn's Horses for Attachment!!!! I can not even begin to accurately articulate to you all this means for our family or how thrilled I am. First of all, we don't typically have a few thousand dollars laying around to fund such an adventure. I'm not usually one to talk money, but just so you understand what kind of miracle this is, you need to know that we have been living on $300 per week for several months. And we do have both a house payment and one car payment. So, the ability alone to go is miraculous. We home school, which allows my entire family to attend and be a part of the camp. This is not necessary, but recommended, and I'm excited that the siblings of our RADish will be having some time with and now adult sibling who completely understands what that position in such a family is like. The week will be full of training sessions for my husband and I as parents, trust building activities and games for our entire family, sessions/crafts for both our RADling and all her siblings. There will be chores and work, but lots of family time to promote attachment. After talking to the director over the telephone for more than an hour, I am very excited about not only the parenting methods (Nancy Thomas often directs these camps, though she will not actually be present at this one) that we'll come home educated about, but just the atmosphere of the week should provide lots of fun as well as learning about developing conscience and promoting attachment. So, we leave in just 2 weeks, and I have even cleared taking the new little one along if she's here. Can you imagine making a 500 mile trip with 6 kids, 4 of which are 4 and under? I giggle thinking about it. We made a trip to Florida this past summer, it actually wasn't as hard as I had anticipated, but I thought if I had to sing, "The Wheels on the Bus go round and round" one more time, I would die. Really. Faint dead away! ;)

Here's to another thousand times singing that silly song!!!!

Fair Night

Every year, the kids get armbands for one night at the fair. You know, a little paper bracelet that allows them to ride any ride as many times as they want from 6 to 10. Feeling very brave, because you can't take any kids without expecting the full day to be crazy with distractions and fits and over stimulation, I purchased the arm bands knowing the fun they'd bring along with all the melting down. So, after packing a back pack with sippie cups and light jackets and crackers and extra clothes for my pee-not-in-potty kid, we headed out to the fair. We were just a little before 6, so we rounded the exhibits and the animals (such fun!). I thought Blessing was never going to leave the pig. He was snorting away and she thought that was the funniest thing ever. I'm racking my brain, thinking, surely she's has seen a pig before. But I guess maybe she really hasn't.... other than the pictures in the books we read. She snorted and squealed and turned circles, oh how I wish I'd had a video camera!

I can't believe how big the kids are getting. Even my 2 4-yr olds jumped on rides that just seemed way too big for them. The big swings. The Ferris Wheel (with their siblings, not with their parents.... we didn't have armbands). The Tilt-a-Whirl. Which, by the way, I'm SO old! I could ride anything I wanted over and over again at one time in my life, now I can't even watch my kids go round and round without being queasy. The Tilt-a-Whirl was their favorite, I think. At least they rode it a thousand times. I wish I had brought my camera so that you could see how little they looked! They squealed and laughed and ran from ride to ride. Blessing clung to my neck after quickly jumping on a ride, then realizing she didn't like it, cried the whole ride, and then wouldn't try another one for quite some time. There was one slide, though, that she slid on a hundred times. The guy in the gate just stopped making her go out the exit like all the other kids, she was free to go right from the bottom back to the ladder again.

My RADling? Not a hitch. And we're talking a public place!!!!!! I think she was so excited about the rides that charming everyone around her was too far back in her brain! She had a couple of whines about not getting to go to the exact ride she wanted to right at the moment, but no fits or aggression when corrected and explained to that we have to do what others want to do, too. Very good night for her. There was one incident of pushing a sibling, but she paid her consequence without too much of a fuss, and even allowed me to comfort her afterwards right in the middle of all that noise and crowd and lights. I couldn't believe it. She also was nurturing towards a friend's baby while sitting out a ride because of the pushing. Ok, for those of you who can't appreciate this...... I'm saying she pushed, yes, but when dished the consequence of sitting out for a ride, she cried. Usually it would be met with screaming and fitting. Very loud, obnoxious crying that isn't genuine. These were real tears, yes it was only because she didn't get to ride, but that would be any kid's response. The fact is, it was genuine. And, after a few minutes of turning her back to me, she turned back around and held up her arms for me to hold her. I then explained what she did, what she should have done, and that she would get to ride again when the other kids got off that one ride. She stopped crying, smiled and talked to ME about OTHER things while we waited. No more whining. No more blaming. And, she even focused her attention to a nearby baby, which she lovingly patted on the back and talked to softly. Where did this kid come from? Wooo-hooooo!!!!

I had 2 kids that didn't last till 10. I brought them home at about 9 (after getting our 12 passenger stuck in the field and being pulled out by about 6 guys, including one with a 4 wheel drive and a chain....another post for another day). I'll bet you can't guess which 2! It wasn't my RADical darling, or my fraidy cat (Grace)...who was riding everything there...go figure. One was Hope... who loves to ride and is much less cautious about what she'll ride than her older sibling, unfortunately for her she gets motion sickness. So, looking very green she finally agreed home sounded good, and I brought Blessing along with me. Blessing wasn't convinced she was done, but she was beginning to wilt. So I pulled the "I'm the mommy" card and made her come home, too. But no one was actually in bed until after 10. They did stay in bed a little longer than normal this morning....we'll see what today holds! No matter what, it was very worth the trouble! Lots of fun and hopefully some great family memories!

Too Tired....

.....to construct complete sentences, so, how about random thoughts in the form of bullet points?

- I now have sprayed enough deet on my children to keep a small army from getting a mosquito bite.

- It still doesn't work. My kids look no different than the abused ones I've seen as a nurse/foster parent and I talk bad about their mothers for letting their kids get so eaten up by bugs.

- RAD is still alive and kicking. I'm as stubborn as it is, though.

- Stocking up on enough sprite and saltine crackers to nurse a mega family during an outbreak of stomach virus might keep everyone else from getting it. Did I really get through that with only one child falling prey?

- We got in a great day of school, even included some fun stuff for the first day of fall. Fun stuff. Good stuff. I feel great about what we accomplished.

- School, by the way, for 3 different grades and 4 different children and chasing/meals/chores in between took from 9 till 5.

- A sense of accomplishment does not erase weariness. Lots of colors, glue sticks, leaves, reading lessons, math lessons, potty breaks, and running after one kid who might as well be the poster child for ritilin (Blessing, in case you're wondering) has taken it's toll. I'm pooped.

- It's worth it. I'm pouring my cup completely out, but He keeps overflowing it. It all comes out in the wash.

- The family bed idea was not meant for a 7 member family. Must have major discussion with children. Before tonight.


Ok, so this one can't be a bullet point because I feel the need to explain. I've never been one of those moms who thought the TV came straight from hell. But I've never really cared for it, either. I happen to think there are some great shows out there, but the commercials ruin it. It seems if my kids watch much at all they're suddenly whining about all these things they want that they don't have. Attitudes just seem to crash and burn much quicker and much more often if TV has been in the diet. Today, though, after cleaning about 3 tons of pillow stuffing (how in the world did all of that ever fit in that pillow to begin with?) after 4 loads of laundry, school, 3 meals and 3 clean ups, too many phone calls and too many melt downs; I think about 5 episodes of Dora are in order. I deserve it. So do they.

All's right with the world

There are 5 children under there, somewhere. Tent building has always been a favorite with my kids, but lately they've hit it full force, and I've folded more blankets in the last 5 days than anyone should have to in an entire lifetime.

While it isn't quite as cool as I would like, at least a wave of heat doesn't steal your breath when you walk outside. The kids are all running in and out of the house, and I hear squeals of laughter (and some of I-didn't-get-my-way squeals occasionally are heard, too) and the sounds of happy kids enjoying the lazy day and a break from draining heat. I couldn't care less about watching football myself, but I love this time of year when a game can regularly be heard in the background in our home. Only today, it isn't so "background". And apparently, it's an interactive ball game. Arkansas must not be doing so well, as my husband is jumping around the living room complaining about the incompetent players, and telling, er, I mean yelling, out the way it should be done. Because, you know, he knows better than any of them. That's why they are begging him to come and coach the team. I wish. But the truth is, I love that about him. What fun is someone who JUST watches?

I know I haven't posted as often lately, but I figure most of you are tired of reading about RAD. It's all consuming right now, as I am gathering every scrape of information I can find. Christine has shared some great links, and Annie sent me several books in the mail. Little else has come to mind to post about. My most recent reading has brought much needed hope. There is substantial research that says prognosis for RAD is not the very dim, psychopath outcome that was once suggested. In fact, new research, with more understanding and newer therapeutic methods, is finding that disoriented/disorganized attachment patterns can be resolved.

We ventured out to our school's football game last night, made a trip to the park today for a game of kickball ( I LOVE that our family is big enough we can actually have teams and everything!) and some swinging/sliding. We lounged the day away, after a huge breakfast the kids have just been snacking through the day. This kind of day, especially after a late night away (I did no cleaning after the ball game last night and having guest for supper) means the house was a WRECK! But each kid took a zone in the house and we had it looking pretty decent in about an hour. So now, we'll have some popcorn and a movie. If only everyday could be this way!

Quarantine

I spent the entire night last night grabbing the trash can and sticking it under Grace's mouth, holding back hair, filling sprite cups, washing bed clothes and towels in HOT water (like, 4 loads), and calculating how long it would take for such a virus to run it's course through 5 kids. Also, hoping it will spare the 2 adults. Since, you know, we can't afford for one not to work, and it's kind of hard to hold down the fort with your head in the toilet. So far today, my patience is low from the lack of sleep, and more patience is required because no sleep for Grace means she's extra whiney, and is melting down over every little oh-so-unfair act by her siblings. You know, since they breathe her air and they're watching her movie, too.

Despite last night's battle (and what I'm assuming will be a week long battle as everyone else falls victim to the virus), we've been doing extremely well. Our RADilicous baby (Charity) has had some marked improvement (at least at home, but not in public, yet). She tends to take 2 steps forward, then regress again for a few weeks, but once a new (good) behavior is there, we can usually see it take root more and more often over time. What we've seen, that we had previously not, is affection. I mean, she has been more than capable of wrapping her arms around strangers, extended family, climbing all over them in a ridiculous manner. In fact, that is often accompanied with "evil eyes" from her towards us as she overly affectionately hugs and kisses those around us. Rest assured, I AM NOT trying to make her out to be a monster. The opposite is true. More and more we are seeing that she is an amazing little girl, and we love her more each day. It's just that what we see at home is most often (some of our church family is beginning to see it and understand it - after keeping her for our Life groups and hanging out with our family for extended periods of time) much different than what the outside world sees. But I do want you to understand what this RAD can be like to live with.

Back to the affection for us. Before last week, true, relaxed, genuine affection without some agenda has been rare, if not completely inexistent. Eye contact had been extremely slim, unless she's lying, of course, and attempts by us to hold her were not pushed away exactly, but you could feel the tension in her little body, and if I scooped her in my arms and placed her in my lap, she would only remain for a few seconds before hopping down. Lately, however, she's sat in my lap contentedly. Looking me in the eyes and talking about all kinds of things. Once, after discipline, she even hung on to me while crying. THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE! The only other time I think I saw sincere crying from her was only for a few minutes the day her brother left our home. And that day, she would not allow me to comfort her. She walked away, and cried for about 2 minutes with her back turned to us. Then, you could visibly see her shake her little body, as if to shake herself back into control. She shook her head, stopped the crying like she had a sudden revelation, held her chin high and then walked back to where we were standing. That's it. That's the only time I've felt her crying was sincere until the other day after a very extended time-out session and stand off between the two of us. There was one other time when one of the kids pushed her in the pool, and she clung to me from fear, and allowed me to comfort her. Even needed me for comfort. But 2 times in 8 months for a 4 year old? This kid has not had an adult to trust. No adult has convinced her that he/she is not going away. No adult has consistently met her needs and not disappeared shortly. It's amazing what this kid has survived. It blows me away. She's been with us for 8 months....that's longer than she's ever stayed anywhere.

So I just read back over the post, and it seems depressing. That was not what I intended. I wanted it to be a celebration of her life. I wanted the love we have for her to shine through the words. I wanted the joy of being a part of her life to be clear. We didn't just end up with her. And we aren't somehow frustrated that we're now dealing with a horrific disorder. We wanted her. We still want her (though that is still to be determined by DHS). We delight in her. And we are thankful that we get to be a part of her life....and just hope that she continues to be less and less guarded, fearful, and controlling, and that her spirit will be more and more free to enjoy the life God gave her. Oh, she could change the world one day! She's incredibly smart, discerning and methodical. Just you wait, world!

Fun Friday

I know, I know. It's Monday. I've been a little busy. Gee, I can't imagine why!

I try to reserve Fridays for lots of fun. We still do school, but it's the fun stuff. Last Friday we painted flower pots and will be planting some seeds for our botany lessons, played in the rain again, spent some time in the kitchen making rice krispie treats and pizza, did a little reading and squeezed in a couple of not so fun math lessons in between. We also listened to some of our new favorite audio series, The Pond radio show, and Jonathan Park radio drama.


Yes, Blessing is naked. Well, all except for the diaper that I swore I would never again put on her about 2 or 3 months ago. 6 pair of panties per day later, I caved. I'm frustrated about that, both at myself and her, and not sure what the next step is. She's 3, people. 3 and though slightly developmentally delayed, not enough that makes me think she is not capable of potty training. In fact, she has had as much as a week at a time with no accident. Then suddenly, 6 panties in one day again. every. day. arg. And as far as the nakedness, well, neurologically she tolerates clothes just fine. But one speck of wet, dirt, paint, or if the seams aren't just right, off they come.


And then there's Charity. Who after 2 seconds of pretty colors and paint brushes decided that madly banging and franticly rubbing the paint all over the page worked much better. She's one of those if-I-can't-do-it-perfectly-then-I-freak personalities. You're not the only one, darling. Definitely not the only one.


I know it's a terrible picture, and it's hard to tell, but it's raining. And that is a tree "swing" the older girls rigged. Look close and you can see those stinky red sparkly shoes on Grace. With her pajamas. Do you still think I'm a good mom?


And last, but not least, my oldest girls. They slipped and slid and enjoyed the rain, too!

Why, yes

As a matter of fact, those are my children. In a mix of their underwear and dress-up clothes and pajamas.


In the rain.


In the POURING DOWN rain.


And, we spent HOURS in the dark.


Gustav made a name for himself in our home. Not a very nice name, either. He robbed us of electricity. I really thought it was about 5 days of no lights, but, turns out, when I counted it up, it was only 3. It sure felt longer, though. Because our home is all electric, he also robbed us of hot baths and warm meals. He stole our hard wood floor. Completely ruined. And our home reeks of wet stink. I gave up trying to wait on electricity about the 2nd day in, and loaded up our van and headed to my mom's.

Thank God for mothers.

The girls spent a couple of days baking cookies with their great grandmother, following in the steps of their Papa through the woods and all over the yard, putting together a kajillion puzzles with their Nana, and other fantastic fun only wonderful grandparents can provide. It was the perfect safe haven for a couple of days. If you don't count that my RADish is not at her best when her normal life is uprooted and there are extra people to show out for. By the way, I'll fill you in on what I think about the book in an upcoming post.

I missed you all, and hope to catch up, soon! ;)

2 Tablespoons

Hope made pancakes for supper tonight. She wanted to do them all on her own, and she pretty much did. I was working around her on other projects. **ahem**...making sure she didn't burn the kitchen down. Or worse, crack eggs onto the floor. Yes, that IS worse than a smoldering kitchen. Have you ever cleaned that up on a wood floor that has little cracks between the flanks?

Mom: I don't think you put the oil in. You need 2 tablespoons of oil.

Hope: Where's the tablespoons?

Mom (playing therapist and trying to teach the child to solve her own problems): Hmmmm. I've never been in this kitchen before. I have no idea where the measuring spoons are!

Pause - Ok, I understand why smaller children do this. Toddlers who do not yet know how to carry on a conversation, yet want to converse with you, will ask the same question over and over and over and over again. Even though they knew the answer before they asked the first time. They just want to talk. But aren't hip on what a real conversation is like. But my 8 year old? Why does she constantly ask questions that if she would just take half a second to think about, she knows the answers. She's helped in the kitchen THOUSANDS of times. Besides, there are 2 drawers. 2. Even if she had never been in there before, it's not like they were lost in the vastness of our kitchen. I'm not exaggerating one bit, people. 2 drawers.

Back to the kitchen - After just a minute I turn around and see Hope with her 2 tablespoons of oil. I busted out laughing. Wait, let me get the camera! She stood there looking confused. I laughed on. And told her she'd be the subject of my post tonight. Can you see the 2 tablespoons? I know it looks like she is all Vanna-like displaying her genuis idea, but she's actually throwing both hands out and looking at the stove in complete confusion. She can't figure out why it's so funny, and what exactly I'm taking a picture of. Who is her teacher, anyway?

The new shoes

Have any of you ever had a faint, terrible smell in your home? I've walked around for days, occasionally catching a wiff, trying to follow my nose to the source, but either becoming distracted first, or just not able to find the culprit. That once happened in our car, and we finally found a long-time missing sippie cup that had originally been filled with chocolate milk. I assure you it was NOT chocolate milk anymore. This time, however, a quick survey of the cupboard yeilded no missing cups. All accounted for. That couldn't be the source.

Another time, I realized my husband's (I wouldn't admit it if it was mine) sparring gear needed some bleach wipes. EEEEWWWWWW!

This week, however, the culprit was elusive. Or age is weakening my senses. Nah, that can't be it!

In other news, after this, Grace did make the transition from the worn shoes, to the new ones. There were nights she wore one pair, and held the other as she drifted off to sleep, but slowly the new ones finally broke in enough that she began wearing them and I've put the worn ones into the hope chest for safe keeping.


The life of a 4 year old is soap opera material. Oh, the drama! First of all, the bright shiny sequins have not held up so well. How can they? With each bump on the bicycle pedal or rub on the sidewalk more glitter fell off. They weren't exactly made to be everyday material. Add the rain (and mud) and well, the new shoes don't look so new. As a matter of fact, they look as worn as the old ones. Each glitter scuff has manifested some tears from Grace. Each drop of mud a crisis. But for me, if I let her wear those silly things with her church clothes that are PURPLE, then I don't care if they look worn, right? Right. So on they marched.

The last 3 days she's been wearing her new shoes nonstop, bath time being the only time her little feet were out them. This morning, as we were getting ready for church, that smell was still lingering around. Again, I tried to find the culprit. No luck. Back to fixing the little ones' hair. As I was pulling Grace's hair back, the smell got so bad I said aloud, "Good grief, what IS that?" Grace piped up. "It's my feet, mom." Like she had known it for days. All matter of fact.

My eyes got big. Oh, no. I pulled the shoes from her little feet. WWWWOOOOOLLLLFFFFFF!!!!!!! **gag**. She laughed. She was proud. Faith, Hope, Charity, AND Blessing all started squealing and scrunching their noses and waving their hands in front of their faces. And don't forget the laughing. I really should have taken a picture of Grace's face. She's a girl. Usually a very girly girl. Prissy. Sassy. And even proper. But she was VERY proud of that stink! She chased the other girls around the living room, sticking her feet in their faces, and laughing with all the gusto of a typical boy.

I put the shoes away (could not bring myself to throw them away...yet), and she cried. I have to draw the line somewhere. You can't walk around the world in red shoes that make you smell like, well, you'd just have to smell it. I can't believe such a pretty little girl can smell SO rotten!!!!!!

In preparation

We have a loft. We're the coolest house on the block. At least to the kids. A loft is pretty cool. Even to me. The best thing is, as our play room, I never really have to see it. Only when a shoe gets lost, or the dresser drawers are starting to look thin. This usually means mounds of clothes have been discarded up there to be replaced with dress up clothes. When toys are scattered across the living room, NO PROBLEM! I just take a few minutes to toss them up the ladder. No looking, just throwing up there. And since there is a loft for all the toys, the bedrooms stay free and clear from all that clutter. Just beds, dressers, and some books.

All summer I was thinking hard about how I would be able to sit at the table long enough with my older girls to make school really happen for them. And not just happen, but me actually enjoying the time with them and teaching them well. Not an easy task with 3 toddlers in the house. Although, I suppose I should quit calling them toddlers, since 2 of them are actually 4 years old now. Still tough, though.

I've already shared my "stations" idea. I decided to also set up the loft into stations - dividing all the toys into certain areas. Like, a dress-up area, a kitchen area (they have a small kitchen with TONS of dishes), a barbie area that houses the barbie house and a huge tub with all their barbies and barbie clothes, and a reading area.

So, one morning, with 5 girls following, I climbed the ladder to do some rearranging. OH. MY. GOODNESS. It looked like a mom hadn't been up there since we moved in. ***insert a shame-filled sigh**** Charity exclaimed, "Your eyes are buggin' out of yo head, momma!". Floor? Does the loft have a floor? Are there ANY tubs or toy chests up here? Where's the shelf with the t.v.? Where's the t.v.? Who colored on the wall? THERE'S THE PINK PLAY DOUGH! YA'LL HAVE WAAAAY TOOOO MANY TOYS!!!!!!

So, together we filled 4 30 gallon bags of JUNK. I'm not talking about just toys the don't play with .... that was another 3 bags. This is just the trashed, broken, junk that was up there. Pitiful, isn't it?

I'm happy to say, the loft is now neat and tidy (minus the coloring on the wall and the carpet stain from play dough), and divided into centers. It works GREAT! They actually spend more time up there now. I guess they can find what they want easier, and have room up there to play. We currently have a "For Sale" sign in our front yard. I hope the next place we call home has a loft.

The actual review

I said some time ago that I would write a true review of Grace Based Parenting by Dr. Tim Kimmel, rather than just the small blurb I had stated earlier. I have long since left the days of writing reviews, and my current lack of short-term memory kinda makes things like that hard. Yes, I read it. Yes, I liked it. What was it that it said, again?

Ok, so it really isn't quite that bad, but close. I finished the book several weeks ago. And, well, I've slept since then. But this is how I remember it. Keep in mind that where you lean in your already existing style of parenting might determine whether or not this book is for you. I may have been (notice the reluctance to out right admit my short comings) slightly leaning towards raising a legalistic family.

If you know our family, or the church we attend, that may come as a surprise. Yes, it surprised me, too. It's funny how quickly something like legalism can sneak up on you. One minute you're enjoying the grace God so freely gave, the next there's this imaginary checklist that's driven by guilt and a need to do penance and somehow reimburse God. As if that could happen. It's not that good deeds and love can't come from legalistic people, but it's kind of for the wrong reasons. It's the difference in appreciation for our own forgiveness and grace we received from Christ stirring us to love and good deeds, or the need to pay Him back.

There was a time in my life I extremely disliked books that didn't have much in them actually applicable to life. I guess I was lazy. Just give me that checklist already so I can get on with it. If you are looking for a book that spells out some kind of discipline method or manner of handling your kids, this isn't the one you want. But I really enjoyed it, and though I don't agree with every single word, it certainly challenged me to solidify exactly how I want to raise my kids and why. And to dig in the Word for my own answers. It is not full of impossible standards (which I often seem to find in parenting books), and largely deals with our own attitude towards our kids, and caused me to really examine how I view God, grace, and in turn pass it on to my children. I do think it helped me take another step towards providing an atmosphere in our home where our kids can grow morally strong, fearing God a lot, and fearing their fellow man very little. And fear is definitely something I've dealt with off and on.

I was hoping to find a picture on the net of what Kimmel calls a matrix for grace-based parenting. I can't, but it's basically a graph that weaves these "needs" every child has:

1. Secure love
2. Significant purpose
3. A strong hope
4. The freedom to be different
5. The freedom to be vulnerable
6. The freedom to be candid
7. And the freedom to make mistakes


So there you have it. Another checklist for me to post.