My Learning Curve: No Farmers Market for my Sensory Boy
They May be Dandelions…
Looming Deadlines
Helloooooo
Mimi Breaks the Block
“There’s Nothing to Eat”
Stop. Take Three Deep Breaths.
At the Mile High Airport
Topsy Turvy Monday
I took this photo of Dimples as she was getting ready to head out the door yesterday morning. She was decked out in the new scarf and hat from Eby and Little Man, and her new snow boots that came last week. She looked very cute, especially with the sweet smile on her face.
If you look closely, you might notice something else.
Thanksgiving break was tough for Dimples, and Christmas break is twice as long. I spent a few weeks worrying about the break before it arrived. Then I decided to get practical and make a plan. Dimples loves school. She loves being with friends, doing structured activities, having lots of movement and action. She does not like having to figure out what to do with her time and is happiest when it is decided for her.
I have a new article up on Empowered to Connect today, Giving Voice to Our Other Children. It was a difficult piece for me to write, but it is probably one of the most important things I have to say about the impact of adding children from “hard places” to our family. Let’s remember to give “voice” to all of our children.
I hope you all are learning from my struggles, mistakes,and learning curve – because that’s pretty much what you get around here!
While you’re at it, if you haven’t had a chance to read Rusty’s post from yesterday, Thirsty, I know it would mean a lot to him if you would read it and share it. If you use Facebook, there are little buttons at the bottom of the post that make it easy to share.
Last Friday night was the University Christmas concert and Aunt Michele invited the girls to go. In general, they are excited to go nearly anywhere and do just about anything, and they love Aunt Michele. They also love to stay up past their bedtime, so I thought they would be thrilled.
Dimples first response was, “Will there be food there?”
I wrote this post months ago, and it sat in my “Drafts” folder as I contemplated whether I should post it. I read it again last week and the timing was perfect because I was discouraged at the moment, and weary, and feeling like life was just harder than I could manage. My own words smacked me right in the face. I must have been very fired up when I wrote this – that’s all I can say. If you think you are ready, read on.
When we adopt children from “hard places,” we are willingly devoting our lives to a challenge. We must prepare ourselves for battle, not with our child, but for our child. We may find ourselves fighting for her physical health, emotional health, and mental health. Without a doubt we will be fighting a spiritual battle like none other.
It is Thanksgiving week and while I am sorely tempted to spend lots of time writing, I know what I most need to give my family is my presence. This doesn’t mean sitting with my laptop while they play games, it means me being fully present. At the moment, my children are all still sleeping, so here is my quick thought of the day.
Holidays are loaded with triggers for kids from “hard places,” and this week marks the beginning of a long stretch of holiday celebrations. I know I struggle when forced to face disappointments, so it is no wonder that it is very hard for Dimples. Her therapist helped her make a “Disappointment Card” to keep close (in her pocket, perhaps?) and use when the moment calls for it.
We woke up to snow and it is beautiful, but I’m a little bit worried about our trip to Seattle. We’re watching the weather, especially Snoqualmie Pass, and waiting to see how it is going to look in the morning. Noah will probably do most of the driving, and if we have to chain up, we have Samuel and Isaiah to help. I have to admit, I have never put chains on a car myself; I’m a bit of a wimp when it comes to things like that.
Last night I had an errand to run. I drove a few minutes to a house in town and knocked on the door. A little girl answered and a scowl appeared on her face. She demanded, “Why are you here?”
Jennifer asked a question yesterday that I want to address if only because we failed in this, learned, failed some more, and now hope we’ve found a reasonable balance. She asked,
How do we focus so much energy on parenting the kids we have from hard places while also parenting the 2-3 young biological kids we have?
When Eby, Little Man, and Dimples joined our family in March 2007, we had seven children by birth ranging in age from twenty to four. The needs of our children were varied and life was demanding, but manageable. There was no “honeymoon” stage for Dimples, she arrived terrified and traumatized and we are still working through it day by day. Unfortunately, we had no idea we were in for a very long healing journey, so we didn’t pace ourselves. Each day was focused on the urgent needs of one, and while we tried to give love and attention to the other nine, we didn’t do it very well.
One evening while on Whidbey Island, we gathered around the campfire, roasting marshmallows, and singing along as the boys played music on the guitar. As the evening grew darker, we admired the stars and speculated about where the eagles might be nesting in the trees. Eby was asleep in Russ’ arms and Little Man snuggled on my lap as the girls held a flashlight on the music they were singing. Dimples was content and happy at camp. It was peaceful.
As the night grew cooler, Russ and I collected our younger ones, heading inside for bedtime. Honeybee sought me out in the kitchen, wrapped her arms around me, and quietly said, “That was one of the best times of my life. I feel like a family girl.”
