Trials and Error

Admission number one: I am a terrible blogger. I know this because I just looked at the date of my last post. Admission number two: It has been a trying, wonderful, frustrating, joyous four months since that last post. 


I have seen so many changes in all three of our kids. But nearly all of it has been a result of trial and error (and more error than success was often the result). One of my dear friends just had a beautiful baby girl, and as we awaited her arrival, I fell into the regrettable position of offering (perhaps unwanted) advice on the art of child-rearing. I think we all do that, but WHY? No child is alike. No child responds to the same incentives, the same directives, the same anything. And I have finally begun to realize that is true of my boys as well. You know, as parents, we set out to treat our children fairly; equally. And sometimes, in doing so, we do our children a disservice. They are NOT the same children, and therefore, do NOT respond to the same methods and ideas. We are still at the very beginning of a very long road to figuring out what different things our kids need along the way. 


This summer has already been one of transformation and, in some ways, stagnation, although I would hope that our stalls are for the greater good of progress. We enrolled Andru in the Summer Treatment Program, a day camp for kids with ADHD and other behavioral challenges.  The camp has been wonderful in providing consistency and structure for Andru. However, it has also seemed to magnify the challenges we have been struggling with since his arrival. In part, I think this is because Andru is angry--angry that he now has rules, angry that he has lost some of the control that he values so much.  But I try to remind myself that this is GOOD. At some point, that anger will turn to acceptance and maybe even gratitude for the life he has and the family that loves him enough to give him rules and boundaries. But slowly but surely, my little man is learning how to be NINE. And hopefully, by the time he is ten, that will be something he enjoys:)


Ethan, has transformed into this happy, sweet little boy, and he continues to grow everyday. He has never been separated from Andru and the separation while Andru has been at camp has been an amazing catalyst for him. He suddenly finds himself able to be his own person, to find a strength which he did not need while under Andru's wing. In the last week, he tied his shoes for the first time, caught his first fish, and scored seven (yes, SEVEN) goals in his soccer game. Above all else, Ethan TRUSTS. He told me today that I'm "the best mommy he's ever had". You have no idea how that touches me--because, tragically, he has had A LOT of mother figures in his life. But I get to be mommy. And that's pretty awesome. The true testament, though, is his friendship with his little sister. They are BEST friends. And it so amazing to watch.


Gabbi is...a phenomenal little girl. Through every step of this process, much of which has taken from her coveted attention, she has been generous, loving and patient. Often, I'm afraid, more patient than I. She loves her brothers so fiercely. I have never had to explain their presence or their behavior, other than to say we love them and they are here forever. She shows them the way, reminds them of the rules (very happily, I might add) and treasures rare moments alone with mommy and daddy. 


So, with specifics to follow, there are my thoughts on these past whirlwind months. I have made many mistakes, but despite that, my kids have had so many successes, perhaps in spite of me and the things I thought would work. One prayer resonates in my head as this all passes by at lightening speed:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.  

To my Ethan, on his 7th birthday

To my sweet Ethan...this birthday has been such a paradox. You are seven today, and this marks three months for us as a family. I feel as if you have always been here---as if I have always known you and loved you as my son. Yet the truth is that this is the first birthday we have had together. There will be so many more to come, but I am so sorry I couldn't be there for the first six. I promise to always be there---to always hang the "Happy Birthday" sign in the dining room, always ask you what you want for your birthday breakfast, and always set out the "Happy Birthday" plate for every meal on your special day. 


Ethan, you are my sweet, sensitive little boy. You have grown so much in so short a time. When we met, you were scared of your shadow, angry at all of the changes in your life and so very unsure of yourself.  Now, you are this funny, engaged little boy.  You make funny faces and grin at me from across the dinner table. At school, you may be too cool for your mommy, but at home, you are so full of love and life. You are so innocent and unassuming...you have this heart that has room for everyone. You have become Gabbi's  best friend and a source of pride and wonder for me. You play baby dolls with your sister, GI Joes with your brother, and you put everyone else before yourself. Even when I know it pains you to do it, you share every toy and take the blame when it's not your fault.  


I love your little mohawk, and how very important it is to you that be just right every morning. I love how you think about everything you do---how you want so badly to understand the things that go on around you, and how it frustrates you when you can't. You are a force of nature when you laugh, and the speediest little man on the athletic field.  There are so many things you are capable of, and I love to watch you when you realize you can do something for the first time.


My wish for you is that you grow up realizing just how incredible you are. I want you to keep your sweet heart, but realize that it is okay to stand up for yourself. You will need to be strong in this world--even stronger than you already are. I promise to always be there to help you and to push your forward. I know you can do ANYTHING, and I will always be here to remind you of that. 


I love you, my sweet boy.
Love, 
Mommy

Son Up 'Til Son Down

Next week will mark three months since the day we brought our boys home. Truthfully, I only faintly remember what life was like before little boy feet stomped back and forth in the upstairs hallway and sucking up Legos in the vacuum was a daily occurrence. 


Stepping back, it is clear that great strides have been made these three months. We are truly a family of five, and I think that the boys trust that this is their final destination. As I look at these pictures taken this weekend, even their smiles are different....they look REAL. (In addition, Ethan got a mohawk and Andru let mommy cut his hair because we simply could NOT find the time for the barber. Brave boy.)

One thing I still struggle with is how to explain all of this...especially to those closest to us. We brought these boys into our home to have a normal life. I wanted them to be normal children, and I suppose that, deep down, I even shared some of the ideas that people had about how they would approach us. People seem to think that foster children will be grateful to be in a warm, stable home. That somehow, they will believe that they finally won the familial lottery. But here's the truth---my children are not normal. They are not like yours---they are angry and sad and have seen more things in their short lives than you can possibly imagine. And in the midst of proving to them that this new life is permanent, we must also prove to them that we mean business. We have to show them right and wrong, and we have to do that in a black and white, no nonsense way. No one has done that for them, and they have had their whole lives to learn it the wrong way!!


There are three things that our life now revolves around: Love, Routine and Discipline. Perhaps the most important of these is routine. Our boys have never had one. And when I say never, I mean NEVER. Imagine never having a bedtime or a mealtime you could count on, much less a place to live and food to eat. Life without routine sends my boys into PANIC, and the slightest adjustment to that routine results in chaos. Ethan is especially tied to a schedule. Every morning he wakes up, he needs an exact rundown of the schedule. Every night before bed, we go over what we need to do and where we need to go the next day. It is imperative that he knows and understands, because if he can't see it coming, it scares him to death. When he is late going to bed, he becomes agitated and upset. "It's too late, Mommy. I should already be in bed, Mommy. I will be too tired tomorrow, Mommy." And he's right. Half hour late to bed, and he is unable to function normally for at least two days after. With Andru, you had better mean every word you say. If you tell him you need to leave in fifteen minutes, it had better not be sixteen. He checks and double-checks the schedule for the day---locations, times and activities. If you have a "we'll see" moment, he will keep asking you until you make a decision just so he will stop asking!!


I know that some people think we are being too strict. And I get it---from the outside, that's what it looks like. But from within, we are building a life for two little people who have never really had one. I compare it to what I was once told in a beginner's education class---start strict. you can always back down later, but you can never build respect and discipline when you haven't demanded it from the beginning. These first months will be the hardest. We will have hard moments down the road, but I suspect they will be slightly more "normal". Until then, I will keep a close watch on the calendar, the clock, and try to keep one step ahead of my watchful little men.

The Other Stuff

I fear that I may not yet have the hang of this whole blogger thing. The gaps grow longer between posts because sometimes, I must subscribe the the old adage, "If you don't have anything nice to say, than don't say anything at all." If that doesn't tell you how recent weeks have gone...


I will, to save myself, start with the good stuff. Ethan continues to improve everyday, despite some low test scores on his "nonsense words"---and if you're going to call them that, they don't mean much anyway, if you ask me. He is happy and sweet and adores his little sister. He also gives excellent, break-your-ribs-becasue -I love-you, bear hugs.  His latest feat is something I would like to call "exercising his eyebrows", which consists of making as many funny faces as possible in the mirror, at the dinner table, or anywhere where I am attempting to be serious. Hilarious.


My sweet Andru, on the other hand, is having a tough time of it. The specifics don't matter, and as I have mentioned before, my little boys don't need their secrets splattered across the Internet. But, in an effort to be wholly honest about this whole process, I suppose the tough stuff must be addressed. The truth is, I am exhausted. I spent the first three weeks telling myself that any mother of three is tired (so suck it up), but the truth is, this isn't the same, not at all. I basically had twins, with a four-day maternity leave, who had already developed habits without my ever having a say in them. My children are not comparable to children people have raised since birth. We have a lot to undo, and a lot to learn, and I, in my infinite impatience, am just going to have to realize that some people will never understand that and that this is all going to take a very long time. 


Andru and Ethan are both ecstatic to have a family that loves and cares for them. The difference is that Andru has spent the lats nine years being "Dad", and he now has very little idea how to be anything but the boss. Turns out, that doesn't fly to well with his new parents, who also would like to be the boss. There have been things said about him at school that make me want to alternately cry and sock the person who said it. Everyone wants their children to be loved by everyone else in the same way that you love them. And when that doesn't happen, it hurts. Physically hurts. I know what kind of kid my boys CAN be---and I want them to act like those kids right now so that they can avoid the hurt of acting any other way. News flash---not going to happen. 


Today...sucked. (eloquent, I know) I was on the phone with a teacher three minutes after I dropped Andru off, and watched my little boy be angry? sad? embarrassed? on a field trip that should have been fun and enlightening.  I pray every night for the courage, the light, the right words, to show him what kind of little boy he can be. I hope that someday soon, one of those things will come to me. For now, I will just be a mom who loves my children so much it hurts. 

Keep Moving Forward...

This week has been one of drastic ups and downs. There have been immense frustrations and great strides. Many of the downs are simply a result of what else? A lack of paperwork and power. I still do not have anything that says my boys are OURS. I have blacked-out copies of birth certificates and a copy of immunization records. Nothing that says I have the power to make doctor's appointments, change or fill prescriptions or do anything that might further ease their transition. These things I will wait for (oh-so-impatiently) and hope that the will smooth out some f the difficulties. So...I will focus on the ups; the things we can and have done something about.


What has become abundantly clear this week is that our boys feel comfortable in our house. They call it home, and they mean it. They do not ask to speak to their former foster parents, and even when I ask if they would like to talk to them, the answer is almost no. We have begun to settle into a routine. The boys make their beds (success!!) and help us set the table. They play with their sister and say their prayers before bedtime. These things are all a BIG DEAL. 


Our biggest success, however, has been Ethan's transformation over the past weeks. When Ethan arrived, and on all our previous meetings, he was painfully shy. He would turn away from you when you spoke to him, cry at the drop of a hat and he only said "I love you" on the off-chance that he heard his brother say it and wanted to mimic him. We have seen a lot of that change at home. He hugs us freely and without his brother as a model. He smiles--and means it. School, however, was a different story. He was painfully quiet, and became inexplicably angry when he was playing or working. So...we ran an experiment. We had never seen this behavior at home, on the weekends, when he did not get his ADD medication. So, after consulting with his teacher, we decided to try him without it at school. What we saw was...a little boy. He is funny and engaged. He makes faces and laughs at silly jokes. We are eternally grateful for a patient teacher who was willing to let Ethan figure out what to do with all of his energy. But he is, unquestionably different. I do not want to say that he will need medication again. But it has done all of us a world of good to see the little boy that he is capable of being. 


so... we shall keep moving forward...

School Daze

Our First Day of School!!

 It has been just over two weeks since we became a family of five. In the past sixteen days, we have experienced a lifetime of lessons about one another. It has not been an easy two weeks. In fact, I am exhausted and overwhelmed. I also think that is normal for welcoming two children who I have not raised from birth into our home. 

While I started this blog to offer a window into our changing lives, there have been some things I am not willing to share about my children. There are issues beyond those we expected, and there has also been immense progress. The fact remains, however, that these two little boys are my children to protect and love. That means that I don't want everyone in the world to know their private struggles. I embarrass them enough by hugging them frequently in the hallways at school. They do not need everyone to know their secrets, too.

I will say this--bringing an older child into your home is exactly like bringing a baby home from the hospital. The only difference is that my children can talk back (even when I may not like what they have to say...) and that they have a lifetime of needs that have already been unfulfilled. They still need to learn how to trust and how to respond appropriately and just who their new Mommy and Daddy are. 

My mantra over these past two weeks has been, "Every day better than the one before." That couldn't be more true---for all of us. Time-outs have become less and less of a necessity. There is a comfort in our home and in their hugs that I did not expect so soon. Two weeks without school, without diversions, and with a lot of snow and cold that my poor sons find abhorrent was trying. BUT...WE MADE IT.

Monday, they started school. I am just down the hallway in the high school, and that seemed to make all of us feel a bit better. Shockingly, Ethan was the more excited student. He is usually reserved and quiet, but babbled all the way to school while his brother sat (also a shock) silently. Andru has been to six schools in his short career as a student. His new school makes seven, and I do not blame him for a second for being terrified. I think I held my breath for an entire day. Blissfully, they both met me with smiles at the end of day one. Even better, they wanted to return for day two. 

What I realized today, at the end of day three, is that my children are genuinely beginning to feel like this is HOME. Their backpacks and snowy jackets are slung over the bench in the hall. Their clothes are put away in the drawers as neatly as two little boys frantic to play can make them. They know our bedtime prayer and ask to take turns saying it. They only asked for one serving at dinner because they knew there was more if they wanted it. Ethan was the line leader in class---and that's a big deal, in case you were wondering. Andru got a hundred on his multiplication test and realized that maybe some good does come out of studying. 

All in all, we are slowly becoming a part of each other. Someday they will know all the rules, even if they still might not follow them. In the meantime, we will take one day at a time and remember that we all have a family who loves us, even on our worst day. pretty cool.