Category Archives: parenting

Happy Mother’s Day

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a recent message from Raine

a recent message from Raine

This is the first time I’m celebrating as only an adoptive mom, not a foster mom. That’s how I first gained the title – mom. Being a foster mom is beautiful and challenging all at once. I didn’t realize how different it would feel becoming an adoptive mom to kids I already loved. It’s been a transition for all of us.

I wonder how my daughters will see their childhood from the vantage of adulthood. What kind of mother will they remember me as?

Although united by the title of “mom”, each of us uniquely defines that relationship.

For me, I tend to get caught up on the natural. I make sure my kids are well dressed, well fed, and live in a nice home. In a way, this helps heal the wounds they still bear from early life. I’ve created a place of stability and comfort to help heal.

There are times I fail in other areas. Sometimes I don’t respond with grace. Sometimes I don’t savour the beauty of the moment we’re in. Sometimes I wish they would just stop talking. I forget how exceptional it is that my daughters adore me and want to interact with me. They crave the love in my gaze. They want to make me smile. They seek to bring me joy.

“This is all I have for you,” Raine said sadly, handing me a folded piece of paper.

A dear friend worked with the girls to give me a lovely potted flower arrangement. But since Raine didn’t buy or create it herself, she doesn’t count that as a proper Mother’s Day gift.

“Your love is all I need,” was my answer.

“Well, you have that,” Raine happily replied.

Raine & Athena on Good Friday modeling the sweaters I made them

Raine & Athena on Good Friday modeling the sweaters I made them

Perseverance

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Daily, I choose what values are imparted to my children. Sometimes I’m intentional. When they catch me exercising – which is rare – I’m quick to say, “I want to stay healthy and keep my body strong.” Never do I hint at the fact that I need to lose weight. I want them to be comfortable with their appearance. Most of the time I am as well which is why the exercising doesn’t happen nearly enough.

I'm still committed to spring. Wearing rain boots.

I’m still committed to spring. Wearing rain boots.

There are other values I may not have been so intentional about. This week Raine’s perseverance surprised me. After a warm couple of days, snow hit us once more. We woke up to a winter wonderland again. Tuesdays are always hectic and it’s garbage day as well. Raine’s been a big help in getting the bins out. Without mitts (since I’d packed them all away), she wasn’t happy to do her job.

I opened the garage for her and got back to packing lunches. Raine returned to tell me her hands were too cold. I advised she abandon the mission then carried on getting Athena ready for school.

When we piled into the car, I discovered all the bins were out and carefully lined up along the curb. There was the regular trash, compost, paper recycling, and plastic recycling. Despite the cold, Raine had persevered.

This, by far, may be the most important value I can impart.

Praying for my girls…..

May the Lord direct your hearts into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance.

2 Thessalonians 3:5

 

Raine out for breakfast on her 6th birthday

Raine out for breakfast on her 6th birthday

March Madness

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March madness has nothing to do with basketball. In my house the mayhem this year beats all others. Marcus* and Flora*s mother is expected to regain custody of them March 18th. The kids are excited but with that comes heightened anxiety. For Marcus it manifests in toileting issues and a need to control. Perhaps in anticipation of being back with an often absent mother, he’s attempting to parent the children in our home. That doesn’t go over well with me. I like being the boss. When I tell 4yr old Elise* to pick up a banana she dropped on the ground Marcus need not reprimand her for being off her seat at mealtime. What he really needs to do is start using the toilet.

Added to this excitement is an ornery 3yr old. His foster mom is on vacation this week. That’s what people do over March break. As a rule I’ve always taken in extra children. It’s not much of a break. The social worker described this little boy as, “well behaved but very shy.” His foster mom agreed, adding Eric* doesn’t have much of an appetite.

Monday night Eric was up until 10:30pm. His bed time is 7pm. “He has no trouble going to sleep,” his foster mom assured me. That’s not been the case. Since his arrival Thursday evening the earliest he’s slept has been 9pm. For reference, I’m an introvert. The time after 8pm when all children are in bed is something I deeply covet. It helps keep me sane. Five nights with little to no alone time is not making me a happy camper.

Tuesday morning, Eric was up at 6:30am. I must add that Sunday the

Eric & Elise picking out some cars to play with

Eric & Elise picking out some cars to play with

mainfloor toilet became clogged. Contents from Eric’s diaper refused to flush. Despite a few attempts I’ve not been able to fix it. This necessitates me hustling everyone into the upstairs bathroom to pee before I shower in the morning.

At the breakfast table Eric’s muffled speech became crystal clear as he shouted repeatedly, “I hungry!” Since arriving he’s hardly left the table. All day long he demands to be fed. His foster mom mentioned he generally won’t eat meat. But he’s definitely a carnivore here, gobbling up second and third helpings of meatloaf at dinner on Saturday. He has toast while Elise, sitting beside him, has cereal. When Eric’s done he shouts for more. I’ve not yet served the other children. He must wait. This doesn’t go over well. He becomes enraged. Eric whips his cup of juice at me. This isn’t the first time he’s thrown dishes at me because I’ve given him something he doesn’t like or don’t move fast enough for him. I decide it better be the last.

“That is not allowed,” I say. Picking Eric up, I take him to his room. He screams. Better there than at the table. Downstairs I have a hard time pulling myself together. I’m annoyed and letting everyone know.

Somehow I get us all dressed and out the door for a 10am dentist appointment. Marcus assures me his pull up is clean and dry. But my nose says otherwise. The stench furthers the bad mood I’m already in. Since we’re in the area, I stop by WalMart with five children. There are a 1,000 things I have to say no to. All I really need is something to unclog the toilet and butter. I buy an excessive amount of frozen pizzas for dinner. Then remember I must feed them lunch. Back home that becomes overwhelming. Marcus really has soiled himself. He refuses to change his pull up. Eric needs to be changed. Children are arguing all around me.

It’s a beautiful day. I should take them to the park. Another snow storm is due tomorrow. Marcus has again soiled himself. We go through the usual routine. Just before lunch I discovered a recently discarded pull up under his bed. Again he denies needing to change. I insist pointing out the incident before lunch. Marcus is not convinced. This exchange goes on far too long. Time is getting away from us. The lawyer is due at 3:30pm to meet with Flora and Marcus. I give up.

Sloane*, Elise, Flora, and Eric go into the backyard. I try to rid Marcus’ room of the horrible stench that’s settled upon it. Sloane’s hardly out the door before she’s stirring up trouble. I give a warning from Marcus’ window. Then I have to go downstairs to bring her in. It’s not without a fight. I win but am covered in mud. With her squared away in her room for some “quiet time”, Eric decides to come inside. I get his boots off, but he isn’t happy.

Flora comes in. She pretends to go the bathroom, but it’s already too late. She leaves wet undergarments on the floor and goes back outside like nothing happened. I find the items. While debating what to do, Eric lets the dog in (did I mention we’re dog sitting this week? Let me also tell you the dog keeps waking me up at 3am for no apparent reason.) Eric retrieves his muddy boots from outside. Eric and the dog run about the mainfloor making parallel tracks of mud.

Sloane decides she can “really fly” with the wings from her butterfly costume. She’s climbing on tables and attempting to jump off. “Maybe I’ll try from on top of the house!” I don’t have time to explain why she can’t. The answer is simply, “No! And get off the table.”

I mop the floor. Marcus then Flora shower. They’re not fully dry when the lawyer arrives. But I do have the other kids quietly watching a movie upstairs. I’ve bribed them with chips.

Eric comes down wanting more to eat. I give him a banana. He devours it. When I refuse him more chips he throws the bowl and banana peel, narrowly missing the lawyer. “He’s a visiting foster child. I don’t know what to do with him,” is what I’d like to say to everyone who encounters us.

When the lawyer leaves I lay on the couch for 5 minutes checking facebook hoping to find something interesting in someone else’s life. Giving Eric another banana and a piece of bread I tackle the toilet. Locking myself in, I ignore his cry for more food. Eric throws shoes at the bathroom door. He overturns chairs. He continues to shout, “I hungry!” I continue working but to no avail.

On a brighter note, Eric was asleep by 8:40pm! Mind you, it wasn’t in his bed. But I did get him there. Thank goodness there’s an end in sight. By this time next week, it could be back to just Sloane, Elise, and I.

*name changed

sisters early in the morning

sisters early in the morning (too early for Elise to put on a smile)

Far From Ordinary

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When my children grow up the life they tell of may be unbelievable to their contemporaries. We live very far from ordinary. Let me share a splendid example.

Last Wednesday I was asked to help with the desserts being served before the annual church business meeting. This sort of thing used to be common place for me when I worked at the church – before becoming a stay at home mom. Since my girls are now 4 & 6 and the foster children currently with me are 7 & 9, I agreed to help.

I announced to the children they would be taking part. A cheer ensued. They couldn’t wait for the day to arrive. A friend and I cut the squares and piled them on plates. The four children carefully marched to the foyer with the plates. I made the final round with them. There were concerns as little Elise* lifted a dish of fruit onto the table. I wasn’t worried. She performed the task beautifully. At the end, each child got to select one dessert (or fruit in Sloane*’s case since she can’t have wheat). That was the reward for their work. They were all deeply pleased with themselves.

There aren’t many kids around who can say they helped prepare the desserts for a meeting at church. Among other things my kids clear their dishes after meals, unload groceries, put away their laundry, vacuum, and tidy up their own toys. It’s not always done perfectly. That’s ok, I’m not a perfectionist. In the article 10 Common Mistakes Parents Make Today (Me Included), Kari Kubiszyn Kampakis says,

I think about the kind of adults I hope my children will be and work backward to ask, “What can I do today to foster that?”

I want my kids to know the joy of contributing to society. I want them to understand the reality that life is work. It takes effort and investment. So I involve them in whatever I can. And, even though they were so very cute walking out of the kitchen in a straight line with plates of goodies, I didn’t snap a picture. I probably should have. But I was busy making sure we kept to the schedule. Oh well, let’s add the lack of photos to the list of differences between my children and their contemporaries.

*name changed

Just My Type

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Today my daughter, Sloane*, turns 6. She’s brave and fearless. Social workers cower in her presence. More than one has said, “I’m afraid of what she’ll be like as a teenager.” Let me declare with absolute certainty – I am not afraid! I’m incredibly excited for the teenager Sloane will become.

It’s hard being a kid – especially for someone as powerful as Sloane. Long before she came, long before she was born, the Lord gave me a glimpse of the call on her life. She’ll need to be fearless, I realized. My prayers that she’d be completely free of the fear of man have been answered ten fold. Sometimes that’s good. When I told Sloane how nervous I was preparing to speak at church (see The Single Life) she couldn’t understand why. Other times it’s not so good. My friend was watching Sloane recently. Sloane hit her little boy with a bat. My friend’s husband – who is a fairly intimidating man – told Sloane to give him the bat. She stared him down to see if he was really serious. Thankfully he didn’t back down. Eventually Sloane relented, but without a trace of fear or intimidation. She just knew she’d met someone who needed to be obeyed. That’s the role I play in her life. I’m someone who needs to be obeyed. Most of the time she does just that.

I love who Sloane is – she’s just my type.

A birthday tradition at our home is a new outfit (usually a dress) with the WP_001002 child’s age painted on. I found this shirt saying just my type quite some time ago and knew it was the perfect birthday shirt for Sloane. I turned it into a lengthy dress which she’s very excited about. This mommy favours long dresses and Sloane wants to be like me.

Just after her 3rd birthday Sloane came to me. Soon I will have known her for 1/2 her life. Though there are challenges, I strive to look past the present and see where the Lord wants to take Sloane (and me…..we’re on this journey together, after all!)

I’ve loved her as a 3yr old, a 4yr old, a 5yr old, and will love her forever more. I look forward to the day she can step into her dreams. God knew what He was doing when He brought us together. I understand Sloane’s frustration in waiting.

Recently I was watching a documentary on food scarcity in America called, Room at the Table. Knowing she’s American, Sloane was especially interested in the heartbreaking stories. It wasn’t long before she had a solution to the problem. “People need to grow their own food. The kids at school could do it then take the food home for their moms to cook.” Effortlessly she executed a plan for getting organic seeds to schools and teaching kids to grow. It was a brilliant plan! Detail oriented, Sloane had it all figured out. That was last month – when she was 5.

Sloane is always exploding with business and humanitarian ideas. I understand. That’s how I’ve always been. Though I love my daughter immensely and enjoy the stage she’s at now, I look forward to when she’s a teenager. I’m eager to help bring some of her dreams into reality.

In the meantime we’ll keep on dreaming.

Sloane, you really are just my type. Happy Birthday!

*name changed

the birthday girl in the dress I sort of made

the birthday girl in the dress I sort of made