Tag Archives: parenting

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

Open Adoption (Part 2)

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My last post explained the great relationship I have with my daughters’ maternal birth grandmother and step grandfather (Open Adoption Part 1).

Because of that connection, I do have access to Sloane* and Elise*’s birth parents.

There were a lot of mistakes and shortcomings that led to them loosing their children. Kids in foster care are there for a reason. In this case, addictions played a part. Possibly that’s no longer a factor.

The birth father is far away in the US. For the past two years, the birth mom has been living relatively close by. There’s a bit of guilt that passes through me when I think about that. Just over a year ago, Sloane and I met with her (for details on that see We Belong Together). I said it was a one time deal. In some ways the visit helped. In other ways it hasn’t. Knowing her birth mom is accessible keeps Sloane asking for more contact.

Her birth mom was amazing in explaining Sloane can never return to her. But that doesn’t keep the child from hoping. There’s a strong bond between the two of them that isn’t there with Elise. Sloane came into foster care just before turning 3. She’s as sharp as a tack and remembers so much from the past. Elise, on the other hand, was in foster care from birth. She returned to her birth family just before turning 1. It was a brief reunion that ended in her and Sloane coming into foster care together. There’s a big difference in the way they’ve attached to me and how they see adoption.

It may be right. It may be wrong. But for now I’ve decided to keep the door closed on contact with the birth parents.

Before Christmas I compiled several pictures and wrote a summary of the girls’ year. This package was passed on to their grandmother, Sandra*, to give the birth mother, Becka*.

Recently while talking with Sandra, she mentioned planning to visit the birth father. Sloane and Elise have older siblings who are living with him.

“Would it be ok if I copy some pictures of the girls to give him?” she asked.

“Of course,” I answered.

“I didn’t want to do anything without asking you first.” That right there is why our openness agreement works so well. Without me ever having to say anything, Sandra sees me as the mother of her granddaughters. She respects my position.

When Sloane sees Sandra or speaks with her, she’s drawn back into the past. Her heart begins to bleed all over again for the birth parents and siblings she’s living without. With prayer, love, and time I expect that wound to heal to a greater degree. As she grows, Sloane will gain perspective. At 6yrs old she’s still wishing for a life where, “I always got lots of candy and Lucky Charms.” That’s what she recalls of being with her birth parents. It’s not so with me. Candy is a limited commodity and now that Sloane’s completely off wheat Lucky Charms are out of the question. Maybe it wasn’t so with her birth family, but that’s how she remembers it.

As a parent everyday I make hundreds of decisions that will impact my kids now and in the future. With that responsibility comes a great deal of insecurity. “Am I making the right choice?” I wonder all day long. In the case of contact with birth parents, I don’t know. But I appreciate the opportunity to chose. Openness to any degree can be an amazing gift to children and birth families. For now the extent of our openness with the girls’ birth parents will be pictures and letters I’ll send through their grandmother. In the future that might change. It might not.

*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

What I Accomplisehd Today

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Forgive me for posting again so soon.

As a stay at home mom, most nights I go to bed feeling like I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing. For everything I did do, there are twenty things I didn’t get to.

Today, I decided to make a list of all I did. I’ve also included a few snap shots of the thoughts running through my mind and some of the action going on around me. You don’t have to read it all. But making it the list did help me feel marginally more accomplished than I do most days.

Today I:

Got up (long after the alarm went off)

Picked out clothes for two kids (picked out the other two last night)

Showered

Dressed

Got one kid into the shower

Dealt with Sloane’s rude attitude towards her sister

Got breakfast for four kids

Made lunches for three kids

Brewed coffee

Got four kids out the door

Dropped four kids off at school

Came home with one kid (have been driving the neighbor girl in addition to my three who are at school)

Made marinade for tomorrow’s roast

Drank coffee

Ate breakfast while formatting a bi-monthly newsletter I send out for a local minister

Checked facebook

Checked to be sure I had paid the natural gas bill (which I had)

Worked through two early reader books with Sloane

Put in a load of laundry

Encouraged Sloane to take down streamers from foster child’s birthday on Monday (she was super eager since it involved lots of climbing  and problem solving)

Put away two loads of laundry from the other day while facebook chatting with a friend. We brainstormed about marketing our small businesses.

Watched two videos on parenting adopted children while putting laundry away and facebook chatting

Started another load of laundry

Encouraged Sloane to finish with the streamers (She insists upon putting them into a tiny candy machine and carrying that over to the garbage. This is taking forever!)

Made a raw chocolate mint pie

Made gluten free banana muffins

Start some organic bread in the bread maker

Made lunch for Sloane (gluten free toast with homemade organic peanut butter)

Loaded the dishwasher

Got Sloane started on some math work

Put in another load of laundry

Worked on rhyming words with Sloane

Put some laundry away – discover one of the foster children peed the bed last night (feel like a failure for not noticing sooner. Really, what have I been up to?)

Strip foster children’s beds. Bring sheets to the basement to be washed (may not have mentioned I live in a two story house with a basement laundry room)

Edit a friend’s first blog post.

Suddenly feel incredibly overwhelmed and in need of a bath (not something I usually indulge in)

Work with Sloane to tidy up her school work and colouring items left out from days past (sometimes I hurry the kids off to bed instead of making them clean up)

Watch some profile videos from an adoption funding program in the US. Contemplate the ridiculous cost of international adoption. Remember my sister saying years ago, “These countries should cover all the costs. In the end it will save them tons of money.” I consider the long term cost of children in orphanages who grow up to be struggling adults.

Take dough out of bread maker. Shape it into a dozen buns and one loaf of bread. Set it to rise.

Announce that I will have a bath.

Sloane decides she will not watch a movie after all. She’s been talking about doing so all afternoon. Now that I’m going to be doing something, she decides she won’t go to her room (which is the spot for movies)

I check on the rising bread and buns.

I run a bath and decide to finally give Downton Abbey a chance. People who know me are absolutely shocked that I’ve not seen it yet. I’m expected to be an avid fan.

Sloane goes to her room with much fanfare. After some choice words, she looses the “privilege” of watching a movie. She screams for her window to be shut (I’d been airing the rooms on this first nice day. Did I put that on the list? Sometime this morning I opened most of the windows.)

I shut Sloane’s window with a reminder that there’s a proper way to speak to me.

I check on the bath. It’s nearly ready.

Sloane screams for her window to be opened again.

I close and lock the bathroom door.

By the time I turn the water off and get situated – with my computer perched nearby so I can watch Downton Abbey – Sloane is happily playing in her room.

I think of all the things I should be doing: dishes, vacuuming, mopping floors, organizing my room, organizing the basement, working on my coffee/tea business, working on my income tax for last year, shopping at Ikea because the coupon I have expires this week.

I remember why I don’t bother taking baths. It’s not relaxing in the least.

I continue messaging a friend about her new blog. We discuss names.

I get out of the bath and hastily dress.

Summon Sloane out of her room.

Put the buns and bread in the oven.

Get out the door to pick up kids from school.

Remember the volunteer driver coming for the foster children (taking them to birth mom’s to celebrate a birthday) will likely be there a moment or two before we turn.

I go back inside, write a note, pin it to the door. It blows away. I secure it better.

Drive to the school. Park in the adjacent church parking lot.

Run across the field in pouring rain. Sloane decides with my glasses getting wet, I can’t see properly. She tries to guide me.

The bell rings. I locate the foster children.

I can’t find my own child. The neighbor girl usually brings her out. They’re nowhere to be found.

I herd the other children toward the car. Flora* worries the driver will leave without them if we’re not back soon.

Sloane ignores my instructions to leave the snow alone. She doesn’t have gloves. Her hands are freezing. I try to get her to walk with me. She resists and falls backwards into a pile of slush.

I don’t have time for this. I can’t find Elise*.

Putting the foster children in the car, I head back towards the school. There I discover the neighbor girl went home sick. Elise is waiting by the door with her teacher.

We trudge back across the field. Sloane again starts picking up snow. Again I try to take her hand. Again she makes a big scene. I talk to her. She refuses to comply. I pick her up. She kicks and screams. I put her down. She throws some snow at me. I pick her up again.

Eventually we make it to the car.

I calm Flora’s fears and assure her I really am trying my best to go quickly. I buckle Elise.

We drive home. The volunteer driver is in our driveway.

I park on the street. I get the foster kids out of the car. Three times I tell Flora to go get the bag with her birthday outfit from the house. Finally she understands me. (Although we went over this plan endlessly last night, before school, and on our short drive home she’s still unclear.)

I greet the driver, explain where Flora’s headed, get Marcus* into the driver’s car.
When Flora emerges from the house, I get her into the car.

They drive away. I pull into my driveway.

I get Elise and Sloane out of the car.

In the house, I get the bread out of the oven.

I talk with my daughters while they eat some fruit.

I serve up raw mint chocolate pie.

Sloane spits out the first bite. She wants to try more. I insist she doesn’t because I don’t want anymore spit all over the place.

Elise makes a mess of her pie – insisting she likes it but not taking a single bite.

I eat some pie. I check emails and facebook posts. I continue chatting with the friend I’ve been in contact with all day. We discuss her employment prospects.

I announce we will go out for dinner.

Elise and Sloane announce they must change from track pants into dresses. They bring down an assortment of their fanciest. I try to explain where we’re going – a local independent, diner. They go upstairs and come down with another assortment of formal wear.

Eventually I get them appropriately dressed.

My friend I’ve been chatting with suggests we go for dinner with her.

We drive to her nearby town.

We have dinner. Sloane is less than well behaved. She’s angry I won’t let her have pop.

I discuss who I can possibly get to watch my kids when I go to California for a week in May (need to do some training for my volunteer position at the church)

Elise drinks ketchup from her plate with a straw. Somehow I miss this at first.

I pay and discussing with Sloane how long the waitress we had has been working there (the woman mentioned she was new). Elise wipes the specials off the white board beside us.

We drive my friend home.

I drive home. Elise tells me repeatedly she hopes the volunteer driver drops the foster kids off before we get there. I assure her that won’t happen, but then start to panic. What if they come back early?

I stop to get the mail.

We go home. Elise and Sloane decide not to come out of the car. After several giving several rational reasons for them to, I go to the front door alone. Reluctantly they follow.

While they get their pjs on I make the foster children’s beds with their sheets fresh from the dryer (obviously went to the basement to get them).

I brush Sloane & Elise’s teeth. I put them to bed. I hug and kiss them. I make sure they know they’re loved.

I start doing dishes.

The foster children return. I hear about all the fun they had at their mom’s. I assure them I’m very happy and interested in everything they have to say.

When they’re done, I send them to put on their pjs.

I wash a few more dishes.

I got upstairs to get the foster kids to bed – no hugs or kisses, seems a little soon when they’ve only been with me a week. But I make sure they know they’re cared for and wanted. (Not that I want to keep them from their parents, or rejoice in the calamities that brought them into foster care – but you know what I mean and so do the kids)

While washing the rest of the dishes I watch a short video from someone in the Ukraine. I realize I should find out what’s going on there. I wonder how the political unrest will affect adoptions that are underway. I worry about children languishing in orphanages. I wonder if my life of fostering and raising my two adopted daughters is really enough. There’s so much more I could be doing. Maybe I should move to the Ukraine. I tidy the kitchen.

I decide that’s enough for today. I’m ok with the fact that the floor isn’t swept. I’m going upstairs so I don’t have to look at it.

I write this lengthy, useless blog. I post it. I watch a bit more of Downton Abbey. I eat some more raw mint chocolate pie. I hope it’s healthy.

I go to bed.

Tomorrow I get to do it all again.

*name changed

 

Wonder

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Canada's Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir THE CANADIAN PRESS/Paul Chiasson

Canada’s Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir THE CANADIAN PRESS/Paul Chiasson

Recently when out for lunch Sloane* was a little too exuberant. At a local pub, she saw figure skating for the first time. As an athlete was thrown in the air by her partner Sloane shouted with delight. Not far from us sat a couple with two children – probably 6 & 8. The kids turned to glare at my girl. You see, they were that new breed of eerily silent children. I don’t think they made a single sound all through lunch. Every time Sloane did their heads whipped around in shock and disgust.

“Silence!” their wordless looks shouted at my little girl.

It’s true – she’s loud. There are times I wish she’d come with a volume button. But I don’t want to silence the joy. Despite her challenges, Sloane still manages to find joy in the everyday.

Really the feats accomplished in figure skating are pretty impressive. So much so that seeing them for the first time is a definite reason to gasp and shout with joy.

Don’t let those stares stop you. Keep on finding wonder wherever you can my precious daughter.

*name changed