"Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh.
Is anything too hard for me?"
(Jeremiah 32:27)
Monday, July 18, 2016
Figures...
So eleven days, three bites, two scratches that drew blood, and countless tears in, with two hours to go Charlie & J decide to get along. They are actually purposely playing together in the backyard. Kids are amazing.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
A difference...
If nothing else, the last 9 months or so of foster care has taught me that 39 years of living has done nothing to give me realistic expectations. Virtually nothing turns out like I think it will...sometimes it's harder, but often it's much better.
That said, I had a startling realization around 5:00 this morning. Poor Charlie is now trudging through L's stomach bug of Tuesday (so much for that iron stomach I touted). Since his bout struck right at bedtime, we settled him on an air mattress in our room, unsure of how often he would be sick or his ability to handle it in his sleep, not to mention that his bedroom is carpeted and ours isn't.
Throughout the night my poor boy was up every 45 minutes to two hours...and when I say "up", I mean getting sick, a few times I'm pretty sure he was actually still mostly asleep and just rolling over to his bowl. Having him in our room made it very easy to hear, help, comfort and clean him, but as any mom knows, waking up five times in the night to vomit is not pleasant.
What I realized in the wee hours this morning though was that I truly didn't mind. I hate that my boy is sick and miserable and going to miss a couple of playdates, but jumping out of bed, holding his head, wiping his brow and cleaning his bowl were exactly what I wanted to be doing.
The thing is, if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't have felt the same way if L's illness had struck in the night. I don't know if it's because I've only known him a few weeks, because I didn't carry him in my belly, because he doesn't share my DNA or what...but I honestly believe that for anyone other than Charlie I would have resented every bit of last night. I would be frustrated and grumpy and playing up my tiredness and the intermittent "sympathetic" nausea I felt.
I didn't think it would be that way. My childhood love of orphan novels and my pride led me to believe that opening our home to foster children would turn me into an altruistic angel of some sort, but I'm not. For now at least, I am still Charlie's mom trying to help other people's kids... I do wonder (hope? fear?) if that will change, though.
That said, I had a startling realization around 5:00 this morning. Poor Charlie is now trudging through L's stomach bug of Tuesday (so much for that iron stomach I touted). Since his bout struck right at bedtime, we settled him on an air mattress in our room, unsure of how often he would be sick or his ability to handle it in his sleep, not to mention that his bedroom is carpeted and ours isn't.
Throughout the night my poor boy was up every 45 minutes to two hours...and when I say "up", I mean getting sick, a few times I'm pretty sure he was actually still mostly asleep and just rolling over to his bowl. Having him in our room made it very easy to hear, help, comfort and clean him, but as any mom knows, waking up five times in the night to vomit is not pleasant.
What I realized in the wee hours this morning though was that I truly didn't mind. I hate that my boy is sick and miserable and going to miss a couple of playdates, but jumping out of bed, holding his head, wiping his brow and cleaning his bowl were exactly what I wanted to be doing.
The thing is, if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't have felt the same way if L's illness had struck in the night. I don't know if it's because I've only known him a few weeks, because I didn't carry him in my belly, because he doesn't share my DNA or what...but I honestly believe that for anyone other than Charlie I would have resented every bit of last night. I would be frustrated and grumpy and playing up my tiredness and the intermittent "sympathetic" nausea I felt.
I didn't think it would be that way. My childhood love of orphan novels and my pride led me to believe that opening our home to foster children would turn me into an altruistic angel of some sort, but I'm not. For now at least, I am still Charlie's mom trying to help other people's kids... I do wonder (hope? fear?) if that will change, though.
Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.
(Colossians 3:23)
Monday, July 11, 2016
"I'll give you a dollar if you can get him to stay in your room with you."
I guess that's what a puking baby, a sneaky 7 year old and major confusion between DSS and Bair did to me today.
It was supposed to be an easy day. DSS was supposed to pick up J at 9:15 to take her to a forensic interview to follow up on the altercation at her previous home and then on to camp until Friday afternoon. Charlie and I were going to take L to daycare and then have a quiet day. Well, J woke up nervous and manipulative -- not surprising with the meeting and camp today, but still very trying. Then at breakfast L vomited about 8 ounces of milk and half a bowl of oatmeal into the highchair.
Around 9:30 I tried to get a hold of the DSS caseworker, but his phone went straight to voicemail and it was full. I texted, but received no response. At this point I was getting nervous that J was going to miss her 10:00 meeting and not get to go to camp at all, so I called Bair. Apparently the meeting was always at 1:00, so we had almost three hours to kill and a still vomiting baby.
By 12:15 all four of us were restless and ready to get out of the house. Just as J was gathering up her new pink, heart duffle bag and I was brushing my teeth, L vomited all over our bedroom floor. Thankfully, I had intended to leave early, so I thought we were still on track....right up until we were en route and I realized we'd left J's medication on the kitchen counter.
So we turned around, texted everyone involved at a red light and were soon headed back in the right direction, medication in hand and only a few minutes behind. Then we followed a car with Minnesota plates who chose not to go anywhere near the speed limit, take up both lanes on Spring Street and stop at every single light. We were late.
Just as the GPS told me we were at our location (nowhere to be seen), L again vomited, this time missing the towel I had draped over him, coating himself and pooling in the deep dark crevices of the carseat.
Apparently the Lowcountry Childrens Center is unmarked. We eventually did find it, the DSS worker met us in the street to whisk J in for her meeting, and Charlie and I kept L awake almost all the way home in hopes of getting a good nap.
Thankfully, following a massive clean up, L did nap, and Charlie and I got to watch a mini marathon of Tiny House Big Living before he woke up. Unfortunately, L's greatest comfort in life is food, and with today's events I am limiting him to very small helpings of very bland food, so he is not very happy -- and apparently his greatest stress reliever is screaming.
That is where my "offer" to Charlie came in. It appeared that the two might play together for a few minutes and I could sneak in a couple chapters of I John to just reset, but L wasn't going for it. I will admit, at first it was just a snide remark, and I immediately felt guilty, but then when I saw Charlie's eyes light up, I realized it could be considered babysitting, so off they went. Charlie definitely gave it his best effort, but when I could tell he was using his body to try to keep the door closed, I called it off assuring him that he could still have the dollar for his effort.
I really don't remember how quiet or loud life was when Charlie was 21 months old. I do know that he was blessed with an iron stomach, though, so I have cleaned up more vomit in the past 8 hours than I have in my entire life. I also know that while his natural selfishness drives me insane, it is a lot easier to parent a horrible liar than an excellent one. (Charlie even remarked last night how amazing it is that J can lie without even smiling a little bit).
Parenting is hard. Parenting children that you have not raised is hard. Parenting a sick child is hard. Parenting three children is hard.... and I have not yet come up with any hopeful or self-edifying conclusion to this day.
We are good, though. No one is crying at the moment. There is no fresh vomit. And that will have to do. I have a very persistent 7 year old waiting for his dollar.
It was supposed to be an easy day. DSS was supposed to pick up J at 9:15 to take her to a forensic interview to follow up on the altercation at her previous home and then on to camp until Friday afternoon. Charlie and I were going to take L to daycare and then have a quiet day. Well, J woke up nervous and manipulative -- not surprising with the meeting and camp today, but still very trying. Then at breakfast L vomited about 8 ounces of milk and half a bowl of oatmeal into the highchair.
Around 9:30 I tried to get a hold of the DSS caseworker, but his phone went straight to voicemail and it was full. I texted, but received no response. At this point I was getting nervous that J was going to miss her 10:00 meeting and not get to go to camp at all, so I called Bair. Apparently the meeting was always at 1:00, so we had almost three hours to kill and a still vomiting baby.
By 12:15 all four of us were restless and ready to get out of the house. Just as J was gathering up her new pink, heart duffle bag and I was brushing my teeth, L vomited all over our bedroom floor. Thankfully, I had intended to leave early, so I thought we were still on track....right up until we were en route and I realized we'd left J's medication on the kitchen counter.
So we turned around, texted everyone involved at a red light and were soon headed back in the right direction, medication in hand and only a few minutes behind. Then we followed a car with Minnesota plates who chose not to go anywhere near the speed limit, take up both lanes on Spring Street and stop at every single light. We were late.
Just as the GPS told me we were at our location (nowhere to be seen), L again vomited, this time missing the towel I had draped over him, coating himself and pooling in the deep dark crevices of the carseat.
Apparently the Lowcountry Childrens Center is unmarked. We eventually did find it, the DSS worker met us in the street to whisk J in for her meeting, and Charlie and I kept L awake almost all the way home in hopes of getting a good nap.
Thankfully, following a massive clean up, L did nap, and Charlie and I got to watch a mini marathon of Tiny House Big Living before he woke up. Unfortunately, L's greatest comfort in life is food, and with today's events I am limiting him to very small helpings of very bland food, so he is not very happy -- and apparently his greatest stress reliever is screaming.
That is where my "offer" to Charlie came in. It appeared that the two might play together for a few minutes and I could sneak in a couple chapters of I John to just reset, but L wasn't going for it. I will admit, at first it was just a snide remark, and I immediately felt guilty, but then when I saw Charlie's eyes light up, I realized it could be considered babysitting, so off they went. Charlie definitely gave it his best effort, but when I could tell he was using his body to try to keep the door closed, I called it off assuring him that he could still have the dollar for his effort.
I really don't remember how quiet or loud life was when Charlie was 21 months old. I do know that he was blessed with an iron stomach, though, so I have cleaned up more vomit in the past 8 hours than I have in my entire life. I also know that while his natural selfishness drives me insane, it is a lot easier to parent a horrible liar than an excellent one. (Charlie even remarked last night how amazing it is that J can lie without even smiling a little bit).
Parenting is hard. Parenting children that you have not raised is hard. Parenting a sick child is hard. Parenting three children is hard.... and I have not yet come up with any hopeful or self-edifying conclusion to this day.
We are good, though. No one is crying at the moment. There is no fresh vomit. And that will have to do. I have a very persistent 7 year old waiting for his dollar.
It is better that you should not vow
than that you should vow and not pay.
(Ecclesiastes 5:5)
Sunday, July 10, 2016
How soon we forget...
A quiet baby is a dangerous baby.
Jason was watching the kids this morning while I got ready for church. He and Charlie were watching Mountain Men while J played on her tablet, and L wandered around babbling and singing. Everyone was happy.
Eventually, I heard L out in our bedroom chattering away and banging some blocks, but thought nothing of it -- our house is safely baby proofed. Then, when I stepped out to find a shirt, the dangers of babyhood came flooding back to me - L is not baby proofed. He was sitting in the doorway with his diaper was off, and his hands, arms, the floor and the block were all covered in poop. Ugghhh....
I stared for a minute. We already knew that he wasn't accustomed to a diet so high in fruit and vegetables, but this was his second doozy in 2 hours! Then I asked a 21 month old why he took off his diaper. I believe my exact words were, "Haven't we talked about this?!" And yes, he just laughed... Ugghhh...
Anyway, trapped in our room, I hollered for Jason to help. He asked how and I just blankly stared at him down the hallway. Clearly this is not an "on-call" worthy incident, but seriously. We never had this happen with Charlie. Then, just as we were about to bring ourselves around to sensible adult action, L licked his hand! Ugghhh....
So, I ordered Jason to grab the wipes, I took the block, and we got to business. Next, I ordered Jason to grab the baby and take him to the bath (after all, I was trapped in our room behind the mess and we only have a shower -- yay!), and I got to work. Ugghhh...
As I scrubbed with wipes then clorox, I listened to Jason repeatedly ask, "Why did you do this?" of a 21 month old in the bath down the hall. Clearly, we were made for each other.
Anyway, the baby is clean, the floor is immaculate, Jason is in the shower and all is well. Plus, through this incident I did discover many things to be thankful for. Among them:
- Charlie is potty trained
- Our bedroom floor is not carpet
- We have no bathtub in the master bedroom
- George had somehow become locked in the garage and wasn't discovered until after the incident
- There is no one in the world I would rather walk through crazy with than Jason
Scarcely had I passed them
when I found him whom my soul loves.
I held him and would not let go.
(Song of Solomon 3:4)
Saturday, July 9, 2016
Help
I have always been a fiercely independent person. For years I took pride in this, considering it a strength, but slowly I have begun to realize that like most other social strengths, it is rooted in my pride, not in God's sufficiency.
And in the past couple of days, my ongoing effort to loosen my grip on control and self-righteousness have born fruit.
Having the humility and grace to say yes to an offer of dinner from a sweet friend (and amazing chef!) for this evening has given me something to look forward to all day along, as well as the freedom of not having to even think about making dinner (yay!).
Accepting a $20 refund on the purchase of a used twin bed from a lady from church has given me the opportunity to share our journey and learn from her wisdom and experience.
And asking a close friend to see if she may have a hand-me-down swimsuit for J to take with her to camp may get me out of a shopping trip!
Yes, I am asking these three kind women to sacrifice time, energy and resources for me, all of which I could find within myself if I had to, and my pride struggles with that. My selfish desire for control struggles with that. But I truly believe we will all be better for it. The children's needs are being met, I am feeling less overwhelmed and very loved, and these wonderful women are doing God's work.
And in the past couple of days, my ongoing effort to loosen my grip on control and self-righteousness have born fruit.
Having the humility and grace to say yes to an offer of dinner from a sweet friend (and amazing chef!) for this evening has given me something to look forward to all day along, as well as the freedom of not having to even think about making dinner (yay!).
Accepting a $20 refund on the purchase of a used twin bed from a lady from church has given me the opportunity to share our journey and learn from her wisdom and experience.
And asking a close friend to see if she may have a hand-me-down swimsuit for J to take with her to camp may get me out of a shopping trip!
Yes, I am asking these three kind women to sacrifice time, energy and resources for me, all of which I could find within myself if I had to, and my pride struggles with that. My selfish desire for control struggles with that. But I truly believe we will all be better for it. The children's needs are being met, I am feeling less overwhelmed and very loved, and these wonderful women are doing God's work.
And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water
because he is a disciple,
truly, I say to you,
he will by no means lose his reward.
(Matthew 10:42)
Friday, July 8, 2016
Details...
As we have learned with each placement, there is always more to the story. Yesterday afternoon I had decided that the villain of this story was the bio mom, determined to ruin a safe and stable home for J and L. It's a story you hear a lot, so it was easy to jump to that conclusion.
Come to find out, the fight was not between J and a neighbor though, but between J and the adopted daughter of the foster parents. Now for millions of reasons I cannot even begin to relate to the bio mom, but if Charlie were staying with a family and ended up in an altercation with a child 2 years older than him and walked away with serious scratches on his face and arms, I would want him removed -- no questions asked.
It's not necessarily fair, and I truly don't believe it was in the best interest of the children in this case, but she can't know that. And despite the fact that her actions and choices led to L's and J's placement in this home, I think that I can understand how the combined guilt, powerlessness, fear and anger would blind me to explanations. So as much as I am second guessing this situation on many levels, I can empathize with a mother's love that got us all here.
A few weeks back Charlie was observing some family friends who have 11 children and he stated, "Mom, you're not that kind of mom." Slightly offended at first, I had to agree he was right. One child seems to be my sweet spot, two is fun from time to time, but three is...something.
We will definitely survive this and possibly even thrive, but less than 24 hours in, Jason and I are wondering if we're completely nuts.
Come to find out, the fight was not between J and a neighbor though, but between J and the adopted daughter of the foster parents. Now for millions of reasons I cannot even begin to relate to the bio mom, but if Charlie were staying with a family and ended up in an altercation with a child 2 years older than him and walked away with serious scratches on his face and arms, I would want him removed -- no questions asked.
It's not necessarily fair, and I truly don't believe it was in the best interest of the children in this case, but she can't know that. And despite the fact that her actions and choices led to L's and J's placement in this home, I think that I can understand how the combined guilt, powerlessness, fear and anger would blind me to explanations. So as much as I am second guessing this situation on many levels, I can empathize with a mother's love that got us all here.
A few weeks back Charlie was observing some family friends who have 11 children and he stated, "Mom, you're not that kind of mom." Slightly offended at first, I had to agree he was right. One child seems to be my sweet spot, two is fun from time to time, but three is...something.
We will definitely survive this and possibly even thrive, but less than 24 hours in, Jason and I are wondering if we're completely nuts.
For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing,
but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
(I Corinthians 1:18)
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Two!
I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous. One of our parameters was to avoid fostering a sibling group, because we don't want Charlie to feel like the odd man out in his own family, but I got a call today that our sweet 20 month old L from a couple weeks ago and his six year old sister, J, have to move homes at least temporarily. I'm hoping that with Charlie already loving L, and J being so much closer to his age, maybe it will work for a while.
The situation is really tough. Their foster parents are wonderful, but from what we understand, J was at a playdate and got in a fight with another child in which she was scratched. Her biological mom saw the scratches during a scheduled visit and is accusing the foster parents of something. The entire incident is documented, and apparently the bio mom has a history of trying to disrupt J's placements, but at this point Bair's hands are tied. The goal is to return both children to their current foster home as soon as everything is cleared up, but I don't think anyone has any idea when that may be.
So here we are. Sometime this evening our family of three will grow to a family of five for an unknown duration -- possibly until we go to Seattle in a couple weeks...and maybe even when we come back (but Jason and I haven't even discussed that yet...)
J will be away for sleepaway camp next Monday through Friday, and L will be able to go to daycare tomorrow while we take Charlie to the orthopedic doctor (broke his arm Monday night in Branson), then again next Tuesday and Wednesday mornings when I go in to school. At this point, I haven't really figured out what other days I'll be taking L to daycare...or what we'll do with 3 kids this weekend!
I do need to email church and see if they can split Jason's and my Sundays to serve, so one of us can be with them, and I really should have bought milk on our way home from Splash Zone. I opened a new carton this morning, but L went through a whole gallon the weekend he was here. Ummm...yep...nervous...
The craziest part is that we were already on standby for a 15 year old girl whose foster family is going to North Carolina this weekend. DSS hasn't been able to reach her bio mom to get permission for her to go along. We were kind of nervous, because she is deaf and none of us knows sign language (other than Jesus Loves Me and the alphabet), but now that seems so easy. There is just such a tremendous need for safe, loving homes for children, how could we say no? But on the other hand, will this be as big of a mistake as taking in a long-term child Charlie's own age was (our other key parameter)?
The situation is really tough. Their foster parents are wonderful, but from what we understand, J was at a playdate and got in a fight with another child in which she was scratched. Her biological mom saw the scratches during a scheduled visit and is accusing the foster parents of something. The entire incident is documented, and apparently the bio mom has a history of trying to disrupt J's placements, but at this point Bair's hands are tied. The goal is to return both children to their current foster home as soon as everything is cleared up, but I don't think anyone has any idea when that may be.
So here we are. Sometime this evening our family of three will grow to a family of five for an unknown duration -- possibly until we go to Seattle in a couple weeks...and maybe even when we come back (but Jason and I haven't even discussed that yet...)
J will be away for sleepaway camp next Monday through Friday, and L will be able to go to daycare tomorrow while we take Charlie to the orthopedic doctor (broke his arm Monday night in Branson), then again next Tuesday and Wednesday mornings when I go in to school. At this point, I haven't really figured out what other days I'll be taking L to daycare...or what we'll do with 3 kids this weekend!
I do need to email church and see if they can split Jason's and my Sundays to serve, so one of us can be with them, and I really should have bought milk on our way home from Splash Zone. I opened a new carton this morning, but L went through a whole gallon the weekend he was here. Ummm...yep...nervous...
The craziest part is that we were already on standby for a 15 year old girl whose foster family is going to North Carolina this weekend. DSS hasn't been able to reach her bio mom to get permission for her to go along. We were kind of nervous, because she is deaf and none of us knows sign language (other than Jesus Loves Me and the alphabet), but now that seems so easy. There is just such a tremendous need for safe, loving homes for children, how could we say no? But on the other hand, will this be as big of a mistake as taking in a long-term child Charlie's own age was (our other key parameter)?
By this we know love, that He laid down his life for us,
and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.
But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need,
yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?
Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.
(I John 3:16-18)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)