This morning was a typical get-ready-for-school kind of day. No early appointments, no violin lessons, no reason to rush (more than usual).
The boys were all in various stages of getting themselves together, fed, and out the door. The girls began the morning in happy moods - reading quietly in bed until I called them, getting into the shower without a fuss, finding the 'right' outfits.
Through it all was the continuous strain of Sierra's voice - which we are so used to hearing all.the.time that it didn't register for me until Stan made a comment: "I wonder what she's going to grow up to be."
Here's what we had been hearing but had, each of us to some degree, tuned out:
Sierra walking to the bathroom with her towel on her way to the shower: "Mommy, don't forget that Samara has the book fair today, so she'll need some money."
Sierra standing dripping wet and wrapped in her towel in her bedroom with her sister: "Samara, we are not supposed to read books now, we are supposed to get dressed now."
Sierra standing in front of the television - where I had left the Today Show playing (I forgot to turn it off after my first cup of coffee in the quiet of this morning before getting the girls up) - with no socks or shoes on her feet. (One of the 'rules' is that the kids must be fully dressed to come to breakfast on school mornings): "Fred, (who was running a bit behind this morning) you aren't supposed to watch t.v. before school."
Sierra sitting in the hallway outside her bedroom door putting on her socks and shoes, to her brother who is down the hall in the bathroom brushing his teeth: "Eli, it's going to be cold today, we should wear long sleeves."
Sierra upon coming to the kitchen (fully dressed) where she is expected to pack up her snack and lunch bag: "Fred didn't pack his lunch bag yet and can I have a bagel for breakfast?"
Sierra when she eventually gets packed up and is sitting down at the table with her breakfast: "Oh yeah, Evan has the book fair today, too. Do you have your money, Evan?"
And a few minutes later while she was still at the table and Evan and Samara were discussing the book fair, "Well, Evan, Samara said she wasn't going to bring any extra money because Mommy told her she's not allowed to."
This last one was the one that got my attention and is classic Sierra-style; involving herself in a conversation that is not in the same room as her, that does not involve her, is not about her, and for which she has little to no information.
It was at this time that Stan asked the question, "I wonder what she's going to grow up to be." And my response was, "An air traffic controller?" And then with a smile I continued, "but you get to leave for work now, you're the lucky one."
Really, all of us are the lucky ones to have our every move so lovingly scrutinized by our sweet Sierra.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Balancing Act
There are six months between the ages of our two daughters. No, they are not twins. No, they are not biologically related. No, we did not plan it this way.
Those were the answers to some questions we USED to get when people saw them together. For those of you who have seen them recently, you know that there is no way we would field questions like that now.
Samara, who is the older of the two, comes from, shall we say, very solid stock. She is very tall for a second grader - only trailing Evan (who is in fifth grade) by an inch or so. Sierra's birth mom is very petite and has passed along those genes so that Sierra is now tipping the scales at a whopping 46 pounds. It used to be that I could put Samara's out-grown clothing straight into Sierra's dresser drawers and then weed out her too-small clothes. Not anymore - there are about three sizes between the two of them now, and Sierra requires size slim pants with the elastic pulls tightened to the full extent and sometimes with a belt.
Besides looking nothing alike, their personalities are also very distinct. Samara is the drama-queen-slash-mother-hen of the family. She LOVES babies and also LOVES to baby, which sometimes can look rather domineering and pushy. And the drama carries over when she is disciplined: the pouty lip, the waterfall tears, stomping and dragging feet - all to let the world know how unfairly she has been treated.
Sierra is not interested in drama, only in having the last word. She is convinced that she who hollers loudest and last is the winner. And so when she is disciplined, it's almost never over until SHE decides it's over.
So the other morning as we were getting ready to head out to the bus stop, the girls were putting on their jackets - light spring jackets which had just been traded for the heavy winter coats - and Samara noticed that Sierra had been bequeathed a jacket that Samara had previously worn. And the conversation ensued innocently enough, but quickly spiraled into an argument about who wore that jacket and when, and why the zipper sticks - or doesn't, that someone wore it in winter, but it's not a winter coat... and it got louder and followed us out the door and into the driveway.
Being spring-like outside, the neighbors had windows open to let in the fresh air and the noise of my girls. Pulling the girls to the side of the driveway, I pointed out the open windows and asked them to stop aruging, but if they would rather continue they would need to do so in their room after school instead of playing outside. And here is where the balancing act comes in.
True to form, after hearing my plea and ultimatum Samara chose to walk waaaay far behind us while stomping and dragging the toes of her shoes (another pet peeve of mine - shoes cost money, you know!) while Sierra dove into a rant about how it wasn't her arguing, only Samara, and "you didn't hear it right, Mommy!" After another warning to Sierra - this time about speaking respectfully and not 'talking back' - she took off like a shot up the driveway waaaay ahead of the the rest of us.
So with one girlie lagging behind and one out in front, Evan and I enjoyed a peaceful walk to the bus stop. It's all a balancing act.
Those were the answers to some questions we USED to get when people saw them together. For those of you who have seen them recently, you know that there is no way we would field questions like that now.
Samara, who is the older of the two, comes from, shall we say, very solid stock. She is very tall for a second grader - only trailing Evan (who is in fifth grade) by an inch or so. Sierra's birth mom is very petite and has passed along those genes so that Sierra is now tipping the scales at a whopping 46 pounds. It used to be that I could put Samara's out-grown clothing straight into Sierra's dresser drawers and then weed out her too-small clothes. Not anymore - there are about three sizes between the two of them now, and Sierra requires size slim pants with the elastic pulls tightened to the full extent and sometimes with a belt.
Besides looking nothing alike, their personalities are also very distinct. Samara is the drama-queen-slash-mother-hen of the family. She LOVES babies and also LOVES to baby, which sometimes can look rather domineering and pushy. And the drama carries over when she is disciplined: the pouty lip, the waterfall tears, stomping and dragging feet - all to let the world know how unfairly she has been treated.
Sierra is not interested in drama, only in having the last word. She is convinced that she who hollers loudest and last is the winner. And so when she is disciplined, it's almost never over until SHE decides it's over.
So the other morning as we were getting ready to head out to the bus stop, the girls were putting on their jackets - light spring jackets which had just been traded for the heavy winter coats - and Samara noticed that Sierra had been bequeathed a jacket that Samara had previously worn. And the conversation ensued innocently enough, but quickly spiraled into an argument about who wore that jacket and when, and why the zipper sticks - or doesn't, that someone wore it in winter, but it's not a winter coat... and it got louder and followed us out the door and into the driveway.
Being spring-like outside, the neighbors had windows open to let in the fresh air and the noise of my girls. Pulling the girls to the side of the driveway, I pointed out the open windows and asked them to stop aruging, but if they would rather continue they would need to do so in their room after school instead of playing outside. And here is where the balancing act comes in.
True to form, after hearing my plea and ultimatum Samara chose to walk waaaay far behind us while stomping and dragging the toes of her shoes (another pet peeve of mine - shoes cost money, you know!) while Sierra dove into a rant about how it wasn't her arguing, only Samara, and "you didn't hear it right, Mommy!" After another warning to Sierra - this time about speaking respectfully and not 'talking back' - she took off like a shot up the driveway waaaay ahead of the the rest of us.
So with one girlie lagging behind and one out in front, Evan and I enjoyed a peaceful walk to the bus stop. It's all a balancing act.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
It's All Good
Having a houseful of children means that there is always something to do, to be done, or that I should be doing. Having kids who have special needs magnifies that. I'm not complaining because I often think that if our family was somehow different - like, if we hadn't made the choice to foster and adopt - I would not be doing, or needing to do, some of these things; and so would be missing out on meeting some of the incredible people and having opportunities that might not have crossed my path otherwise.
Last Wednesday was good case in point. I began the day - well, MY part of the day after the kids were all off to school - at a support group meeting for moms of kids with special needs. I look forward to this monthly chance to be with other moms who don't look at me with a sympathetic half-smile, a vague look in their eyes, and a slight nod when I describe some of what our family has been experiencing. These are moms who live it and so they get it. Don't get me wrong, we are blessed with so many people in our lives who are interested in and supportive of our family; it's just that once a month I don't really need to explain myself so much.
Anyway, the plan was to enjoy that time and then go and volunteer for a bit at the kids' school - because, in case you haven't picked up on this yet, it's important to me that my kids know that I'm extremely interested and involved in their education. The plan was thwarted when my cell phone rang before the discussion part of the group got started. It was Fred's school calling to tell me that he had had a fairly severe seizure and that I needed to come and pick him up. At the risk of sounding completely selfish: there went my meeting and my volunteer time at the school.
Of course I was concerned for Fred and got to the school in good time to find him doing well, but needing to go home to rest. So that's what we did, and I was able to get a hold of Stan to ask him to come home early so that I could still fulfill my carpooling duties for the Select Strings Ensemble musicians and get them to after-school rehearsal.
Also on tap right now: Odyssey of the Mind Regional Competition, March 17. Another mom and I co-coach a team of seven seventh graders from September through March as they creatively solve a Long-Term Problem which includes: writing a script, designing and making props and costumes, using technical skills to enhance their solution, and all the while learning to communicate, negotiate, and cooperate as a team. Being a group of twelve-year-olds, planning and time-management is not a forte; so lots of fun is had until two weeks before the competition when it begins to occur to them that they need to do some serious work. So our garage has become OM central and the team has been here every day for the past two weeks.
And because a diversion is needed from the OM madness, I have stumbled into the role of a parent coordinator of music parents in our school district. About a month ago, the district superintendent unveiled some cost saving proposals as the district is finding it necessary to save millions of dollars for the next school year. The proposed list includes alarming cuts to the music programs. Our kids have benefitted in amazing ways from the strings program in our elementary school. Starting with Suzuki violin lessons in kindergarten which leads to music reading lessons and inclusion in the orchestra - which wins regional awards every year, to the Select String Ensemble - which wins local and national recognition every year, our kids could not be getting better music education which in turn boosts their academic performace. Unfortunately, the superintendent and school board do not share the passion of the parents and community. So I find myself tasked with - and happy to do it if it means preserving the music programs for all students - contacting and organizing as many parents and community members as possible to support this cause.
Life is busy - so true for many families. Our family life is busy, busier than usual right now - thus the dearth in my blog postings as of late. The thing is: it's all good.
Last Wednesday was good case in point. I began the day - well, MY part of the day after the kids were all off to school - at a support group meeting for moms of kids with special needs. I look forward to this monthly chance to be with other moms who don't look at me with a sympathetic half-smile, a vague look in their eyes, and a slight nod when I describe some of what our family has been experiencing. These are moms who live it and so they get it. Don't get me wrong, we are blessed with so many people in our lives who are interested in and supportive of our family; it's just that once a month I don't really need to explain myself so much.
Anyway, the plan was to enjoy that time and then go and volunteer for a bit at the kids' school - because, in case you haven't picked up on this yet, it's important to me that my kids know that I'm extremely interested and involved in their education. The plan was thwarted when my cell phone rang before the discussion part of the group got started. It was Fred's school calling to tell me that he had had a fairly severe seizure and that I needed to come and pick him up. At the risk of sounding completely selfish: there went my meeting and my volunteer time at the school.
Of course I was concerned for Fred and got to the school in good time to find him doing well, but needing to go home to rest. So that's what we did, and I was able to get a hold of Stan to ask him to come home early so that I could still fulfill my carpooling duties for the Select Strings Ensemble musicians and get them to after-school rehearsal.
Also on tap right now: Odyssey of the Mind Regional Competition, March 17. Another mom and I co-coach a team of seven seventh graders from September through March as they creatively solve a Long-Term Problem which includes: writing a script, designing and making props and costumes, using technical skills to enhance their solution, and all the while learning to communicate, negotiate, and cooperate as a team. Being a group of twelve-year-olds, planning and time-management is not a forte; so lots of fun is had until two weeks before the competition when it begins to occur to them that they need to do some serious work. So our garage has become OM central and the team has been here every day for the past two weeks.
And because a diversion is needed from the OM madness, I have stumbled into the role of a parent coordinator of music parents in our school district. About a month ago, the district superintendent unveiled some cost saving proposals as the district is finding it necessary to save millions of dollars for the next school year. The proposed list includes alarming cuts to the music programs. Our kids have benefitted in amazing ways from the strings program in our elementary school. Starting with Suzuki violin lessons in kindergarten which leads to music reading lessons and inclusion in the orchestra - which wins regional awards every year, to the Select String Ensemble - which wins local and national recognition every year, our kids could not be getting better music education which in turn boosts their academic performace. Unfortunately, the superintendent and school board do not share the passion of the parents and community. So I find myself tasked with - and happy to do it if it means preserving the music programs for all students - contacting and organizing as many parents and community members as possible to support this cause.
Life is busy - so true for many families. Our family life is busy, busier than usual right now - thus the dearth in my blog postings as of late. The thing is: it's all good.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Mother's Day
March 4th is the only day of the year that is also a command: march forth. As in: move ahead, get going, don't just stand there - do something, make it happen.
So yesterday, March 4, 2012 was Eli's thirteenth birthday and I made a somewhat corny - at least I'm quite sure it will appear that way to you, but meaningful - to no one else but me - connection.
March 4, 1999 was what I often call "my mother's day", the day I became a mother. Previous to that I had been around kids: babysitting, helping with my mom's daycare at our home, summer camp counselor, helping with Sunday School, VBS, Bible clubs, an internship with the Girls Club of America, working with the church youth group; but those kids didn't require my undivided, on-going attention. Those kids weren't my sole responsibility, they eventually went back to wherever they came from.
On March 4, 1999 the call to "march forth" became real - and scary. I had been prepared (as much as anyone can be) for the actual birth of my baby; we had all kinds of professionals helping and standing by, nurses to soothe anxiety and answer questions. And then forty-eight hours later there was no one but me and Stan and this little person; no doctors, no nurses, no answers. So we had no choice but to move forward and do the best we could to get on with it and make something happen.
God was so faithful to me then. He had prepared me for motherhood by putting me in all kinds of situations with children of all ages, by leading me through opportunities of watching already established moms do parenting well, and by giving me my own mom as perhaps the best example of a Godly mother that exists
When Eli was seven months old, we began the process of becoming foster parents. After completing most of the paperwork and part of the home study, we found out that I was pregnant. We notified the worker at our agency, and she asked if we wanted to put a hold on the certification process. We decided to continue, but take our time to begin foster parenting.
At nine weeks into the pregnancy, I miscarried the baby. Sadness, confusion, grief, and guilt overwhelmed me. And for about a week I felt useless; after all, if I couldn't even carry a baby, what good was I as a mom?
Again we notified our agency, and the worker was very gracious and sympathetic and encouraged us to wait to pursue foster parenting. That seemed like the reasonable thing to do, but it wasn't the decision we made.
One afternoon, a week or so after the miscarriage, I was laying on my bed crying, praying, and trying to rest. As my heart was breaking over our lost baby, God spoke clearly to me in what seemed to be a hear-able spoken voice and said, "I'm taking care of this baby, I have other children for you to take care of." And although that thought, that wisdom brought comfort, it also brought a sense of responsibility. God was asking us to continue on, to march forth. And so in November 1999 we became certified foster parents and took our first placement the following month.
Without a doubt, God has fashioned me to be a mom; it is truly all I've wanted to do and be. The honor and privilege of raising my children cannot be topped; the awe of the responsibility that God would entrust His children -His special gifts - to me is just unspeakable. It continues to be the command that I hear, especially every year on Eli's birthday - March 4th.
So yesterday, March 4, 2012 was Eli's thirteenth birthday and I made a somewhat corny - at least I'm quite sure it will appear that way to you, but meaningful - to no one else but me - connection.
March 4, 1999 was what I often call "my mother's day", the day I became a mother. Previous to that I had been around kids: babysitting, helping with my mom's daycare at our home, summer camp counselor, helping with Sunday School, VBS, Bible clubs, an internship with the Girls Club of America, working with the church youth group; but those kids didn't require my undivided, on-going attention. Those kids weren't my sole responsibility, they eventually went back to wherever they came from.
On March 4, 1999 the call to "march forth" became real - and scary. I had been prepared (as much as anyone can be) for the actual birth of my baby; we had all kinds of professionals helping and standing by, nurses to soothe anxiety and answer questions. And then forty-eight hours later there was no one but me and Stan and this little person; no doctors, no nurses, no answers. So we had no choice but to move forward and do the best we could to get on with it and make something happen.
God was so faithful to me then. He had prepared me for motherhood by putting me in all kinds of situations with children of all ages, by leading me through opportunities of watching already established moms do parenting well, and by giving me my own mom as perhaps the best example of a Godly mother that exists
When Eli was seven months old, we began the process of becoming foster parents. After completing most of the paperwork and part of the home study, we found out that I was pregnant. We notified the worker at our agency, and she asked if we wanted to put a hold on the certification process. We decided to continue, but take our time to begin foster parenting.
At nine weeks into the pregnancy, I miscarried the baby. Sadness, confusion, grief, and guilt overwhelmed me. And for about a week I felt useless; after all, if I couldn't even carry a baby, what good was I as a mom?
Again we notified our agency, and the worker was very gracious and sympathetic and encouraged us to wait to pursue foster parenting. That seemed like the reasonable thing to do, but it wasn't the decision we made.
One afternoon, a week or so after the miscarriage, I was laying on my bed crying, praying, and trying to rest. As my heart was breaking over our lost baby, God spoke clearly to me in what seemed to be a hear-able spoken voice and said, "I'm taking care of this baby, I have other children for you to take care of." And although that thought, that wisdom brought comfort, it also brought a sense of responsibility. God was asking us to continue on, to march forth. And so in November 1999 we became certified foster parents and took our first placement the following month.
Without a doubt, God has fashioned me to be a mom; it is truly all I've wanted to do and be. The honor and privilege of raising my children cannot be topped; the awe of the responsibility that God would entrust His children -His special gifts - to me is just unspeakable. It continues to be the command that I hear, especially every year on Eli's birthday - March 4th.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Is this a good time?
We've got at least one empty bed to fill, and I'm anxious to fill it. Anxious to see who God brings to our family next, how our family dynamics will change to meet the needs of the child (or children), see my kids adjust and adapt and demonstrate grace, get to discover the treasure in another little one. Some of us are ready now... well, probably just me. I think I'm addicted to foster parenting.
Although, this is the first time I can remember just enjoying this breather in between placements. Historically, by now - with a week having passed since our last placement moved along - I'd have called the agency just to remind them that we are available, that there is really no preference of gender or age (or number of siblings), that we have plenty of space and lots of support. And someone at the agency will reassure me that we are on the active list, that they will be getting calls for placements, and that we will be called when we are needed - which, they will appease me by saying, will be very soon. I think they know that I'm addicted to foster parenting.
But this time I don't feel that anxiety, that urge to call the office, or the need to fill our home right now. Our kids are older, their activities more varied, more demanding of our time, and just more. The homework is more involved and requires more support, there are bigger and more complicated projects. There are times when we can enjoy playing games that last for more than ten minutes, and so our family time can be more involved, conversations are richer. I am enjoying this season of our family's life. But I am still addicted to foster parenting.
Along with the kids being more involved comes the parents' increased involvement. Stan is teaching Sunday School to pre-teen boys and coaching Samara's basketball team. He and the boys also help with the clean up after basketball every Saturday. Time well spent supporting, and with, our kids. I've always been involved, hovering, nosy, questioning, lurking at and around my kids' schools. Volunteering is a great way to get my foot in the door and my face recognized; it's also a good way to find my time filling up with all sorts of worthy causes and activities. Even though my kids are away from me all day long, all day long is spent making sure that they can be as successful as possible and have many opportunities to grow.
Life is no different here than in most other homes. Kids are blessings and life is busy.
Still there is time for me to wait for the next phone call, wonder about the child we will get to love next; think about moving beds and shampooing the carpet, but knowing that as soon as I begin some big cleaning, organizing project THAT is precisely when the phone call will come. So while we are busy enjoying our family and our life, I am still addicted to foster parenting.
Although, this is the first time I can remember just enjoying this breather in between placements. Historically, by now - with a week having passed since our last placement moved along - I'd have called the agency just to remind them that we are available, that there is really no preference of gender or age (or number of siblings), that we have plenty of space and lots of support. And someone at the agency will reassure me that we are on the active list, that they will be getting calls for placements, and that we will be called when we are needed - which, they will appease me by saying, will be very soon. I think they know that I'm addicted to foster parenting.
But this time I don't feel that anxiety, that urge to call the office, or the need to fill our home right now. Our kids are older, their activities more varied, more demanding of our time, and just more. The homework is more involved and requires more support, there are bigger and more complicated projects. There are times when we can enjoy playing games that last for more than ten minutes, and so our family time can be more involved, conversations are richer. I am enjoying this season of our family's life. But I am still addicted to foster parenting.
Along with the kids being more involved comes the parents' increased involvement. Stan is teaching Sunday School to pre-teen boys and coaching Samara's basketball team. He and the boys also help with the clean up after basketball every Saturday. Time well spent supporting, and with, our kids. I've always been involved, hovering, nosy, questioning, lurking at and around my kids' schools. Volunteering is a great way to get my foot in the door and my face recognized; it's also a good way to find my time filling up with all sorts of worthy causes and activities. Even though my kids are away from me all day long, all day long is spent making sure that they can be as successful as possible and have many opportunities to grow.
Life is no different here than in most other homes. Kids are blessings and life is busy.
Still there is time for me to wait for the next phone call, wonder about the child we will get to love next; think about moving beds and shampooing the carpet, but knowing that as soon as I begin some big cleaning, organizing project THAT is precisely when the phone call will come. So while we are busy enjoying our family and our life, I am still addicted to foster parenting.
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