Unloading the dishwasher is a chore that seldom falls to me, but this morning it did - only because the assigned unloader is going from one activity to the next after school and won't be home until ten o'clock tonight and we can't wait that long between dishwasher runs -and the entertainment was coming from all parts of the house.
In our family we have dueling attention seekers -a boy and a girl; sometimes one pulls way out in front which spurs the other toward bigger and greater methods. Here's the way it played out this morning...
In the dining room area - and not visible to me - daughter was sitting, working quietly on quizzing homework. At the same time, in (what we call) the library area son was playing on the Leapster making very loud noises and comments. He was also not visible to me or daughter number two (who was with me in the kitchen having issues all her own), but he had positioned himself at just the right angle to be seen - and more importantly - heard by his opposition.
It took but a few minutes for daughter to begin a song of few words and little melody, initially very soft, but then for maximum effect, growing in volume. The same four or five words were 'sung' over and over in an effort to drown out the sound effects of her brother. From the library we soon we heard, "Oh man, what a great score!" and, "Wow! Can you believe it?!" and other such exclamations - of course receiving no attention - escalating to drown out the sing-songing of his sister. She did her best to not really ignore, but rather make a show of letting him know she wanted to ignore him; while at the same time calling for me to come and check the work she had done.
Mercifully, it was time to collect our stuff and ourselves and walk to the bus stop. Daughter secured a spot beside me and dove into a diatribe about a book she had put on hold at the library: what the book is about, why she had to put it on hold, who else in her class had signed the book out, what I would say when she showed me the book... and each time she took a breath, brother was right there ready to take over. His was a discussion on what snakes he had seen at the zoo, the size and color of them, where they were located, how large the cases were, what he saw before and after the snakes.
Once the bus had come and gone, I enjoyed a quiet walk back to the house where I savored a mug of coffee, thankful for the energy of my kids and even more thankful that I had put off that coffee - and being fully alert and awake - until the attention seekers had gone.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The Right to be First
The phone call did not provide the expected or anticipated information; it fell flat and was a bit disappointing. But more than that, it left a lingering feeling of unease that all was not right, will not be right.
Anticipating the placement of a foster child into a possible adoptive family is: exciting, terrifying, nerve-wracking, anxiety-invoking, promise-filled... that includes some of the thoughts and emotions of the adults involved. Imagine how the child must feel, think, and react to all this exciting uncertainty.
Our family has walked with a half-dozen children through this process; most times it has been very successful. Heart-breakingly there have been mismatches, failed attempts, more trauma. If only there were a way to know, to see, to predict, to make perfect a situation in which we have no control. We have no power to decide how the child will try to fit into, test the limits of, or adjust to a new environment. Nor do we have any say in how the family will respond to the behavior choices of the child. Agencies and professionals are in place to do preparation and briefing, to assess the connection and commitment, and to give informed, unbiased, wise advice and guidance.
It reminds me of a phone call from one of the case workers who was working on matching a child with a possible adoptive family. After meeting with the child, the family indicated an interest in pursuing adoption and so was given the opportunity to have the child visit for the weekend. From experience (since we were in a similar situation with Sierra) I can remember the thrill of knowing that the child you long to have with you forever is one step closer, is able to stay in the house that hopefully will one day be the child's home, to be able to tuck the child into bed at night and be there when he or she wakes up. However, this phone call did not relay that those were the thoughts this pre-adoptive family was having.
Instead of asking how early the child could be picked up or how late the drop off could be, there were questions about whether a one-night visit would work for us since that would work best with the family's schedule. To me, and my totally biased and protective way of thinking, they were not sold on the idea of adoption, or at least had not come to understand it fully. If they were not interested in, able to, or willing to make adjustments to their schedule for one weekend to visit with a child they desired to be their very own, then how would they ever accommodate the many changes in the family schedule, in the home structure, in their ways of thinking that the adoption of this little one would require? And since our family had made the necessary initial and on-going adjustments, we knew that it would require a shift for this family as well.
So the feeling of unease and doubt about this match planted itself in my head and heart. This child, our child, was not some information, some child profile, something to try out to see if it would work; this was a life that deserved the very best. Our only hope is in knowing that as much as we cared for this child, the all-knowing God who we serve and who loves us has the life of that child - and all these children - as His first and best interest.
Anticipating the placement of a foster child into a possible adoptive family is: exciting, terrifying, nerve-wracking, anxiety-invoking, promise-filled... that includes some of the thoughts and emotions of the adults involved. Imagine how the child must feel, think, and react to all this exciting uncertainty.
Our family has walked with a half-dozen children through this process; most times it has been very successful. Heart-breakingly there have been mismatches, failed attempts, more trauma. If only there were a way to know, to see, to predict, to make perfect a situation in which we have no control. We have no power to decide how the child will try to fit into, test the limits of, or adjust to a new environment. Nor do we have any say in how the family will respond to the behavior choices of the child. Agencies and professionals are in place to do preparation and briefing, to assess the connection and commitment, and to give informed, unbiased, wise advice and guidance.
It reminds me of a phone call from one of the case workers who was working on matching a child with a possible adoptive family. After meeting with the child, the family indicated an interest in pursuing adoption and so was given the opportunity to have the child visit for the weekend. From experience (since we were in a similar situation with Sierra) I can remember the thrill of knowing that the child you long to have with you forever is one step closer, is able to stay in the house that hopefully will one day be the child's home, to be able to tuck the child into bed at night and be there when he or she wakes up. However, this phone call did not relay that those were the thoughts this pre-adoptive family was having.
Instead of asking how early the child could be picked up or how late the drop off could be, there were questions about whether a one-night visit would work for us since that would work best with the family's schedule. To me, and my totally biased and protective way of thinking, they were not sold on the idea of adoption, or at least had not come to understand it fully. If they were not interested in, able to, or willing to make adjustments to their schedule for one weekend to visit with a child they desired to be their very own, then how would they ever accommodate the many changes in the family schedule, in the home structure, in their ways of thinking that the adoption of this little one would require? And since our family had made the necessary initial and on-going adjustments, we knew that it would require a shift for this family as well.
So the feeling of unease and doubt about this match planted itself in my head and heart. This child, our child, was not some information, some child profile, something to try out to see if it would work; this was a life that deserved the very best. Our only hope is in knowing that as much as we cared for this child, the all-knowing God who we serve and who loves us has the life of that child - and all these children - as His first and best interest.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Smile!
January is a month of fresh starts and clean slates, a chance to do better, try harder, be more. Some Januarys ago I had decided that I would make it a goal to smile more - more often, more sincerely, at more people. Don't you know that God was ready to help me work on that goal.
During January 2008 things looked like this: Samara and Sierra were attending Head Start, the boys were in school, and Haily was with us - a beautiful blue-eyed, pleasant, easy-going eight month old little girl. The days had a structure and routine which flowed very well - it was quite easy to smile. Aside from some school issues with Sierra at Head Start (if you've read an earlier post, you might remember that there were some behavioral concerns) and the normal meetings and visits, family life was very managable and enjoyable.
Late in the day on Wednesday, January 2, a phone call came from the agency asking if we could take in twin five month old babies. Placement was needed immediately as the babies had just been picked up from their previous home and were in the office waiting until another foster family placement could be arranged. The plan was for us to care for the twins until Friday of that week so that the agency had time to find a more long-term placement. So within two hours Baby Boy and Baby Girl and all their baby equipment were delivered to our home.
We did a little rearranging of our schedule; Stan was able to take the girls to Head Start on his way to work in the morning and pick them up and bring them home during his lunch time, there were a few appointments that needed to be rescheduled, but overall the week was fairly open. We adopted a camp-out-in-the-living-room mentality so that the three babies could play, eat, and sleep with full supervision. This was definitely do-able for four days.
By that Friday morning we hadn't heard a thing from the agency, and I hadn't thought (or had time to have a thought) to call them. Late on Friday a supervisor called and asked if the twins could stay through the weekend and possibly into the following week. What did they expect me to say? These poor kids had just gone through a total upheaval, and although they were doing okay, there were some health concerns (Baby Girl had an awful runny nose and consistent cough) as well as the need for Early Intervention to be involved (Baby Boy was not able to push up on his arms when on his belly and did not even try to roll over) - but since we were an emergency placement, we had no medical information and little contact with the case worker about what we should be doing.
After a week, we had gotten to know these precious babies pretty well; Baby Girl was very demanding all day long and into the night - not a good sleeper and waking up fussing so that she would wake her brother, Baby Boy was much more laid back, but almost too calm and passive - he was often the last one tended to out of the three since his cry was not the loudest. We were able to establish a new routine to include the needs of the twins and still try to meet the needs of Haily and the older kids. But honestly, it was getting less and less easy to smile.
It was during this time that Sierra's problems in school flared (no surprise there) and we - the school and her parents - decided that she should stay at home. Stan continued to transport Samara back and forth to school in the morning and on his lunch break. To keep up with the other family acitivities we also had boatloads of help from family and friends: my mom, my cousin, and a few foster mom friends were on-call to come and sit with the babies if I needed to get to a violin lesson, doctor's appointment, family visit for Haily, or just to the store for more formula and diapers.
As the end of week two approached with no confirmation from the agency about the length of the babies' stay, and with little contact with a brand new case worker, things began to stretch thin. While the kids enjoyed having hotdogs and chicken nuggets for dinner, we were hankering for some more substantial meals and meal times where we could all sit down together without one of us needing to jump up to care for a baby. Smiles were becoming rarely sighted occurances and sleep deprivation was manifesting itself.
It wasn't so much the needs of three babies and the five older kids that was wearying as much as the not-knowing of the plan for placement. We might have worked harder at getting the twins on a schedule and should have had them to the doctor if we had known that this four day placement would evolve into four weeks. And while it was sad to see them leave after having bonded with them over what felt like way more than a month, it was good to know that there would be more stability in their future. So there were reasons - and more energy - to smile.
Bigger reasons came about two years later when we heard through the foster family grapevine of a family (who are friends of our friends) who had just taken in twins - a brother and sister - with the same names of the babies that we had cared for in 2008. This family was going to adopt these twins who had apparently bounced around the system for two years without a permanent home.
Through the miracle of adoption and the close-knit network that it creates, we were able to rejoice as this family became a forever family: the twins had found their parents, and these compassionate, committed, and consistent parents found their children, the children God had chosen just for them. We are amazed at and so thankful for God's workings and ways - and we have smiles on our faces and in our hearts.
During January 2008 things looked like this: Samara and Sierra were attending Head Start, the boys were in school, and Haily was with us - a beautiful blue-eyed, pleasant, easy-going eight month old little girl. The days had a structure and routine which flowed very well - it was quite easy to smile. Aside from some school issues with Sierra at Head Start (if you've read an earlier post, you might remember that there were some behavioral concerns) and the normal meetings and visits, family life was very managable and enjoyable.
Late in the day on Wednesday, January 2, a phone call came from the agency asking if we could take in twin five month old babies. Placement was needed immediately as the babies had just been picked up from their previous home and were in the office waiting until another foster family placement could be arranged. The plan was for us to care for the twins until Friday of that week so that the agency had time to find a more long-term placement. So within two hours Baby Boy and Baby Girl and all their baby equipment were delivered to our home.
We did a little rearranging of our schedule; Stan was able to take the girls to Head Start on his way to work in the morning and pick them up and bring them home during his lunch time, there were a few appointments that needed to be rescheduled, but overall the week was fairly open. We adopted a camp-out-in-the-living-room mentality so that the three babies could play, eat, and sleep with full supervision. This was definitely do-able for four days.
By that Friday morning we hadn't heard a thing from the agency, and I hadn't thought (or had time to have a thought) to call them. Late on Friday a supervisor called and asked if the twins could stay through the weekend and possibly into the following week. What did they expect me to say? These poor kids had just gone through a total upheaval, and although they were doing okay, there were some health concerns (Baby Girl had an awful runny nose and consistent cough) as well as the need for Early Intervention to be involved (Baby Boy was not able to push up on his arms when on his belly and did not even try to roll over) - but since we were an emergency placement, we had no medical information and little contact with the case worker about what we should be doing.
After a week, we had gotten to know these precious babies pretty well; Baby Girl was very demanding all day long and into the night - not a good sleeper and waking up fussing so that she would wake her brother, Baby Boy was much more laid back, but almost too calm and passive - he was often the last one tended to out of the three since his cry was not the loudest. We were able to establish a new routine to include the needs of the twins and still try to meet the needs of Haily and the older kids. But honestly, it was getting less and less easy to smile.
It was during this time that Sierra's problems in school flared (no surprise there) and we - the school and her parents - decided that she should stay at home. Stan continued to transport Samara back and forth to school in the morning and on his lunch break. To keep up with the other family acitivities we also had boatloads of help from family and friends: my mom, my cousin, and a few foster mom friends were on-call to come and sit with the babies if I needed to get to a violin lesson, doctor's appointment, family visit for Haily, or just to the store for more formula and diapers.
As the end of week two approached with no confirmation from the agency about the length of the babies' stay, and with little contact with a brand new case worker, things began to stretch thin. While the kids enjoyed having hotdogs and chicken nuggets for dinner, we were hankering for some more substantial meals and meal times where we could all sit down together without one of us needing to jump up to care for a baby. Smiles were becoming rarely sighted occurances and sleep deprivation was manifesting itself.
It wasn't so much the needs of three babies and the five older kids that was wearying as much as the not-knowing of the plan for placement. We might have worked harder at getting the twins on a schedule and should have had them to the doctor if we had known that this four day placement would evolve into four weeks. And while it was sad to see them leave after having bonded with them over what felt like way more than a month, it was good to know that there would be more stability in their future. So there were reasons - and more energy - to smile.
Bigger reasons came about two years later when we heard through the foster family grapevine of a family (who are friends of our friends) who had just taken in twins - a brother and sister - with the same names of the babies that we had cared for in 2008. This family was going to adopt these twins who had apparently bounced around the system for two years without a permanent home.
Through the miracle of adoption and the close-knit network that it creates, we were able to rejoice as this family became a forever family: the twins had found their parents, and these compassionate, committed, and consistent parents found their children, the children God had chosen just for them. We are amazed at and so thankful for God's workings and ways - and we have smiles on our faces and in our hearts.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Can't or Won't
Several of our kids are blessed with strong wills and minds of their own. Guiding and training them to understand the difference between disrespect (as in: "I don't have to listen to you") and independence (as in: "I can do this myself") is a tall order; the challenge is compounded when an intellectual disability (ID) is part of the equation. A teenager with an ID looks like a teenager, may have the maturity of a much younger child, and is socially and intellectually delayed by a gap that just continues to widen.
Since the age of three, our child has been taught that honesty is of the highest importance and that a choice to practice deceit will always result in negative consequences. We've done our best to make very concrete and immediate connections to assist in the learning process, we've praised good choices and pointed out when honesty has been to his benefit, we've allowed him to experience the pain of being on the receiving end of deceit. All kids learn at their own pace and in various ways, I get that; so we've allowed plenty of time on the learning curve and many opportunities for practice.
The seemingly never-ending struggle in this case is the pull between what this child is not able to process as opposed to what he chooses to do with a full understanding of the consequences. Case in point: he is expected to brush his teeth every morning after breakfast before leaving for school. I ask if he has brushed his teeth, he answers that he has, I check and find a dry toothbrush. Given that this is a routine task, there is no question that this is a case of "I won't".
Public situations add another variable; now we have an audience which the young man can try to use to his advantage by making mom and dad appear to be mean and unreasonable. Behaviors that are expected at home are also expected in public, for example, we do not expect any of our children to talk back, sass, be fresh or cheeky... call it what you may, it's disrespectful. When in church, we give reminders about expected social behaviors - taking only one snack, greeting others with a handshake instead of an unexpected hug, keeping hands and feet to yourself. Sometimes our reminders are not welcome and then a yelling episode ensues; clearly another case of "I won't".
There are times when this child sincerely doesn't understand or is struggling to pick up on something that is obvious to others. For several years of school, we tried our best to understand what he was capable of doing and what things were just too much to expect. The sad thing is that sometimes a little bit of trying turned an "I can't" into and "I won't" simply because a teacher would step in and make things easier by doing it for him. This became a learned behavior which only worked against him; at school his seeming struggle produced a different result than at home where we expect that if something is hard to do, that means we must try harder.
As we approach the mid-teenage years, I am a bit anxious to have our son continue to grow into a young man who is responsible. There is always a question of whether we are pushing too hard, expecting too much; are we only frustrating him and ourselves? But if we stop expecting and pushing, will we be doing him and society a disservice? There have been times when I have wanted to just give up; stop teaching and reminding and just let things play out on their own. But then that would be me saying, "I can't and I won't."
Since the age of three, our child has been taught that honesty is of the highest importance and that a choice to practice deceit will always result in negative consequences. We've done our best to make very concrete and immediate connections to assist in the learning process, we've praised good choices and pointed out when honesty has been to his benefit, we've allowed him to experience the pain of being on the receiving end of deceit. All kids learn at their own pace and in various ways, I get that; so we've allowed plenty of time on the learning curve and many opportunities for practice.
The seemingly never-ending struggle in this case is the pull between what this child is not able to process as opposed to what he chooses to do with a full understanding of the consequences. Case in point: he is expected to brush his teeth every morning after breakfast before leaving for school. I ask if he has brushed his teeth, he answers that he has, I check and find a dry toothbrush. Given that this is a routine task, there is no question that this is a case of "I won't".
Public situations add another variable; now we have an audience which the young man can try to use to his advantage by making mom and dad appear to be mean and unreasonable. Behaviors that are expected at home are also expected in public, for example, we do not expect any of our children to talk back, sass, be fresh or cheeky... call it what you may, it's disrespectful. When in church, we give reminders about expected social behaviors - taking only one snack, greeting others with a handshake instead of an unexpected hug, keeping hands and feet to yourself. Sometimes our reminders are not welcome and then a yelling episode ensues; clearly another case of "I won't".
There are times when this child sincerely doesn't understand or is struggling to pick up on something that is obvious to others. For several years of school, we tried our best to understand what he was capable of doing and what things were just too much to expect. The sad thing is that sometimes a little bit of trying turned an "I can't" into and "I won't" simply because a teacher would step in and make things easier by doing it for him. This became a learned behavior which only worked against him; at school his seeming struggle produced a different result than at home where we expect that if something is hard to do, that means we must try harder.
As we approach the mid-teenage years, I am a bit anxious to have our son continue to grow into a young man who is responsible. There is always a question of whether we are pushing too hard, expecting too much; are we only frustrating him and ourselves? But if we stop expecting and pushing, will we be doing him and society a disservice? There have been times when I have wanted to just give up; stop teaching and reminding and just let things play out on their own. But then that would be me saying, "I can't and I won't."
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Who knew?
A full set of dimples, wild curly hair, huge brown eyes, feisty as all get out, talks the paint right off the walls... guess which one of my lovelies I'm describing...
Yesterday was a big day for Sierra; a big day that was worth the wait. And the wait has been a sweet and sometimes rocky road. Even before we met Sierra, the things we were told helped us to understand who she was and is, what formed her personality, and the cause of her strong spirit
Born eight weeks early, weighing 3 pounds 10 ounces, addicted to three different drugs - after five weeks in the hospital, Sierra was placed into the care of a wonderful foster mother. About six months later we met Sierra at the age of eight months old. She was a tiny baby - about twelve pounds - with big brown eyes, straight brown hair (which would later fall out and be replaced by her signature curls), deep dimples, and a sweet laugh. The foster mother reported that Sierra showed little distress from the drug withdrawal - which is not common - but that is was uncertain what effects the drugs had had on her system and how that might play out as she got older.
Until she was twenty-four months old, we were followed by a program for preemies through Early Intervention to ensure that Sierra was meeting all the developmental milestones; she was talking by eleven months old and took her first steps at fourteen months. Still on the tiny side at two years old, Sierra was discharged from the Early Intervention program, did not present any delays and so did not qualify for any further services. Although that was somewhat freeing, it left us alone - without the support of those professionals - to face the uncertainty of Sierra's future.
At three years old, Sierra was enrolled in Head Start from which she was removed after a few months due to her problematic behaviors: hitting, kicking, spitting, refusal to participate or listen. Overstimulation and loosely structured activities were very challenging; being at home for another year seemed a good choice. When she was re-enrolled the following school year, she was more successful but continued to struggle with self-control.
At home Sierra was always talking and on the move; her verbal and reasoning skills developed quickly. She was extremely strong-willed and uncooperative at times. Time-outs were difficult as Sierra determined that she would always have the final say in things; but that tenacity also worked in her favor as it became manifested in determination and ambition. We can only speculate that that disposition was what helped her survive and thrive such a tenuous beginning in life.
Kindergarten brought a whole new world - being very bright, Sierra found ways to entertain and amuse herself when not challenged academically. Usually her choices were less than acceptable and sometimes resulted in phone calls home. Through the recommendation of her teacher, Sierra was evaluated and it was determined that she carried the diagnosis of Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD). With some strategies and supports, Sierra completed the school year.
It took the first grade teacher two weeks to send an e-mail to let us know that Sierra was not only distracted but distracting to the entire class. After another evaluation, she was additionally diagnosed with Attention Deficient Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). With the guidance of our doctor, Sierra began to take medication to help with focus and self-control; within a few days the change was remarkable so that even Sierra noticed that she was able to pay attention in school.
In addition to the medicine, Sierra is learning self-discipline through Suzuki violin lessons which we started in kindergarten. These lessons teach children how to play an instrument through listening and memorization, both of which require sustained focus. The teacher also stresses the importance of playing precisely, being responsible for learning the music, and for behavior during the lessons.
Which leads us to the BIG DAY. Sierra had her weekly violin lesson after school - already a challenge since she had withstood an entire day of second grade and was running on fumes from her morning meds. Upon meeting her at her classroom, she was distracted and unfocused - swinging her bookbag in the air, recounting her daily experiences and talking about what she wanted to wear to school the next day. We stepped aside in the hallway on the way to the music room so I could try to help her simmer down enough to focus on the task at hand, and then entered the music room where the other students were quietly and dilligently unpacking their violins. The struggle continued as Sierra could not seem to stop moving or talking; I took her shoulders between my hands so that we were face-to-face and firmly (and as quietly and discreetly as possible) reminded her that she needed to stop talking and think only about violin - it was a chat we'd had many times before, sometimes with good results and sometimes with a crash and burn.
By the end of the half-hour lesson I was nearly beside myself... with pride! Sierra had pulled herself together beautifully, was able to stop talking and focus on the teacher and the music. She played the review songs well - including a fast one in which she did not miss a single note, was able to demonstrate the new material well enough to be moved ahead, and was self-disciplined and focused during a new exercise which she completed as well as the other students.
Later, while unpacking her bookbag at home, she gave me a note from the teacher: Sierra had been invited to participate in a special math program based on her advanced math and reading skills, strong math test scores, and problem-solving ability. Here was proof of that determination.
Experiences like those are special and ones I will treasure and cherish tightly for a long time because they are rare, yes; but also because those are the times I am reminded of how blessed I am to be the mommy of Sierra - a little girl with such a tough start to life. Who knew - or knows - who she will become.
Yesterday was a big day for Sierra; a big day that was worth the wait. And the wait has been a sweet and sometimes rocky road. Even before we met Sierra, the things we were told helped us to understand who she was and is, what formed her personality, and the cause of her strong spirit
Born eight weeks early, weighing 3 pounds 10 ounces, addicted to three different drugs - after five weeks in the hospital, Sierra was placed into the care of a wonderful foster mother. About six months later we met Sierra at the age of eight months old. She was a tiny baby - about twelve pounds - with big brown eyes, straight brown hair (which would later fall out and be replaced by her signature curls), deep dimples, and a sweet laugh. The foster mother reported that Sierra showed little distress from the drug withdrawal - which is not common - but that is was uncertain what effects the drugs had had on her system and how that might play out as she got older.
Until she was twenty-four months old, we were followed by a program for preemies through Early Intervention to ensure that Sierra was meeting all the developmental milestones; she was talking by eleven months old and took her first steps at fourteen months. Still on the tiny side at two years old, Sierra was discharged from the Early Intervention program, did not present any delays and so did not qualify for any further services. Although that was somewhat freeing, it left us alone - without the support of those professionals - to face the uncertainty of Sierra's future.
At three years old, Sierra was enrolled in Head Start from which she was removed after a few months due to her problematic behaviors: hitting, kicking, spitting, refusal to participate or listen. Overstimulation and loosely structured activities were very challenging; being at home for another year seemed a good choice. When she was re-enrolled the following school year, she was more successful but continued to struggle with self-control.
At home Sierra was always talking and on the move; her verbal and reasoning skills developed quickly. She was extremely strong-willed and uncooperative at times. Time-outs were difficult as Sierra determined that she would always have the final say in things; but that tenacity also worked in her favor as it became manifested in determination and ambition. We can only speculate that that disposition was what helped her survive and thrive such a tenuous beginning in life.
Kindergarten brought a whole new world - being very bright, Sierra found ways to entertain and amuse herself when not challenged academically. Usually her choices were less than acceptable and sometimes resulted in phone calls home. Through the recommendation of her teacher, Sierra was evaluated and it was determined that she carried the diagnosis of Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD). With some strategies and supports, Sierra completed the school year.
It took the first grade teacher two weeks to send an e-mail to let us know that Sierra was not only distracted but distracting to the entire class. After another evaluation, she was additionally diagnosed with Attention Deficient Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). With the guidance of our doctor, Sierra began to take medication to help with focus and self-control; within a few days the change was remarkable so that even Sierra noticed that she was able to pay attention in school.
In addition to the medicine, Sierra is learning self-discipline through Suzuki violin lessons which we started in kindergarten. These lessons teach children how to play an instrument through listening and memorization, both of which require sustained focus. The teacher also stresses the importance of playing precisely, being responsible for learning the music, and for behavior during the lessons.
Which leads us to the BIG DAY. Sierra had her weekly violin lesson after school - already a challenge since she had withstood an entire day of second grade and was running on fumes from her morning meds. Upon meeting her at her classroom, she was distracted and unfocused - swinging her bookbag in the air, recounting her daily experiences and talking about what she wanted to wear to school the next day. We stepped aside in the hallway on the way to the music room so I could try to help her simmer down enough to focus on the task at hand, and then entered the music room where the other students were quietly and dilligently unpacking their violins. The struggle continued as Sierra could not seem to stop moving or talking; I took her shoulders between my hands so that we were face-to-face and firmly (and as quietly and discreetly as possible) reminded her that she needed to stop talking and think only about violin - it was a chat we'd had many times before, sometimes with good results and sometimes with a crash and burn.
By the end of the half-hour lesson I was nearly beside myself... with pride! Sierra had pulled herself together beautifully, was able to stop talking and focus on the teacher and the music. She played the review songs well - including a fast one in which she did not miss a single note, was able to demonstrate the new material well enough to be moved ahead, and was self-disciplined and focused during a new exercise which she completed as well as the other students.
Later, while unpacking her bookbag at home, she gave me a note from the teacher: Sierra had been invited to participate in a special math program based on her advanced math and reading skills, strong math test scores, and problem-solving ability. Here was proof of that determination.
Experiences like those are special and ones I will treasure and cherish tightly for a long time because they are rare, yes; but also because those are the times I am reminded of how blessed I am to be the mommy of Sierra - a little girl with such a tough start to life. Who knew - or knows - who she will become.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Through the cracks
One night at dinner when Eli was about four years old he asked, "Why don't I have a case worker?" Since kids coming and going, and case worker visits were part of his little world this was his attempt at fitting himself into life in our family. From the age of nine months old, Eli has shared his home, bedroom, toys, family, and parents with other kids - sometimes with no notice and usually without any say so. Our other children - both temporary and permanent - have had to make the same gracious adjustments.
The personality of our first born child does not lend itself naturally to change; he likes predictable, precise, and planned. Walking with and watching him work through some of the transitions our family has encountered has been challenging at times and helpful as we all learn to live outside our comfort zones. After twelve years, life has become more manageable for him; he has learned to go with the flow and roll with whatever punches come his way.
In addition to the above mentioned personality traits, he tends to be quiet, thoughtful, serious, and pretty much prefers to keep a low profile and not garner any attention. From very young he required little correction or discipline beyond a reminder; that characteristic has only become more pronounced as he has grown; his convictions are very strong, run very deep, and are firmly based on what he knows as Truth. All this makes it both a pleasure and a pressure to parent him.
Last year we spent much time, energy, and money in pursuing a more suitable educational situation for another one of our kids. There were also school issues for three others which required ongoing attention. Little time or energy is left for the 'typical' school issues or concerns. And the thing is, this kid isn't 'typical' either.
Treading lightly here because I don't want to come across as if this has anything to do with me: this child is highly intellectually gifted. This next part does have to do with me: I have done nothing about it. Sure, he's placed in classes with kids like him with similar aptitude, and his 'let me just fly under the radar' attitude keeps the teachers satisfied. He's polite, he participates, he's a good student, so he's been shuffled along.
My other child who we had to fight for was also shuffled along, but we raised a stink and got results... and a reputation. Have I done a disservice to my other child by not having the same fire to get him a more suitable education?
And this is not the only time I've felt like some of the kids have missed out. There have been soccer games, basketball games, music concerts, visits with friends, trips to museums and restaurants that have been missed due to the dynamics in our home at a specific season - a surly teenager with a bad attitude that refuses to participate, but that is also not permitted to stay home alone; a preschooler with an inability to sit anything close to still and quiet for any amount of time; an infant who has sustained injury and cannot be out of the house for any length of time.
Have our kids fallen through the cracks? Have we short-changed them by taking on the children of others? Have they missed out on important, or even not-so-important events and activities? Maybe at points they have, and maybe they will remind us of how unfair we have been.
We also have enriched their lives by making them aware of the opportunities they have (and sometimes take for granted) - like a safe home and their own bed, food every day, and clothes that fit. They have come to appreciate the miracle of adoption through our own family as well as with so many of our friends. We've also been affirmed in this choice when teachers have mentioned how compassionate and caring our kids are; they have been exposed to many needs and behaviors and find ways within themselves to reconcile and meet those needs for these other children.
So to go full circle: this is why, Eli, you do not have a case worker. You and your brother have not had to go through the trauma of the system to have been brought to us - and that, my son, is a blessing. A bigger blessing than the toy that was busted to bits by an angry little boy, or not having to share your bedroom with a crying toddler, or being able to have your parents at every event and concert, or having a more enriching education. I feel quite confident that you have had more of an education than most kids and I trust that you will continue to hold tight to the Truth as you live out what you have learned.
The personality of our first born child does not lend itself naturally to change; he likes predictable, precise, and planned. Walking with and watching him work through some of the transitions our family has encountered has been challenging at times and helpful as we all learn to live outside our comfort zones. After twelve years, life has become more manageable for him; he has learned to go with the flow and roll with whatever punches come his way.
In addition to the above mentioned personality traits, he tends to be quiet, thoughtful, serious, and pretty much prefers to keep a low profile and not garner any attention. From very young he required little correction or discipline beyond a reminder; that characteristic has only become more pronounced as he has grown; his convictions are very strong, run very deep, and are firmly based on what he knows as Truth. All this makes it both a pleasure and a pressure to parent him.
Last year we spent much time, energy, and money in pursuing a more suitable educational situation for another one of our kids. There were also school issues for three others which required ongoing attention. Little time or energy is left for the 'typical' school issues or concerns. And the thing is, this kid isn't 'typical' either.
Treading lightly here because I don't want to come across as if this has anything to do with me: this child is highly intellectually gifted. This next part does have to do with me: I have done nothing about it. Sure, he's placed in classes with kids like him with similar aptitude, and his 'let me just fly under the radar' attitude keeps the teachers satisfied. He's polite, he participates, he's a good student, so he's been shuffled along.
My other child who we had to fight for was also shuffled along, but we raised a stink and got results... and a reputation. Have I done a disservice to my other child by not having the same fire to get him a more suitable education?
And this is not the only time I've felt like some of the kids have missed out. There have been soccer games, basketball games, music concerts, visits with friends, trips to museums and restaurants that have been missed due to the dynamics in our home at a specific season - a surly teenager with a bad attitude that refuses to participate, but that is also not permitted to stay home alone; a preschooler with an inability to sit anything close to still and quiet for any amount of time; an infant who has sustained injury and cannot be out of the house for any length of time.
Have our kids fallen through the cracks? Have we short-changed them by taking on the children of others? Have they missed out on important, or even not-so-important events and activities? Maybe at points they have, and maybe they will remind us of how unfair we have been.
We also have enriched their lives by making them aware of the opportunities they have (and sometimes take for granted) - like a safe home and their own bed, food every day, and clothes that fit. They have come to appreciate the miracle of adoption through our own family as well as with so many of our friends. We've also been affirmed in this choice when teachers have mentioned how compassionate and caring our kids are; they have been exposed to many needs and behaviors and find ways within themselves to reconcile and meet those needs for these other children.
So to go full circle: this is why, Eli, you do not have a case worker. You and your brother have not had to go through the trauma of the system to have been brought to us - and that, my son, is a blessing. A bigger blessing than the toy that was busted to bits by an angry little boy, or not having to share your bedroom with a crying toddler, or being able to have your parents at every event and concert, or having a more enriching education. I feel quite confident that you have had more of an education than most kids and I trust that you will continue to hold tight to the Truth as you live out what you have learned.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Both Ways
Foster parents have no rights, and that's just the way it is. Most times it seems to make sense since we are just full-time, round the clock child care. Child care includes: typical and non-typical doctor's appointments - specialists - some local, some not because of the limitations of health insurance providers; therapy appointments - in-home or somewhere else, usually not at a convenient location - for emotional, behavioral, family reasons or due to some delay in speech, motor, or educational development; school meetings for IEP development and academic and behavior concerns; family visits and often the aftermath of them; accommodation of multiple case worker visits and phone calls - one with our agency and one with a county agency; then the normal kid activities and kid needs - safety, food, school supplies, clothing, discipline, and love.
Maybe after all that 'child care' the system would begin to realize that this child that has been cared for in our home for over a year is more ours than anyone else's right now; that after a year of caring for the basic and not-so-basic necessities, meeting with therapists, teachers, doctors, and case workers regarding the child's behavior, health, daily functioning needs, concerns, life history and trauma, and future plans, someone in the system would understand that our opinions and perspective are valid and may even prove helpful. I'm not talking about rights, just good old-fashioned common sense and respect - for the child and the child's 'family', as it were, at the present time.
Our current foster child has been available for adoption for over a year, and due to the need for stability an adoptive placement was not sought until this summer, so we had a full year to help establish stability, boundaries, discipline, trust and general family life. Common sense would say that we might have an inkling as to what makes this child tick, what works and what doesn't when it comes to communication and discipline; what the child is REALLY like when rules and consequences are enforced. Kids in the system are savvy, they have learned how to play the system: how to be charming when charming will work, and how to play the victim to tip the scales in their favor. These kids are not bad, they are doing what they have found to work for them; unless someone catches and calls them on it and then holds them accountable, all we are doing is perpetuating the system which has brought them to their current situation.
Most case workers and some therapists with whom we have worked seem to get it. Foster parents GET IT, which is why I just love our foster parent friends. When our child is sweet and polite and oh-so-charming in public and gets all kinds of wonderful smiles and attention and positive affirmation, that is a good thing - all kids need and deserve that. When that same child is disrespectful, thoughtless, mean, and defiant at home we know that we are doing the right thing because the child has become comfortable enough in our home to let down that shallow front. People who have seen and gotten to know only that shallow front are skeptical should they hear of the at-home behavior. All kids, all adults, have the capacity and tendency to put on a false front to make a good first impression; that is not the same thing.
Back to common sense... so when we as parents give our perspective - sometimes solicited, usually not - a cursory nod is given in response. Why consider the observations of the uneducated 'child care provider' when there are professionals with whom to consult? Excuse me for being cynical, but why would a therapist who spends one hour each week with this child know about how the kid responds to rules? Does the therapist ever enforce consequences? Or the case worker who meets with the child once a month - even a good, supportive, alert, involved case worker - may see some and hear more about that at-home behavior, but is rarely there to witness a situation from start to finish to see the child and parents in action.
Our guy has been visiting with a possible adoptive family, and initially everything that we were told about the family seemed to match well with the child. That information came through someone - a professional - who had spent a total of four hours with the child. We don't claim to be able to predict future events and we only want and pray for a successful adoption to happen sooner rather than later, but (you knew it was coming), but after three visits we are feeling less convinced that this is the right family. There is nothing wrong with the family, they seem like very caring people, and on paper it makes sense and the case workers are positive that this is the best thing.
Now is the time I'd like some rights to call just a few of the shots; to be able to speak honestly about what I as a mom see and know that this child needs, about what I have learned about him, about how I can't bear the thought of him facing another rejection. While this family appears to be loving, the impression is that they don't yet get it; they've seen the sweet and charming and have been drawn to that - who wouldn't be? But when the time for sweet and charming is over, will they be there for the less attractive, harder to handle stuff? Have they even been prepared for when that happens? If nothing else, I want a chance to share with them, and the case workers making the decisions, what our journey has been like over the past year - all of it, the wonderful, fun times and the frustrating, hard times.
So like I sometimes tell my kids: you can't have it both ways. Since we've decided that we are not the best candidates to be his parents, I have given up my 'right' to make the decision as to who would be the best.
Maybe after all that 'child care' the system would begin to realize that this child that has been cared for in our home for over a year is more ours than anyone else's right now; that after a year of caring for the basic and not-so-basic necessities, meeting with therapists, teachers, doctors, and case workers regarding the child's behavior, health, daily functioning needs, concerns, life history and trauma, and future plans, someone in the system would understand that our opinions and perspective are valid and may even prove helpful. I'm not talking about rights, just good old-fashioned common sense and respect - for the child and the child's 'family', as it were, at the present time.
Our current foster child has been available for adoption for over a year, and due to the need for stability an adoptive placement was not sought until this summer, so we had a full year to help establish stability, boundaries, discipline, trust and general family life. Common sense would say that we might have an inkling as to what makes this child tick, what works and what doesn't when it comes to communication and discipline; what the child is REALLY like when rules and consequences are enforced. Kids in the system are savvy, they have learned how to play the system: how to be charming when charming will work, and how to play the victim to tip the scales in their favor. These kids are not bad, they are doing what they have found to work for them; unless someone catches and calls them on it and then holds them accountable, all we are doing is perpetuating the system which has brought them to their current situation.
Most case workers and some therapists with whom we have worked seem to get it. Foster parents GET IT, which is why I just love our foster parent friends. When our child is sweet and polite and oh-so-charming in public and gets all kinds of wonderful smiles and attention and positive affirmation, that is a good thing - all kids need and deserve that. When that same child is disrespectful, thoughtless, mean, and defiant at home we know that we are doing the right thing because the child has become comfortable enough in our home to let down that shallow front. People who have seen and gotten to know only that shallow front are skeptical should they hear of the at-home behavior. All kids, all adults, have the capacity and tendency to put on a false front to make a good first impression; that is not the same thing.
Back to common sense... so when we as parents give our perspective - sometimes solicited, usually not - a cursory nod is given in response. Why consider the observations of the uneducated 'child care provider' when there are professionals with whom to consult? Excuse me for being cynical, but why would a therapist who spends one hour each week with this child know about how the kid responds to rules? Does the therapist ever enforce consequences? Or the case worker who meets with the child once a month - even a good, supportive, alert, involved case worker - may see some and hear more about that at-home behavior, but is rarely there to witness a situation from start to finish to see the child and parents in action.
Our guy has been visiting with a possible adoptive family, and initially everything that we were told about the family seemed to match well with the child. That information came through someone - a professional - who had spent a total of four hours with the child. We don't claim to be able to predict future events and we only want and pray for a successful adoption to happen sooner rather than later, but (you knew it was coming), but after three visits we are feeling less convinced that this is the right family. There is nothing wrong with the family, they seem like very caring people, and on paper it makes sense and the case workers are positive that this is the best thing.
Now is the time I'd like some rights to call just a few of the shots; to be able to speak honestly about what I as a mom see and know that this child needs, about what I have learned about him, about how I can't bear the thought of him facing another rejection. While this family appears to be loving, the impression is that they don't yet get it; they've seen the sweet and charming and have been drawn to that - who wouldn't be? But when the time for sweet and charming is over, will they be there for the less attractive, harder to handle stuff? Have they even been prepared for when that happens? If nothing else, I want a chance to share with them, and the case workers making the decisions, what our journey has been like over the past year - all of it, the wonderful, fun times and the frustrating, hard times.
So like I sometimes tell my kids: you can't have it both ways. Since we've decided that we are not the best candidates to be his parents, I have given up my 'right' to make the decision as to who would be the best.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)