Cain Theory

As a parent, I have been considering what I will call today the "Cain Theory."

Having been raised on a scripture foundation, the analogies of my parenting strife today are rife with accounts of Laman, Lemuel, Cain, Lucifer and the other biblical black sheep of the family.  For doesn't every family have one?  Or are they only considered the black sheep in comparison with their fairer siblings?  I'm not talking color of skin only here - although scripture and our family are rife with that pigmented contrast - I'm talking of the inevitability in a family with more than one child that one of them is comparatively naughtier than the rest.

What bothers me about my 'Cain Theory' as of yet is that I have no empirical evidence to show me statistically how many families feel like there is one child that is 'naughtier' than the rest, the black sheep.  I'm not just talking about ideologically different today, I'm talking of the one who was hardest to parent because they, well, were just bad somehow.  I have been considering this morning if this is a foster parenting problem or a universal parenting problem.  That's how it got to be the "Cain Theory."

Look, Cain and Abel, and all the rest of the start of the human family, all came from the same parents.  From the record we are given it is safe to assume that Adam and Eve were really great parents.  They taught all their children the laws of God.  They taught them all to garden, for it was in the garden that Cain got his ultimate revenge or punishment however you see it.  This morning it was in the garden that I watched one of my children exact her revenge on the world, one cucumber plant at a time.

As part of my personal parenting philosophy I will not give my child enough space to blame Satan for their actions (in fact, I don't know if Lucifer just wasn't painted as a devil until he was compared against Jesus but that is a deeper theological debate than is needed for the day).  I do believe there is opposition in all things, including our choice of how we use natural emotions.  It would be silly to deny that we all feel and that some of those feelings are negative.  Anger is real.  Frustration and fatigue are very real.  Just as real as love and joy and compassion.  Agency, which is told to be the greatest gift of God to His children (Christ's sacrifice was His own great gift) allows us to experience emotions in all their colors and make a choice as to how they will guide our lives.  To some degree, for at least a reasonable 8-18 years, parents have the obligation to guide the choice of actions based on feelings.  That is part of what parenting is right - teaching your children the 'appropriate' way to behave when under the duress of natural life.

It seems too easily metaphorical in the bible that Satan or his angels popped up right in the moment when Cain was feeling anger toward his brother and let him know exactly where to put that negative feeling.  I sympathize with Cain, working hard like the rest of the family, but always feeling cast in the shadow of Abel. And we have no evidence that Abel was the perfect brother.  Perhaps he was goading on Cain that day, I've seen it enough in sibling relationships.  Even the good ones can be downright vindictive when their parents' backs are turned.  So why is it that Cain got the curse of the family? And was the curse before or after the killing?  Who's to say that Cain didn't already know that he was the bad boy of the family and was just fulfilling their expectations for him.

I'll admit it - some of us have bigger inner dragons than others and in a group setting as tight as a family, that is not seen as an asset.  Some family members can feel like a liability.  As much as we love them, we continue to ask God why he gave us this  member of the family to help us experience the binaries of life.  But then I pause.  Is any of us so bad in isolation?  If my Cain were my only child, would I really be so up in arms today about cucumber plants uprooted?  Or would I shake my head, give her a hug and tell her she was being silly.  Was the disaster only so disappointing because the other two children had angelically completed their weeding singing songs and wanting to help longer than was needed?  Biblically, would Cain have been such a big deal had there been no Abel?

Despite my theory, there is still parenting to be done.  Principles of work, love, respect, and self-worth that will have to be gaged with or without the comparisons.  The point, I think, is to stop and think about how 'bad' any of us really are.  If the dragon of revenge wants to wield it's way through my garden and rip out one innocent plant after another, I shall be grateful that today she is only 7 years old and that there is still time to plant again.  Maybe Cain had ripped out a few plants prior to sinking a knife into his brother.  I don't know.  I just feel like today I have a bit more mercy for all those siblings who got painted black before really knowing that there had to be any comparison.

Rebuttal to the Rollercoaster

After putting my feelings out there, and as usual praying for a lot of guidance, these two wonderful people have given me some counsel to lift my spirits and help us move forward.

Adventures in Foster-Adoption: Riding a Roller-coaster

Even though the adoption of Viv finalized in December, Josh and I are frequently reminded that Viv will always be a foster-adoptive child, which is to say, not easily incorporated naturally in the family.  We endeavor every day to make the gap as small as possible and help our home environment feel as cohesive as possible.  Yet, we are still on the seemingly endless roller-coaster that we got ourselves locked into the first day we became foster parents.

It is frustrating after two years to be hitting the same lows as we had at the beginning of the ride.  We have a slow climb up to a peak of positivity and the inevitable rush downward again.  It is an apt analogy, the roller-coaster, because it seems that the falling sensation is worse, or more sensational, than the rising again.

Our greatest disappointment is just feeling helpless against the natural forces that draw Viv down again over and over.  We seem to be making progress and heading up when suddenly the track changes and Josh and I are left with our hearts in our throats as we are all plummeted down again.  I wish so many times that I could be one of those cool riders whom the constant motion does not seem to affect, but I am just as rattled on each descent as I was on the first one.

So many helpless and hopeless thoughts accompany the nauseous return to the bottom:  What happened this time?  What triggered this?  Did we do something wrong?  What is the best way to react?  Do we stay consistent or try something new?  Am I completely failing and making things worse?  Didn't we have this one figure out?  Why are we back here again?  Can I help?  Do I give up?  Do I ignore it?

Through it all we hold on to a few things: We knew this would continue to happen, even if we hoped it wouldn't, this is the reality of having foster children.  We love her. This is not her fault.

Through the bottom there are the feeble attempts to figure it out.  The terrible moments when we succumb.  And the intentional numbing of feelings, a suspension of investment in a child that is self-destructing.  To the on-looker the family is just working with a bit of a stubborn child in a tough moment.  From the inside we are doubting and crumbling anew, wondering what foundation we can build upon when her foundation is irreparably damaged.  She is still good, even great at moments.  It is just the despairing contrast to the sights we saw right before the plummet that still linger in our heart that make the decent so displacing.

She got us both this week.  She drove us both to that moment when we know as parents that we have lost control.  We are angry.  Afterwards we are ashamed at having given in and perhaps somehow supported any reasoning for the desired result.  And there we stand, looking at each other, helpless again and heartbroken.  What do we do?  Repent.  Love.  Forgive.  and most of all try to forget as we start the long and slow upward climb again with hope of that glorious view atop.

One of these times we may get stuck on top.  That is our Hope.

Vivianna Hope Button

Viv turns 5 years old!

Tuesday was Viv's 5th Birthday!!  Wowzers, our little mini is older without seeming to have grown.  Oh, I know she has grown A LOT and there are A LOT of milestones to mark for this remarkable little one.  We made sure that this birthday was particularly a day of celebration of all that is special about her.  She got a trampoline (which was not wrapped on the table for obvious reasons) to celebrate how hard she has been working at gymnastics and her amazing abundance of bouncy energy.  She also received this beautiful dress to celebrate how beautiful she has become in our eyes.  Inside and out Viv has become stunning, vibrant, fun, and just precious.  A neon pink flowered tiered dress just seemed to fit the layers that we have been discovering of this beautiful girl.  She also received some thoughtful cards from family that celebrated how kind and sweet she is.

And now for the rest of the story.  This picture (of her opening her cards) kinda sums up how the attitude of the day started.  Unfortunately, birthdays are a bit of a trigger day for Viv.  Damn those triggers.  I hope to heaven that after a few more years of learning and experience we will not repeat all this at every birthday.  You see, as told by the very sour and disappointed look on Viv's face how thrilled she was with her gifts.  A candid contrast shows how delighted Danny and Faith were for Viv with the dress and excited anticipation of opening special cards.  To Viv, it was just not enough.

Viv's past training had ingrained a different attitude to gifts.  In her short three years before coming to our family, she had learned a lot about gifts; they were her right and she deserved as many as she demanded.  We can assume, validly based in representative patterns we saw during a year and a half of visits, that gifts were given to make up for guilt.  What does that shower down on a small child?  A completely wrong idea of what a present is for.  Thus began a new window of learning for the week.

My day began on October 16th much as it has been for the last few months- waking to an angry voice emitting from my darling Viv.  I sleep in a bit in the mornings hoping to make up for a night of interrupted sleep, and my darling ducks are good at quietly playing together after Daddy has left for work.  Viv is usually the last to rise and the first to make the loudest noise, she has a louder dial.  She is also still learning how to negotiate situations, particularly in the morning, with others in a kind way.  I generally hear out of my subconcious ear all those early disputes and recognize that a Mom-iator is needed and open my eyes to seeing Danny or Faith there to plead their case.  Viv slinks behind like a guilty pup with its tail between its leg - I am still not certain in every case if she realizes that she may have done something wrong or if she just knows that she can expect to be in trouble any time Faith or Danny complains (I have been working a lot on making sure I don't 'get her in trouble' with every accusation).  On the morning of her birthday, no sibling had to hail the problem I intereveened in behalf of the chance for change.

What did I hear?

Earliest signs that this was a day started with triggers: rustlings and whisperings as the kids moved about the house with directions such as "there has to be more gifts for me, it is my birthday, you find them!" That had a whole subsequent kindly retaliation from her siblings that really were trying to make it special for her.  In the end of her frustration of not having found anything more were the bossiest little words I have heard from her: "Then you go in to my room and decorate it for my birthday!"  That's where I had to pull the plug.  Not for protective reasons, I am sure Danny and Faith would have done a very creative job of decorating the bedroom, but for the amount of unknown associations I heard in that bossy declaration.

I called Viv into my room.  "Happy Birthday Darling!" I said in the happiest voice I could muster during the early morning revelations and fast heartfelt prayer.   She sulked in the room in her practiced kicked dog demeanor.  "What a special day this is.  Can you tell me why birthdays are so special?"  Through her muffled lips she said "cuz it's my birthday."  "Yes, and why is that so special?"  "I dunno."  "Because this is the day that we get to celebrate all that is so special about  you!"  Viv began to perk up a bit.  "Do you know what is so special about you?"  She met my eyes.  "That you are kind, beautiful, smart and a good learner." By this point, of course, Faith and Danny had appeared on the bed as well, can't miss an opportunity to be in on the crowd.  Perhaps noting a moment of power, Viv added "Yeah, and when it is my birthday I get to be in charge."  "Oh.  Is that something special about you that we can celebrate?"  "NO!" Interjects Faith, "that is being a brat!" (thanks to the Oompa Loompas and Wonka's description of certain children we have had a very candid conversation in our family as to the implications of the word brat.) My reply, thanks to some great suggestions on How to talk so your kids will listen and listen so your kids will talk, was the short "Oh." They all sat in suspense for a bit thinking about that.  Feeling a need to protect herself, Viv defended "Well, Faith told me that I could be the boss...." "No.  I don't think that is true Viv."  Boy when Viv lies it is like seeing the lights of Sin City ablaze at midnight in her eyes.  She resumes kicked dog.

Supposing this was the best time of any to have this conversation for ALL the kids to hear.  I then cautiously proceed to explain that birthdays are a wonderful day of celebration.  Everyone deserves a day that we can celebrate just for them.  When we celebrate we get to recognize everything that is so special about that one person.  However, if you do not show us anything special on your birthday, what do we have to celebrate?  From a mother's heart this mini lesson was riddled with difficulty.  How I wished that I could just jump up for joy and wrap my little darling brown-eyed daughter in my arms shouting hurray for this special day.  Yet there I was with three round eyed little ones teaching about the consequences of acting greedy and selfish on a day that should be special no matter what.  After all, does my love have qualifications or expecations?  NO!  But love carries with it the parental responsibility to teach, and to teach in the moment that it will carry the most impact.  That moment was early on the morning of my five year olds' birthday.

We proceeded on that day with numerous reminders of how special Viv was and all those lovely qualities that make her special.  I took every repetitive moment to reiterate how each gift represented what we saw in her that was special; the thing had a specific purpose that related to her positive qualities.  The reader board of Viv's processing center kept registering and compiling the input, slowly, as if having to chisel over the top of something else that was already engraven on that small impressional psyche.

The next day I discovered what it was that Viv had been chiseling over the day before.  While celebrating on the new trampoline, a bit of a heated discussion emerged as does frequently between two sisters.  Viv was mostly agitated; Faith was noticeably irritated.  As the discussion escalated, I moved from my observation perch in the house toward the door to mediate just as I saw Viv recoil a loaded punch to her sister's back (Faith had turned to walk away from the situation).  Viv let it fly and Faith was not to be bettered and had her tackled to the tramp by the time I hit the back door (what a lot can happen in three steps' time).  One holler halted the mounting action.  Viv was sent inside and Faith ordered to cooling chair on the back porch.  After sitting myself on the back steps for a moment to gather my most composed parenting mind, I asked Faith for her recounting of the situation.  With a few why? questions I got only that Viv had kept yelling at her and she yelled back to ask her to stop them Viv punched her.  I had only paid attention to the situation once the yelling started and didn't know what the inticement had been.  I took an eye witness account from Danny before going inside to work with Viv.

I asked Viv the same non-accusatory question about the incident.  Surpisingly, without having heard Faith's report, Viv's was identical but told from the first  person account; "I was yelling at Faith and she yelled back so I hit her."  With my mind reeling I asked what she thought out to be done about the situation knowing our family rule that you cannot enforce your words with your actions.  Her response was already concocted before I had entered the room, "I will give her this bracelet as a present to make up for hitting her."  From another child I would have excused that as a thoughtful resolution, but there was too much loaded behind that very very quick response.  I do not believe I was reading into anything, for as I looked into her eyes and asked, "Do you think that a gift will make up for you actions?" her reaction was deeply personal.  Her little countenance feel, as if collapsing in pain not shame, and shook her head with the emotion of a one who didn't even believe it for herself.

Yet another conversation ensued about gifts, actions, and what can be done to repent.  More meaningful that our regular repentance conversations after infractions, this talk carried with it the weight of deeper healing.  My heart was wrenching as I needed to explain to my darling daughter that gifts don't make up for behaviors, changes of behavior is the way that we show others how much we love them and are sorry for what we did.  My mind was recounting in sequential flashbacks the weeks when Viv still had visits with her biological mother - how she would come home with the triumphant and inflated elation of all the new 'gifts' she had received during a one hour visit, and the hard hit reality of the next few days when the gifts were no longer new and the pain was relived in dreams and memories associated with the 'gift' giver.  I hated those days.  I hated those sacks full of dollar store crap and all they stood for.  After recognizing their triggering effect, each week I had to find the most discreet way of demolishing them so that they wouldn't remain in our home to remind her and relapse her.  And now, a year later, how agonizing it was to uncover the scars that imprinted memory had left!

Scars and open wounds then has been the reprise of this week.  There have been triumphs as I listen to Viv solidify the new and accurate learning she has gained from this 5th birthday - birthdays are special because we get to celebrate was is special about her, which is not being a brat.  The re-visiting of the old days of having to train and train anew in a correct pattern have been exhausting for me.  Believe me, I question each day if I am doing it right.  I try so intently not to read more into Viv than need be. I fight against any inclination to compare her to other children.  I speculate as to whether I am taking the right approach for her moral upbringing.  Somewhere in it all I do feel correct.  Viv is beautiful, and becoming more so each day.  She is getting older and we have entered into a new year, her fifth year, together as a family.  Keeping our fingers crossed, this will be the year that everything is finalized with the adoption and there will no longer be clarifications as to where of to whom she belongs.

Happy birthday my brown-eyed darling.

Surviving Learning

I am so very glad that I have the opportunity to stay home with my kids (most of the time) if for no other reason than to just observe them. It is the attentive third party observation that has revealed more about my children than anything else.

Yet again today, I was glad I was there, just learning about this one:

Viv is a master survivalist. In many ways you may say she is ruthless in her self-preservation. Knowing why, I say bravo! Kiddo you are resiliant and brilliant, if not a huge mystery. Getting to know Viv's personality, the really personality that is masked under so much survival (read manipulative) tactics has been like finding a rare diamond inside a coal mine. Both rocks are valuable. Coal will fire a whole factory with endless power. But the diamond sparkles and takes your breath away.

I have been working with the kiddos with reading flash cards based from the "How to Teach Your Child to Read in Just 10 minutes a Day" method, which I have to say is brilliant. I feel as though I have found a great teaching team in LeapFrog, books, and time. The more time I spend learning with my kids the more I loathe the idea of giving them up top a mass produced education system. Just within the scope of my three kiddos there is such vast difference in learning styles and success rate that I cry inside thinking they could get lost in the coal mines again.

Here's the gem that was unearthed today: Viv is still learning based on context clues and incomplete information. In order to keep pace she has taught herself to quickly jump to the nearest conclusion to fight for the attention that the other kids get when they answer a question. I had noticed her tendency for 'group learn' when we briefly put her in preschool, and promptly took her out noticing she was not learning anything of herself. What I hadn't realized until today was that this survival tactic persists even when I am alone with her, or she is even alone with herself. The brilliance of this girl is that she catches herself against the old habits! Even though her eyes register a word and its parts correctly, her old mode of thought is so anxious to get the attention first she will say a different word. Then, she mentally slaps herself and goes back to the word she knows is right.

We have been working for a long time with Viv's impulse talking. Today I feel as though I have a bit more insight as to why she is so impulsive in speech. Of course, we all new it was a survival/manipulation tactic to always be heard; I had not suspected it was actually the way that her brain has trained itself to jump to conclusions. For a moment while reading with her I wondered if part of the inattention was because she wanted me to give her the correct answer (which was discovered awhile ago as a favored method of learning by both Viv and Danny). Then I thought that maybe she has some sort of ADHD disconnect before she got to the end of the word (three letter words folks, that would be a sad story). Both theories were dispelled by two words: COB and CAB.

Some three letter words, although simple in construction, are not frequently used in our modern vocabulary so I have found it necessary to check and make sure the kids know what they are reading. Just the fact that they are reading words correctly that they don't exactly know is exciting; then it is even more fun to learn new vocabulary with them. Words such as HIP and RIB are fun to learn as we point out body parts. It means a great difference when you are getting to RUB or ROB to know 'to stroke something lightly' from 'to steal' in the nuance of one letter.

COB and CAB have been two words I have explained three days in a row to each of the kids as they have approached them. COB is the thing left after we eat all the yellow of the corn (not exactly Webster but it is relative to the kids) and CAB is a car like a taxi that you pay to take you places (oh country kids who haven't even really seen one in action, except the occasional green cab taking people to the airport). What was interesting was asking Viv today what the words were, after three days of having given her the definition, once she has sounded them correctly. When we got to COB she said "It is the desert that we have sometimes." It took me a minute to understand that she meant COBBLER. I was astonished. It started to dawn on me that she perhaps had never registered the full word 'cobbler' but had merely here the first part 'cob' and seen the desert and had enough information to process what she wanted.

It is common for people learning languages to not hear all parts of a word. Viv and I had had a sit down lesson at the table one evening not a month ago about the difference of LAW and LOCK and I had just assumed it was that she hadn't heard the pronunciation clearly of the CK at the end. That first pronunciation assessment was now being brought into fire. My second evidence came when I asked Viv what CAB was. "The place we go in Idaho to play with cousins." She understood CABIN was CAB. She had given me that same definition the first day we encountered CAB and I thought it was a creative guess. That it happened a second time threw light on the fact that she must really believe that CAB was CABIN. Had I not been observing what Viv was doing jumping to conclusions before the end of a three letter word I might have let it stand that she had never really heard the IN in CABIN. Now I question that.

Pieces of the puzzle started falling together. Viv frequently will start off to do a task before she has listened to the full directions or she will execute only the first half of directions given even if she has repeated the whole sentence back to you. We have been catching her and trying to get her to follow through the whole set of instructions before execution, but there is still a "if I do at least part of it I am good." sort of accomplishment. I really wish I knew how to best work with this new discovery. It may work itself out in time; really I believe it will after sitting with her for 20 minutes watching that she is stopping herself and repeating the correction without any intervention. She has started doing the same (on good days) with her past tense speech, she will catch herself and correct herself before I have to.

I so admire all that this little spit fire has gotten through and how well she has done it. She is miraculously adaptable and super resiliant. As a parent I still worry about her future, even that near future that comes at the end of a three letter word. But Viv is brilliant. She is smart and we are so very very very happy that she will forever be a part of our family, it wouldn't be half exciting around here is she wasn't in the mix. Today at lunch we were all laughing at the crazy way she will eat any hand held sandwich or burger - straight through the middle and with her hands inverted from the regular way people grab their sandwich. In half exasperation I said "You gotta stop being so crazy." and Josh lovingly, and also tiredly tallied "Ah, but if she weren't crazy, she wouldn't be Viv would she?"

Triggers

Every child, no matter what age group, has a set of trigger words that they use with their parents. They pack these tidy little words into shooter, just waiting to give Mom that final last push over the edge to shot gun right on them. They use them for a specific reason, and usually for a specific reaction. Every mother knows the skin tingling effect of "I hate you!" or the tempering fire of "shut up!" Occasionally, a kid gets an all powerful cuss word scooped up from the playground to regurjitate at the most opportune moment. It is mind boggling where, how, and why kids use this technique. Most simply put - it is effective. And heaven forbid they just limit it to words, but the rest is a whole other subject.

Viv's arsenol is extremely extensive. The lethal potency of her triggers is that they cannot be wholly ignored. Thus, she will get a reaction. In the beginning it was a daily, hourly, secondly struggle with physical and emotional outbursts. Now, it has switched to mental. Inside her little brain are all the repulsive rejected memories of her past that now are finding meaning in words. Her words come from her past and we do need to address that. It certainly a test of parenting to know how to react appropriately to each situation. I have to, but what will be the best way to avoid it again in the future? I rely a lot on 'gut feeling' or more specifically named 'divine inspiration.'

This weeks' re-set has been different than most because, at four years old, Viv can definately process the finality of things. She has been going down the ladder of behavioral triggers honing in on those that are enough to get attention but not get in too much trouble. Oh, it is draining. Sunday is a whole new hay-day with all sorts of new adults to pull into her array of traps. We keep a good eye on her and finally, after seeing that we caught her on each one, she was willing to give on the dumb stuff. She swung fast to the positive side and such radical change doesn't bode well either. Out came the bullet at lunch, over a casual bite of quesidilla.

"Momma....what does alcohol do to our bodies?"

Ugh. We know that at some point it was described to Viv that she was not with her bio mom because of alcohol. She is the only of our children that knows that word. Yes, we teach them of harmful substances and they even can identify cigarettes, but alcohol is a past specific word. Within the pause or recognition of what she was saying I knew this needed a grave response. I asked Viv to give me a few minutes to think about my answer to that question because it was one that was actually very serious and continued to clean up the lunch fixings. With clear mind I was able to sit down, meaningfully, in front of Viv and tell her not only what alcohol did to our bodies, but that it had done some harm to her in the past, and with most sincerity, it would not again do such harm.

In that little micro-discussion I watched her eyes turn from the emptiness that accompanies the insatiable need for attention to awareness. That same black cover she put over the light in her eyes is the one that covers out a lot of the sadder reasons she is turning off the lights. The awareness ripped away the curtains and it became real. It was only a moment of clarity, another glimmer of future hopes, yet it made room for a bit of light back in her eyes. Even in the hour since its occurence her motives have been less confusing to us all and a bit more peace resonates, even through difficult times.

I can't say she fired a blank. That trigger blew straight to the heart, yet, with the miraculous changing power of Jesus Christ has healed our hearts.

No More Fighting

With extreme gratitude in my heart I can say that the fight for Viv is over. Monday in court the motion was ordered for termination of all parental rights and adoption. I am even more grateful for how it all ended.

The months leading up to this particular trial have been rather more agonizing that the regular hearings that I have attended in the past year as the foster mother of Viv. After we hit the year mark we knew that significant things would happen, we just didn't know how hard it would pull on our heart and on our family. Viv's biological mother has been in and out of this story, more out than in, for the full 17 months. In November, when she popped back into the plot after nearly 6 months of nothing, everything shifted. I have described early how that last 10 minute entry destroyed so many hopes. I remember being so angry and have carried a great deal of animosity toward her over the past three months. I thank God that yesterday that was all lifted.

Josh and I both approached this trial with great anxiety. A lot of our family future was hinging on the decision that would be made on February 6th, 2012. The only surety we knew of regarding Viv is that we were not going to leave her or give up the fight unless someone made us. That could have meant seperating our family as Josh moved to his new job and I needed to stay in Az for....whatever. The sale of our home, the timing of the move, the stability of our darling brown eyed-girl all tinged on it. Viv has been resilient to so many of the uncertainties, but the confusion was wearing on her. Never, during all our closed door worrying did we admit to any of the kids that our family might be in jeopardy. To them, this IS our family: Momma, Daddy, Faith, Viv, Danny.

I get jittery even approaching a court house. I absolutely hate conflict. I do not like anything having to be said that may be hurtful regardless of how necessary. Again, I was shocked out how strickingly different my feelings were as I left the court house yesterday. It was not so in the beginning though! We came early (Josh had the day off work cuz had planned on going to Disneyland but misplaced the court date as a Tuesday not Monday) and watched as each player in the proceedings arrived. I knew I would not be at ease until our former case manager Rita arrived, the one who new everything. She had called to let me know last week that even though she had removed herself from the case when she was promoted, she would still take care of this hearing and was the main witness for CPS. What a Godsend.

Rita arrived first, followed by another supportive figure, our liscencing worker. I had already seen our attorney around and new everything was set to go. Then arrived the biological mother. I get so nervous about seeing her. As a person I do wish the best for her, yet as the person that has allowed so much agony to happen to an innocent child that I love, I am beyond frustrated with her. I am sure she approaches meetings with me with as much trepidation, although I have never asked. I smile and nod at her. She wants to say kind and loving things but I just can't bear to hear them - they only translate as "I'm selfish and un-understanding of what I am doing." I sat with my back to her. She made small talk with our lisencing worker, who was better at being cordial than I. The liscencing worker indicated that she helped Josh and I, which opened the door for bio mom to officially meet Josh. He shook hands. She did her preliminary explination "I really love my daughter. I so want her with me. I am doing my best. I know I have made mistakes....." I rolled my eyes, expecting the litany of excuses and refused to face that conversation again. She rounded it off with " And I know you love her to and that she is happy with you based on the pictures you have sent. She is well." Josh nodded and then turned away, likely unable to respond judiciously without revealing our heavy disdain for the situation. Within a few moments an Aunt to Viv came over to introduce herself. She seemed more sympathetic, healthy and aware. Again, I could only shake hands before averting my eyes, Josh engaged a bit more (I am so grateful for his support this day, I couldn't have faced it alone). She asked after Viv. Josh replied in the positive. She bowed out gracefully after the first awkward pause with "I just wanted to introduce myself and know you."

The tensions got a bit higher as the bio's attorney finally was released from another court appointment in the hall and took his client into conference (assumably that he had not talked to her at all since the last court date). After 20 minutes of people passing time with mini conferences as the bios conferred the Judge did order everyone to the courtroom.

Judge McNally expressed that she was anxious to begin since there was limited time for the trial and she did not want it wasted away if there were testimonies to be heard. She asked for legal parties to state their name for the record. As those pronounced themselves and it came to the end, the bio's attorney, he quickly added to his name and position "I find it in the interest of the court to interject now and make it known that my client has expressed, after conference with family, and upon her own choice that she no longer wishes to contest the motion for severence and termination."

Jaws in the room dropped. Although the judge was a bit more descreet, her surprise, and relief, was also evident. She asked the attorney if he felt that he had had time to fully explain to his client the full gravity of that decision and gave him a 5 minute recess to confirm it. The rest of us were left stunned in the room. All I could think was, NOW? After all this, now you say 'uncle'? Where would we have all been today had you not decided that months ago? Yet, with that same exasperation came, Wow. She finally did it. The fight is over. The fight is over.

As attorney and client returned to the room the judge made sure that all parties were settled with the decision. She further questioned bio mom to make sure she was sound of mind and body to make the decision without force or bribe. Then, without contest, CPS presented their case to the judge to have ruling for full termination of parental rights and move to adoption. During that testimony Josh and I learned a lot about the bios history and a few more details of the case. We will hopefully be able to share all that information in a timely and appropriate manner with Viv to help her make her own decision never to seek out that noxious past. Just as we are allowing her to process things on her own now and on her own level.

Motion for termination was granted and we left. Somewhere during all that testimony I began to feel something toward bio that I had hoped I might feel as a Christian but had struggled a long time with - charity. When she expressed via her attorney that because of her willing decision to not contest that perhaps it would sway things in the direction of a not completely closed adoption. I considered her viewpoint. She had made a choice for the benefit of her child, regardless of how delayed, and hoped to have confirmation of that hope through the years. I thought, that may be possible.

With relief, and even a bit of charity we left knowing that Viv is now ours. There are more legalities and more questions coming ahead, but for now, we are letting it sink in peacefully that this is our family. We did have one final interruption on Wednesday when we allowed Viv the customary 'goodbye visit.' I figured that Viv had been resiliant thus far to the reinstated weekly visits and that if we did not make a big fuss about this one being any different than it wouldn't be. It would be significant for bio mom, and we would probably get a lot of junk sent home, but it would be the end.

That final visit did open up a few questions more with Viv and I am grateful that I was the one transporting her that day to field those conflicting questions. Her questions now are more about understanding what family is and how it will remain. We have made it clear she will never see her bio mom again. Initially when Viv joined our family we explained it as a safety issue, that she was with us because the police said she needed to be in a safe place. Now we have evolved to explaining that she will never see bio again because she did what she needed to do as part of Viv's life, that was to carry her in her belly and then make sure Viv got to our forever family. Astoundingly, with that carefully crafted statement on my part, Viv then lined out all the events her in short yet dynamic life to fit that storyline. I felt that she was comforted and calmed by her own conclusions. I hope she is. I know more questions will come, but for now, she has resolved what she needs in her little heart.

I am grateful for the perfect timing of a loving Father in Heaven that brought us to AZ just for this perfect time to recieve our daughter into our family. We see now how perfectly that window of time has been crafted and are glad that we will be moving soon. We know it is best that we can go elsewhere, free from past memories or associations, to solidify and build our family now as it should be. What adventures come next, we don't know, but at least for now, the fight is over for our dear Viv and we can just love her and hold her as our own.

Know Your Limits

In the middle of a painful Insanity, I looked up at the screen to mentally curse at Shawn-T when I saw a little reminder at the bottom of the screen - "Know your Limits." I may not believe that God put a hidden message in a work-out DVD, but I do know that the Spirit of the Lord can illuminate our minds at the precise minute we need it.

We are reaching another milestone in our family - Earl is leaving on December 9th.
Every time I say that there is a great sigh in my body. We have been holding on and working hard to be helpful maintain sanity for five months. The theme of this journey with Earl has really been 'Know your Limits." Heaven help me if I haven't learned that lesson yet or I will get us into another pickle.

In August we had just passed through some major adjustments and healing with Viv and felt rather comfortable. As per usual, once feeling comfortable, I felt the need to change. Change fosters growth. Fostering grows change. So we opened up our other 'bed' in our home for a boy 0-3. Within 24 we got the call for placement for Earl. They were having a hard time placing Earl because of suspected Hydrocephalus (damage to the brain caused by siginificant head injury). It was kinda nice that we had a bit more of an idea of some of the challenges that were coming.

The idea of helping a mentally retarded child didn't bother me. What I found out did bother me was finding out that he was not mentally retarded, but had learned how to act slow to seem retarded. It didn't take more than a week to see that this boy was very normally three years old in the head. Sure, his behaviors were indicative of something much, much less advanced, but that wasn't because he was dumb. Results from a CT scan shortly after his arrival solidified my studies.

That was when the 'limits' test became daily, hourly, minutely, and every second of my day. What were my limits in helping this boy before I got too upset? Where was the limit that would push him beyond the facade he had built up for the duration of his life to be the kid he was currently? What limits were set that could not be crossed, or that must be reached? Ugh. Unlike the sigh that released a few minutes ago while saying Earl was leaving, my chest is in a myriad of knots just recounting the list of limits.

This daily test limited a lot more. I don't feel like I have been out of the house at all for five months. It really just wasn't worth it if my greatest desire was to help Earl get to his greatest potential. Poor guy had been moved from one home to another in total eight different times in his three short years. No consistency breeds idiocy. We figured out fast that a 'social outing' became a free-for-all in Earl's mind. He didn't have to be the best version of himself with other people because all he had to do was smile big, mumble something babyish and then latch on to the nearest adult. Their response? "Oh, he's so cute!" Yes. Yes indeed. How cute is it that in 20 seconds he got you to believe that he shouldn't need to speak clearly, have respect for boundaries, or more importantly remember what his mother has told him repeatedly.

What has kept us going? Well, knowing that it is working. Those who really know Earl (case managers, people on his therapy 'teams') have given us precisely the feedback we have needed on days when the progress really seems so slow it has stopped. For someone on the outside, the changes are bigger, yet for me on eternal day of reminding Earl relentlessly of what I taught him a million times yesterday the change is non-existant. Graciously, there are days that I can sit back and remember what Earl was like when he first came to us - diapered, baby talking, idiot face making, irresponsible and unresponsive. Today, not only does he speak, but he will stop to ennunciate the words he knows he has been taught better. He no longer cowers if you ask him a question and pretends to hyperventilate, he can look you in the eyes, compute the question and give a legitimate answer. He dresses himself, is fully potty trained and makes his bed.

Giving credit where it is due - that is because of Josh and I. More than tooting my own horn here, this is reason enough to be glad this little guy is moving on. We have worked hard for his benefit, and if it were in the stars for him to stay with us, we would continue to fight the good fight, but as most know who have been involved in foster care or fost/adopt - kinship trumps. In Earls best interest we have been pushing for him to move to his permanent placement as soon as possible. He needs to finally end this jostling journey of self-defeat. We are so glad to have a good relationship with his adoptive mother in order to pass on our findings of potential in this little guy. Positive encouragement for future change and improvement that did not come in his case file from any other previous placement. Finally, in his final home, there may be some expectations for him to be better and not just kept alive. We know the limit of how far we can take him as long as this is not his permanent home, and it is time to pass off.

We are all relieved. Yes, we have started the separation process even though we have another week left of Earl being in our home. Our kids need the slow closure as much as he does. It needs to be a positive and expected transition - one that has no bearing on what happens the day he leaves. Everyone can be excited that he is going to his 'other mama' instead of curious as to why. That is the home he is meant to be in. (oh how I wish we could just say with all certainty that this is the home Viv is supposed to be in.....yet the court date looms ever in the future) He will always be part of our family, and he will get to have the one-on-one attention of his other mama while we send on our love and our trust in his ability.

While contemplating the reduction of our family size my mind has started racing again. Although four kids has been a challenge, I have attatched to greater challenge to the specific needs of Earl and not the increase of number. That may or may not be true. Have I been beyond my limits for the past five months, reasonably so. Yet, my specific faith in the Lord's promise that He will never test us beyond that which we are able to bear AND the reiterated teachings of prophets that trails are a necessary part of this experience on Earth for our growth and development - those reasons help me think that we are capable to have another child in our home so we ought to.

For many years I have left the setting of limits up to the Lord. Recently I have been looking more critically at my own limits. I have matured and hopefully with that has come a heightened awareness of my own weaknesses in a positive way. Perhaps I can't be the best version of myself as a mother to four kids. Perhaps I have allowed myself to push too far. Lamentably I just can't give myself the correct answer to those ponderings. I know two things for certain;
1-There are hundreds (read 300+) of kids in the Phoenix area that do not have a home, not even a foster home and shelters are over flowing. We are liscenced to take care of one more under the age of five. Not enough other people are stepping up to the plate, regardless of how many quilts or gently used items they donate to said shelters. Those kids deserve a home; the circumstances they are in are not their fault and it is not fair for them have to suffer the consequences.
2- I have had four kids now for five months and I am not dead. I may not have been my happiest self. I may not have had the calmest seas to navigate daily. Our home may be a bit more tense or terse for the wear (I know my face is) BUT I am not dead. Nor is anyone else in this house. So it won't kill us.

In the end, I still don't know my own limits.

Best Teachers

I love standing back and observing what kids will do when left to their own devices. Blessedly, my darlings have always amazed me with their creativity, ingenuity, and tenderness (where it could have been mischeveous and mal-adapted). Viv, with her ultra adaptability skills and leader (bossy) skills has absolutely shone lately in her role as mentor to Earl. I suppose she gets it - all that he is going through - and really wants him to succeed. So one evening as I prepared dinner she became the literal teacher of their little schoolwork. Faith and Danny joined in and didn't mind being directed by the little mini-mama. I am sometimes shocked when I hear what I sound like to them repeated in their little voices (better to know they are hearing me though I think).Viv with Earl teaching him how to write the letter A (which Earl had just mastered that morning with a lot of persistence on my part - pat on my own back) and how to trace your hand. He liked the tracing better.
Viv then gave out assignments in their 'workbook' to all the kiddos, yes, Danny was a bit incredulous.

In the end, Earl was ignored, Danny didn't care, and Viv and Faith were left to debate what was the actual best way to draw a B.

Ambivalence Part 2

In Webster's world, this word means uncertaintity or conflicting feelings toward a person. In the foster world, it is a word which means 'the opening of the inner pandora's box of a child during the healing process in which all of hell's little angels attack you simultaneous.'

Whereas Webster might use ambivalence to discuss a sort of moral inner conflict, in my world it means endless conflict. Although, as I step back a moment to look at this term from Webster's point of view I may see where it is most applicable - to me. For certainly right now I feel extremely positive and negative feelings simultaneously toward on person. That one person is going through 'ambivalence.'

E's run of this race has been radically different than Viv's, yet so very similar. Where Viv went into rages E stays silent. When E defies it is in his eyes, with Viv it was her voice. Yet the intersection of wills is very familiar. Gratefully, this time through we are familiar enough to recognize what is going on rather that fly into wildly helpless rages ourselves. Instead of blaming the child for being manipulative, we recognize that what he is manipulating is not us, but the circumstances. Will they change? Will they change? is the reader board playing across his blank stare. If I try this tactic, will they change?

Just knowing what is happening is just half the battle. The next battle is knowing how it will truly affect my personal temperment that day. Can I stay cool? Ought I to totally disengage in order to not rage completely? How long can I stay involved in this battle before something cracks. That is what he is testing, my breaking point. And the saddest irony of all, he wants me to break, he wants me to hurt him so that in some way, the pain will be alievated.

For right now, a little three year old dude is finally coming to a point where he has to face the reality of the feelings of a past and see if he wants to move past it. He faces that choice because he knows he can trust us now. And we must to do everything in our will power during this time to make sure that he knows that trust should only grow because we will not be like those from his past. I hope that I can live up to that flicker of hope in him. Despite what is going on. That hope is anchored in my faith in Jesus Christ; for in all truth and reality, without His great love and perfect charity that He gives to me daily I wouldn't have lasted this long, nor would have E. It is a humbling experience to meet your ugliest self in the pure anger and resentment you feel towards a child that you already know has been abused, and yes, you want to hit them. That is the ugliest part of me. I am ashamed of it and I pray continually for strength from He was struck and spat upon to calm that rage and master my evil nature. I love E. I love Jesus Christ even more, particularly during the ambivalent days.

Saved by the Bell

As a child of the '80s I was brought up on right alongside A.C. Slater and Kelly Zapowski in the real time depiction of high school on "Saved by the Bell." The pun was used excessively, which was funny and ironic. Today I heard the expression 'saved by the bell' and nearly wanted to scream in rage....not related at all to Zach or the gang, of course.

I was exciting court this afternoon when the substitute appointed attorney for bio-mom boomed 'you were saved by the bell, literally, that case was all but closed until you walked in.' And it was all but closed. Closed to anymore interference without purpose. Closed to any possible further scarring on an innocent psyche. Closed the past that has no plausible way to carry into a successful future.

But she showed up. Every able-minded educated person in court room 4 had their hands tied. Just at the moment the substitute judge was about to put the stamp on the case moving toward adoption with out contest, she walked in. That was all she had to do. Walk in the door with no real excuse for being late, for the second time, for a hearing regarding her right to parent a child she has not seen for three months or been a parent to for a year (if not longer).

With repressed exasperation the judge read her the continued further rights in a case regarding legal seperation. It was not unlike the one read at the beginning at the month when the case was changed to severence rather than reunification. She did nothing after that document was signed and I sincerely hope that the same will be true this time around. But I fear it won't...

Viv has done exceptional and placing all the complex aspects of her short life in a past package that she labels 'my Phoenix.' This was not prompted by any of us, she just put it all there. When a case worker or other people related to her case stops by she simply says 'oh, you are from my phoenix." Having identified it she moves about freely in our life here. She used to hang around like a scared puppy waiting to see if she was in good graces or going to be kicked again. Now she is secure that 'my phoenix' is securely locked in the past.

Yet what if....with yet another two months to drag this on, drag on her 'right' to be a mother to a child she has abused it too many ways....that quiet past will come back even for just a two hour visit. The last time Viv hadn't seen bio for a month and then she suddenly popped back, Viv was so sick she vomitted on our doorstep upon arriving home (the amount of soda or out of date candy that was given to her was unverifiable). Psychological bulemia.

"in the nick of time"

"at the last minute"

"saved by the bell"

ought all be left out of the game, for if you can't show up for the show on time, what's it worth to see the ending? after all, what's the bell for, and who is being saved?

Lemons and Gold Stars: Parenting More

This afternoon we, the kids and I, went to a three year old birthday party across the street. The party was themed around the revived classic "Strawberry Shortcake." As some of the original fans remember, Strawberry Shortcake had a whole band of sweet friends, including Lemon Meringue. In honor of all the big headed darlings, the host has prepared a fruit tray to represent all of them. Even if lemons were not the best addition to the sweetness of the tray, it was irresitable. I put a slice on each of our kids' plates just to see what they would do.

I may interject at this moment to say that the morning up to the point of a party lunch had been rather sour. Viv was having a rough day. By 'rough' I mean insanely out of whack. As is usual with her, she has switched up her attention getting game to choose the negative consequence in order to get more attention. I was doing my best to adapt to this newest development and appropriately respond to the maniacle behavior. I wasn't succeeding. When Viv's brain turns off, it is fully and completely shut down. How do you get through? Faith was equally testy this morning. If she were not only four years old I might say she was under the influence of the female hormonal rollercoaster. Unlike Viv, Faith's motives are pretty clear, she is just not thinking. Add the two together with a house remodel and my involvement in repainting the kitchen and it was insanity.

I had played all my cards and had one last bargaining chip - the birthday party. By 9am (the party was scheduled for 1pm) Viv had run the gammut. It took all the holy angels and visions of CPS intervention to keep me for swatting that girl into the next galaxy. Faith held out the big guns until 11am. Mind you, this was a building storm. Since return from vacation Wednesday our adjustment has been crude. I have had more reaffirming talks about the 5 basic rules of our family in 3 days than ever before - as if they had never heard me say "No shutting doors" before in their life. I have been trying better patient and loving parenting with sitting and explaining and showing how much I love them and want them to be safe, which now I see may have been my undoing. I showed them my weakness - that I actually cared about the rules. If I care then they can prick at the heart.......oh......

One last slam of the bedroom door and I went to confront the perpetrator, who of course was Faith, being the only one near the door. I bent down to her level putting my face next too hers with the authoritative mommy questioning face. Did I need to ask at this point? Her response; a quick flash of a mischevious eye and a swift slap to my face. My daughter not only struck me in defiance, she slapped me in the face. I slapped her back. Not my proudest moment. It was impulse and the time had come for immediate feedback. I was further embarrassed that it happened to be in the doorway right in front of the hired help so they witnessed it, not that the conscience of a chirping cricket didn't sing loud enough to my sin.

I hastily moved Faith to her upper bunk and looked, stunned, at her. What had just happened? And how was I now the bad guy? Yes, Faith had already changed that glint into her eye to the dullness and hurt of betryal. Was this my fault? No. How dare you, you little....where did you learn this manipulative trick to deny your guilt? Grrrr.....I will deal with you later. No, better do it now. I carried Faith to the living room to talk with her. At least she listened behind those poisoned eyes. The clarion blue of her innocence was tinged. I hoped the hue would dissapate while honestly talking with her, but it wasn't happening. Time for pennance and the last chip: clean every bit of your room or you are not going to the party.

11:30am and I leave Faith wailing disparraging protests about cleaning her room and Viv in the corner repeating over and over "I will make good choices" (I hoped that maybe repetition might kick the brain in gear. Amazing, however, how mindlessly that girl can operate. Bad wiring). I take a shower, get ready and come out to the same moment in time. Only difference, Danny has peed his pants, a normal response of his to the raging seas around him. He is a good good boy. I get him changed. I release Viv from her cornered standoff and set her to help Faith finish. I tell the girls that I will be taking Danny to the party and then return to see how they are progressing with room. Danny and I walk out the door, hand in hand.

Just as I am about to explain to my neighbor across the street why Danny is the only one at the door with me and that the girls are having a har.....my front door flings open and the impassioned wails of desperate four year old come from mounting from across the road. A moment strikes me that Faith is not going to stop to look for cars before she crosses the street and I worry a bit. "I WANT TO GO TO THE PARTY!" I halt her before reaching the party door and turn her back to our prison. (ironic that just last night I was reading articles on how to create a more homey home, prison bars and barbed wire were not mentioned). I explain to her, and the rest of the neighborhood that I had not left her home alone, Don was there working, I was coming back to check on her status and she was NOT going to the party until she had cleaned the room. "But I almost have the room cleaned" she gasps between hysterical sobs. And you almost get to go to the party.

Sitting stoically on the bench in their room pointing out what to pick up next I wonder, what am I doing? I have to go back to the party, we are Anna's best friends. These girls are transformed and I am not on my best foot today. Onward ho! Room cleaned, Faith is mostly settled under her red swollen eyes and Viv sees a light at the end of the tunnel and thus has begun showing me her happiest face and 'I'm a good girl now!'

Now we are back at the lunch table with a lemon on each plate. To say parents do not get a bit of satisfaction out of playing 'pranks' on their kids would be wrong. My moment of justice comes. Trustingly and true, Faith takes a large bite off the end of her lemon. Her little face contorts and a pained squeal is emitted. "Momma, I don't want to eat this one. It is sour!" As I reassure her she doesn't have to eat it, momma just put it on her plate cuz....well there is where my reason runs out, a few emotions run through me. A bit of mean spirited laughter surfaces, as if Frankenstien had come to life. Then the rush of 'HA' followed by, 'UGH.' Ugh feels more like "really Nancy, what kind of a mom are you?" I know Faith has forgotten by now about the slaps, yet something is still sour.

The rest of the party, for me, was much like the expression of Faith's face. Contorted and controlled. I had to hold back Viv from participating since I couldn't keep her from the party yet needed to reinforce that there are long term consequences to choices made. Finally, a bit of a break through. Viv was getting it. I had held tight to my position painfully enough that she could tell that the 'I'm sweet now' can't cover up the hellian of one hour ago. Ai-yai-yai.

The kids began deteriorating again after 2 hours of party and it was time to face the warden again. I took a 'get out of jail free' card and popped in a movie. It was only a momentary release. Once over they were running around shouting at each other and playing the Last String Symphony. By dinner time everyone had their nose in a corner and I was breathing fire. PB&J was all I could must up to feed them and they were straight to bed. They were tired and finally saw that the casualties of this long battle were blood and it was time to lie down.

As I stood sentinel in their room until silence reigned, I read from a book that has been seeping in understanding and stirring up some remembrance. "The Manipulative Child" by Swihart and Cotter was a natural grab off the shelf in the parenting section. Even barely through the introduction lightbulbs are popping up all over the place. Their clinical examples of Margie, a under-acheiving dependent type; "Margie's world is threatening and fearful. She is constantly on guard to protect her secret.....In contrast "Kathy has learned that failure isn't the end of the world - that it's an unpleasant experience but not a catastrophe. She has learned that failure can be attributed to two things - insufficient effort or an unreasonable goal, and she has learned to distinguish between the two. She has also learned that persistence and patience are the keys to success." These were keys I needed to give to Viv, our little Margie.

I have a broader definition and ideal of what I am working with in Viv as I read a bit more of this book. This definition: "As we accepted the universality of manipulation among troubled youth, we were afforded our first glimpse of the larger pictures. These children were using manipulation to adapt to life's circumstances. Since manipulation requires the involvement of other people, it is dependent behavior. When we compared children who were doing well, the contrast was striking - this group eschewed manipulative behavior; they operated independently. Putting this all together, we arrived at an inevitable series of conclusions; There is a central cause for the epidemic; manipulation (dependency), the principal adapative strategy of troubled children, is not a result of the difficulties these children suffer, but is intimately related to the cause of their problems."

Josh and I have often called this dependency we see that happens generationally in America, particularly, as the 'entitlement epidemic.' Everyone believes that they deserve something from someone else for... just existing. It is a subject that has been mentioned from the broader pulpit. Now I have a deeper tie to what we are personally dealing with in Viv. Not only has she been raised watching this "It's not my fault" behavior, but has learned to cope with her difficult surroundings on a manipulative scale - totally dependent on feedback given by others. We have noted that in her world and feedback, even negative, is better than no feedback. Recognition is key. So we swing wildly around with how to fill that need with appropriate feedback. Today's battle was not giving in to her tug-of-war toward negative feedback. She wants to be put in time out. She wants to throw the fits. And more than anything she wants us to be upset with her. Every once in a fit, Viv gives you a little to stumble on with the 'oh but I am so sweet now' routine in the middle of a fierce battle of holding your anchor. Heels dug in the ground I sit back and think, is it safe to give a bit of positive feed back here or should I just take a set back and gain more ground?

I sat reading, pondering, with a slighter hope of a prayer in my heart that I could change something, or perhaps just I could change and the line jumped off the page "Self-esteem is a dynamic, ever-changing set of beliefs about oneself. It is manifest in a sense of personal competence, self-confidence, and worthiness. It varies from time to time and situation to situation....Self-esteem cannot be given to someone, but the skills to build it can be taught......Self-esteem is most apparent in individuals who have excellent knowledge of their own personal goals and values and live their lives in strict accordance with them." Instantly I remembered a lengthy in home session we had had with a child behavioral specialist regarding Viv during one of her longer and rougher streaks (called ambivalence in the healing stages of damaged children). Jill, the behavioral specialist, had suggest that along with the consistent visual behavioral modifiers we offered for Viv's fits we needed to offer a visual positive goal. A GOAL.

The moment of revelation was quick, and uncharachteristcally I moved quickly as well. The kids were asleep, I couldn't read past that point in the book and I needed to do what I had been putting off for months now.

I have just finished the gold star chart. The progression paths for each of our children that will help them move forward and upward toward an interactive and positive reinforced time with one of their parents. I have put it off for so long because if you have to make one, you have to make three, and that prospect was daunting. Yes, it took me 3 hours to do, but they are decent and it is a renewed try for something better. The bitter taste lingers in my heart for a 'bad mommy day' but I am moving myself forward just a little star on my own better person chart. I am trying. I will continue to try. Who knows if the charts will work. The important lesson today from the lemons was that my kids still trust me. I can learn and am willing to change. I do look forward to more better days ahead. I love my rascals, every one. We all deserve more gold stars each day, even if they are just cut out of yellow paper.

A Review

I just (as in minutes) finished a fantastic book "Ask Me Why I Hurt" by Randy Christensen, MD with Rene Denfeld.

It has been awhile since I read anything but a script and am actually very picky about my reads. I am oh so glad that this new release, last minute placed on the pile book was every more than I expected. The story - A pediatrician in the Phoenix area starts up a mobile health clinic to treat un-insured homeless kids.

I was surprised to read on the jacket, after I had checked the book from the library, that the story was set here. I was not surprised by the stories, and that surprised me. Homeless kids - abused, beaten, neglected- are abundant. One courageous man took on the challenge of helping them. Helping traumatized children is no small task. I've had a little taste of it myself.

The book did not shock me only for the fact that we have been rather closer to the setting, and not just geographically, than ever before. Not even just the abused and neglectful part of the dirty children, for you see like Dr. Randy you look past that with a little hope that your helplessness in the face of their past and dismal future might be worth it. Constantly dragging your fingernails into the fading hope that somehow the heart and heartache you are putting into these little people is for a good purpose.

The review, mostly, is what I have learned in our last 7 months as foster parents. As the behavioral specialist said recently (an emergency intervention for us to keep us from throwing in the towel), "Foster parenting is not for Sissies." You make one initial choice - in or out - and then cling to it for your answer will haunt you and hunt you from there on out. Yet, I have learned, you can modify with peace based in knowledge.

Current modifications based on our six month review:

1-We will (probably) continue to be foster parents, but with in more reasonable reason. Key hint (which we have learned now): it is best to parent foster children that are at least two years younger than your biological children, if you have them. We had thought that by at least keeping Faith as the oldest we would be securing our children somewhat. The greatest danger is actually for the parent mind - chronological comparisson. Traumitized children are always, ALWAYS, emotionally delayed. The more normal norm is that their emotional age is about half of their real age. Understanding that when you are out of the moment is fine, but when you see a 3 year old throwing a massive and uncontrollable fit and you have a two year old that is much better in control you think "WHAT THE?! they are 3! This is not acceptable!" Well...it is....and it is difficult.

2-Wait. Although it is nice for Viv to have siblings her age, it is great for any kid to have siblings their age, it is not great to explain to a four year old in the throngs of 'That isn't fair!' syndrome, which comes very very naturally in that stage of development that Mommy is not being more harsh with you, your sister is just....um....different. Also, as has been more recognizable as we move along, you never know what baggage you are bringing in your house with each kid. It is scary to have your precious angels that you have kept safe from birth now sleeping in the same room without accountability and who knows what sort of a past sleeping on the bottom bunk. It scares us a lot. Which has thrown me into 'heightened parenting' mode. I am never out of ear shot of my kids. I always have to know were Viv is, not just for her saftey, but for the safety of my son and my daughter. She is a darling and wonderful and cute littler girl. But she was taught a whole lot different from birth. So, wait. Wait until your own precious ones can understand their environment and be strong enough to resist whatever unknown evil we have brought in the home to help, to heal, to soothe.

3-Once you're in, then you'll learn. I don't like to be discouraging about foster care, heaven knows the world needs more parents to help these kids, but you can always think yourself wonderful and charitable until you are in the thick of it and you realize you are less than what you had hoped you were and your capability to heal is more akin to a Disney print bandaid on an arterial wound. Bandaid is better than nothing. Growing as a person is good too.

Just as Dr. Randy concludes, over a lot of time, you see some hope, some good results and you think, sure, I did okay, but it takes the review to get the perspective. And a good intensive read. Good book. Good review. Back to Parenting 505.