Catch Up in Six

I've started this post five different times over the past week or so.  

FIRST  THINGS  FIRST

New Year's was fun.  This is the first year in twelve years that we haven't had a baby in the house which means we didn't need to be quiet!  One was at a friend's house to ring in the new year, a first for her (not being with us for the celebration).  We kept the other kids awake and entertained by playing games with them. Then, as the countdown began, I passed out pots and pans and when it was officially the new year, we cheered and made a lot of noise.  The kids loved this and so did we.  It was especially great because immediately after, they were all ready for bed, something that never happens around here.

With the New Year comes resolutions.  I love setting goals and checking them off.  It feels really good, especially because it seems that I am forever stuck on the same day that never seems to end (and I do mean that with all the love in my heart).  Each year we (I) take individual time with the kids to help them set a few goals (six actually.  in the following areas: home & family, spiritual, social & community, exercise & physical fitness, learning and education, and talents, interests & hobbies).  While I most definitely suggest some, I let them come up with and decide on their own goals.  (i.e. memorize the states and capitals in order of statehood vs. break the world record for the most back hand springs in a row; guess which was my idea)  

Because I have about a million things that I need to improve on, I'll only share with you two that involve my interactions with my children and which I feel are the most important for me at this time.

1) tuck my kids in at night.  I used to always be the one to tuck them in.  Huz has taken that over the past two years for me, but I felt that I ought to take it up again as there aren't that many years left before I won't have anyone to tuck in anymore:(

2) 'That they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.' John 17:3  I want to make sure that my kids know that this is the most important thing I want them to learn.  More important than doing their jobs, getting a good education, learning to be self-sufficient.  I believe that if they can really know and understand and have a relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, the rest will happen, too.

SECOND

BoyTwo's 'new deal' didn't last very long.  I would have liked to see it continue on, but he had some 'encouraging' and 'decided' that he was ready to do jobs again.  He did make it to one church service in his pjs.  I think he had originally thought that the other children from our congregation would think this hilarious, he didn't get from them the response he had hoped for and this had a lot to do with him changing his mind.  He has since said to me several times over the past week, 'Mom, remember when I say I didn't want to do jobs and I stay in my pajamas in my room?'  me, 'yep.'  him, 'that was crazy.' like it was years ago instead of days ago.

THIRD

A year ago, because of health problems that all the females in our family were experiencing, we went dairy free (casein free) on the advice of our family doctor.  It was life changing for us and, as a former, and honestly current, ice cream addict, I don't say this lightly.  Interestingly, while it significantly improved our health, it also positively impacted BoyTwo's behavior.  While only slightly, we will take any and all improvements that we can:)  

Fast forward to now, a year later, we are still having some health problems, with Three being the most symptomatic.  Soooo, I took her to our new (much more geographically close) doctor wondering if she was anemic or what.  Doctor said, 'let's do a blood test and check for anemia and for some allergies.'  Because I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, I said, 'oh.  okay.  We do have dogs and a cat.'  Hello.  She was talking food allergies.  Anyhow.  Last week when I got home from second grade one afternoon, there was a message on our machine from the doctor's office asking me to call back about the blood draw.  I knew something had shown up because otherwise they would have said that everything looked fine, no need to call back.  When I did get ahold of them, they told me that Three had tested positive for allergies to, drumroll please, wheat, eggs, and peanuts.  Please remember that we are already dairy free.  

WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE WE SUPPOSED TO EAT?!

They also advised me to take her to an allergist who confirmed her allergies but added that they were not life-threatening but that we may not want to get any flu shots because they contain egg.  Did you know that?!  The allergist advised us to do a trial elimination diet which is what we did with dairy a year ago.  I've decided that going dairy free a year ago was a huge blessing in disguise.  We literally cried about having to give up dairy but have managed quite nicely.  I have been able to recreate all of my recipes or find new ones that we like just as well.  We are eating much more healthily and feel much better.  Still, I was shocked to find out about these allergies.  Shocked enough that I said to the doctor, 'But we have some sort of food with egg in it nearly every day!' to which she replied, 'that's probably why she is sick every day.'  Oh, right.  Duh.  Anyhow.  This past week while I've waited for our allergist appointment, I decided to not go crazy and throw away my food storage and drive 2 hours to the nearest health food/gluten free store to grocery shop.  Instead, I've scoured the internet looking for recipes and reading, reading, reading.  Pretty much it sucks.  Or at least it sucks right now.  I've decided that you really either need wheat or dairy in your life to make it even sort of easy to find something tasty to eat.  This opinion is based on the experimenting I've done this past week and the epic fails that have taken place.  We have had a couple (literally two) successes, so it's not all a loss.  I am sort of hopeful that with the elimination diet we'll find that wheat isn't really that problematic or eggs (but I'm really hoping that wheat will work out for us).  But, if it doesn't, we'll adjust because let me tell you: If we can go dairy free, we can do anything!!  (except get BoyTwo to behave at school:))

In case you don't know what an elimination diet is, let me tell you.  You very strictly eliminate one allergen from your diet for at least two weeks.  With the dairy we did a solid month.  Then, you reintroduce that allergen to your diet and see how your body reacts, or doesn't.  If it does, then you know your culprit.  If you don't react, you're safe to go back.  With the dairy trial, we didn't eat anything with any sort of milk product in it.  On day 32 we all ate ice cream and proceeded to get sick.  This is how we knew it was dairy.  Hopeful that it may have been lactose, we bought lactose pills and tried to eat ice cream again.  No go.  It's the casein.

FOURTH

Here's the biggest news for the day.  BoyTwo was approved for special education services.  It took having the district supervisor for our school district come to test him and then her supervisor to approve him, but in the end, he qualified.  Everyone agreed that he needed it.  He even had the scores to show that he did.  The problem was that there was serious concern that 'someone' could claim these low scores were due to him not being completely proficient in the English language, so there were a lot of extra little hoops to jump through.  I'm really excited for him.  I'm really grateful to the school for pushing for it as much as they did and for advocating for him.  I'm hoping that this will help him in a number of ways.  I think that the smaller classroom setting will be hugely beneficial.  At our school special ed is what we used to call resource.  The kids are pulled out once or twice a day to a different classroom to receive much more help and in depth practice of basic concepts.  There is also a 3 students:1 teacher ratio.  He will continue to receive his ELL services, along with reading intervention and private lunches.  

FIFTH

I have had some great talks with BoyOne recently.  I would highly encourage anyone to figure out how to cut their children's hair.  You wouldn't believe the talks we have while I'm cutting their hair.  Maybe it's because they don't have to look directly at me or something.  I don't know.  

SIXTH

I haven't blogged about the boys' one year anniversary yet.  I haven't been able to emotionally.  There are way too many feelings that I can't deal with all at once.  At least not yet.  There is just too much loss associated with it.  It may sound odd, I know.  It was a great gain for us, personally, to finally have the boys with us and I am SO, SO grateful.  Please, don't misunderstand that.  There is just so much other loss.  Recently, I read a post by a blog friend that adopted shortly after we did from the same region.  She was commemorating their one year anniversary.  There were pictures of places I had been, streets I had walked, etc.  And oh my gosh.  The thing that got to me the very most was her pictures of leaving the orphanage.  Thinking of all those who are left behind.  That's what keeps me up at night.  Thinking about my kids and His.  

The Gray Hair and Other Random Stories

First off, to be clear, there is definitely more than one gray hair.  And it's not gray.  It's white.  I skipped right past gray and beautiful silver and started growing me some great-granny hairs.  Fortunately (?!) I'm not graying in any one particular area, but quite randomly and all over, but I won't/can't complain because my sisters would kill me. :)

Back to the story.  A couple weeks ago at church, BoyTwo suddenly gasped (quite irreverently) and stared at me, mouth gaping.  He looked truly shocked so I asked him what the matter was.  He replied,

'Mom.  You have a gray hair!'

To which I smiled, slightly amused, and said, 

'BoyTwo, I have LOTS of gray hairs.'

Sadly, he actually looked a little distraught.  In the end I discovered that he saw gray hair as a sign of aging (don't we all...) and was concerned that I may not be around forever to take care of him!  Did you all grasp the magnitude of that???  In his state of shock, he revealed to me (in a round about sort of way) that he was planning on me being around to take care of him forever.  Not only that but was upset at the idea that this may not be the case!  Huge, people.  Huge.

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Recently, when Huz delivered a store-bought tin of cookies to take as a holiday treat to a neighbor, said neighbor commented to him that she remembered back when we first moved in and how his wife (me) used to bake treats to bring to the neighbors.  hahahahaha

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Sickness is going around which is a bit of a bummer, but inevitable and I'd rather get it over while the kids are in school than have them be sick during the holiday break.  Two weeks ago it was me, followed by BoyTwo, followed by One, followed by Three, followed by (and currently) BoyOne (who had to be comforted today because he thought that if he was sick he would simply MISS Christmas.  How sad is that?!  But I guess in an orphanage, if you are sick and at the 'hospital' for Christmas, you just miss getting your two pieces of chocolate and extra piece of fruit and then the day is over and done and you've missed it.  He was relieved to find out that in a family, even if you are sick and in the hospital-which he is not, you would still get Christmas.), Two and Four.  Huz never gets sick.  Seriously.  He's never had strep throat or an ear infection (according to him.  I should check this with his mother).  The one time in our nearly 15 years of marriage that he ever had the stomach flu, he threw up three times and went to play basketball for four hours.  So, we're not really worried about him.

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a text I just found that I sent to Huz recently:

'your daughters are farting to warm their butts'

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Huz is about to begin construction of his man house in the backyard.  The girls are EMOTIONAL!!  It's quite entertaining if you can stand the volume (both sound and quantity).  Examples:

from one unnamed daughter to another:

'You are the bossiest kid in the whole world!'

which resulted in bossiest kid in the whole world running into the bathroom, slamming the door and sobbing for 45 minutes.

example 2:

'Great!  I think Santa's going to put me on the naughty list because I called ______ the i word!' followed by complete and utter devastation manifested in unconsolable tears. (on the upside this provided a great learning moment and discussion about saying sorry and asking forgiveness)

*by the way, the i word is idiot for those of you who, like myself, have no idea what the i word is*

example 3:

I recently had 'the talk' with one of my daughters.  And by 'the talk' I mean the one about the jolly red fellow who has a magic sled that flies through the sky and then manages to fit down everyone's chimney in one night bearing gifts for all.   I also recently had 'the talk' with another daughter and by 'the talk' this time I mean how she and other babies came to be.  Both talks ended with each child saying the same thing, disgustedly:  'What?!  Are you kidding me?!  You and dad do that?!'  lol.

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Because a post wouldn't be a post without a couple BoyTwo stories, here you go:

Last night, BoyTwo forgot how to eat.  I made sloppy joes (which I know sounds super disgusting, but it is a family favorite and everyone who tries them is truly surprised.  in a good way.  season and brown 2 lbs ground turkey with some onions, add a bunch of ketchup, 1/4 c water, 1/4 c brown sugar, 2 t worcestershire sauce, and some chili powder.  mix it all together and add more of whatever it needs.  it's good.  i promise.  and quick and easy and we have it at least every 10 days) and he could. not. figure out how to eat it.  First he sat and poked it with his finger while his mouth hanging open as if he expected that the mere act of poking one's food would catapult it up into his mouth.  After about ten minutes of this, he picked it up at the very top (remember, these are SLOPPY joes??) and shook the insides out the bottom, again with his mouth hanging open as if he expected the food to fall out and up into his mouth instead of out and onto his plate, table, floor and self.  He then proceeded to pull it apart, or as I told Huz, who was fortunate enough to miss this blessed event, mutilated it.  All the while his siblings could hardly handle themselves or refrain from giving him the attention (although negative, he does not care, attention is attention) he was hoping for.  At one point I caught him watching me with a smug smile on his face.  When he saw that I was looking at him, he hurried and changed his expression to confusion and began poking his food again.  

I know, I know.  Take the plate away.  But I actually think he was trying to get me to do that this time, so I didn't.  He was trying to push buttons and it was SO obvious.  Finally, as we began to clear the table, he shoved, literally, the sandwich in his mouth in three bites.  Gross.  Then he got to clean up the mess he had made.  I was annoyed and so was he.  I because I seriously cannot figure out how and why in the world he comes up with these random games (maybe that's a poor choice of words, but it's what comes to mind each time something like this happens), and he because he was so hungry, had wasted time trying to control us (not sure if it was me or his siblings he was after or all of us), ended up eating a very cold favorite dinner of his, had to clean up his disgusto mess, and didn't get the reaction he was looking for.

and from today:

He got to school at nine and when I arrived back at the school at 10:45, his teacher had a 'sad' story to tell me.  She says sad when it's something that he did that wasn't terrible but that resulted in a consequence.  Evidently, he had been kicking the chair of the girl in front of him, and happened to kick her a few times.  When he wouldn't stop, she went to get help from the teacher.  Teacher removed him. When she began to speak to him about school work, he promptly covered his ears and glared at her, so she gave him two options.  1) uncover your ears or 2) go to the office.  He chose the office.

Which I thought worked out perfectly because he was only punishing himself, only he has this one figured out because once he got to the office (I later found out) he told them that he had become embarrassed in class and had come here for a break.  So, not quite a consequence.

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Huge thanks to the dialogue of comments from the last post.  I checked out the resources suggested and they are great!  Sometimes it helps to just know that there are other people out there that have kids with 'invisible' problems or disabilities and that there are others out there who can offer hope. 

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Last, but not least, I do believe that BoyTwo is recognizing within himself, somewhere, that he is becoming attached and has expectations of us that are positive and it's freaking him out a little bit which manifests itself in quite lovely behavior.  It's okay.  We can take it.  Sometimes (okay, frequently) I may need to vent, but we can do it, Huz and I.  We can trust that somewhere, beyond the behavior and the little boy who has been so hurt and left to his own devices for too many years, there is a little boy that God knows and is familiar with.  A little boy that He has a plan for and that He made in His image.  While I'm here, I might as well mention that I don't have a perfect faith.  I wish I did.  It's really more like I can't see how in the world this is all going to end up pretty, but I'm willing to believe that it can and to trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus that it will because, frankly, They've never let me down before.  I wish that every time Mr. Crazy came to play, I could remain calm and unfazed, serene and loving ON THE INSIDE (I do a pretty decent job of portraying this on the outside, but often I'm like 'what the crap?!' in my mind).  I wish that I could see the end result.  Right now.  So that I knew where and when the end was and how it would all work out.  But that's not really how it works, is it?  I believe that the outcome is only part of the test.  The other part?  How you GET to the outcome.    

Thankful

My house is quiet.  It is late and everyone is sleeping.  I am baking.  

(I decided to bake desserts after all:))

The pumpkin dessert is in the oven baking, the pie crust is awaiting the oven, the brownies (yeah, I know, not your traditional turkey day indulgence, but I'm trying to provide a dairy free option) are waiting their turn for the oven also, the vegetables for the stuffing are prepped and in the fridge.  The laundry is getting caught up.  The bathrooms are clean, the house is (fairly) clean.  During this quiet time when there is no school tomorrow to be worrying about, no presentation to be preparing for, no 'pressing matters' to occupy my mind, my mind and heart are able to wander, to think freely.  

I think about BoyOne and BoyTwo and the amazing progress they have made here, in a family, our family.  I am overwhelmed by this miraculous transformation that is taking place in them physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and the equally as miraculous transformations that are taking place in the rest of us for opening our hearts to them.  

Right now, while BoyTwo is comfortably sleeping, all cozied up in a warm bed with his little stuffed animals and pillow and blanket, I can easily see the innocent child that he is.  His disabilities become invisible to me and the trials these disabilities present every day seem far away.  This is a rare occasion, sadly.  I wish he could have been here his whole life.  I wish I could have protected him from the effects of the lifestyle he was thrown into both prenatally and as an infant and toddler.  I wish that his whole life didn't have to be so difficult.  Even here, it is difficult for him.  Learning a new language.  Not being able to trust.  Still wondering about having enough to eat.  I wish I could make it all go away for him.

I remember all the people in Ukraine who had given up on BoyTwo.  At the age of 7!!  I don't judge them at all as I did initially.  If anything, I have far more respect for them and the difficult job they face of trying to teach and train and raise children in less than desirable circumstances, with very few resources.  Have they heard of FAS?  Do they have any idea about learning disabilities?  My word, they don't even understand physical disabilities.  Can you imagine the frustration they have trying to teach these children who appear to be 'normal' but cannot learn?  Can you imagine the irritation they feel when day after long day the child appears to be not listening or trying?  What about the outright defiance they have to endure?  I can empathize with them over this.  I have lived with it for the past year.  I have been spit on, sworn at, called names, hit, bit, had things thrown at me, etc., by one child!  Many times each of these things happened every day, day after day.  The orphanage the boys came from had nearly 300 children living there!  Can you imagine having multiple children doing this to you, day after day, year after year?!

I think of my (biological) little girls who have their own struggles, of the fight it has been, here in a free country with a surplus of knowledge and resources, to try to understand them and to find the help for them that they need.  I see them try so very hard every. single. day and still not understand what they are being taught and struggle to fit in.  What would have become of them if they had been the orphan in Ukraine?  It makes me sick to my stomach to think about what might have happened to Two, who, as an infant, literally cried hours and hours each day.  She couldn't tolerate most of the formulas we tried to supplement with and couldn't even tolerate rice cereal until she was 10 months old.  People.  She didn't even sleep longer than an hour at a time until she was 10 months old.  Even in the night.  She was completely nonverbal, no cooing, ahhing or utterance, until she was 1 1/2, except for when she was screaming bloody murder. She had a very difficult time making eye contact.  She couldn't hear well because of constant ear infections.  She was very small and grew slowly.  I can't imagine that with so many children needing attention, someone being able to sit with her for hours and hours, holding her and working with her, insisting on eye contact.  I can't imagine that there would have been anyone who would have been able, even if they wanted, to feed her one ounce of a bottle every hour and hold her until it had digested enough that she wouldn't throw most of it up.  Would someone have been able to take the time to learn sign language so that they could then teach her sign language so she could begin to communicate?  I'm not sure, but I imagine that babies like this are probably sent to separate orphanages for babies and young children with special needs.  Sometimes, at these orphanages, if they are lucky, they are treated well.  Sometimes, they aren't lucky and they lay in beds or cribs all day, every day, year after year.  After this, I know what happens.  When they turn 7 they are sent to a mental institution with people ages 7 on through adult.  Their circumstances are dire.  

What would happen to Three?  She looks normal, but would appear to be defiant because she does not listen.  We know that she is listening but does not understand what she is being told.  They would not know this.  They wouldn't understand this.  Would her orphanage staff had given up on her, deeming her unable to learn?

Tonight I am so grateful that I am their mom.  I am so grateful for each of my six children.  I am grateful that they are here with me, under my roof, within my reach.  I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for blessing me with the resources and insight I need to see my children for who they are and who they have the potential to become.  I am so grateful that I know of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.  I am so grateful that I know that I can ask Them for help and for strength and for forgiveness.  I am so grateful that They know my children, and me, our needs, strengths, and weaknesses and how to overcome them through Them.  I am really grateful that I have been blessed with a simple and quick faith.  I am grateful for prayer.  I am grateful for the relationship I have with my Heavenly Father and Savior.  I am grateful for their unfailing, perfect love.

With this gratitude and thankful heart, there is the flip side, and I wonder and worry about all the other misunderstood children in the world.  

Sisterly Love

Friday was the school spelling bee.  Each class had held a spelling bee within its own classroom and sent three representatives (1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners) to the school wide competition.  One was one of the representatives from her classroom.  

I was a volunteer at the spelling bee which meant I couldn't be anywhere near my daughter:)  After I took her picture (which I will add to this post someday when I have time to upload my phone pics to the computer), I took my place in front of the stage.  To begin, they have the kids use a dry erase board and they all write the word.  If they get it right, they stay.  If they get it wrong, they are dismissed.  This is a quick way to eliminate quite a few kids and get to the nitty gritty.

The first word given was 'etching.'

Out of the six kids I was supervising (making sure they weren't cheating and checking their spelling), only two of them spelled the word right.  I felt so bad for the four who didn't.  I glanced over to where One was sitting so that I could flash her a little smile of encouragement, but to my surprise, she had come down from her spot and was exiting.  Because of where I was standing, every kid had to pass by me.  As she passed me I could tell that she was very upset, about to cry.  She said, 'I spelled the wrong word.'  I felt so bad for her!  I did think it was a little funny that she had somehow spelled the wrong word.  I really wished that I could follow her off the floor and give her a hug and comfort her.  I really felt badly that I couldn't do anything for her.

The spelling bee continued several more rounds with the dry erase boards.  About 15 minutes later, the dry erase boards were no longer needed and the 'traditional' spelling bee began (where they have the kids come up one at a time, say the word, spell it, next kid goes).  I helped put away the markers and boards and erasers and hurried to find One.  She wasn't with her class (this didn't really surprise me), so I headed to the nearest bathroom.

When I entered the bathroom, I looked to the ground to find her shoes so that I knew which stall she was in.  And the most beautiful thing ever happened.

In the very last stall I saw TWO pair of shoes.  One's and Two's.  Two had seen One get dismissed and could see that she was upset and that I was occupied.  She asked her teacher to be excused to the bathroom and went after her big sister to comfort her.  Another thing that I was impressed by was the fact that One was allowing Two to comfort her.  There was no 'leave me alone!' or 'get out of here!' that sometimes occurs with siblings.

I wanted to be with One.  I wanted to hug her and wipe her tears.  I wanted to encourage her and tell her I loved her and that I was proud of her efforts.  (I also wanted to find out what word she spelled instead of etching.)  However, I couldn't be there, but somebody else could.  My other daughter.  She saw her sister's need and without being told what to do, she filled that need.  

My heart felt so good.

Then I had one of those little epiphanies.

Heavenly Father and Jesus cannot physically be here with us on this earth.  I am here though.  We all are.  Will I see my sister's (or brother's) need?  Do I recognize my neighbor, grocery bagger, the kid at school, the random person at the store, the person I shared a pew with at church as my brother or sister?  Do I recognize, perceive, notice, allow myself to become aware of that person's need?  Will I fill that need?  Do I wait to be poked and prodded?  Do I need a personal invitation to assist?  Am I so wrapped up in my own busy life that it becomes too hard for me to excuse myself from the middle of the row in the middle of the gymnasium in the middle of the spelling bee assembly to help my sister?  

And, once again, the children teach their mother.

CAPD

***warning.  loooooooooooong***

Monday Three was formally diagnosed with Central Auditory Processing Disorder, aka CAPD, a learning disability called Specific Language Impairment (SLI), along with a possibility of dyslexia.

CAPD is a group of problems that can occur individually or in combinations with one or more aspects of the central auditory process.  It is estimated that approximately 2-3% of the population has this disorder with boys outnumbering girls by 2:1.  People with CAPD do not have hearing loss.  There are ten processes that take place in processing sound once it is detected (heard).  Three has difficulties in seven of these areas.

SLI kids have difficulties with oral language outside the typical range and can be diagnosed by an SLP (speech language pathologist).  A variety of components of oral language may be affected (grammatical and syntactic development e.g., correct verb tense, word order and sentence structure, semantic development e.g. vocab knowledge, and phonological development.  Three is affected in all of these areas.  SLI kids may also have receptive or expressive difficulties.  Three has difficulties in both areas.  

If you're a little confused and overwhelmed by that information, join the club.  Prior to Monday, I had heard of CAPD back when Two was diagnosed with SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder).  I knew a precious little about it, but enough to know some of the 'red flags' for it, yet somehow had totally missed them.  Needless to say, I have had several sleepless nights as I have read and tried to comprehend pages of information provided by the doctor, scoured the internet and searched out other articles. 

Now that it's been almost a week, I feel more informed about CAPD, more stressed about finding therapy for it and far more aware of Three than I was before.

Interestingly, CAPD is a sensory related disorder as all of the steps for auditory processing happen on the sensory input side of things.  Two has a sensory disorder.  Hmm.  Is this hereditary??  These sensory related problems?  I don't know the answer to that yet.  There are certain aspects of sensory related problems that can be hereditary, but as far as sensory problems being hereditary?  Not sure.  

Let me relay the above information to you in a way that may make more sense.  At least in a way that makes more sense to me:

Last school year, when Three was tested for special ed due to extreme reading difficulties, she was denied services due to doing remarkably well on the tests.  However, at that time, it was discovered that she had a 'language impairment' and qualified for speech therapy.  It is important to note that this therapy is NOT for pronunciation/articulation of words as I once thought all speech therapy was for.  She was receiving therapy for expressive and receptive language skills.  Remember those words from the third paragraph above?  At the time of the IEP meeting, I did not realize that they were diagnosing her with something.  I was busy trying to figure out how she had done so well on her testing and why they were not going to help her when she could. not. read.  I simply thought that they recognized she had a little problem with both receptive and expressive language and that they were able to approve her for therapy for that.  Basically, I knew that she had a problem with this, but I didn't realize it was a learning disability or the extent to which she was affected by it.  Even after seeing their test scores.  I still was thinking that the school speech pathologist was just being really nice.  This was not a primary concern of mine.  Now it is.  It has been spelled out for me in a much more concise form.  I have learned a whole lot more about it.  Evidently it's a much bigger deal than I realized and while the speech pathologist is nice, she wasn't just being nice.

CAPD.  Let me relate this to something you may be more familiar with:  A person can have 20/20 vision and still be color blind.  Their eyes see just fine, their brain does not, for some reason, process color.  Three can hear just fine.  Her brain, for some reason, does not process sound the same way ours does.  What is this like??  Two examples.  

1) Have you ever been on a phone call with someone who is on their cell phone and they have terrible reception?  Or maybe you are the one on your cell and it has bad reception.  You are only hearing about every three words and the words you do hear, you are only hearing parts of?  I'm very familiar with this phenomenon.  We have TERRIBLE reception up here in the mountains where we live.  During the whole conversation you are trying SO HARD to figure out what the person is saying and trying to decode those words that you only heard a part of.  If your kids are being loud, you tell them to shush.  If you have the radio on, you turn it off in an effort to eliminate other noise so that you can better focus on the phone call you are straining to hear.  If you are driving and it's a call that you must stay with, you may even pull over because it is taking too much of your attention to continue driving and conversing.  That's pretty much how it is for Three.  When I heard this I was pretty skeptical, but I have the audiology reports to prove it.  Hard to be skeptical with that sort of information in your face.

2) I am SO grateful that I attempted to learn some Russian prior to my trip to Ukraine.  For far more reasons now than I was aware of then.  This is a HUGE blessing in my being able to somewhat understand what Three is going through.  This next example has to do with that.  When I went to Ukraine, I had learned the cyrillic alphabet.  This proved to be enormously helpful as I was able to read everything.  Even though I often read slowly, I could read it.  Because I had started to learn the Russian language, there were a few words I even understood.  When I read our court documents (the ones in cyrillic), I could read it all.  I could not understand but maybe half of it.  And just because I could read it all did NOT mean that I could pronounce it all correctly.  Also, when engaging in conversations with natives, I relied heavily on body language, facial expressions and the few basic words I was familiar with so that I could catch the jist of the conversation.  It was enormously helpful for people to speak to me more slowly than they typically would as it took extra time for me to process what they were saying.  When people speak quickly it often sounds as though they are saying one big, huge, long word (if you doubt me, let me tell you about BoyTwo who would. not. quit. singing 'eyelockamoomamooma' over and over and over.  What was he singing??  'I like to move it, move it,' from Madagasca.r.  He STILL thinks it's hilarious that he thought it was one big word.).  When I was in Ukraine I had to really concentrate and focus and decode (break down) the conversation in my head as the person spoke.  Often my response was slightly delayed (maybe only a second or two, but not usually instantaneous).  Not only were they speaking a foreign language with conjugations and masculine and feminine words that would change the ending on words in the entire sentence, they have sounds in their language that do not exist in ours.  They also have sound combinations that are not familiar to us.  This is what English is like for Three.  The same thing may sound different to her every time she hears it.

As for not diagnosing dyslexia at this time?  Although Three presents as though she is dyslexic, studies indicate that as many as 50-75% of people with SLI have problems reading and the statistics indicate similar numbers with CAPD.  Out of the seven people I have found (only one is in real life.  Four were mentioned as part of an article and the other two were blogs that pulled up that are not current) that have CAPD, three are also diagnosed dyslexics and the other three have significant reading struggles.  The last one is the real life person.  I actually only know her aunt and she wasn't sure about the reading thing.  It is possible that Three's reading difficulties are simply (haha as if any of this is simple) due to her SLI or CAPD.  

It is overwhelming to me, as I research therapies to improve Three's ability to process sound, that there are not very many options and that the options available all have conflicting reports of progress.  Where one person has significant improvements with one therapy, another has few.  Unfortunately all of these therapies are quite expensive (of course, not necessarily because they are trying to take advantage of you but because they are so intense.  Each one recommended to me by the doctor involves a minimum of 3 days a week, with 5 days a week being the recommendation, for at least one hour each session).   These therapies also take time to see results as we are literally trying to teach her brain something that it never learned, not to mention the fact that she is about two full years behind in her language development.  So it's not feasible that I 'try' something out for a few months without taking a loss either monetarily or time-wise if something doesn't work out.

How did I miss this??  How do you not notice that your kid cannot process language??  I don't know.   I did beat myself up over this briefly, and still do a few times a day, but in the end have decided it's not worth it.  I don't have time to feel bad about not figuring this out.  Also, I can think the same question two different ways:  why me?  1) was it something I did wrong when I was pregnant? etc, or 2) why did the Lord choose to bless me with this particular child who has this particular struggle?  He must have something up his sleeve.  I need to figure out how we are to use this to bless us and others.  

But really, I'm sure some of you are sincerely wondering how in the world I missed this and for you, I do have a few logical explanations.  Because she has poor language skills, Three cannot adequately express herself to me.  Because her sister right above her in age also has language difficulties that are/were more prevalent, Three's language difficulties didn't seem so bad.  It's hard to know that something is wrong when it seems to be so much better than the same thing in someone else.  Does that make sense??  There have been times before (but really only a few over the course of three + years of schooling) when she has told me, 'I didn't finish my worksheet because I couldn't hear how to do it.  It was too loud to hear my teacher.'  People, she's in second grade.  As this is not something she complains about frequently or even often, I thought it was a volume or sound issue.  I merely thought the kids in the class were just being kind of loud that day and that she literally couldn't hear the teacher very well over the noise.  Also, because this is how it has ALWAYS been for her, she doesn't know anything different and therefore does not complain about it hardly at all.  Every day she struggles with this.  (It's just like when I quit eating dairy and realized how sick I had been feeling every single day.  I didn't ever know until it had been taken care of.  I knew that I didn't feel great, but I had no idea I was feeling so badly because it was how I had always felt for my entire life.)  At home??  Well, I have one special needs child already, Two.  The way I interact with her carries over into how I interact with all of my other children.  Many of the ways I interact with her and the way we do things at our house already are 'recommended interventions' in how I ought to interact with Three.  Because I was always doing these things with her, I didn't notice anything odd.  There wasn't a time when I was NOT doing these things to notice something was awry.  Add to that, recently, two children that do not speak the same language as we do and we do a lot of pictures and body language and use few words (hard to believe, I know) when giving directives.  

Anyhow, enough words from someone who routinely uses limited spoken words at home:)

Thank You Pioneers

What?!  Two posts in one day?  

I'm feeling brave.  I'm feeling like I can/should share some of my thoughts and feelings that I have been keeping on the dl.  And, because I can't seem to ever cut to the chase, this'll probably be long.  oh well.

So, I had this little epiphany back in July.  My state was settled by pioneers.  They went through a lot of crap to get here and, let's be honest, I've always wondered how they really felt when they got here.  No offense to the natives (as in those who have lived here forever, not Native Americans), because truly there are some fabulously beautiful parts of this state, but I've often looked around and imagined what this vast desert land looked like upon arrival.  One of the hikes I took my kids on this summer threw this all together for me.  The first part of the hike was ok.  Not as beautiful as our other hikes, but not awful.  Then there was a steep uphill and we ended up on this little plateau-ish (look at me using my 9th grade science skills) area that was pretty blah.  Sage brush, dust, cacti and more sage.  Gag.  My kids were like, 'this looks like the middle of the desert!' and I was like 'newsflash, we live in the middle of a desert.'  haha.  Anyhow, this was one of those moments where I had one of my little imagining moments.

I pictured myself coming over the crest of a steep mountain, hands and feet frost bitten, half starved, having lost several members of my family, having left behind all of my material possessions, having barely survived the terror of mobs and the absolute freezing cold elements that Mother Nature provided us with.  I imagined my heart beginning to race with excitement at the thought of finally, FINALLY, being able to see where I would be able to live and believe in the faith that I had without persecution.  The place that God had promised.  A place to be safe.  The place that my family would call home.  It's like a scene from a movie.

And then the guy in front of me moves out of my line of vision and the dramatic/happy music playing in my head screeches to a halt and I start blinking rapidly trying to make my eyes adjust to what I am hoping I am not seeing just as I hear a loud voice exclaim, 'This is the place!'

I'm pretty sure I wasn't a pioneer because 1) I would have never survived, 2) my attitude would have really sucked, 3) oh ye of little faith?  that's me.  Back to my imaginary scene.

'This is the place!'

I think I would've said with a big, fake smile,

'I'm sorry.  I just hallucinated!  I thought I heard you say this is the place.'  

and then, when I had been reassured that I had indeed heard correctly, I'm pretty sure I would've gone a little ape and possibly said something along the lines of 'This?!  This is the place?!  You have got. to be kidding me.  What have I done?  What have I done?  What am I going to do?  How much do I really believe in what I proclaim to believe in?'  Probably a little bit disappointed and possibly a tad panicked.  It was a desert with a lake filled with unusable salt water, for Pete's sake!!  I would've probably thought, 'I'm supposed to farm this?!  I went through all THAT to get HERE?!'

But I've never heard any stories like that!  I always read historic accounts and journal entries saying how blessed the people felt and how grateful they were to be here in this beautiful land (really pretty now, but pretty sure most of the trees weren't there when the pioneers arrived.  Just sayin').  I've always wondered if there were any like me who were trying to act happy and excited who, when night finally fell, cried themselves to sleep because they were so scared at the reality of this new home.

*light bulb!*

(and this all came to me in a milli-second)

And I heard those words again, with different inflection and no tone of hysteria,

'I went through all that to get here.'

As in:

1) if it hadn't been so hard to get here, I probably would not have truly been grateful for or appreciated this place,

2) there is a reason we go through the things that we do.  Regardless of the trial being caused by bad luck, bad decisions (ours or others), or whatever you want to blame it on, I believe that our Heavenly Father will follow us down whatever road we are on and use the situation we are in to bring us closer to him.  

Relative to Stephanie:

1) if it hadn't been so hard to get THEM here, I probably would not be truly grateful for them or appreciate the miracle that they are and the miracle that they are here,

and

2) Heavenly Father knew that this next part was going to be really hard.  Like really hard, guys.  He needed to know that I had it in me to fight for them to get here so that once they were here I could continue to fight for them in ways I hadn't anticipated.  He knew that I needed to see miracles happen and witness heaven moving earth so that there would be no way I could doubt that it was meant to be.  I've never doubted once or wondered if we really did the right thing.  I've always known.  Because of what we went through and the miracles we witnessed.

You know the other really great thing about the whole pioneer analogy?  Well, I'll tell you what would have happened next if I had been a pioneer so that you can sort of know where I may be at.

I probably would have been bummed (to put it mildly) but realized that for the sake of my family I needed to put on my big girl panties and get to work so that we didn't all die.  And I would've worked really hard and really long and honestly, cried myself to sleep a few more nights, at least.  And every time I had to plow that ground and plant more seeds hoping that something would grow so that we wouldn't all starve, I would remember the miracles that took place in order for me to get here and it would keep me going. I would remember that if I did my part, even if it was just going through the motions, He would do His.  It probably would've been rough at first.  Winters here can be harsh and remember, we came here with absolutely nothing.  I would've been able to harvest just barely enough food to survive off of.  I would've, unfortunately, at times lost patience and been mad that it was so hard to get a new life here started.  I'd have been bugged that there wasn't a single tree here except the ones that I had planted and man, were they taking a loooong time to grow.  Would they even make it???  Is it possible that they could or would ever even offer shade or fruits or beauty???  Then one day, while I would be out working in the field, I would happen to look up and see that those trees were finally starting to grow and while they were a long ways off from having fruit or offering shade (because really, I started with a half dead twig I'd been lucky enough to find along the way, not even a healthy seed!), they hadn't died yet!  And then rushing through my mind would be an image of this desert valley as it is now and I would think, 'wow!  This is going to be really beautiful some day!'

To go along with my pioneer theme, here's a picture of the cutest pioneer known to man (taken about 3 years ago):

Seriously though, did that not just make your day?!

Alive!

Last week this title would have been 

'Alive, barely'

This week it is 

'Alive!'

And I am so glad that has changed.  There's a lot to update on.  We've been without a computer for almost two weeks (augh!!! try to plan lessons without a computer, etc!) and so I haven't recorded all the goings on.  It was honestly probably a heavenly intervention that I could not record all the goings on because it wasn't pretty.  I'm being pretty personal and baring quite a bit here, so I feel like I'm going out on a limb a bit.  I generally try to be very honest, but this is a little more than I usually share.  I'll do bullet points to catch us up to speed and then end with a couple sweet stories.

-BoyTwo was naughty.

-like REALLY naughty.

-all. the. time.

-and I had HAD IT!!!!

-he was ruining my life!  He was running my life.  The world was revolving around him and we were all suffering from it.

-I was missing out on parts of my other kids lives that I really needed to be there for because I was busy with him being in trouble for hitting, kicking, refusing to do work, yelling, etc.

-I allowed BoyTwo to get the best of me on Mother's Day.  Did he do anything different?  Not really but there was a straw (him refusing to get into the car for church) that broke the camel's (my) back.  He really loves to control me like that.  It didn't matter at all that it was Mother's Day, I honestly didn't care about that and he didn't know that it was any sort of a holiday.  It would have/could have happened any day.  And it usually does happen.  Every day.  I was worn out and done in.  He is so defiant.  He manipulates.  I wondered if there was really any chance of him becoming any different than he currently was.  I honestly did not believe that there would ever be any change.  I had a bit of a melt down and then felt better by Tuesday.  

-It was decided that BoyTwo would only attend school in the morning until lunch at which time I would bring him home, feed him and put him down for a nap.  He slept for almost two hours every day when I brought him home.  He really is a toddler.  I feel dumb that I didn't realize that he was so sleep deprived earlier (he sleeps 11 hours every night so I thought we were good), but decided I wasn't going to beat myself up over it.

-Huz went out of town for the weekend leaving me with the kids and their schedules for what was possibly the busiest weekend we have had as a family all year.  Two dance recitals, a dance competition, soccer game, and an opera performance that two of the kids were in.  All in 29 hours beginning Friday at 4 and ending Saturday at 9.  During those 29 hours we were only home for eight of them.  Yeah.  It was a loooooong weekend!

-He made up for it by buying me a new camera. :)

-I survived the weekend with the help of my sister and sister-in-law.  Thanks to them!!!  Big time.

-I finally scheduled a doctor appointment for BoyTwo for his ADHD/ODD paperwork that we got from the school.  I have held off because he has had so many adjustments to make, I wanted to try as many other things as I could before throwing him in to be medicated (because I knew that is part of what they would do), etc.  

-BoyTwo was officially diagnosed with ADHD and ODD (oppositional defiance disorder).  shocking, I know.  (that was sarcasm because it is SO obvious!!)  It's possible that he is a little RADish and maybe has some PTSD (again no big surprise there).  I'm sure the therapist he will begin seeing will be able to let us know their official opinion on that.  He began taking some medication.  Unfortunately, because I waited until the end of the school year, it will be difficult for us to figure out how things are going in regards to the medication.  The medication will help him to concentrate, not behave like a rockstar.  School's out, so whatever.  

-During the week of school that he was on medication I was also checking him out after only 2 1/2 hours.  But, he behaved fairly well during those times.  He did not hurt anyone.  Is it the medication?  Is it the naps?  It's hard to know.  It's probably both.  He did go to a full day of school on the day before the last day of school because I had scheduled appointments for myself before deciding to pull him at half day.  I chose not to reschedule my appointments and his teacher was fine with this.  I really love the school.  Such a stark contrast from our experience there last year.  Bless them.  He had an okay day that day.

-I pulled myself together enough to realize that I had allowed this little boy to dictate my life.  He was controlling me and I was allowing it.  I also lost sight of who he really was.  All I could see was this naughty little boy who was turning my world upside down and knocking down anyone who was in his way (quite literally).  I began to see him again for who he really is.  A damaged, lost, traumatized, hurt, confused, child of God.  A little boy who did not choose the things that happened to him, a little boy who wanted a mommy and to get the heck out of Ukraine.  Instead of seeing ONLY the sad and frightening statistics that he may still become with the difficulties that he has ahead of him, I once again see the possibility that he may become a different statistic.  A sort of 'miracle' statistic.  I am reminded that Heavenly Father can do anything.  Even this.  I remembered that the Atonement of Jesus Christ covers all this craziness!  I needed to remember this.  It's really hard to do things alone.  It wasn't like I wasn't praying, because I was.  It wasn't like I had given up on God, because I hadn't.  I had let myself fall into the trap of believing that God works miracles for other people.  But then (due to the prayers of I'm sure my husband, parents and sisters who were a bit concerned about me), He began to work the miracle in me.  My heart began to change and I remembered that it is not my job to 'change' BoyTwo.  Because really, I can only change myself.  My job is to let the mercy of Heavenly Father and the power of the Atonement take care of BoyTwo.  It's a lot easier when I let them handle all that, when I quit trying to be responsible for it all.

phew.

Now, for the cute/sweet stories.  I've said before, but BoyOne is really a joy.  He is night and day different from his brother.  

A few days ago, BoyOne told us he had had a bad dream that night in which a different family with eight kids had come to our house and adopted him from us.  They had some sort of document.  He had to go live with them and they didn't really like him and four of the other kids that were theirs.  They made these bad kids stay in the basement and not go outside.  When we assured him that no one could take him away from us and that he was stuck with us, he said,

'I am good I am stuck with you!'

me too, BoyOne, me too.

BoyOne wrecked on his skateboard and got a little bit of road rash and hurt his wrist.  One of our doctor friends looked at it and we don't think it's broken/fractured, but it has been hurting him.  One morning he came downstairs and told me his hand was feeling better.  "Good!" I told him.  "Mom, it is because I pray last night to dear Heavenly Father (that's what he calls him, how cute is that?!) to help my hand no hurt and he help me."

This afternoon, BoyOne went home teaching with Huz.  In our church, each family is assigned a 'home teacher' who visits their family at least once a month with a gospel message.  The home teachers also look for opportunities to help and serve this family.  The family can call upon the home teachers if they need anything.  Today, Huz asked BoyOne to give the lesson.  BoyOne was scared, but he chose a talk  from the prophet of our church and paraphrased it in English and then gave his testimony of the importance of prayer and having peace in the family.  It was so great to hear him do this, especially because I know that he believes these things.  He believes in God and Jesus.  He believes in prayer.  He believes in families.  

Tonight he came up to me randomly and threw his arms around me in a very tight hug and told me thank you for adopting him and getting him from Ukraine, that he was very glad he was here with us and that he loved us.  

I'm so glad that they are here.  Yes, both of them.  And I love them both, too.  I can't imagine life without them.  Before they came, I knew they were missing.  We weren't complete.  We needed them as much, if not more, than they needed us.  I'm glad that I didn't give up back then, during all the drama that took place pre-adoption and during the drama of the actual adoption.  And I'm glad that I didn't give up now.  

Rambling Ranting

BoyTwo is a button pusher. Big time.

Today was picture day at school. Did he know this? Nope. Because he would try to sabotage it. Instead, I had everyone's things laying out and ready to go. I also had to be at the school first thing this morning for a field trip to the symphony (super cool!!) so preparation was key here.

He put on the wrong clothes two different times before dressing in the clothes that he was supposed to wear. He acted all innocent and surprised when I had him change into the clothes he was supposed to wear which, honestly, confuses me. Did he really not understand that he was to put on the clothes I handed him, even though I know full well that he DID understand what I was saying to him? Did he really 'forget'? Twice? The clothing that I had selected for him is clothing that he LIKES to wear, that he will choose for himself even, so it's not like he was trying to avoid wearing something that in his mind is dorky or that he dislikes wearing.

Then, this dingbat of a mother made the mistake of telling him that he needed to leave his shirt on. He had a t-shirt on underneath a button up shirt and I didn't want him taking the button up shirt off (just a casual button up, again, something that he's worn before) and being photographed in the tacky t-shirt. I wanted to send this picture to Ukraine to his bio family and to the orphanage. I really wanted him to look like a normal kid, not the big crazy that he is when he's at school. So yes, in retrospect, this was a mistake to say this to him. Even BoyOne pointed out that BoyTwo always leaves his shirt on, but that because I told him to leave it on, he did the opposite. He also proceeded to give other examples of this being the case. (not in a rude sort of way, but as he was lecturing his brother in Russian)

I got back from the field trip in time to pick up the other kids after school. His button up shirt was missing. As in not only was it NOT on his body, it was lost.

Are you kidding me?!

To the average person, this probably looks innocent.

Not so.

The child knew he was to keep his shirt on. He knew. Time and again he is doing the exact opposite of what is asked of him. I believe he is doing this on purpose. When I ask him what he was supposed to have done, he can ALWAYS tell me. (i.e. Yesterday he asked to go to the neighbors house. He already knows that this is not an option for him anymore as he has been STEALING from them (for the love of Pete!!). I told him no. He immediately went to their home. I called him back home and he told me he knew he wasn't supposed to go to their house, but he wanted to take more of their toys, yes right there admitting to me that he was going there to steal again and therefore did what he wanted. auuuuuugh.) So with the shirt, he knew. He KNEW! Part of me wanted to just let this go. So he took his shirt off. Big deal. He's a little boy. Who cares. But then I saw the look in his eyes where he is watching me with a sort of challenging glare to see if I'm going to let him get away with whatever it is he's done. I get so tired of these games! I know that if I let this go, then in his mind whether he is conscious of it or not, he thinks that he can choose when to obey. Then I wonder if I'm imagining this. Is he really testing me? Really?! Or is this part of a disability that he has where he truly is not capable of connecting thoughts and behaviors and actions? Is that challenging glare because he's feeling defensive because he knows he did something wrong even though he doesn't understand what or why? Is he looking at me like this because he is so used to being beat that he STILL after seven months can't even begin to understand that he is safe here, that we won't beat him? This is the tiring part I'm talking about.

When he finally found the shirt, consequently making us late for the next place we were supposed to be (by the way, I know enough to not let him know every detail of what is going on because he does try to sabotage things sometimes -and then I think maybe this isn't a disability, he really does mean to do the things that he does at times- and when he doesn't know, he cannot control what is going on. So, he didn't know that we were headed someplace else and therefore wasn't purposely trying to make us late as he sometimes does), I put the shirt on him backwards and buttoned it up. Like you do with your toddler who won't leave their diaper and pajamas on who then proceeds to poop in their crib and play Picasso while they are supposed to be napping.

My mind is exhausted. It's kind of mushy to begin with, and the fact that I constantly have to be thinking ahead, figuring out how to tell him no without actually saying no to avoid me being the one 'responsible' for his actions and placing that responsibility on him, attend school part time (no, I'm not in college as I had dreamed I someday would be, I attend first stinking grade), trying to figure out what is manipulation and control and what is truly innocent human error, etc., etc., etc., I have a hard time keeping up.

Sometimes I think that there is no way a child this young can be this messed up. I see evidences of a disability and am not sure how much I should attribute to this. I think that he cannot possibly be this manipulative and controlling. But, he's right there doing something to prove that he is! It is exhausting.

I'm tempted to pull him out of school because I feel like things that take place there undo what we do at home (sometimes people will tell him how great he is and that he is fantastic-his favorite praise word- after he has been running through the halls yelling, hitting kids, being disruptive, etc. because he does one little thing okay. This just reinforces that he can get away with his bad behavior. Why is that so hard for people to understand?! Tell him good job for writing his name, not that he is fantastic and had an awesome day when quite clearly he did NOT!! Granted they may not be aware of all the naughty, but please, just assume it has happened because I can guarantee that it has and just praise the one thing that is witnessed). I will not be doing this because, in the words of my wise husband, I would go crazy and then the rest of the family would go crazy with me.

I wonder how much I/we have done wrong. It's so hard to parent this craziness. You are always second guessing what you are doing or what you have done. Always wondering. Always thinking of other options for the next time. Always reading anything you can get your desperate little hands on. Always rehashing the past (I try not to do this one too much). It literally keeps me up all. night.

I really want to be more than a parole officer to this kid. I want to think he is darling and cute and eat ice cream together and blow kisses in his direction, but instead, I get to be a drill sergeant. All. The. Time. I also feel judged by people who have no idea what is going on. I know this shouldn't bother me, but right now it does. He flinches every time he gets in any sort of trouble and I am sure that people think it is because we beat him, not because he was beat so frequently before that he still recoils out of habit. On the flip side of being judged, I've had a couple kind, generous, caring people offer to take him from me for an hour to give me a break. I cannot do this. Part of it is pride. I don't want them returning him after this hour telling me how great he was and that he is so cute and that he behaved so well for them, because I know he would do that. And then a month later they would realize they were missing stuff. I fear that they would think to themselves that he is not so bad and decide that if I only did ________(fill in the blank) that he would be just fine and that maybe I am the real problem here. He is really good at acting cute for a first timer. The other reason I won't drop him off on someone else's doorstep for an hour is because during that hour he is playing and having fun and doing whatever the hell he wants because that's what people do with a kid like him because it's just an hour, you know?, and why should he be rewarded with a playdate when he is cahoots with the devil?! Also, the sobering fact that I then have to deal with the aftermath and it is just not worth it.

Do I love him? Yes. Do I like him? Yes. Do I like his behavior? Not a bit. Do I have any regrets? Nope. I'd still do this again. I'm really glad that we had to go through so much to get them here. It was a real blessing to have to deal with so much garbage. It is a reminder to me every day not so much that 'this was what I wanted' or 'this was what I signed up for', but a reminder that Heaven moved Earth to get them here and that there is a reason this boy is here with us. Often the only thing that I get right during the day is the times that I am bringing all my shortcomings before my Heavenly Father and pleading with Heaven to intervene in our behalf. I think that is one of the most interesting things that happens to us during a difficult time. We are made well aware of all the ways we fall short and in turn, given the opportunity to heavily rely on the Lord and on our Savior. Opportunity being the key. It is an opportunity to be taken, will we? It is abundantly clear that I cannot do this alone. That I do not have all the skills and know how to be the perfect parent to my children. Will this push me over the edge (sometimes I'm close) or will it drop me to my knees? I know that there are two sides rooting for me. One that wants to help me and see me succeed and another that whispers in my ear all. day. long. that I cannot do this. (Satan, get lost!) I also can't help but think that some of us (me) must be more hard headed than others to have to go to Ukraine three times in three months for one adoption and then have this party to go to every day. But at the end of the day (or the middle of the night), I usually (let's be honest, sometimes I pass out without praying) lay down committed to the one who cheers me on. Usually with food in hand. And not a vegetable.

Sunday's Inspiration

Sunday I was privileged to attend a meeting and hear a fabulous speaker, Doug Nielsen, deliver a fabulous message. One that I needed to hear. One that gave me a renewed sense of self, of God and strength to do and be what my Heavenly Father needs me to do/be.

Doug spoke of a time he was in Belize and he wanted to buy a souvenir to remember his time there by. He approached a beach vendor and asked for a recommendation of his wares. For $50 he got a piece of wood and a lesson on life. :)

As part of the sales pitch(?) the man asked Doug to put his hand on his chest, over his heart.

'Can you feel that?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Doug.

'What is that?' he asked.

Not sure if this was a trick question or not, Doug answered, 'My heart?'

'That's right, man. It is your heart. What is it doing?' he answered.

'Beating?' said Doug, unsure of where this was all going, after all he really just wanted a souvenir.

'That's right, man. Your heart is beating for a reason. Go and find out why.'

love. it. I forget that my heart is not beating so I can roam the halls of the elementary school and attend first grade part time. I forget that my heart is not beating so I can spend hours and hours doing laundry that never ends and homework that is never finished. I forget the real reason why my heart is beating. A lot. I even gave a lesson on this during church today. Obviously, it is something that I really need to hear over and over to keep me on track and to keep me going. My heart is beating because my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are trying to build a relationship with me. They are giving me many opportunities every single day to come to them, to get to know them and to truly utilize the gift of the Atonement. My heart is beating so that I can come to know my Savior. My heart is beating so that I can begin to understand the love my Father in Heaven has for me. My heart is beating so that I can learn to love like They love, serve as They serve, give as They give, and experience the mercy that They offer me.

A couple other things that this rastafarian man said to Doug that really have me thinking are:

'Hell will be meeting the person you could have become.'

This is one that I think about a lot. I don't want to merely have a good life (although I believe that is certain to happen), I want to BE a good life. I fear that I may disappoint my Maker by simply existing and not enhancing the world and lives around me.

and last, but certainly not least,

'I fear that you forget that you are one of God's beautiful creations.'

Funny, I gave a talk on this recently, too. I'm often asked to teach or talk on topics that I am experiencing at the very moment of said assignment. I don't feel very 'divine' or like a 'beautiful creation' much these days. It doesn't help that I don't get enough sleep, don't shower every day and that I'm gaining weight, but these aren't the things that I'm worried about or that make me feel like less of a 'beautiful creation'. (okay, well, a little. The weight thing bugs with summer approaching.) My biggest problem is that I am so caught up in my very own mundane, daily episode of Survivor, that I miss the beauty of what is going on around me. I forget to be grateful for the small and simple things in life. I forget that in this 'dark room' a really beautiful picture is being is being developed. I need to try to eagerly anticipate the development of that picture and enjoy (or at least be amazed by) the process of the negative that is being developed.

Anyhow, thank you Doug. Thank you rasta man from Belize. And thank you Heavenly Father for orchestrating all of that four years ago so that Doug could tell me about this yesterday when I really needed it.

Valentine's Week

It feels like Valentine's Day was months ago. You know the days, weeks, and months that go like that:)

Monday started great! If you recall, I attended a field trip with Two all day that I had actually forgotten about and wasn't super excited about. Honestly, it was a huge blessing in disguise. I had been asked specifically by the teacher to attend as she would not be there. Well, wouldn't you know? One of the other parents in attendance has a son who was just diagnosed with dyslexia. She was a wealth of knowledge and gave me some good tips. Thank you Heavenly Father!! (by the way, working on getting an appointment with a neuropsychologist as this is the professional that officially diagnoses dyslexia. Problem now is that insurance won't cover the $2000 test citing it is supposedly covered in the 'no child left behind' act?! School says that they do not diagnose, only test to qualify a student for services to assist in making sure said child is not 'left behind.' aughhhhhh!!!) The field trip was great and I enjoyed spending time in the great outdoors herding children. It was especially good for me to see Two in a school setting outside the classroom to see how she is handling her SPD these days. Poor kid. Why do some have to struggle so much? I guess I know that answer. I just wish that every day life wasn't such a challenge for her.

After school a situation arose with BoyOne that caused us, as parents, to do a reality check. I forget that the boys haven't always been here, I mean not really, but things have been going just the way they have been going for so long, it feels like forever ago that it was any different. Anyhow, we realized that we were allowing for way too much 'slack in the leash'. No, we don't literally leash our children (although when we visit southern Utah and hike the red rocks we well may leash BoyTwo for his safety and I don't want to hear anything about it in that case), this is strictly metaphorical. Huz handled this particular situation because it was between them. This was a little hard for me because I am usually the disciplinarian in the family and it was hard for me to mind my own business. haha.

Monday led (obviously) into Tuesday and because of the previous night's events, it was pretty ugly for BoyOne. Which was unfortunate, being that it was Valentine's Day. I need to tell you how it broke my heart to watch BoyOne watching his younger siblings prepare for their class Valentine's Day parties. He will never have that. Yes, we had a family party. Yes, he bought some Valentines for a few people and passed them out. Yes, we tried to make it just as special for him as it was for the littles. But no matter what, it isn't the same. It was just one of those moments when it hit me hard that I can't take away the pain of his past or the fact that I wasn't there for it. :(

I dreaded BoyOne coming home from school Tuesday. He can be quite moody and it takes a lot out of me to deal with it. I was at the elementary (surprise!) and he got home from school about ten minutes before I arrived home. He left the house with the dog, which I wasn't super excited about. I knew he had jetted the second he saw I was gone so that he wouldn't have to see me until he wanted to. I was concerned because I was needing to leave again soon and I couldn't see where he was. He came home within about ten minutes and although he wouldn't really look at me or talk to me, I did get a grunt. He went straight up to his room (again, totally dreading this because I thought I was going to have to go get him because he was going to need to leave the house with me). As I prepared for the worst, he surprised me and headed down the stairs all on his own, carrying a Valentine for me. Long story (and post) short, he handled himself remarkably well. He interacted and played with his siblings during the afternoon hours, helped with his jobs, and was downright pleasant, although very much avoiding me. We have learned that when he is like this it is his thinking time. He goes through different phases of feeling angry then hurt, victimized, realizing what he did was wrong, feeling bad, feeling embarrassed, avoiding us while gaining courage to come to us and then in the end he comes around. Every time he goes through this process, he is more bearable during his phases. We haven't had to ask him to apologize for a long time. He comes to this on his own. Granted it may take a few days sometimes, but usually it only takes a day or so and it is his process that works for him.

By dinner time things were all good with the seven of us at home. When Huz came home, things were a little tense, but we still had a great evening together, all of us, eating our 'heart' meal. (heart shaped meatballs, heart shaped rolls, 'heart' of romaine salad, red stripey jello, and pink lemonade mixed with sprite bubbly in our mishmash of fancy stemware, followed by sugar cookies that were not dairy free, but totally worth it) Sure enough, a little later and on his own, he found Huz and apologized for what had happened.

As I watched him struggle through this all day, I noticed that he was growing up. Not just in his actions, but he is getting taller, his face is changing. It made me sad, yet again, that I had missed so much of his life.

Wednesday started out great! Until I received a few emails from teachers about BoyOne. Poor kid hasn't had the best week. But, he handled it like a champ. I had a couple of awesome friends that took my other kids for me so that I could go back to the school with BoyOne and BoyTwo (he just tagged along) to spend nearly three hours there working things out with teachers. I had to cancel my whole evening. Actually, his. He missed a soccer game and a church activity and a basketball practice. He was not happy, but again, handled it well. There were many sad tears, but no lashing out or raging. I was so proud of him. We have our work cut out for us academically. I will need to homeschool him two classes this summer and he will have to take one online course starting in a couple of weeks, but if we can get that all done then he can move on to 9th grade. Big sigh of relief from him (and me).

Today two kids were home sick and I was feeling pretty crummy myself, but my sister is in town and wanted to come ski with us, so after basketball practice for the middle girls we headed over. We had the mountain to ourselves. Seriously. There were only about ten other skiiers/snowboarders. BoyOne is a natural athlete and is working on his 180 and 360 on his snowboard off of jumps. (one of my girlfriends told me to just wait until he comes home and tells me he pulled off a back flip. I seriously CAN wait. I about pass out from anxiety when he goes off these jumps as it is) One is catching onto snowboarding, finally. She spent the first half of the season bugged that her older brother was better at it than her. She did better tonight than I've ever seen her do. She even went down some jumps without falling. Way to go toots! Two, Three and BoyTwo are maniacs. They go straight down the hill. Full speed ahead. Every once in awhile they like to give me a heart attack by flying through moguls and going off jumps. Because they are all so little, they fly. Four is finally as confident and able as she was at the end of last season which makes skiing a lot more fun and less work when we go. My sister has picked it up remarkably fast and, like before, is far braver than I. I wouldn't try the rails this time. I still have bruising from when I attempted them last time. That and I'm pretty sure I'll need to wear a depends.

So, tonight we ate dinner at 9:30 and then everybody fell into bed. Except me:) Here I sit typing, in between loads of dishes and laundry, marveling at this life of mine. There are a lot of times during the day where I feel like I'm drowning. Like there is just no way possible that I can keep up or do all that is required of me. And then we'll have a really great day or evening together. I remember that while it's nice to have clean clothes to wear, it's not totally necessary. I remember that even though I'm a stay at home mom who is never actually home, I am in the business of raising kids and if that means the house is trashed and we eat at 9:30, so be it. The progress that I see the kids each making (biological kids as well) is inspiring. Most days it is depressing because it feels like we are taking nine steps back for every one step forward. I worry that I might fail them as their mom, the one person who is supposed to advocate for them and make sure they get as fair a shot as possible at life through the things I teach them. But, after a week like this, that has been really, really rough? I honestly see the beauty of the progress in it. It's like the harder it is to get through a situation, the more I appreciate the little victories. The one thing that really keeps me going (besides the good people I am surrounded by) is the Lord being ever present. He continues to show me His presence in my daily life, wether I deserve it or not. That's the beauty of His love and of the atonement. It's always there and never fails. Even, and maybe more appropriately ESPECIALLY, when I do.

p.s. the elementary put BoyTwo on the bus today by accident. I made them radio the bus and have it pull over until I caught up with it and got him off. I'm still not willing to take that risk. The principal was awesome. He (obviously) was very apologetic about the mishap and even offered to ride the bus with BoyTwo when the day comes that we think he might be ready. I didn't have the heart to tell him it might not be until high school:)