I'm One of THOSE People

I rarely cry. Like... Maybe twice a year. There are times I would like to cry, but tears just don't flow that easily for me.

But this stage in life appears to be different. Tears. Constant tears. I never understood you people that could cry at a Hallmark commercial. I haven't seen one of those commercials recently, but I cry at every video posted on FB. I could cry now just thinking about the idea of watching a video on FB.
It's horrible.

And I think I've figured out a part of it. Adoption is hard. Oh friends, it's beautiful and worth it and better than you could imagine... But it's hard. We knew that the adoption of an older child would be tough... I can say now that there is much I wasn't prepared for. And I think those experiences are where the constant tears are coming from.

I could give this little guy the world and it wouldn't be enough right now.

If he's in trouble, he tells me that he misses his grandma.

If he doesn't get what he wants, he says he'll call his grandma and tell on me.

If we've had an amazing day together, he tells me that he misses his mom as he falls asleep.

Of course he does! They're his family. He loves them and most definitely misses them. But my heart is human and it cuts me to the core every single time. My brain knows I'm doing the "right" things, but my heart doesn't feel good enough.

It's hard right now. Two steps forward, one giant step back. (And knowing that I have to be the grown up... That stinks!)

There's a retreat for adoptive mamas this fall. The money isn't in the budget right now, but I WILL find a way to be there. It's way out of my introvert comfort zone to go, but I need to be where others understand my heart.

This too shall pass,., right?

Oh the Drama

Oh my heart.

Today was rough.

I received a phone call this morning from K's paternal grandmother. This is the first time I've heard from her. From my understanding, she never sought custody of K, although she has adopted his slightly older sister.

Her phone call today went a little something like this:
"No one told me that his grandmother wasn't allowed to adopt him. Had I known that, I would have adopted him myself. I'm not threatening you or anything, but I want you to know that I can go to DHS and fight for custody."  That non-threat was repeated multiple times.

In the end, I think she was just trying to make sure we would allow her to continue to have contact with him in the future. I don't know.

This afternoon was his birthday family with his biological family. His paternal grandmother was there... and repeated much of what she said on the phone. She spent no time with K and left without saying goodbye to him.... and she was also extremely drunk and loud the entire time.

Awkward.

I'm thankful my little man has a whole bunch of family that loves him. But I can't say I ever expected the drama that would involve.

Not a Walk in the Park

It's been a while since I've posted. We've all been trying to keep our heads above water with a crazy, busy summer and all of the adjustment stuff that happens with a new child in any family. In most ways, it's been much easier than I anticipated. In other ways, it's been rougher.

Easier... K fits right into our home. He can toss out sarcasm with the best of them, he keeps us moving, he sleeps great, he eats well, and he bathes without complaint. He has a million questions about everything, loves Minecraft, enjoys snuggles, does really well academically, and adores his older siblings.He loves Minecraft, is kind to the cat, and keeps a zoo of stuffed animals on his bed. He's incredibly organized, picks up his toys without being told, and does great in the car. He's smart, funny, and looks so much like Gabe.


Harder... Attachment. I knew we would have issues, but I had no idea how difficult they would be. The first two months were a beautiful honeymoon period. There were little problems here and there, but nothing of any major significance. That changed.  8 foster homes in 3.5 years apparently does a lot to a little heart.We're just another stop in the road for him. He's actually been able to verbalize "Maybe if I'm bad enough, DHS will move me to my grandma's house." Sad. And heartbreaking. Visits with his biological family are hard (more for me than for him, I think. He pushes me away when it comes to visits.)

I need a little help from my friends. If K asks if he can call you mom, please say no. If he asks if you can be his mom for a little while, please say no. If he asks if he can be a part of your family or come live with you, please say no.  If he asks you for help with things (from opening a package to blowing his nose to buttoning his pants), please send him to ask us if at all possible. I know there will be times we aren't around, and if that's the case, PLEASE help him. But when we are around, he needs to continue learning to come to us.

Hugs are welcome if he initiates them. Kindness is, as well. Talk to him, ask him questions, get to know him... all of that is good. We just need assistance with teaching K what boundaries are. He has little concept of family and what that really means.


Zero regrets... just a whole lot of learning.

Onward and Upward

We're 5 weeks in and we're all still alive! It's actually been a much easier transition so far than I ever imagined. Yes, he has his moments. Funny thing is... I have my moments, as well. He's been in a couple of time outs. I've been in a couple of time outs.

We've been to the zoo, the aquarium, Enchanted Forest... We've had some fun times together.

The next step in the process is mediation with his biological family. It's harder than I was prepared for... and prayers are definitely appreciated. I want the decisions to be based on Kaden's best interest and not what anyone else is wanting.

Little Boys

"Boys will be boys...."

That quote. So often said will a little sigh at the end. It covers all parts that we see as being characteristically "boy." Dirty. Loud. Willing to share every bodily function. Busy. Wild. 

Boys will be boys.

I'm raising a little guy who is all boy. The only problem is the 'boys will be boys' idea has been used as an excuse for behavior. How can we expect anything different? He's a boy. Of course we laugh when he does that. He's just being a boy.

Boys will be boys isn't an excuse.

It's a reason for grace.

Yes, my little guy is loud and dirty and likes to "toot" on my lap. I'm sure he picks his nose when I'm not looking. He finds it funny to burp extra loud and he leaves a trail of toys and dirty clothes behind him.   ...And I get the amazing job of showing extreme amounts of grace to him. 

I'm not raising a little boy. I'm raising a man who will be a husband, a father, an employee. 

And oh my goodness. I love every dirty, loud piece of him

Our Reality

Once upon a time... There was a mom and a dad who had two big kids. But this mom and dad really, really, really wanted another little boy. This mom and dad looked, and looked, and looked for their little boy. They knew they would know him as soon as they found him, but they couldn't find him anywhere!

One day, they saw a picture of a little boy named Kaden. They just KNEW this was their little boy. But they had to wait and wait and wait before they finally got to meet him. As soon as they saw him for the first time, they were absolutely sure that this little boy was the son they had been looking for.

They took him home and promised to love him forever and ever. They would love him when he made good choices. They would love him when he made bad choices. They would love him for EVER. And Kaden would never have to leave their family again.

This is our story. Kaden has heard it repeatedly. He heard it today when the tears were flowing because he had gotten in trouble... and life is never fair when you're a kid. Our normal is a constant reminder that this isn't another foster home that he'll have to leave. It's forever and ever. (He currently says he's going to live here until he dies. And if he gets married... well, his wife can just move in, too.)

BrainDead

The only relevant test of the validity of a hypothesis is 

comparison of prediction with experience.

Milton Friedman

Yeah, I don't know what that quote means either. It was the first one that popped up when I googled 'comparison quote.' I'm sure the quote makes perfect sense, but I'm so far past exhausted that my brain can't comprehend it at all.

Friends, my new child may be 6 years old, but age means nothing when it comes to adoption. It's almost like adding a newborn to the house... with a few minor differences.

Newborn comes home to a place you have been preparing for the past 9 months. Furniture is set up. Clothing is purchased (if sex is known).  Showers may have already taken place. Parents know they're in for a potential of a serious lack of sleep over the next few months. Words of advice come from everyone. There are weeks of just getting into a routine and getting to know each other. There is a long period of time when this little one can't talk back, be purposefully disrespectful or disobedient, get into every drawer... or move from the spot they were last left.

Older adopted child comes home to a place that's been sort of prepared to the best knowledge of the adoptive parent... who hasn't had much notice. Clothing and shoe sizes are an absolute surprise. As is what possessions they already have. Parents know there is a potential for some minor sleep disturbances- and are then surprised by the lack of sleep that happens because no one knows how this new child will sleep. The child comes into the home from past experiences with different rules, different foods, different expectations, different everything. It takes weeks of getting into a routine and getting to know each other. There is NO period of time in which this child cannot talk back, be purposefully disrespectful, get into every drawer, hide from the parents... or purposefully fart on the laps of whomever is holding him (and then laugh uncontrollably.) Instead of just teaching new "tricks", families spend a great deal of time trying to replace the old "tricks" with those that are more socially acceptable.

I'm so tired. It's all worth it. It's what I prayed for. I wouldn't change any of it. But I'm so tired. My brain is "on" all the time. I think I've reached my quota of decisions this week.

He's amazing. I love him. Even when he purposefully farts on my lap. He's perfect for our family. And it's hard work.