Me and My Gal

Today was FINALLY
The day
I have been waiting for
Praying for
Wondering if
We would make it to.

It was a big appointment day
For Miz N
And I honestly didn't know if we would make it to
"The first appointment available"
When they gave it to me exactly 30 days ago,
But by God's grace
(And a bunch of chewed off fingernails
Too many peanut m&ms
And a lot of take-out meals)
We made it to today.

We met the doctor.
I talked.
Miz N answered questions.
(All while sitting on my lap,
Draping her body over mine,
And begging to play the iPod
Any time a topic wasn't directed at her.)
The doctor responded and took a lot of notes.
And we are moving forward with new plans
With new things to try
With new techniques and strategies to implement
Because the doctor said,
"We can move forward with this plan
Because you are providing her with stability
Unlike she has ever had in her young life."
And I teared up.
And Miz N's response as we left was
"I am blessed that you love me enough to take me to the doctor to get help."
Sigh.
(All this after a particularly trying previous 24 hours.)

Then,
After the two hour appointment,
We played "hooky" from school.
(Or as Miz N kept saying,
"I am hooky from school today."
Yeah - hope that doesn't get around too far.)

We enjoyed breakfast at Matt's Big Breakfast.
Miz N was excited to go to a "special", "unique" restaurant
That was once on TV
And then she said,
"I think we should go look for tadpoles at the nature preserve."
And so we did.

 

And when we finished,
Miz N said,
"I got to pick one thing -
It's your turn."
And I picked Christmas pedicures.

Then the phone went dead
(Note to self-
When enjoying a foster mother-foster daughter day
Be prepared to a take a lot of pictures
And remember to bring the phone charger along.)
So there aren't pictures of the finished project,
But Miz N declared it "the best day ever"
And then later changed it to,
"One of my top-ten best days".
Because she kept coming up with other memories of things we have done together
In the past six months.
Yes.
Six months, as of tomorrow.
Unbelievable.
 
I enjoyed listening to my girl.
Holding her hand.
Listening to her inquisitive ways.
Shaking my head at her imagination.
Rolling my eyes at her endless Christmas jokes
(Seriously - who let the kid check out 101 Christmas jokes from the library?
She can't remember what I told her 10 seconds earlier, but she can quote
Twenty-plus jokes that she only read once!)
And
It was good.
Good to reconnect.
Good to just spend time together.
Good to just be free.
Good to just be spontaneous.
Good to just be slow.
Good to be us.

Please keep us both in your prayers.
We have a long way to go
And some big hurdles to begin to jump through
And I can't share anything beyond what I have said,
But pray for a little 8 year old girl.
Pray for peace of mind.
Pray for acceptance of self.
Pray for a content joy for life.
Pray for her body to be accepting of the new strategies
And new techniques we are going to be introducing.

Love and Thanks

Tonight I was reading through some posts on one of the foster/adopt support group pages I frequent and was appalled and saddened to read about a member who is struggling this Christmas because her family has said she and her family were not invited to family Christmas if they brought along their foster son.  Other member shared that they were invited to go up north for a holiday weekend but were told not to bring along their foster children, only their biological children.

I am speechless.

As I was reflecting, and re-reading my own blog from last week, and talking about it with my mom, I realized how much my own family is invested - and has been - invested in my foster children.

This calling on my life is from the Lord. 
Of that I have no doubt.
I live 2000 miles away from my immediate family
But they have been supportive
Beyond words
Of my calling.

They meet Miss M and Ms. O last year
And loved on them like their own
Grandchildren
Nieces
Cousins

They meet Miz N in July
When we came home for the 4th
And in the last six months
They have all made special visits out here
To meet
And love on
The Littles
And all desiring to be out here again
Afraid they might not see them again.

Every picture they take
They include them in
Even in creative ways with back of heads
Or willing to star out faces

Every conversation we have
Rolls back to them.
 
Every birthday is celebrated.
Every milestone is praised.
Every day they are covered in prayers.
Their text messages
And inbox-es
Are full of pictures
And videos
Of my crew
And they love them like I do.
And I can't express
Ever
How much that means to.

My family.
My mom.
My dad.
My sister.
My other sister.
My niece.
They are 2000 miles away
In Michigan
But they love my foster kids.
They want to get to know them.
They want to spend time with them.
They want to spoil them.
They want to love on them.
And they do.

And I cannot imagine what I would do
If they weren't really to risk
The hurt that comes with the love for these
Dear foster children the Lord lends me for a time
For a moment.
For a lifetime - in the heart.

(And my family is learning first-hand
Why I came home to Michigan every
9-12 weeks
When my niece was a Little herself.
They are just too much fun
And they just change way too fast!)

Also
I have dear friends here in the valley
Who have stayed close to me throughout this process
And shown me
And my kiddos
Love
And support in ways I cannot express.
Dear friends who accept my new life the way it is
And make our relationships work out 
Despite three kids running around every conversation.

There have been other relationships,
Friendships,
That have been strained because my new life is not convenient
Or doesn't fit into the mold it used to
But the Lord has filled
With overflowing
Those holes
With new relationships
With new support structures
With new friends
And they are my rocks.

Despite my ability to talk to just about anyone
I actually am quite an introvert
Who likes to stay close at home
And with that comes
A lot of
Internalization.
Self-doubt.
Stress.
Worry.
But it means the world to me that I have these
Friends in Arizona
Friends in Michigan
Friends scattered around the US
And my amazing family
To turn to
For prayer
For support
For a listening ear
For a lending hand.

Thank you, Mom.
Thank you, Dad.
Thank you, Kayleen.
Thank you, Janelle.
Thank you, Mikayla.
Thank you, Sarah.
Thank you, my PS MAPP peeps.
Thank you, my FB support pages.
Thank you, my FB and blog reading/praying friends.
(Those who comment and/or like and/or stalk.) :-)
Thank you, Sara.
Thank you, Mission Kids team.
Thank you, My Pueblo teaching team.
Thank you, Various valley-wide fostering support programs.
Thank you, Anonymous givers of gift cards and money from time to time.
Thank you, Anyone I forgot.
Thank you, God.

Forever in My Heart

I was supposed to foster school-aged kids.
That was the plan.
That was my plan.
But
Obviously, not God's.

The Littles
At the beginning
Were nearly my un-doing.
But now
Seriously
Every day
Multiple times a day
I think
How am I ever going to let them go?

Miz N and I are connected
We are working it out,
Day by day
Step by step
And I love her to pieces
But there is something about this toddler age
That has captured my heart
In a way that I could have never expected
Never anticpated
Never understand.

Little Man's
Wrap hugs around my legs
Hands covering mouth with fake giggles
Calls of Mama/May-ann
Squeals of laughter
Pucked lips for kisses
Duel thumbs up at every bite
Running into my arms at 3-2-1
Wide eyes and big nods of 'yes'

A-girl's
Blows of Christmas tree ornaments
Purposeful arguments to make me laugh
Pointy finger asking "one more time?"
Proud screams of "I poop, I pee" from the bathroom
Crazy hair mornings with arms wrapped around my neck
Begs for "snuggle me, snuggle me"
Bursts of giggles after farts and burps followed by "cuse me"

I look at them
And I think
These littles are going to break my heart
And tonight
The dam finally burst.

Little Man woke up screaming
About three hours after falling asleep
And I figured it must be pain from his perputeual teething
Because he wasn't even opening his eyes.
A dose of tynelol and oral-gel
And he was back in my arms just cuddling
Having those content sighs mixed in with the left over gasps of cries
And as his breathing slowed
I started crying
Okay
Bawling.
How am I going to live without these kiddos.
They are my heart.
They are my life.
It's been almost 6 months
And by far the hardest
Most challenging
Happiest
Joy-filled
Laughter-filled
Six months of my life
And
There is no upcoming timeline on its end
But my brain
And my heart
Is suddenly fixating on their potential departure
And my heart is breaking
Already
At just the thought.
Maybe it's because of the holidays?
Maybe it's because of another upcoming birthday?
Maybe it's just because I truly love them more than words can say?

But then
Just as I was starting to pull myself together
Little Man opened his eyes
And reached up his little hand
And wiped some tears away off my cheek
And then smiled.

And
I
Cried
Some
More.

 

Dear Foster Momma to a Stranger's Child

I don't know this woman
I have never read her blog before
But I know God put these words on her heart
In her blog today
For me.

Dear (Foster) Momma to a Stranger’s Child

I talk to you often in the work I do.  I hear you say, “We want to hang in there”, or “We are doing the best we can”, and even, “I don’t know if I am up for this.”  I hear these words through your shaky, weakened voices.  But, what I really hear is you saying, “I don’t want to be another mother who disregards this child”, or “If I could, I would provide this child with every ounce of my being in order to heal him or her.”

You are walking in very heavy shoes.  You are feeling as though your efforts are disregarded, don’t matter, don’t work, and will be forgotten about in the fleeting moments of a day.  I’m here to tell you, they are not. They are not disregarded.  They do matter.  They work, and they will never be forgotten.

Dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you are one of the bravest mothers of all.  You’ve ventured into the murky waters of loving a child whose hurts seem like they could go on for an eternity.

You, dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you are a broken-hearted warrior.

You hear from others, “You are doing a good thing”, “I could never do what you do”, or “Your faith is bigger than this.”  While you hear these words of comfort and affirmation, your heart is screaming in that silent, lonely place of wondering if you really are doing a good thing, if you really should be doing what you are doing, and if your faith really is bigger than this.  You, dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you wonder where God is in all of the hurts put on children in His world.

You, dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you long for rest.  You grasp for answers, and you pray for healing. You get angry.  You wonder why any mother would neglect, be absent, abuse, or completely disregard her child.  You wonder why you are left to pick up the pieces.

You want the Lord to step in, heal, and completely restore the broken child in your arms.  You cry and pray for this so often that it feels as though you can no longer find the words, or muster up the tears.

Dear Momma of a Stranger’s child, you were once a broken child, too.  At one time, you were lost in a world of despair.  You needed to be picked up, cleaned off, and captured by a love so strong that the greatest army could not break it.

You were worth it. You were not forgotten.  You were brought out of the darkness, and into the cleansing light.

YOU were meant to make a difference in the world.

Dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child,  please do not give up.  You are the backbone to so many forgotten children.  You are a living example of an unconditional, incomparable type of love that is a rarity in the world we find ourselves in.

You will get hurt.  You will have many sleepless nights.  You will have some doubts, regrets, and desires for do-overs.  You will be exhausted.  You will get angry.  You may even be ignored.

But….

Your Father in Heaven sees your actions.  He sits with you in the midnight hours when the stranger’s child is raging.  He is with you when you walk out of court rooms or meetings still not knowing what the future holds for the child in your care.  He hears your pleas.  He sings over you in your fretful night’s sleep.

Dear Momma of a Stranger’s Child, do you want to know why you are probably the most important mother in this world?

Perhaps someday, the little one you are loving on, praying for, staying up all night with, advocating for, crying over, taking in or letting go, will grow up to be a Momma (or even a Daddy) to a Stranger’s Child.

Isn’t that worth it all?

(Dear Foster Momma to a Stranger's Child reposted from http://barrentoblessed.wordpress.com)


It made me weep.

I love fostering.
I really do.
I am called to do it.
I know I am,
And I know God equips those He calls,
But lately,
Honestly,
Bluntly,
It hasn't felt like it.

The good news is
That
After years of equating how I felt
To my relationship with God,
I know He doesn't operate that way.
He is there
And He is providing
And He does love me
Even when I don't like myself
Or "feel" equipped.

Like today
When I was driving home from work
And blaring the radio
At a deafening level
(Seriously...deafening)
In order to avoid getting into a verbal tug-of-war
With a certain 8 year old
Who I love more than words
But who can make me lose my temper faster than anyone
I was feeling
Anger
Lost
Confused
Annoyed
Mad
Frustrated
Hopeless
And then
I just went numb
Numb.
And
Then
This song was
Eventually played
When I was finally listening.

Oceans - By Hillsong

I know He is there.
Even when the temper tantrum
(On her part,
I,
Thankfully
Got over mine.)
Lasted another 2 hours,
Then stopped for a blessed 30 minutes
And then continued on straight through
Shower and Bed
Because He promises to be.

So
I'll let this fun song
That me and Little Man
Kind of love to car dance to
Be a little fun, simple anthem for now.

Beautiful Day - By Jamie Grace

Please pray for my little kiddos,
But,
Especially my Miz N.
Things are hard
And they are extra hard right now
For a number of reasons I cannot share.
(Believe me - there are a large number of reasons.)
Just pray for her.
Pray for her to think positive thoughts about herself.
Pray for her to see her worth in God's eyes.
Pray for her to find peace in the my love and God's love.
Pray for her to use self-control - in words, in actions, in deeds.
Pray for her.

20 Signs I Am a Foster Mother of Toddlers

1. I say potty a thousand times a day.
2. I smell poop all of the time.
3. I sing the ABCs and count to 10 more times than I can count.
4. I can burp on command to make Littles laugh or smile for a camera.
5. I start to count to five during every dinner in order to remind one Little, or the other, that they will have to go to timeout if they a) throw food, b) whine, c) don't start eating, d)
6. I can reach my arms to the middle row of the van like Inspector Gadget.
7. I can make nearly every animal sound there is and it is recognized by the Littles.
8. I know the difference between real cries and fake cries and all those in between.
9. I know the difference between real laughs and fake laughs and all those in between.
10. I can change a diaper on a rock, a bench, a van floor, and standing up when required.
11. I sort of enjoy watching Peppa Pig and Super Why.
12. I laugh at the most random of times, and also lose my cool.
13. I sit on the floor anywhere, anytime in order to get on a Littles level.
14. I have tiny toe-size bruises all over my thighs and little fingertip bruises all over my upper arms.
15. I understand and respond words and phrases that no one else can.
16. I receive thank yous and high-fives at the most random of times and for the most random of reasons.
17. I enjoy macaroni and cheese and hot dogs nights just as much as they do.
18. I can't wait to get a break away from them but miss them when we are apart.
19. I can carry to 30 lb toddlers on each hip or push them in the double stroller up hill without breaking a sweat.
20. I spend my weekends alternating breaking up fights between them and making visual memories in my head about how much they love each other.

Halloween and My Christmas Wish

I'll start with the pictures

Miz N was a gorgeous Snow White.

A-girl was a perfect little Dora fairy princess.

And Little Man was a tiger/Tigger.  Too cute for words.

My three loves.

At the end of September,
When I started thinking about costumes,
I invited my dear friend
To join us on Halloween night
For food
For fun
For an extra pair of hands.

I raced out of school as soon as possible
And got the kids dressed in their costumes
And then we hit the local Panda Express
For Free Kids Meals for kids in costumes
And Chiptoles for
$3.00 Boorittos for anyone in costumes.
(Yes, they do accept a giraffee headband
And a lion mask
As costumes.)

Then we hit the neighborhood of the Littles' daycare
And we spent a lovely hour walking around the area
Filling up their buckets
Watching Miz N run from house to house
Enjoying A-girl's "Trick a Treat" followed by "Thank You"
And being assumed at Little Man's death grip on his bucket
That people were pouring in extra candy because
"He is just so cute!"
He never said "Trick or Treat"
But he would say "You" for "Thank You"
Or would sign thank you at every person.
And he even gave a few waves goodbye and a high five
(To a man who looked a lot like Santa Claus.)

Then we packed back up the kids
With plans to go back and hit our neighborhood
When it happened.
I realized
I hadn't left my phone in the car
Like I had thought when 1/2 way through the walk
I had wanted to take a picture.
It wasn't in the van.
It wasn't in my purse.

Then I remembered when we first got out of the car
And I had slammed the back door after getting out the stroller
That I had heard a bad crashing/crunching sound
And I had reopened it up to see what I had slammed and saw nothing
And closed it again.

We looked all over the road
And the sidewalk
And the grass
And nothing
Nada.

That phone is my everything.
My only phone.
My only contacts.
My lifeline.

Tried to hold down the paniac.
Tried to get home.
Tried to take care of the kids
(Sara just did it - thank God)
And I started online trying to figure out what to do.

I'll cut out the search
The panaic
The worry
But
About two hours later
It was in my hands again.
I used Find My Phone on iCloud
(So glad
Once again
That I stuck with getting an iPhone
And bought the OtterBox cover.)
And tracked it to a neighborhood
And after watching it for 20 minutes
Sitting in a house
I decided to go drive there and see if I could find out anything.

They found it
Right where I,
Too late,
Realized I dropped it.
And didn't know what to do with it
So they took it home
And planned to take it to Verizon tomorrow.

I seriously do not know what is wrong with me.
I have developed
What I have heard other people call
Pregnancy brain
But
A) I have never been pregnant
B) I have never been pregnant
So I call it
Mommy brain.
I honestly think my head is so full
Of so many new responsiblities
(aka Miz N, A-girl, and Little Man
And all that comes with that
Plus two kids in diapers
Who are basically relying on me for their survival)
That I suddenly have lost the ability to think straight
And multi-task
And I used to be the queen of multi-task.

I've left my credit card purse behind at Target.
My wallet on the counter at Walmart.
My keys in the grocery cart at Fry's.
And now my iPhone on the back door of the van.

The good news is
I haven't forgotten
Or lost
A kid
Yet.

Despite the insanity at the end
It was a fun night.
The kids were happy
Content

And
Miz N was happy with her candy stash
Even if it "wasn't even 1/2 of what she got last year"
And Little Man went to sleep with a ring of chocolate around his mouth
And signing "more, more"
But
The best news was
A-girl fell asleep in her bed
In less than 2 minutes.
(Yes.
Her bed.
First time she's fallen asleep there
And I haven't had to move her there
After she fell asleep in the closet since August.)

Here's to the
Sort-of/Basically
Successfully
Start of the holiday season
And as my mind starts to think about Thanksgiving
And then Christmas
I have
A Christmas wish
"All I Want for Christmas"
Is my
Fully-functioning
Multi-tasking
Type-A
Organized
No need to rely on a calendar for every little thing
Brain
Back.
Please
Santa.
Please.

An October Post

It's not that I don't have things to
Process
Say
Share
Laugh about
Cry about
It's just that I am one tired foster mama
Who is also a language arts teacher
(Which means grading 120 reading and writing assignments
That make you want to put your face out with a campfire
Instead of grading them)
And just fights to stay up to 9:00 am every night.

Lots of blogs have been written in my head
But none of have been written down
And my brain is the worse for it.

There could have been a post
Just about
Every day my mom was in town.
The funny things the kids did.
How the kids reverted back to some old behaviors.
The things we did together.
But
Honestly.
I just enjoyed it.
All of it.

There could have been a post
Just about
Choosing Halloween outfits.
Ended up with a
Snow White
Dora Fairy
Tigger.

There could have been a post
Just about
Attempting to find holiday outfits
In October
With three days notice
For "family" pictures for the kids bio mom
And then the insanity of trying to get 3 kids
Two toddlers
To hold still
And all smile
In some manner
At the same time
With a photographer who had no personality
And how I resorted to getting them to smile
By burping
Loudly
In public.
Over
And
Over
And
Over.

There could be a post
Just about
An 8 year old who lives to be outdoors
An 8 year old in crisis
An 8 year old who is amazing
An 8 year old who is hurting
An 8 year old who can test my temper like no one in the world.

There could be a post
Just about
A three year old
A smart three year old
A hysterically funny three year old
A three year old who is more stubborn than anyone I have met in my life.

There could be a post
Just about
An 18 month old.
Yes,
18 month old.
Who is seriously the cutest thing ever
Who is talking/repeating up a storm
Who has developed a temper that boils up and out faster than you can blink
Who can erase all pain through a giggle and a pudgy arm neck hug.

There could be a post
Just about
Me.
My trying to deal with being a single mom
My trying to deal with the financial issues that brings with three kids
My trying to deal with the balance work (grading, grading, grading) with mothering
My trying to deal with my new found temper than arises in ways it never has before
My trying to deal with Christmas coming.
My trying to deal with scarred children with consistency mixed with love.

But
Tonight
I'll blog about prayers.
Yes.
Bedtime prayers.
(Heaven help me,
Meal time prayers hardly ever happen.
It's like chaos at the dinner table around here.)

Every night
I cradle Little Man
In my arms
And I pray over him.
And when I say "Amen"
He pops up,
Repeats
"A-man"
And then gives me a kiss goodnight
And I lay him in his crib.

I do the same thing with A-girl.
Cradle.
Pray in her ear.
And
Since she finally has stopped
2-second delayed
Repeating my words
Back into my ear,
Last week
I decided it was time
For her to say her own prayer.
I can't usually understand more than one or two words
Until she gets to the "Amen"

Until tonight.

And then I was trying
So hard
Not
To
Laugh.

Here is the prayer of a 3 year old.

God
Thank
Potty
M&M
Dora
Peppa Pig
No Super Why
Bath
Brush Hair
Brush Teeth
Go Sleep
Amen.

Let me interpret.

God = Dear God
(I usually open with this phrase.)
Thank = Thank you
(I usually thank God for something.)
Potty = Potty
(We are trying to potty train...sort of.)
M&M = Three M&M's
(A-girl gets three when she pees in the potty)
Dora = Dora the Explorer
(A-girl got a Dora Potty Doll for her birthday who sits next to her while she goes)
Peppa Pig = A British cartoon about a pig named Peppa and her family
(A-girl is obsessed with this short show and gets a 5 minute episode when she goes pee on the potty)
No Super Why = A PBS show she must watch at daycare
(She was mad tonight because I wouldn't let her watch it after her Peppa Pig clip)
Bath = Night time baths
(It is her and Little Man's favorite time of the day.)
Brush Hair, Brush Teeth, Go Sleep = Self-explanatory
(Literally the list of the last things we did before prayers.)

I kind of like Peppa almost as much as I like Kipper.  (Seriously.  British kid shows rock.)

 

 

 

A-Girl can run the iPad like a pro. 

Life in the Hood

Toddler-Hood, that is.

August was hard.
I'm not going to lie.
Going back to work.
New grade level.
New subject area.
Two Littles into two daycares.
Two Littles with temper issues.
Two Littles under 3.
I was
I am
So out of my element.

But
Praise God for friends.
Friends who were there
When I finally broke.
When I finally opened.
When I finally admitted defeat
To others besides myself.
Friends telling me the emotions I was dealing with were
Are
Normal.
Friends with prayer.
Friends with unconditional love.
Friends with logical advice.

And,
I started listening to the book
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are
By Ann Voskamp
And
The beauty of her language
Of her word choice
Of her prose
Is speaking to me.

I don't pretend to understand it all.
I don't pretend to necessarily even agree with it all.
And
I have a long
Long
Way to go
To increase my attitude of gratitude.
But it has opened my eyes
And my heart
To stop
And look for
Eucharisteo
Thanksgiving
Joy
In the simple
Everyday
Day to day life. 

http://ordinarilyextraordinary.com/2011/02/22/eucharisteo-art/

I am learning to stop.
Look for the blessings.
Look for the smiles.
Look for the loves.
And
I am finding them
Everywhere
In Toddler-Hood.

My A-girl
Chanting
Yellow, black
Yellow, black
Yellow, black
Over and over
As I am going around the entrance curve
From the 60 to the 101
A little faster than I should
And as I am about to lose it
I see this

Out of the corner of my eye.
And I remember to rejoice in her observation skills.
And laugh.

Coming out into the living room
And seeing she has dumped out all of her
Kitchen food and supplies
Out of its box
But hadn't put all the pillows and blankets back away yet.
She immediately picked up the toys
Putting them all back into the box.
Then proceeded every single pillow
All six of them
On the correct chairs
And then placed the correct throw
On each chair.
And I remember to rejoice in her listening and processing.
And give her hugs and praises.

Every day
Pulling into the cul-de-sac
A little cheer from the middle seats
Home!
Home!
Home!
One loud voice
Of our A-girl
And one little voice
Of Little Man
Rejoicing to be home
Together
With me
And I remember to give thanks for their feeling at home.
And secretly say Home in my heart as well.

Chubby hands of Little Man
Little hands of A-Girl
Held up in the air
For the most random of things
To give me a high-five
Or ask me for one.
A-Girl gave me a high five yesterday
Used my napkin to pick up a spill on the table.
Little Man reached up for a high-five
After I told him "good job"
For putting his shoes in the basket
And I remember to give thanks for their smiles
Smiles of pride and pleasure.

Waking up A-Girl
Every morning
From the floor of the closet
And having her snuggle my neck
In her quiet morning hours
And then walking into Little Man's room
And awaiting the good-morning squeal
That inevitably comes from his crib
As we walk in to start the Littles morning
And I remember to rejoice in morning smiles
And don't mind that morning wet diaper smell
As much.

Playing animal sound game in the car
With A-Girl
And her saying "Don't want it"
When I ask her for the sound a cow makes
And the sound a sheep makes
And I
Try
To remember
To give thanks for her independence
For her ability to start talking in semi-sentences
(And tell her I am not going to play if she refuses certain animals.)

Little Man's asthma kicking up
Big time
And a crazy-mess with his insurance
And prescription coverage
And eventually remembering to give thanks
For a day off
To spend home
With just him
And love on him
And chase him
And hold him while he screams his head off
During the breathing treatments.

Life in the Hood
Is Good
Is Hard
Is Joy-Filled
And I am learning
Learning to look for joy.
Learning to let things go.
Learning to look for the
Eucharisteo

Less you think I am on some drug
In some high
Or state of denial
You will remember that
Yes
I still do have an 8 year old.
And there is a shocking lack of
Praise
Thanksgiving
Joy-Moments
Focused on her.
Bluntly
That is because
But I am focusing on the 
Good
Fun
Easier
In this blog
As an attempt to avoid
The head spinning frustrations
With that certain 8 year old.

Pray?
For her
For me
Please.
Thanks.

An Update on Life

Miz N
Started 2nd grade
Says she has the "sweetest teacher" ever
And that she loves school
And after school care club
But
We've already had to have one phone conference
And one email note about her behavior choices with her teacher
And two one-on-one meetings about her behaviors at club.
Sigh.

Good news is she is on grade level for everything
And is reading constantly
(Never saw that this summer)
And loves to write.

Testing the water big time with me
Mostly with lying
Which
As she is finding out
Is my number one pet peeve with kids
Especially when I know they are lying
I call them out on it
And they keep on lying.
Sigh.

She loves to play outdoors
And I've finally just let her go out
And sweat to death when we get home from school
And ride in circles around the cul-de-sac.
It does her good
And makes her happy
(As it does me).

Prayers for Miz N:
--That she begins to settle into the routines and expectations of school and is consistently respectful.
--That she will start filtering out exaggeration and fill-in-the-blank stories and start seeing the power in truth-telling.

Dora
Giggles
Whiner
Parrot
Little Sir Echo,
Whatever you want to call her,
Is three officially.
We celebrated by jumping as a family at BounceU
And then having Little Ceasers - her favorite.
She got a bunch of kitchen cooking utensils
And play food.
I am still on the look out for a little play kitchen for her.

Not potty-trained.
Talking non-stop.
Seriously.
Non-stop.
Still sleeping in the closet most days.

Mimicking everything and everybody.
When Little Man isn't sharing with her want she wants
Or doing what she wants
She starts to use my parenting techniques I use on her
On him.
Counting down.
(1, 2, 8, 7, 3...)
Whispering.
(Please give me....)
Yelling.
(No, _____!)
It's grand to see my amazing parent skills show up on a 3 year old
(Sarcasm, friends. Sarcasm.)

Her new thing is she says
"Shake your body" all of the time.
I have no idea where it came from
But it is a bit disturbing.
(And funny.  Yes.)

Prayers for Little Sir Echo:
--She will continue to develop her words and use them to communicate her needs.
--Her little stubborn ways will begin to soften around the edges.  She and I locked horns way too much.

Little Man
Well, Dracula,
Is still up to his biting ways
As well as crazy-hair pulling
And off the chart screaming

He is teething.
Joy of all joys.
Which
For him means
Little appetite
Lots of drooling
And a mess of a back end.

He is talking certain words more and more
Hi
Whoa
Wow
And...
My name.
Yes, my name.
(I kind of love that.)

Granted,
It's probably because his three year old sister
Seriously says my name
Over 1000 times an hour.
May-ann
May-ann
May-ann
(It's like finger nails on a chalk board)
(It seems to be her version of the "um" or "hmm")

Prayers for Little Man:
--That his molar will come in quickly and his diaper rash will heal quickly.
--That his vocabulary and sign language skills will continue to develop in order to help with overall communication.

Me
Maryann
May-ann
Momma
Miss Ramseyer
I am doing okay.
It's a day by day
Minute by minute
Tantrum by tantrum kind of thing.

School is in full force.
Good kids.
Love middle school.
Love teaching language arts.
We all have a new integrated class
That is throwing us all right over the edge
But I work with an amazing team
And we've come up with some mixing of students
That I think will work better for us and the kids
In order to accomplish the goals of the class.

Loving storytelling at church on Saturday nights
But still trying to figure out how to keep the two Littles awake
And in good moods
When,
By the time we get out,
It is an hour past dinner and time for bed.
Got the cleaning people coming Tuesday.
So excited I can hardly wait.

Got the water bill and the electricity bill for this month.
Holy crap.
That's all I can say.
Holy crap.

My mom is coming out in October
For three weeks
And I cannot wait!

Prayers for me:
Needing to learn effective coping strategies as a parent and a person when dealing with temper tantrums.  Needing to learn to give myself grace.  Needing to rely on His strength, instead of beating myself up for it and pulling away.

I Killed Froggy

Little Man has one stuffed animal.
It is
It was
A cute little frog.
I don't have a before picture.
But here is the after picture.
After I killed it.

Basically, Froggy now looks like what those things look like you pull out of the Build-a-Bear bins. Except the head.  The brains somehow stayed in tack.

Little Man just wears a diaper at night.
He is a big sweaty mess in the mornings
And I got sick of peeling his pjs off of him in the mornings
So we just go with the diaper.

He slept well last night
Like he usually does.
Quiet and peaceful
From the moment I put him down
Until the moment I walked in his bedroom
To wake him up.

But then
I step on something.
It's his diaper.
I find his diaper outside of the crib
Dry.
Very dry.
Suspiciously dry.
And him naked as a jay bird inside the crib.
A soaking wet
Pee-soaked bed.

From the look of the dry diaper
It would appear he stripped before even falling asleep
Some 11 hours earlier.
And I didn't notice when I checked in on him a few times
By peeking around the darkened door.
And thus
His crib was soaked.
Soaked.
(Praise the heavens it was only soaked...
If you get my drift.)

Little Man is a mover in the night
And it was apparent by all the soaking wet pee spots all over
His poor blanket and Froggy appeared to have been connected to his leg
All night
And
Everywhere he went
They were connected
And they were literally dripping.
Yes.
Dripping.

Needless to say
He got a morning bath
And all of his crib things went straight into the washer.
And we rushed out of the house for the day.

Eight hours later I pulled in the driveway
Got the diaper bag
Got the Littles' water cups
And we headed out for an appointment.
I decided to rush back in
And quickly moved all the things from the washer to the dryer
In hopes it would be all set for bedtime.

Four hours later
As I am getting Little Man ready for bed
I realize I still haven't remade his bed
And I go into the dryer
And I find stuffing
Froggy guts
Everywhere.
All over the towels
All over the blanket
All over the mattress pad
All over the fitted sheet.
And Froggy.
Poor Froggy.
Stuffless
With the exception of his head.

Then I looked into the washer
And found more stuffing.
More Froggy guts.
Not pretty folks.
Not pretty.
I killed Little Man's Froggy.

Froggy's Guts.

Needless to say
Little Man is wearing pajamas again tonight
And I am going to need to go buy some stuffing
Some thread
A needle
And hope for the best.

If It's Good Enough for Harry Potter

Harry Potter slept
In a cupboard under the stairs.
My almost three year old sleeps
In the walk-in closet on the floor.

Let me explain
Less someone reports me to CPS.

Boo talks
And talks
And talks
When you put her down to sleep.
It doesn't matter if she's taken a nap
Or not.
She just goes on and on.
About this.
About that.
About nothing in particular.
She's cute,
But
It's seriously annoying.
Especially for the 8 year old
Who is trying to go to sleep
And has to get up for school the next day.

About two weeks ago
I started bringing her out to sleep
And talk
On the living room chair.
Then the living room couch.
Then the living room floor.
(Trying to find her a place out of my eye-line.
Her staring brown eyes
Following my every move
Creep me out.)
But
Then I couldn't get anything done.
No dishes.
No school work.
Couldn't turn on the TV.

Last Sunday night
I was desperate.
I needed a place to stash her-
To talk herself to sleep-
But all the rooms were full
And I needed to get some work done
Before the first day of school.
So
I pulled in a pillow
And a blanket
Into the door of the walk-in closet
Just off the bathroom
And I said
"Go sleep in the closet."
And she went.
And I told her goodnight.
And we said our "I love yous."
Again
And
After probably an hour of talking to herself
She was asleep
And Miz N was sleep within 10 minutes.

She now has fallen asleep there
Every night since then.

I do start her in her bed
And always 30 minutes before Miz N
But usually within 10 minutes of Miz N joining her
I am moving her to her closet.

All I do is walk in her bedroom now
Point to the bathroom
(Where the closet is)
And she grabs to closest sleeping items
And goes and lays herself down.


So,
My almost three-year old
Sleeps in the walk-in closest
On the floor.
Um.
Yeah.
We just do what we have to do to survive around here.

Note to concerned readers:
Before I go to bed
(Not earlier because I've learned that she doesn't go into a deep sleep that fast)
I gently
(Okay - that's a lie.
It's impossible to gently pick up a kid
And transfer them to bed
When they are on the floor)
I awkwardly scoop her up
And plop her into her real,
With a mattress,
Bed
And she sleeps there the rest of the night. 

If it worked for "The Boy Who Lived" for 11 years..."

Then I guess Miss Boo will be okay, right?

This New Normal is Taking Awhile to Get Used To

This
Type-A
Scheduled
Plan-orientated
Hyper-organized
Ultra-focused
Isn't feeling like herself.

It could have something to do with:

• The first day of teaching 6th grade language arts tomorrow and she has no plans ready for beyond what she is doing with them tomorrow despite going in a week early to set up and then for four hours today.
• The first day of school tomorrow for an 8 year old who just lost her two front teeth today and who has been having some major attitude and talking back issues.
• An almost 3 year old who thinks whining is back and style and she can get away with it and who has learned, somewhere, (see above), to say "NO" and refuse to do what she is told and then who literally screams on the top of her lungs for her entire three minutes of time out and yet turns it off immediately at the sound of the three minutes being up.
• A 15 month old who thinks biting is the answer for everything and who has learned to say "ouch" and now says it about a thousand times when you change his diaper, get him dressed, or wipe his face (body) after eating.
• A never ending cycle of towels in the washer or dryer.
• A never ending pile of dishes in the sink.
• A never ending load in the dishwasher to be loaded or unloaded.
• A never clean kitchen floor that is just begging for more ants to arrive.
• The stress of not receiving a full paycheck for another 17 days...but, hey, who's counting.
• The start of a new daycare for the two Littles on Tuesday at a small home-based program and wondering if it is the right move or not.
• The knowledge that the move means a certain almost three year old isn't in any kind of preschool and needs it and she honestly don't see how to make it work out.
• Her bedroom still having all of the clothes she took and washed in Michigan sitting in a basket for her to take out and hang up but instead that she just keeps pulling from and adding to.
• Suddenly losing the ability to multi-task effectively.  Her brain is going eight thousand directions and doesn't seem to be processing at it's normal speed.
• Failing to keep her inbox clean, read and responded to...or her text messages, too.  Makes her feel out of control and irresponsible.
• Not being able to sleep in.  She loves sleep. She needs sleep.

This
Overtired
Stretched-thin
Impatient
Foster Mama
Isn't feeling like herself
Because
Well,
This is all new.
And it's not a "new normal,"
Yet.
And
As a person who looks at the past to learn how to deal with the present
Has no frame of reference to work from
And it makes her jittery
And she doesn't like jittery.

Yet
This
Frazzled
Scattered
Jumbled
Foster Mama
Is in love
With three amazing kiddos
Who
Melt her heart with their hugs.
Melt her heart with their giggles.
Melt her heart with their antics.

This
Learning-to-give-herself-grace
Learning-to-trust-the-Lord-with-all-of-her-heart
Learning-to-cast-her-cares-on-Him
Foster Mama

And holding her arms around Jesus' neck
As He guides her down this new road
That may,
Or may not,
Become her new normal,
But is what He has called her to
Here and now.

Little Man is Dracula in Disguise

My
Sweet
Adorable
Funny
Chubby
Smiley
Cuddly
Little Man
Got
Kicked
Out
Of
Daycare
Today.

Yes.

At 10:10,
I missed a phone call from the daycare,
Saying I had a 1/2 hour to respond to the message
Or else they would start going through the emergency list.
Little Man had bit 3
Yes, THREE,
Children
This morning
And the rule is if you bite more than 2,
Then you are sent home.

Yes.
Little Man
Got sent home from daycare
Today.

I don't know what to do.
Seriously.

I am back to work.
Tonight was Meet the Teacher.
I had a millions things to do.
And I was sitting in my classroom
Crying
Frustrated
Annoyed
Angry
Clueless
As to what to do.

It's almost 12 hours later
And I still am.

When you take new foster placements
They always tell you to "assess the impact"
That the children will have on your home.
It's impossible to do.
I mean
Who in the right mind
Thinks,
"Oh, I might have a toddler who bites
And who might get kicked out of daycare for the day
(And forever, if it continues)
And I'll have to pick up the 15 month old
And figure out what to do with him for the day
And have a plan for that?
Not me.

God provided.
Again.
In many ways,
Despite my tears.

One and Two:
My sister, Janelle,
Is in town with my niece,
(I have lots to blog about our time together...
Just no energy to do so--
Let's just say I have begged her to extend her trip
Or consider moving here.
The extra pair of hands
And ear to vent to
Is invaluable.)
And my neighbor (Splashing Sarah) was home
And able to go pick up Dracula
And bring him back to Janelle
Where she, my niece, and Miz N
Cancelled their plans for the day
To stay home with Dracula.

Three:
I stopped at the District Office
To pick up a quick item
And saw three different prayer warriors
And opened up
And shared
And asked for prayers.
God knew I needed to see them.
Each of them.

Four:
A song on the radio.
(This song haunts me at times.)

Five:
This morning
During my attempt to spend some time in the Word
Before the kids get up
(I am NOT a morning person.)
I was expanding my reading from James 1 yesterday
Specifically verses 2 and 3.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

I started cross referencing the word "perseverance" or "endurance"
And ended up reading over and reflecting on 2 Peter 1:5-8.
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness;and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.
I remember thinking 
"Lord...what do you have in store?"
And then when this all went down
I was tested
And I failed.
Big time.
Ran for help from everyone
Except Him.
About two hours later I realized it
And these verses came flying back in my face.
I think I know what I will be rereading tomorrow
And probably for the next few days
Weeks.
Yet...
Despite all of God's provisions
It's been 12 hours now
I am
A mess.
Emotionally
Mentally.

I am full of self-doubt
  Did I bite off more than I can chew?
 
I am full of concern
  What if he does this again?
  What do I do with a 15 mo old who gets kicked out of daycare?

I am full of frustration.
I talked to the daycare
They don't do
Won't do
Timeouts.
They 'redirect'
They talk to him about biting hurts
They read him a book about biting and how it hurts.
Sigh.
They don't give an extra nap.
They don't allow an snack at another time during the day.
They said they will "watch" him.
Sigh.

My licensing worker suggested finding a home daycare.
Where?
Who?
When?
Mostly, when.

Please pray.
For wisdom.
For guidance.
For answers.
For Dracula to keep his six little teeth to himself.

Learning About the Littles

I cannot believe
That today marks
Two "official" weeks
With the Littles.

Little Man
And
Boo
   (Who was Miss Giggles
   Who turned into Tigger
   Who has become Boo-
   Think Monsters' Inc.)
Have changed
My house
  (Let's see a crib, diapers, diaper genie, sippy cups, make-shift gates...)
My days
  (Diaper changing, chasing, laughing, temper-tantrums, lots of eating...)
My nights
  (Baby monitors, midnight cries, bedtime hug cuddle prayers, early morning cuddles...)
My thoughts
  (Where are they? What are they doing? Are they okay?)
My memory
  (Seriously...I am little a scattered nightmare now. It's crazy!)
My life
  (And for the better...even when it doesn't feel like it.)

And...in these two weeks,
I have learned a lot of things
About how each of them "tick"
(For better or worse.)

Little Man bites.  Yes.  These are the impression of his six little teeth that he left on the back of Boo the other day.  I don't know what to do to stop him.  It happens SO fast and I obviously can't (and won't ever!) bite him back - and the natural way for him to learn that it hurts is to have it done back to him from the assailant (but I would never tell Boo, or anyone else to do that back to him) - but seriously...what do you do?  People have mentioned bite toys, but he seriously don't bite or put other things in his mouth and when he gets frustrated it happens so fast none of us see it coming.  We yell "STOP!  NO BITE!" trying to startle him in the moments when we do happen to catch it, but now he has bite two different kids, two different days at daycare this week.  URGH!

Boo LOVES to sort, stack, and organize things.  Here she is with all of the plastic cups from the cupboard.  She likes to pull all of one color of the magnetic letters off the refrigerator and walk around the house with them.  It's cute - albeit a little OCD, and it shows me just how smart this little cookie is.

Little Man eats bananas as if they were corn on the cob.  It makes us all laugh.  Little Man LOVES to eat and fruit is his thing. 

Little Man's favorite sitting/standing/thinking/stress-relieving position...I see yoga in his future.

Umm...yeah, Little Man is out numbered here and we love to remind him of the fact.  He was rocking this tutu and rainbow scarf a few nights ago.  We also love to shampoo his hair up into funny spikes and ponies.  Hee, hee.

Little Man and Boo's favorite toy in the house is the rocking chair.  I don't have a good picture (or hardly any) of Boo on it because she is always rocking at about 10 mph it seems!

We LOVE Boo, but she seriously hardly ever stops talking.  The incessant talking in bed has gotten to the point where I have taken her out of bed and started having her fall asleep on the over-sized chair in the living room and then transferring her over to bed later.  We know she is technically speech delayed (probably about a year to six month behind kids her age in speech acquisition) and we want to encourage her to always be talking and learning new words and meanings, but oy...she is sure making up for lost time at two inconvenient spots - the dinner table and at bed time.

Praise Reports Specifically About the Littles:
--Boo's temper tantrums have decreased greatly and she is now able to sit on her time-out rug for 2 or 3 minutes and then get up and bring the timer to me and apologize for what got her into timeout. This is huge, folks! Huge!
--Little Man fights me less and less every day for his 10-minute, twice a day, breathing treatments and has basically stopped whining at the dinner table when he isn't getting food fast enough to please him and is using his sign language to communicate more, eat, and all done.

Prayer Requests Specifically About the Littles:
--Both Boo and Little Man have done fairly well during our daycare transition week this week.  The staff loves them all.  Please be praying that Boo becomes more receptive to the idea of potty training.  She turns 3 next month.  And please, please, please pray that Little Man stops biting other kids and that we would have wisdom of how to teach him that it hurts and must stop.

PS - This is Boo from Monsters' Inc.  My sister and I have started calling Miss Giggles/Tigger that now.  :-)

Still Shaking My Head in Disbelief

After the fiasco
Of bedtime
And the ups and downs of the nighttime
I decided to lay low today,
But I did need to register the kids for daycare.
So
We finally got out of here around 10:45 am.
Woo-hoo!
It was before noon!

We went and visited where
The Littles will spend their days
And where Miz N will spend before school
And after school
And I feel at peace about the placement,
And praise God for the recommendations
And the openings.

We left there and I went in search of a Target.
Of course,
It is lunch time by this point,
And Miz N and I both had growling stomachs,
So, yes,
I'll be that mom,
And eat at Target's cafe.
Miz N pepperoni pizza.
Tigger and Little Man splitting chicken strips and grilled cheese
And me with my Diet Coke and popcorn.
We were happy.
All of us.
I like being this mom.

Then Little Man gets restless.
I decide to let him down,
Forgetting his has no shoes on
Because,
Like always,
He takes them off as soon as I put them on
And I couldn't find both of them when we walked into the store.
Oh, heck,
I'll be THAT mom,
And let him walk around barefoot.
He was happy,
Which makes us happy.
I like being this mom.

Then he leans over,
And before I can get there,
My child has eaten popcorn off the Target floor.
Outstanding.
The people who were mentioning how cute he was,
Were now looking at me with disgust.
I am THAT mom.

Then we head off to the shoe department
In search of something for Little Man's feet
That he can't take off so fast.
All goes well.

Then we start walking toward the school section,
Because I hate the diaper bag I was given,
(Nothing ever stays up on my shoulders.)
And decide I am just going to use a backpack,
Because,
Well,
I love backpacks.
On the way to the other end of the store,
Tigger decides to start throwing things out of the cart,
And carrying on.
No regular interventions work,
So,
As a friend recommended,
I decided to give her a "time-out" in the store,
So she would understand it would not be acceptable,
Not at home,
Not at the store,
Not anywhere.
She sat on the floor under some work-out wear,
And the other three of us waiting a few feet away,
Trying not to give eye-contact,
Not wanting to admit her bellowing voice belonged to us,
But helping her learn.

She was doing her typical fake-cry
That she does when she is in time-out,
Which I now know ends when the timer goes off
(Praise God for cell phone timers that beep!)

But, we don't make it to the two minute mark.

A woman,
Maybe in her 50s,
Comes out of no where,
Tells me I am a "bad mommy"
And I should not let her cry,
And then hands Tigger a dollar bill
(YES! A $1!!!!)
And tells her to go buy some candy!!!
CANDY?!?!?!?!!!!!!

Another woman watched it,
Heard it,
Go down
And our eyes of shock
And disbelief
Met.
I started shaking my head,
Because I didn't know what to say.
She started shaking her head,
(And laughing a bit)
Miz N was standing there in shock,
As well,
And as the CRAZY woman leaves
She whispers loudly to me,
"Well, that was awkward.
Do I get a dollar for not screaming?"

The other woman,
The normal one who was as shocked as me,
Starts to laugh out loud now
And walks off.

All I could do
And still am doing is shaking my head.
I couldn't believe it!
A $1!
Candy?

 

We got to the backpack aisle,
And another woman struck up a conversation with me,
(It happens a LOT now since I go places with three adorable kiddos.)
And I HAVE to tell her what happened.
She gasps
And then laughs
And then says,
"Did it work?"

I realized,
It did.
Tigger had immediately stopped crying when the CRAZY stranger
Gave her the dollar,
And I went and picked her up
Took the dollar
And put her back in the cart.
Tigger kept saying "candy, candy, candy."

That second lady saw me later in the school again,
And immediately started laughing again,
And told said,
"Hey....
This maybe is a new way you can start earning some money.
Come to Target
Let a kid scream
Wait for someone to give you money.
If they carry on long enough,
Someone might give you a $20 to make you leave."

Hmmmm....
Don't tempt me.
LOL.

We got to the register,
And I gave the dollar to Miz N
And told her to pick out something that was $0.79.
She got her Kit Kat,
Went through the line by herself,
And kept the change.
She was ecstatic.

We HAD to tell the cashier the story,
Of course,
And Miz N
Thoroughly
Enjoyed that Kit Kat bar on the ride home,
And in this hot heat,
This is how she looked when I pulled into the garage.

It's two hours later,
And I am still shaking my head
In disbelief.

I remember my aunt,
Telling us about when she had three kiddos
Under the age of 5
And her littlest one
Who was maybe 15 months old
Had grabbed a piece of gum
That had harden on the side of the cart
And put it into her mouth.
My aunt
Instantly
Grabbed her little girl's mouth
And yanked it out
And then a total stranger came up
And yelled at her about
How she was treated her child.
My aunt told me the story
When my cousin was probably 16
But it was very much etched in her
"I-can't-believe-that-just-happened" memory.

Anyone else have one of this
A-total-stranger-comes-up-to-you-in-a-public-place-and-chews-you-out-for-a-parenting-choice?
I bet there are some good ones out there.
This new "mommy" of toddlers would LOVE to hear them.

Maybe that's a second way
I can start making some extra money,
Put them all into a book.
It would be a best-seller,
Right?