Injustice

I was distracted in church this Sunday, sitting in the pew, staring, yes, staring at this 4 month old baby two rows ahead of us.  She had on one of those little headbands with the giant flowers attached to it that are almost larger than the baby's head, you know the ones I am talking about, her cute little outfit, matching shoes and stripped tights, a bag of teething rings, fresh diapers, bottles, toys, changes of clothes, etc, etc, etc, you get the picture.  She was surrounded by grandma, grandpa, mom, sister, brother, all ooohing and ahhing and jumping at any little wimper that came out of her adorable little lips.  As I stood, sat, kneeled, with my eyes fixed on the spectacular show going on in front of me I felt myself becoming more and more furious.  Furious that my babies didn't have that when they were infants.  That they wern't oohed and ahhed over, that they didnt get picked up the second the let out a wimper, that they didn't have an extended family that played with them and made silly expressions while blowing raspberries on their tummies, that they sat in their waste for hours and hours crying for someone to change them, that they never knew what it was like to fall asleep in mama's arms listening to her heartbeat, that they came to believe the only one they can rely on in this world is themselves, that they had their little hearts broken over and over again and convinced themselves that the world isn't a safe place because there was no one there to keep them safe when they were so vulnerable.  The thought of my kids crying for help and no one coming is unbearable to me and so stiffling that it becomes difficult to breath, but I didn't have to live through it, they did.  That injustice remains with them and I can only do my best to help them heal. 

A Prayer for Today

I pray today for the intercession of St Gianna. Through your vocation as a mother and doctor, you honored every human person and saw value in every life, you looked beyond the label of "special needs" and saw every life as a gift from God that should be loved and cherished and given the opportunity to live life to its fullest.  Holy Sprit, Source of every perfection, I ask that you give the doctors on all four corners of the world the wisdom and knowledge to piece together this puzzle.  You know what is in our heart and our boundless love for this gift You have given us.  To You be the Glory forever and ever Amen. 

In the past 24 hours

I have not stopped but for sleep.  The world has been racing and I have felt desperate to cling on its coattails.  So much seems to be happening so fast I just want to take a step back and observe for a second.  Today started with 2 dys-regulated kiddos and a basketball rolling out of the garage at just the right second to reverse the door, forcing me to pull back up the drive to get the basketball out of the way and in doing so step on a large wad of gum.  nice. Its going to be one of THOSE kind of days.  Change your space I told myself.  Drawing a blank, well onward.   Off to picking up a poop pan, have 5 tons of dirt dumped on our drive + 8 yds of mulch, then off again to get K early and out of her routine which always makes for a great day especially being that we were headed to a new ENT doc.  The whirlwind appointment lasted about 5 sec. and ended with the word "surgery".  Well, not totally unexpected but enlightening in the fact that her humongous tonsils and adenoids might be part of the peeing issues we are seeing.  Wondering now if that might not be the only connection.  Barely make it out of x-ray before E2 plays Tarzan on the very expensive x-ray equipment and the cell phone is ringing off the hook, do i know where K is the school asks? Why yes, she is right here, didn't you get the note i sent yesterday??? Few min's later, call from the same number, strange, nope this time another contact from someone else at the school getting N listed for evaluation for the bilingual class (cheers in the background).  Off to pick up E1 and N at school just in the nick of time and avoid it if I could, or would, it just wasn't happening, K wants to go in...sigh....she really hasn't been back to the preschool she left earlier in the year due to the behavioral problems she was having there.  Yes, I tried to play it cool, but the second she walked in the door, it was clear the brain scramble was on.  I held her hand as we walked through her old classroom and this glassed look just came over her face.  Her old teacher walked in and I tried to give her the words for a polite greeting, but she was clamped shut, it was like returning to the scene of a massacre.  The kids came back and unbelievably, many remembered her name, even though she was only there for a week.  They came up to hug her which only caused her to withdraw further, ok, time to leave.  Nice seeing you all, sorry I almost poked your eyes out and pinched all of you! Off to RE class and a visit to the park that somehow resulted in every self inflicted  injury known to man (note to self - restock band-aides in the car),draw happy faces on all the kids hands as a reminder when they look down how others want to be treated,  home, margarita from scratch made lovingly with very old dehydrated limes, playing scantily clad paper dolls with the girls (seriously, they look like little hookers and they even give you some money to put in their hands like they just did a lap dance or something), conversation with E2 about how he will ask God to make me fast, then he decides to take back his request to God because he says I am already too fast (guess he didn't hear me wheezing at the park earlier), recapping the day and giving it to God.

Neuro Reorg Here We Come!

We got the great news yesterday that the practitioner feels that K could be helped by Neuro Reorg. After a difficult day back to school for her after at weekend at the grandparents, it was much needed good news. Our appointment is in early May and we are super excited about hearing what her thoughts are and getting more in depth feedback and information about the program.
On the school placement for N next year, we were able to network with a number of parents at the conference and got a LOT of great information including some unexpected information from one of the speakers who is an advocate for families with school districts. His information will be invaluable in our decision making process. In a nutshell, N is currently at a private Christian school that we love, but would be difficult, if she needs academic help going forward to come by, coupled with our concern that if she is in too far over her head with the very advanced academic program, she might develop, knowing her personality, a dislike of school. Our other option is to see if she qualifies for a dual language program at our public school. That would give her the learning in her native language but also build her English vocabulary, plus the resources are there for her if she needs assistance. Thinking we need to start a list of pros and cons. One thing we have noticed that some reasons for picking one school over the other are my hang ups not hers, for example, if she is not keeping pace at the private school, it is likely we would have her take kindergarten twice, while our younger daughter in the public school would move on to first grade. That bugs me, not necessarily her. I have not been able to pin point my exact issue with it, but it seems to point to the hierarchy of our family, i want N to be and feel like the older sister, as she can easily be bullied by K, and I think the grade level would add to that. N is already smaller than K and about 6 lbs lighter. But that is my issue, not necessarily hers. And how much the grade level would come into play with them at 2 different schools is questionable, the greater factor is probably their sizes and personalities at this age.
So, lots of stuff coming up in the next few weeks and I am hopeful we can do some blow by blow blog posts of the neuro reorg as we go along.

Trauma Conference Recap

We spent the weekend san kiddos at a conference for parents of kids with trauma. At last years conference, I can say I left feeling like superwoman with all these great new tools in my belt for helping my kids to heal. This year was so different. We made so many connections with amazing families and got to share stories, successes and failures, but I left the conference feeling doubt. And not just a pinch of doubt, a whole whopping mountain of doubt. I have an immense amount of respect for the speakers and families at the conference so hearing everyone gasp and the room go silent after I mentioned in a small group that the kids grandparents were taking them to Disney World this fall, I was utterly horrified. I felt a little better after another family talked about their trip to New York City with their child and the accommodations that they made to give sensory breaks and unwinding time, and saw how it could be done in a safe and therpudic manner. T tried to talk me down afterwards from the ledge and reminded me that we don’t live our lives by isolating our children from experiences, and that we have a more “That’s How We Roll” attitude, I agreed, but the little voice in the back of my head keeps saying, “yah, but you’re stupid!”. Sure you could go 90 mph on the highway and not wear a seat belt and not get in an accident but is it responsible? Just because we can does it mean we should or that it is the best decision for our family. We will be going to Disney, because that’s how we roll, and we are accepting the fact that one of the adults might end up in the hotel pool with K the whole trip barely setting foot on the Disney grounds. Taking K to Colombia was a freaking train wreck. But if I had the decision to make again today, I wouldn’t have done it differently. So in a nutshell, that either makes me incredibly dense or a gluten for punishment. Stay tune for Therapeutic Parenting 101 – Trial by Fire

Easter Thoughts and the Bunny

If you havn't been reading Jen Hatmaker's blog, you should. She can be found at: http://jenhatmaker.com/blog.htm. Love this quote in light of my bubble post:

"While the richest people on earth pray to get richer, the rest of the world begs for intervention with their faces pressed to the window, watching us drink our coffee, unruffled by their suffering."

Be the change.

Growing up in the “bubble” and moving to the “bubble”

There was never a good connotation when folks around the area called the town I grew up in “the bubble”. The perception was that if you were in “the bubble”, you were not impacted by poverty, violence, diversity or the real world that was going on outside of “the bubble”. “The bubble”, however, was subjected to racial integration plans of the 1970’s which some, likely well educated buffoon with a bunch of letters after his name had concocted in his corner office thinking,” hey, if we bus kids from the inner city to the “bubble”, peace love and joy will result in racial unity!”. Well, as you can imagine the integration plan was a dismal flop. Much like visiting one of those all inclusive resorts in Mexico for 2 weeks, just visiting there doesn’t make you a part of the community and to the community, you will always be a foreigner. Therein lies the basic problem.
So I am getting my hair done a few weeks ago, chatting with the hair dresser who grew up in the town we are now living, a state away from the “bubble”, and she tells me how growing up here, they called it the “bubble”, oh Lord, I am now thinking, I moved from one bubble to another! But in my new bubble, I have 2 black kids and 2 Hispanic kids. When we bought our house, the racial diversity of the neighborhood/town was not something that ever crossed our minds. I am a huge sucker for oak trees and to be honest, the large yards and 150 yr old oak trees were what drew us to the neighborhood. Three of our kids go to an amazing school outside of the bubble. The school community is close knit and diverse. We love the school and all the families we have met through the school. Sounds AWESOME doesn’t it! Oak trees and an amazing Christian school! But we have 4 kids not three, and the 4th has a 35 page IEP and right now cannot exist in a standard classroom setting without a coordination nightmare between the private school the other three go to and the public school. Sigh…..as I walked up to the door of the public elementary school our 4th will be attending next year, the kids were all out playing for recess. I saw three young black girls, hair beautifully done in braids with beads, standing together chatting on the sidewalk. I scanned the playground, and saw a lone group of Hispanic boys playing together at the base of the slide, and then, a sea of white. Together, yet apart, right here in small town America in 2012. And all those feelings of anger and frustration from my youth came flooding back. To get the quality of assistance she requires for her special needs, without moving far outside of the area, the school she will attend will be predominately white, and in addition, the kids she will interact with have segregated themselves based on race. Where does a little black girl who is being raised by white parents fit in? I already know the answer to this one. What I don’t know is what, if anything, we can do about it but be patient and wait to figure out God’s plan in all this.

The Prodigal Son - Rembrants Painting

I have had a little obsession with the prodigal son lately and as hard as I try, I can't seem to shake it as it seems to come up in different contexts. I originally used the parable to explain something that happened in December with the focus being on the son's return home and how we, just like God, should open our arms and forgive past events. A book then appeared at our adoration chapel in January that was titled "The Prodigal Son". The book focuses mainly on Rembrandt's painting "the Prodigal Son" and the characters that appear in it. Curiosity got the best of me and i picked it up and started reading. You see, lately, may of the blogs I read have put out pretty strong Christian calls to aid orphans in distress. I have seen horrible and terrifying photos of special needs children institutionalized, chained to bed, starving. God's children, neglected and in need. As the book points out, however, it is much easier to see the failures of the younger son in spending his fathers wealth and living a life of sin and his return seeking forgiveness than the elder's failures. The fact is, many people don't know or haven't seen what life is like for a child confined to an institution and so, as it is, it can be said, "I didn't know, I'm sorry, I should have done something" as the younger son. I see myself at the elder son whose failure is much more difficult to put a finger on. Outwardly, I have been faithful and dedicated to God's will in my life, making the choice to raise 4 beautiful kids over material things. The quote in the book that got me, however, was "Whenever my virtuous self is there, there also is the resentful complainer". Yes, me, the resentful complainer, the one that looks at all the expensive cars in our church parking lot and wonders where their treasure truly lies, the one that judges families whose first priority in their adoption is to have the youngest and healthiest infant available, never giving the children that have been waiting a second look, when we were, ourselves, at one time more focused on how many countries we could travel to rather than how many needy families we could sponsor and were in fact that same family that wanted a young healthy baby for our first adoption. In many ways, through my life journey, I have traveled beyond that "me" mentality, but in many ways, I have so far to go in accepting God's plan for my life and not complaining about how I see others not following God's plan or being resentful of choices they have made. God gave us free will, and each of us alone will have to explain what we did with that free will. I would rather not have to explain why I became a resentful complainer when there is so much good in my life.

Unhappiness

Today's Daily Devotional in Crosswalk was entitled "Unhappiness - A Tempting Choice". In leaving 2011 with great prospects for a lot of growth this year, we have had a rough beginning to 2012. It is so easy to be consumed by unhappiness when everything seems to be fighting against you. But it was comparing my short-term feeling of unhappiness where the Devotional really hit home and gave me a different perspective on how K may see the world, not on a short-term basis, but every day of her life. The Devotional said: "In his book The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis explores this idea that we can become too attached to our brokenness. He sets up a fictional scenario where souls in hell get a second chance at heaven. But they ultimately do not choose heaven - they can't even enjoy heaven - due to their excessive attachment to hell. This seems downright crazy..... it's a very real trap we fall into every time we hold too tightly to our hurts and sorrows instead of releasing them to God." This SO hit home when I thought about the special breakfast that i had planned for just me and K last week. She LOVES food and eating, and it thought this would be a perfect chance to get some one on one time. As I sat across from her at the restaurant and watched her body language and listened to what she was saying, I was surprised how distracted she was. I could see, she wasn't enjoying herself. The wheels were turning. Was papa staying home with the other kids? Was she the only one that was going to school? Did papa take the other kids to breakfast? Was I going to leave her at the restaurant? (yes, I am serious, she asked me that). Holding on so tight to her hurts and sorrows, always the victim, attached to her hell. If I apply how I have felt over the past 3 weeks and try to imagine that unhappiness consuming me for days, weeks, years, impacting everything I do and say, is this how she sees her world?

Ahhh K, the pendulum swings again

After reading a friends blog, I got to thinking about how much K has progressed in the last year and a half, but how, like their son, something happens and you just get smacked upside the head, and the little house of cards comes tumbling down. We have struggled with pee since K came home. She was completely potty trained, so much so, that she very effectivly used the pee when it suited her, to get attention, to show displeasure with your clothes choice for her, and she knew it, she would give me this look and then piss her pants, wow! I don't even have words for what ran through me when she did that. After pulling out the therapudic parenting tricks of the trade, we had seemingly resolved most of those issues. But the pee remained, most notably, as soon as we put a pull up on her for the night, they gave her a free license not to have to hold it anymore (I might point out that she is wicked immune to the stuff possible because where she came from, reports have it that the smell of urine is overwhelming and I guess after awhile, you just don't smell it anymore). Seriously, pull up on, 15 min's later, pull up is wet???!! Come on! So it was time to jump into the deep end of the pool and start working on overnight toilet training, the pullups are gone and it is underwear and a waterproof pad. Amazingly, though we have a lot more laundry going on, the overnight training has helped her during the day, frequently, she would have 2-3 accidents a week at school and home and since we started the overnight thing, it is down to pretty much zero, yah!! for the little successes! There is nothing worse than pee soaked pants and underwear after they have been sitting in a closed plastic bag all day. That was until this morning when the zombie reappeared. Routine is get up in the morning, use the potty, get dressed, come down for breakfast. A quite awake K came down, was directed to the potty, stood flatly in the center of the bathroom and peed all over herself, the floor, the rug, just feet from the toilet, I found her, still frozen, standing in her own pee, staring at the wall, unphased by any of it. I know, I know, the puppet show at school yesterday freaked you out to the point that you pinched all your friends, and then everyone praising you this morning for making it all night and staying dry was too much when you have such a bad image of yourself that you need to mess it intentionally before it happens accidentally. The revised routine: get out of bed, go into bathroom, pee on your self, clean up your pee, come down for breakfast, start fresh and try again tomorrow.