manning the asylum

I sometimes wonder about my capacity for sanity. And staying productive given my work load of four kids, one of them soon be officially adopted from foster care. It's not like my original kids are without special needs.

Mac is my genius 11 year old, in a school for gifted kids. He's not really connected to the earth at this point. My heart breaks for him at times. Other times I just plotz in my thoughts. I think he is most like me. Genius but unable to factor in reality. Because reality is an abstract concept. Even now, for me, with my graduate degree and excellent paying job--- I don't know how to change my windshield wipers.

His struggles are greater because he's smarter than I will ever be. I think it amplifies his emotional and social difficulties. He's kicked off the bus on the reg. We have behavioral sheets to help him regulate during the day. He's on 3 sleeping meds because without it, he won't sleep for days. Underneath he is this amazingly loving and soft bird. He has so much love.

He talked about his doubts with adopting Melody. I welcomed this. He doesn't know how to be her brother yet. We don't know how to be a family yet. It's all confusing and very hard. But we talked and we'll get through this together. He wants to step up, Melody is kid no one is stepping up for. Except us.

Then there is Melody. Each kid I've had, I've been able to tell a pregnancy story, a birth story and a life story. For her,  there are years missing from what I know of her life. I have crappy baby pictures from her mom's old myspace page. Her family gives us nothing else. It makes me mad. But what should I expect from folks that can't a keep consistent cell phone number? Or have an apartment for more than six months. Or repeated jail stays. These are not stable scrapbooking folks.

AND THAT'S WHY SHE'S WITH US.

As we get closer to the adoption, the harder it all gets. Her behaviors and manipulations are in high gear. I can't imagine what that's like for her. How automatic it all is to be in survival mode at all times. It's taking a toll.

So we slow down. I slow down.  And onward we go.  

Like Jon Snow, we know nothing

I filled out no less than 56 pages for our adoption from foster care application. All manner of personal, medical, housing and financial questions were asked. The state wants to know all the things. So, I parked my butt in the minivan, drove to a wooded park on a sunny day and KNOCKED IT OUT IN 3 HOURS. BOOM!!


Mr.. Hall was less enthusiastic about the paperwork. Revealing your tax information to strangers on a wink and a prayer that there are kids out there, that we can adopt, was something he grumbled at. He's not convinced this will actually work. Most kids in foster care either go back home or are adopted by their foster families. Just adopting from foster care is a least likely scenario. So, all of this may be for nothing and I understand his groaning. I don't care though. I'm not doing anything else right now.


There's a lull in the House of Hall. Our middle son, the genius Mac, has come along nicely with his defiant tendencies, ADHD and giftedness. Very blessed times as of late. Medication and therapy are going super helpful. Him maturing to age 10 helped immensely. Still some struggles, but Rome wasn't molded in a day.


Our oldest, the wee 14 year old Pancake, she's coming along too. All righteous indignation and very much knowing she's correct. Not even a question. Here's a typical conversation.


Me: I don't even want to discuss things with you anymore, you don't listen, you just wait to jump in to...to school  me ...
Pancake: That's because you're wrong.


Hilarious.


The crazy part is I totally remember this at her age. The fighting energies. The good fight fighting energies. I still have them. They continue to serve me well.


I think Mr. Hall and I are really into our kids. We love them and know them. It's a bit weird now. They are shaping who they are, based on their likes and wants. Which again, weird. Little kids are easy, it's all about nap times and snacks. Older kids like to discuss communism and the concept of infinity. All the while rolling their eyes at your aged wisdom when they struggle. Because parents are wrong. Like Jon Snow, we know nothing.


These are good problems to have. Watching our older kids outpace our intellect. Watching them grow and being tall people. Give us lip because we're morons.


We love though. They love too. We all still love each other and share a common, snuggly bond. We genuinely enjoy each other's company. I could not be more blessed.


So yeah, it's time to add more kids. 

2 second family hugs are the best

Wake up at 6.30 am. Tired. Didn't wake up in time for crossfit. It'll be a squeeze, but I'll go tonight.


Rustle the middle son Mac. My genius son. Put a kitchen timer next to his head. 10 min to get up or consequence. This keeps me from badgering him. We would use an alarm clock, but even the blaring ones don't rouse him. He slept on living room floor. It works better than his bed he says.  At least this week.


Attempt coffee. Get half of it down. Make oatmeal. Also half. Can't find clean pants so I put on a dress.


Skittle around my daughter Pancake,  whose standing near the stove eating a bagel with peanut butter. She doesn't talk. I go for a side hug, she tenses. At 13, she's not interested in hugs. I don't care. I side hug. We confirm I'm picking her up from volley ball. She makes a joke and I'm so happy. She stopped joking a few months ago and it was tough. But today, a joke. Praise HIS NAME!! With two bites left she puts her dishes in the sink.


My 3 year old son River bellows from upstairs. OPPPPEEEENNN IIITTT!! It being a  wee baby gate for his room. He rattles it with his foot, clutching matchbox cars and plastic Easter eggs. He doesn't want to put them down and open the gate. He has to pee. Desperation sets in. The volume rises.... OOOPPPEEEEN IIITTT!! I go open it. Give him a squeeze and he's off to potty. Still clutching the cars and eggs.


The timer goes off. My genius son is snoring hard. I get a squirt bottle and mist him. Loud snarls spiral up from the nest of blankets. Then he curls up like a caterpillar, trying to go back to sleep. I turn the nozzle from mist to stream. Three squeezes to the forehead and he's up. He stomps downstairs to get dressed. He has 9 min to get to the bus. He's too late for breakfast.


Then there is Ruth. Our wee puppy dog. Dogs are the frickin best!!

My daughter leaves like a ninja. But I see her. I run to the door, flip it open and holler 'BYE SWEETIE...LOVE YOU....HAVE FUN AT SCHOOL.' She barely turns her head but a slight smirk appears.  She heard me.


I go and check on my genius son. He's laying on the bathroom floor. Fake sleeping. I tell him get up or no electronics for a week. I can see his light now. The coma has lifted. The bus carries him to school. 


River announces there is no need for pants today. Underwear day he declares. I leave him with a bowl full of raisin bran and my husband who will get him dressed. Like putting pants on a bucking kangaroo. I head out. I forgot to brush my teeth and couldn't find a hair brush. Pancake hoards and hides them. I brush both when I get to work.


There are a number of tough cases at work. I prescribe mental health medications. I see dementia cases where I can't really help. I feel sad for and with them. I see relentless drug seekers who make me angry. I'm not a vending machine. You don't want to get better, you just want a fix. That's not going to happen in my office. I don't say these things. I say, No. And. We are done,  get out of my office or I'll call security. Because now I'm mad and scared. Addicts can be dangerous. They leave. I'll have to answer to the patient advocate for that.


I see patients who are doing phenomenal. I count the blessings. Coworker lunch goes well. Lots of laughs and support. More patients then done.


Then the kid pick up mambo begins. I start with my daughter from volleyball. She's hunched over, walking forcefully to the car. I can tell she's crying and trying to hide it. She's introverted and sports requires a lot of effort socially. She's doing it though. I smile and give her my phone so she can dive into tumblr and pinterest.


Then our new foster girl Andrea. Her pick up is at an after school program across town. My name is not on the list for approved picker upper people. They only have Mr. Hall's name. Mr. Hall is across town picking up Mac. It's 5.30 pm and there is no way to contact a social worker to address this. The after school teacher says she'll call the birth mom. I sit down with Andrea whose all smiles and happy. She's truly a beautiful girl. I'm humbled and happy. We color and wait. I've got 15 min to pick up River but I'm at peace. There is no rushing this.


Mom calls back and gives the O.K.


We pick up River who leaps into Pancakes arms. We all do a quick group hug. Pancake doesn't fight it, at least at first.


2 second family hugs are the best.

Love and Logic and my genius son....stay tuned.....

There has been some back sliding with my genius son and his behaviors at school. He's a defiant kid at times. He doesn't like the rule of no running in the hall,  so he'll run in the hall. Or argue with the teacher. Or make noises when others are presenting their projects. Or go outside for recess when he's on detention and not returning after the bell rings. This is  no good.

We had been using two behavior techniques. One being 1-2-3 magic parenting. The other being "your defiant child". They worked well enough. It's a lot of heavy lifting though. Lifting my very, very VERY strong willed child can do himself. Which is were the love and logic comes in.

Love and Logic  was a six part class Mr. Hall  went to.  It's well known in foster care circles because you want to love on the kids. Logically. It's not about punishment because you don't want to be punishing with traumatized kids (which foster kids are).

My son has a lot of behaviors that mirror the foster kids. Naughty behaviors. Only my son is not a traumatized kid. I nursed that kid for 8 months. He was a perfect love and still is. He's  just a genius who wants to be in charge. Only he's EIGHT with college level smarts. Emotional wise he's about 6. All whirling in a tornado of ADHD.

 

And I'm tired. We're tired. We're tired of using behavior techniques that require a lot of us pushing him. Mac can start taking over some of this. It's time to shift the responsibility to him.

But, my husband went to the classes and I didn't. He needed the foster care continuing ed. I'm all caught up. So I'm basically flying blind with this. Trusting my husband as he guides us through is a new process. I'm usually the one in charge. I don't know this system.

Basically, love and logic is letting the child experience consequences. Like when I ask Mac to walk the dog and he ignores me, I'm not to argue or badger. Or yell. Shut up. I DON'T YELL.

When he ignores me I'm to say, "We'll take care of this later." And if he argues and says, "I don't want to walk the dog."  I'm to say, all monotone, "I love you too much to argue, we'll take care of this later." And the later consequences includes deep stuff. Like stopping all electronics and throwing them away.

Only the dog doesn't get walked. Mac doesn't do his chore. I walk the dog then. How is this helpful? At least when I badger, cajole and bother...the dog  GETS WALKED.

THIS WILL INCREASE OUR WORKLOAD.

But whatever.

I trust my husband. He's a logical engineer and he believes in this. I follow him.

Stay tuned....  

Fruit and other animals

This Easter weekend was divine. There were little animals made of fruit on the brunch tables.


I'm very blessed to have such a family.


The kids have struggled lately but my genius son is 75% better on all fronts. I left his conference skipping and singing. I have NEVER left a conference feeling happy before with that kid. It's a miracle. My daughter is showing signs of struggle but we are on it! I know some families that have no issues with their kids. All normal and chugging along. We are a different breed. And that is ok. We'll all work to get better together.


It's a funny thing, all these interventions for the kids. It's caused my husband and I to really take a look at ourselves. A lot of the smart, awkward, anxiety, social difficulties, defiant, working harder not smarter stuff comes from us. Only we barreled through it. It took years to get where we are, to blend in with normal. But, there is so much available to help the kids. We can lessen their struggle. It won't take years. We're healing now.


I can't say enough about kid counselors and teachers. They've helped us understand the complicated and super awesome kids we have. It's hard to say I don't know what's wrong or how to fix but something is not right. And if you say it in front of the right folks it gets better.


Parenting gifted kids is a whole different animal.  But the way I see it, it's all part of their gifts that will explode all over as they grow up. They will grow and accomplish things I can't even imagine right now.


Best Easter weekend ever.

Taco

Brought Mac to the doctor last week. His counselor suggested trailing a longer acting ADHD med so off to the doctors we went. His pediatrician is a chatty one. All head tilt concern and gentle laughter. Super encouraging and thoughtful with an ironman watch.  Mr. Hall loves him. He loves the banter. The doctor annoys the crap out me.

It's not him. It's just in the way, all this jibber jabber.  I don't need conversation. I don't need nice. I just want in and out. Especially since my 9 year old ADHD is bouncing off the walls and whenever he gets asked a question, he says, "Taco."

It goes like this.

The good doctor: "How are you today Mac? Still in, what is it..3rd grade?"

My son, in a robot voice: "Taco."

TGD: "Now Mac, when an adult asks you a question, you need to look him in the eye and answer. That's respectful."

MS: "Taco."

ME: "MAC. Answer the doctor's questions."

MS: "yyeeaaassss.....3rd graaayyyyaaaade...........Taco."

Then he lays on the floor and starts kicking the exam table legs and I start to lose my mind.

up in here....up in here....

I realize the good doctor is trying to coach him and help me, but he's doing neither. I just need him to write out the script. That's all. In fact, this could have done this over the effing phone. It seems the good doctor is a HUGE fan of the med suggested. I guess he just wanted to chat with me. And THAT'S why Mr. Hall brings the kids to the doctor.

Meds.

I prescribe them btw. Mental health meds. For adults. I know lots of stuff about them but when it comes to Mac, I leave it up to the professionals. I'm his mom, not his treatment team.

It sure feels like it though. Especially with stuff at his gifted school. I love his school. They're really pro-Mac. They love saying, "Because he's gifted...",  and they're super supportive. But this school is hard work. This is new to him and he struggles. And when he struggles, he goes all taco. So,  I listen to what the teachers need from him and I figure out a way to get it out of him.  I refuse to let him languish because well...he is gifted.  

I've come to realize Mac lives in his own little world. He likes it there. He still likes people though. He interacts at boys scouts and basketball pretty well.  His heart is so huge it's probably bigger than Texas. But around strangers he freezes up and gets all Taco. His gifts and his heart get locked away. I'm ok with that. Maybe that's why the doctor bugged me so much.

Don't try and change the TACO.

The taco will is just fine and all this will morph into one gigantic, awesome young man. The young man will morph into a loving husband and stellar dad. I know this. I know God has plans for him that will surpass anything I can imagine. But for now. Taco.

So let me share rainbows of hope and goodness.

We went to hockey game this weekend. We really went for the wiener dog races. He sat the most of the time and did really well. No kicking the chair in front of him. No getting up and down or begging for food. No taco. He smiled and laughed and fought with his sister all normal like. Then, on Sunday, he popped out of bed wanting to go to church. We are trying a new, smaller church. He had a blast. Loved it! Renewed him with all sorts of energy.

It's going to be ok people.

so.  

Go forth and....

Taco.  



My son the genius

Merry Christmas everyone ;)

 

If there was a picture to explain my son, it's that one right there.

He's been on behavior plans since 4k. Recently we had him tested for ADHD which came up flaming positive. Not.a.shock.  But, it also came up positive for him being a genius. Like Mensa material. This was a shock. We knew he was smart but genius? Really?

It's going to be really tough what I have to write next and if my son is reading this, PLEASE UNDERSTAND... I'm writing this when you are nine years old. And this last six months has rocked our world with you.

He's started a new genius school which is teaching him French and Chess and Fancy Smart things I learned in high school. Again, he's NINE. He's making jokes about binary code. He discusses cloning sheep. We had a discussion about communism the other day. This school is unlocking higher levels of understanding for him and it's blowing me away. It's also highlighting his social difficulties.

My son is passionate, tender hearted and reactive. He is spirited but very introverted. He got kicked off the bus because he wouldn't listen to the driver.

He is strong willed. He doesn't like doing what he isn't wanting to be doing. He's kinda loud and dramatic. SHUT UP I KNOW THESE ARE DESCRIPTORS OF ME.

What to do though? How do we  handle this kid that is not doing well in the 'cooperating with others' and 'having a hard time making friends' and 'doesn't realize other kids are making fun of him' category. And that he fights us tooth and nail about most everything and we.are.tired.

Did I mention we're opening our house up to other foster kids next month? Because ya know, we are ready...

I'm reading this wonderful book called "Raising your spirited child" (google it--it's FANTASTIC).

It seems that the crazy smart part of our son does not translate into social skills. In fact, it makes them worse. At his gifted school they have social skills training built into the curriculum. Because being a genius often comes with social issues.

I'm starting to fundamentally think differently about him. I'm setting aside our want for him to display respect and tow the line. I'm listening and responding to his emotional needs first. We can let him be angry, sad, balled up and shut down. Pushing against this is not helpful.

If he wants to go in another room to eat, I let him. If he wants to keep playing something before he does his chore, I let him. He'll need to ask first but I let him. If he wants to do origami until his fingers go numb I let him. If he's screaming and worked up because we want him to shower, I slow things down. If he cries because we are making him walk the dog I let him breathe and not force. He needs to work with his strength and genius quirks. It's his life. It's who he is. Working against that is an exercise in frustration.

But we can work with him.......that is something we're planning.....

Our kid is spirited. Like the book says, he is "MORE" than others so he'll need "MORE" parenting.

But make no mistake. This is kid is huge with heart and crazy smarts. The Lord has plans for him that I can't even imagine. I'm so excited for him and so proud.

Even if I do pray for his future wife.... she'll need to have a light heart and ninja organizational skills!!  



The beauty of hitting the wall

Monday I had another school conference for our middle son. Just like last time, I hear he's super smart but super emotional and that gets in the way. I shouldn't be going to conferences. I always end up crying. I don't want to hear about it. He's been on behavior plans since 4k. He'll get better as he grows. I'm a genius and so is my husband. His smarts and behaviors are stuff we had/have. Stop telling me about it because we're working on it.


This time they asked he see a counselor. Which makes sense. To us, he's just being our kid. Temperamental and crazy but our whole family is weird. It's ok at home. In school it gets in the way.


So yeah. Booking a counselor appt.


THEN. I find out that a patient who I worked so very hard for, like 30 hours of extra work outside the apt time...he wants to not only fire me-- but to file an official complaint. He's fired three other providers and filed complaints against them too. So I'm not alone but feels personal. I did the extra work because I wanted him to have all the care. I lost sleep over this patient. I worried about this patient. I should have known better. But I couldn't help myself.


THEN. I head off to 'trauma training' for my foster care license. This is a long effing class. Every Monday for 16 weeks at 3 hours a class. All about how trauma affects the brains of developing children and how it translates into some pretty gnarly behavior. The last classes are about how we, as a foster parents, can help heal them.


IT brings up tons of emotional baggage from our last 3 years as foster parents. It rips my guts out. I think the class might be killing me. And this Monday, after the patient, after the conference --I hit a wall.


With a half an hour left,  I was done with the class. I put my head in my hands, breathed and stayed upright. I looked normal but man I was done. I couldn't take any more information about these horribly traumatized kids and how we help them. I was done.


D.U.N.N. done.


But here's the beauty of hitting the wall...


I know have limits. I tend to think I am beyond superhuman strong. If I just plan things right,  I can be Hercules. That is false.


SO. At work I'm putting up some very thick boundaries. Concrete walls of no. I am hired for a reason and will make others do their own work.


SO. I will make absolutely sure Mr. Hall goes to all conferences from now on. I just can't.


AND. This class has three more classes. That'll I finish.


I'll let myself be free for a while. Enjoying the shock of hitting the wall.

We have a genius on our hands...it's my son, Mac

School Conferences....

These are times where you sit in front of the teacher and they have 15 min. to rattle off how your child is doing. It's not a conversation, it's a mini speech. I learned my oldest daughter, Pancake, now 12-- is being recommended for advanced math. As I looked over the 'AP' classes of algebra, trig, and calculus...I was flooded with wonderful memories. I loved math. I am a nerd and still am. MATH RULES!

I can't wait for my daughter to excell in everything she does. I can't wait to read over her math homework and wax nostalgic. My head will explode with rapturous joy when she starts reading Shakespeare!

My foster daughter is getting better with reading. And behaviors. Yay!

Then there is Mac, now age 8. I left his conference in tears. Not happy tears but sad ones. WHICH IS WHY I SHOULDN'T GO TO THESE THINGS.

Mac is smart. Like Mensa smart. I know, we've had him tested. We tested him because he struggles with behaviors. Sitting still, paying attention, keeping his emotions from flying all over the place...all of these things are not his strong suit. It was of no surprise he has attention deficit disorder. His mommy has it. His daddy has it too.

We knew he was smart, but genius level was a bit of a shock. It makes sense though. Yesterday, in the car, my eight year old was asking about cloned sheep. And radiation. And what ibuprofen means.

At the conference, his lovely blond teacher was telling me how Mac doesn't participate. He sits at his desk and reads. Reading at super high level, much higher than his peers. He doesn't want to sit on the carpet with the rest of the kids. "He wants to be alone", the teacher said. So, they let him read and do the 1/2 hour assignments in 2 min flat. They let him not participate because he's not disrupting the class.

That's an improvement. He used to be a huge disruption. Pounding, kicking, angry. Letters and calls from school. Now it seems instead of going outward, he's going inward. That's my trigger to start crying. I'm INWARD AND IT SUCKS. I'm an introvert who struggles with making small talk. Who struggles with fitting in, social gatherings and acting nonchalant. I'm 39 for land's sake. I've gotten very good at faking it but it's still a struggle. I want to tell Pancake and Mac to fight their inward leanings. You can be smart and outward.

Here's the thing, as the kids get older, the less they need to listen to me. Like Pancake. She's entering adolescence which is, by definition, the most awkward and struggle filled time of anyone's life. Meanwhile her life is unfolding before her. She needs to start figuring this out. It is up to her to pass the AP math classes. She'll figure it out if she wants to. I'll be there but I'm not going to hover or push.

Mac is eight. He's outgrowing time outs and becoming more scattered with things. Regulating his behavior is different. Less difficult and harder at the same time. He has long moments of emotional calm and his charming genius fills the room. I pray and imagine this will be him as he grows into a man.

The bright spot in all of this is that he's been recommended for a special school for gifted kids. It's a school where kids learn twice as fast and learn twice as much. They cater to the kind of learner Mac is. I hope upon hope this is where he'll flourish.

But, I always remember I was a genius who almost flunked out of high school. They didn't test me until 9th grade. And I have a master's degree.

It'll be ok.

I promise.

Stripper birth mommy stories can WAIT!!

I can count about 4 times in my life where stress has overwhelmed me. Two of those times were school-- nurse and nurse practitioner school. It almost killed me. Both times.

Another time involved being a mom for the first time. I had NO IDEA how to handle that. My head was all explodey with feral fear for the first year.

The forth time is now. I have 5 kids. Each with their own set of needs.

Pancake, age 10, is becoming a tween and not dealing well. Life is full of challenges she doesn't know how to handle. She's growing up and growth can be very painful. Her girly huffy puffy tears--they do flow. I want to just yell at her and say, "YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL. JUST RELAX AND LET ALL THE AWESOME THAT GOD GAVE YOU BLOSSOM. IT'S GOING TO BE OK." Instead, I bring her to yoga, roller blade with her and make sure she has a door to lock in order to read excessively. This seems help reduce her tween meltdowns. Or space them out at least.

God help the sensitive teenage girls out there, especially my daughter.

Mac-N-Cheese is six years old, blonde and super charming. Asks really interesting questions. Hypersmart and sensitive. Still can't get the whole 'wiping his butt thing' conquered yet. Can't cross the street without his sister because he'll stop in the middle of the road to stare at a cool cloud. Has no idea where we're going half the time, but happy to be along for the ride. We're getting less notes from school about his behaviors. The male of the species is slow to develop temper control. Sometimes anyway.

God help the all boy boys out there, especially my son. God help his future wife develop patience and a light and loving heart, she's going to need it.

Sam is our part time foster kid, age 5. He's here on weekends. He's the least of our problems. We've got his behaviors pretty much under control now. Signficant reduction in palming items when we're out and about. For me, being with him is fun. Sad though. I'm not the mom he really wants. I hope his mom gets her act together. It'll take a miracle though.

God help all the boys with Moms that can't be Moms out there, especially Sam.

Tulip is our 4 year old foster daughter. We've made headway with her tantrum behavior. She is still very, very needy. I feel so guilty sometimes but sometimes I just need her off my lap. Sometimes I don't listen to her stories. Seriously, I'm worn out. The other night I told her to hush because I was watching TV and I JUST DIDN'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO HEAR ONE MORE STORY ABOUT HER MOM AND THE BELT SHE USES FOR SPANKINGS. Sometimes she uses these stories to get attention because telling me her mom 'dances upside down on a pole' is a way for a 4 year old to get attention. But, sometimes THIS MOMMY needs to watch dancing with the stars without kids on a lap because dancing with the stars is awesome! Stripper birth mommy stories can WAIT!!

God help all the little girls with mommies who don't take care of them. They won't make it far without you, especially Tulip.

AND THAT BRINGS US TO RIVER.

He's perfect so far. Seven months of chubby, baby love!!! I carry him everywhere even though he's so heavy my arm feels like it's GOING TO FALL OFF. He rarely is put down by anyone. All are agreed that is no good and much fussing occurs when it happens. This probably explains why he isn't sleeping through the night BUT OH WELL.

So this is the forth time where I've felt my wheels are spinning too fast. That life is going so fast it's getting away from me. I feel exhausted and weepy. The stress is too much. But, not matter how fast the wheels go, they don't stop. Life never stops. So, I'll wait. I know this feeling will pass. Then, I'll look back and laugh.

Each time this feeling comes around, it comes with growth in my heart. And growth makes me more capable of handing all sorts of things.

Which is kind of scary really. What more is coming down the pike?

EEEE!!!! God help Mrs. Hall!

The blog, she is neglected lately. I just don't have the inner tormoil I use to have. No inner conflict to write about. Plus, there is facebook. I document my life there so here is neglected.

BUT. I am still a busy bee. Being a wife, mom, nurse and now foster mom.

WIFE

I love being married. I love being Mrs. Hall. We've been married 12 years now and he still rings my bell. No better way to start my day then standing in the kitchen, holding hands with him and praying. Love it!

MOM

3 kids now

Pancake-age 10.

She is so smart and kind. Very much her own girl. Owns a cornsnake, likes bugs and dirt. READS CONSTANTLY. Goes to Zumba and yoga with me and we do inverted headstands together. Starting to show some tween tendencies of self consciousness and shyness. My plan is to use prayer and yoga to GET HER THROUGH THE TEEN YEARS. That and making sure she has plenty of time with her girlfriends so they can be silly and giggle and giggle and silly. She's such a jokster!

Mac-age 6.

Every morning we say 'MAC GET DRESSED!' and 'MAC, EAT YOUR OATMEAL.' Ten minutes later we'll find him sitting there, shirt on backwards, having taken two bites of oatmeal lost in his own little world. He'll smile and say, "If twins don't live in the same house, do they have the same birthdays?" or "How do arrows know how which way to point?" He's a thinker that one. A silly, jokster thinker who never sits still. Like if Plato was a hummingbird.

River-age 5 months

OH THIS BOY OF MINE. I am over the moon with him. So squiggly, so smiley, so baby chubby thighs and giggles. The photo says it all!

NURSE

Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practioner actually

I still have crazy patients and moral dilemas, but there are less so these days. I have found a groove and really enjoy my work. I get to guide people through their crisis and help them heal. It's humbling work. I am very blessed.

FOSTER MOM

The abstract idea of 'being a foster family' started as a whisper in my heart. I heard the whisper, talked it over with Mr. Hall and we prayed. We prayed to let God guide us, let him reveal the opportunity and we would answer his call.

I can't help but giggle about it all. I can't believe how God has changed me through this process. Being a foster mom comes with so many challenges. But challenge makes the heart grow. Our family system has changed too. The kids are use to the other kids that come into our life. They adjust and grow too. Sometimes it's not pretty but in the end, it's amazingly beautiful.

So far, one child has been with us for over a year (on weekends). Another came here a few weeks ago.

It's a task of loving without expectation. We never know when these kids might leave our life. So we love them now, while they're here. We don't know what will happend. So we give them hugs and prayer and warm meals. These kids are great and challenging. I hope OH I HOPE they benefit from seeing Mr. and Mrs. Hall loving each other and treating each other right. I hope they feel God's love.

And it's not just the kids. These kids have bio-moms and bio-grandmas. They are hurting too. Sometimes the bio family members call and it's totally awkward. We help the kids make art projects to bring on their family visits. We send photos and emails. We say, 'he had a great time at the zoo this weekend' or 'She really liked going to the library with us.' We keep things light and positive in one of darkest situations ever.

It's the ultimate task of not judging. Because God didn't call to us to judge, He called us to be shining examples of His light and love.

SO

that's my comings and goings. howzit with yous?

How our foster kids view us, his other family

L-R (M, Mac, River, Pancake) 

M's Sunday school teacher wrote us the following:

"We were talking about family and how we are all different but all
part of GOD's family. That with GOD we can always talk to him even if
we don't see him. It's not like you have use the telephone.

M went on to say my big family that's all together love me all the
time even when i'm not there. Pancake (my other sister reads to me)
Mac shares his toys, my other baby River smiles at me. My other dad
friend plays cars with me, gives me snacks, hugs me and tells me he
misses me. Pancake's mom let's me hug the baby and calls me honey. My
Pancake's daddy hugs me when I go to bed and never yells at me....he
hold's my hand too and not too hard. It was sweet to hear what the
kiddos version of love and family was."

SO THERE YA GO. A WHOLE LOTTA LOVE :)

No penis was hurt in the making of this post

Sigh.

Been getting a number of phone calls about Mac. Mac is our first son, the curly blonde up there. He's a free spirit to say the least. He's dancing all by himself in that photo. There is no music playing. He's just happy and getting his groove on.

The phone calls are from school. He has a number of behaviors that are upsetting to the teacher/recess kid watcher person. Pushing, grabbing, chucking balls at others.

For Mac, like all boys, social justice is a big trigger. If someone cuts in the lunch line, takes a toy, sticks out a tongue. . . it's an act of war. And boys--being boys--respond physically. Hence the pushing, grabbing, chucking balls AND PHONE CALLS FROM HIS TEACHER.

These type of phone calls make me crazy. The mommy bear instinct rises up and I get huffy about them. How dare they talk smack about Mac? He's a loving kid with goofiness galore. He has so much empathy and love. He's a good kid.

Also, what am I suppose to do about his behavior AT SCHOOL? I am home/at work. NOT THERE. I can't do anything about it. So I sympathize and comfort the teacher on these phone calls. Kids are nuts.

TEACHERS DESERVE COMBAT PAY.

Then after I comfort the teacher-- I discuss the situation with Mr. Hall. He's better with this type of thing than I. He suggests a number of things and they are tried. But we still get phone calls. It's a work in progress.

Mr. Hall doesn't make a big deal about it. He is very calm and reminds me of the penis bite . . .

This one time, at dinner with couple friends, the mom leans in, almost in tears. These are good friends, NORMAL friends. The mom leans and tells me about a note she got when she picked up her little boy at day care that day.

She said, "They said he pulled another boy's pants down and bit his penis." The boy was three.

so.

As long as we don't get that type of phone call, we should be ok.

:)

Seven Days of Family Love, day two-ish

I've had an entire week, here at the House of Hall. Complete with my son, daughter and husband. We've kept our schedule light and breezy. Plenty of time for my kids to spend hours in their own little playworld. They create entire scenarios with their dragons, reptiles and assorted lego figurines. For hours and hours they'll play. Their dynamic works quite well, my daughter is a leader and my son follows. They love each other so much.

This summer they were in two weddings. Each time a flower girl and a ring bearer. It was awesome. Especially during the receptions. My son is a chick magnet and worked the room. Pulling reluctant party goers from their tables. Dancing up a storm with lots of middle aged ladies. When the song was over he'd tell them, "I'll call you!" (No really, he did. Daddy told him to say that! :)

My daughter danced too. Swaying in her pretty dress, all silly with family love. I held her and we swayed together. My kids danced together too. It was wonderful, each of those weddings.

Given that, imagine my surprise to hear them playing a game called 'divorce' during one of their marathon playing sessions. In their pretend world, two of their plushy dragons had had a fight. My son was beside himself about it all. He didn't like that game one bit!

I went upstairs to check on things. See if I could help the dragons get back together. However, by the time I got up there, the dragons had reconciled. "They're back together Mommy," my daughter explained, "The fight is over." My son was much relieved by this. He wiped his tears and hugged his sister.

"I don't wanna be divorced.", he said. "I always wanna be married to Pancake!"

Which means during those weddings, he thought he was getting married too. :)

Digging deep and napping hard

Like most moms, I use to stare at my babies while they napped. I think it's normal, this behavior. New moms tend to be nervous and want to make sure everything is ok, especially when their babies sleep. Hence the staring.

Of course, it didn't occur to me to NAP while my baby daughter napped. I wanted to be awake-just in case she needed me. After my son was born, I learned that I can be in a deep, coma like sleep and still rise up like the dickens at the sound of his cough. I learned napping is ok. It even helps me be less yelly with the kids! It was then my love of naps began in earnest.

Nowadays, both kids are big enough that they don't need naps. My daughter Pancake is nine, my son Mac is four. Sometimes we force the issue with Mac. He can be a crank and spank without proper rest. Sometimes, Mommy needs a nap, so Mac gets one as a bonus.

hee hee hee

Then.

Sometimes, Mac will ask to snuggle and nap with me. Sadly, it almost never works. He just squiggles and whispers to me while I try to sleep. This is the cause 99% of the time.

But sometimes, it works.

It happened yesterday. Mac just passed out in my arms! I was so excited!! Then I started to get twitchy. My legs twitched, my back itched and I felt like I had glass in my veins. I new I had to do something to fix it and fast. Otherwise, I would miss it! Or wake him. Then my chance would be gone.

So I hunkered down and dug deep. I forced myself to breathe deep and relax. Then I slept all intertwined with my little boy. We napped hard.

When I woke up- I just about died from all the nuggle awesomeness!!

One of the best naps EVAH!!

Obsessions are the best

Thank you all for the comments on yesterday's post. Little Mac is getting good reports these days. All sorts of listening. :)

I have to remember when teachers approach me about my child's behavior, I can gently take the reins. I can model calmness and appreciation. I can talk them through what I know of my child and how to help bring out the best in him. If I stick with my strengths-compassion, empathy, warmth and a healthy sense of humor, I can set the tone. Then, we can collaborate.

SEE THAT RIGHT THERE??!!!

That kind of thinking happens when I yoga a lot.

Yoga is kind of a bait and switch. I started practicing yoga, lo these nine years ago, as a way to help lose weight. Turns out, it grabbed me in all sorts of unexpected ways. It teaches me to slow, to lean in and divide up the bits that hurt and the bits that give joy. It calms my ADD-addled brain. It allows the hands of God to reach in and sooth my sore spots.

It also gives me a focus right now. Because my brain is a busy brain that thrives in obsessions. Right now, this 21 day yoga challenge is my obsession. But, the more I go, the less obsessed I become.

Like with this pose, called the extended side angle with a bind. The bind part is the arms.


TODAY, I ALMOST BINDED. MY FINGERS TOUCHED!!!

And i've never felt more unbound!
:)

My boy

I wish dinosaur train was an hour. That way, Mac would cuddle for an hour. He's a good snuggler when he wants to be.

It's a special Mommy and Mac day and oh, how fun!

He tells me jokes like, "what did the banana say to the teeth? don't bite me!!" (then he takes a big bite out of his banana.}

Then.

THEN.

At the park I see him, playing with the other boys. He's not as aggressive and pushy. He takes being knocked down well and doesn't snot up. He's in there, playing hard. Getting all sweaty and summer leg bruises.

Then.

THEN.

He is climbing up the stairs to the slide. A tiny little girl in a pink puffy dress toddles behind him. He reaches out his hand and helps her up. "I'll help you cause I'm bigger." he says.

MY HEART EXPLODED WHEN HE SAID THIS!!!

He's such a good kid. so proud. He'll make such an excellent big brother :)

ok, off to nap.

More adventures await us after we rest! :)

Making his Daddy proud: the story behind this photo

This photo was taken about three years ago, behind Mac's old daycare. At that daycare, naps were taken on blue cots. They stack quite nicely.

After each nap, the kids would have snack. Mac devours snacks. He is a ferocious eater, like a little tyrannosaurus rex.

After he pounded teddy grahams and juice- he started to run around.

A half an hour later we picked him up. The teachers were all wide eyed and were staring at us.

"Mac threw up!", they said.

"Oh?," I said. "Huh. I wonder if he is doing ok?"

"No. You don't understand! He really THREW UP!! Go look outside!!"

So we did. And wow.

They had to hose down all the cots.

Yep, there's the wee Mac.

Making his Daddy proud!

Off we go to the ER. On Thanksgiving.

Hardwood floor + sock feet sliding = gash on the chin.

Off we go to the ER. On Thanksgiving. Mac is all chill about the affair.

Here is the gash. Note it's red loveliness. This is second time he's had stitches. In the exact same spot.

He didn't cry when he got the gash. Didn't cry when they put the stitches in either. The doctor went on and on about how good he was being. Doc said, "Kids under eight are just screamers. Sometimes I don't hear right for an hour after putting stitches in."

Mr. Hall suggested the doc buy ear plugs for the other kids. ;)

Good job little man. Now, let's get back to that Turkey Eatin' :)

Daddy . . There's no oatmeal downstairs!

After waking us up, our son says,

"Daddy . . . There's no oatmeal downstairs!"

And really, where is my oatmeal anyway? Best get on it :)