Finding my Feet

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to go to Knoxville to spend the weekend in a More to Life training re-grounding myself. It has been a rough few weeks with one of the kids and I needed time to recommit to my purpose in parenting. 

I appreciate that wherever I am, I get to benefit from the wisdom and experience of those around me. Having some distance allows me to see with my heart what I was struggling (and failing) to see with my brain. Mostly I see how blessed I am.

All I ever wanted to be was a mom. Have I said that lately? It's true. I planned it from the moment I could make plans. Mom and teacher. Teacher and mom. That was THE plan. It took me a good long time to get to both of them but I did eventually get to both, in spades. And then I was blessed with these five beautiful, sweet-hearted children. They are truly, each of them very kind, loving, generous and good. They all love me, which is AMAZING, and I am so very grateful to have them. 

Other adoptive parents will understand. There is a weird experience we have in which people say to us, "You did a good thing, adopting these kids" (or something of that nature), usually in reference to foster kids. Know this. It was never that way. The big secret is: we all went into for ourselves. We came to adoption because it was how we got to be parents. It was for US. And if you know much about adoption you know, grief and pain is a part of the process, especially for the adopted person. It's an extremely hard road. It is really never a clear path for most adopted people and can often remain unresolved forever. It's so very challenging, if not devastating. So to have someone say we did something that was in some way "good," is awkward and really hard to know what to do with. And even more so when we are struggling in our parental role.

But I digress. Knoxville happened. I went in knowing I wanted to handle some surprises of the past couple weeks that I hadn't really processed. I wanted a way forward that was both proactive and loving, as opposed to reactive and defensive. I unearthed that out there. Among the truths I uncovered were these simple ones: 

My purpose as a parent is to love.  

I can count on Life to deliver the lessons. 

Yep you heard that right. My purpose is to love! No more long lectures are needed! I can count on Life to deliver the lessons. I know that's true because I've had plenty delivered to me! 

A friend of mine said it well last weekend. He said,: "I'm laying down the drama of the teaching parent. My new parenting style is Love First". Every day this man is going to pray for an open and loving heart and every night, he is going to ask himself: How did I show love and acceptance to my children today? 

It's beautiful, isn't it? 

I can hear you doubting right now. "All this love stuff sounds too pie in the sky", you say. Too hippy dippy. Well, let me tell you, when you have walked on this dusty road I've been on for the past 13 years with these last 3 precious ones, there are some diamonds that get uncovered in the trenches and one of
those gems is this:

I, Dreena Tischler, am most definitely not in charge of anyone

                                                                        (except myself).

That's right. My part is to love, because in the end, that's actually all I can do. We've done the teaching  . . . at this point, the choosing is up to them. They have to get their own life-shocks and their own learning; and we hope it is not all the hard way. And apparently, some of it is.

We're all still learning, right?  

So that's me, right here, right now. I've found my feet again and it's a good place for me to be in. I am grateful.

PS - I've had queries about our middle child. He's entered his rehab program and is in good spirits. He's in the beginning phases and we are hopeful. Send your arrows of love through the ether! Right now he can't have cards or visitors aside from "Dad" and me, but maybe one day. They are in a lock down situation. Actually, if you want to wish him well, you can email me or send me a card and I can save it until he can have it. That could work. Or I can read it to him over the phone. He gets calls. So if you want to help, there's a way. Bless you!

The Sound of Bells

 Last night I had a very confusing dream that melded many parts of my life together, as dreams do, but in the end, sent me a messenger. I really appreciated it. Sometimes I need the clairvoyant wake up call. 

On first waking, I'm vulnerable to memories that are more subconscious than most. I love that state of semi-awake-ness because it's fertile ground for self-awareness. Anyway, this morning I had a flashback to 12 or even 13 years ago when the "Littles" really were little. I was waiting for our appointment with the attachment therapist with one of them when I ran into a couple I was acquainted with from homeschooling circles with their adopted-from-foster-care children.

This family was a lot further along the parenting journey than we were. At that time, our oldest was 13 and their oldest was 15. They had 4 kids, I think, stretched along a big spectrum of age, but all siblings. I think the two older were teens and the two younger were middle elementary. They were dealing with a lot of vexing issues with these kids: sexual issues, legal issues, theft, hoarding, toileting, social problems, emotional issues, behavior, learning differences. They were a little jaded on that particular day, but frank and open. 

What I remember most was hearing them talk about all they'd been through in the preceding couple of years and thinking, "How do they cope with all this?" Meanwhile, it my own head, warning bells rang. I knew full well that little boy sitting NEXT to me, who wouldn't sit on my lap if I PAID him, who'd never been attached to anyone in his three years of life, was in a bad way. Clang, clang, clang. 

I did what any sane person would do. I tried to shut up those bells. I leaned over to that beautiful boy, touched him on the nose, and started singing our "together" song: "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, what a special boy you are!" Clang, clang, clang. 

I lost touch with that family because my new life as Mother-to-five didn't allow much time with the group in which our paths had crossed initially. I could use their expertise today! 

Fast forward 13 years, we are in the throes of our 2nd juvenile legal issue. I sat in the Juvenile Justice Center a few weeks ago unable to feel upset. Some poor mom beside me was bawling her eyes out and I'm just cool as a cucumber. A few years before, I'd been in her shoes but the second time around, it's just not as upsetting. Weirdly, what upset me later, was that we KNEW the probation supervisor when she came out to speak to us. NO one wants to be the parent who already knows the person in charge of working with juveniles who have committed crimes. Clang, clang, clang.

I was driving home, unreasonably mad at my child, and silent as a crypt. Finally, child asks, "why are you mad at me?"  I told them. "I'm mad because I don't want to BE the parent who knows the probation officer."  It wasn't reasonable. I admitted it and let it go. It was a tough road though because this kid was supposed to go on the spring break cruise with me and now can't leave the county for six months. Clunk.

One of the kids has just been identified with ED, (Emotional Disturbance) and by the end of the year, will be placed in Focus Classes in high school. I'm relieved, I think they need the help. They get in so much trouble for their impulsive words and their remorse later is real. If we can help them learn to curb this, it may actually be life-changing for them. One of the other kids' case managers mentioned that testing for that second child. I'm wondering. 

Just know, back when we first started adoption and again when we got into foster care, we read the books. We attended the classes. We knew the statistics. We did the attachment training. Our kids have have more counseling at their young age than most entire families have in a lifetime. We just somehow still didn't think it would happen to OUR kids because we believed -- as all adoptive parents must -- that love is enough.  

And it is enough. Love is enough . . enough to get you through the next day or the next crisis or the next celebration. 

The Captain just turned 16! He worked hard to bring his grades up with only a little help from us and now he's eligible for the HS baseball and plays in his first official game this week! So there you go.

Come on, ring those bells!

A Few Words on Love and Loss

 A Few Words on Love and Loss

At our Huntley family reunion this year, I spent more time than I intended just looking at my loved ones having fun. I must be getting old! I can vividly recall watching my nephews (in-law) joking together, the teens, singing at the top of their lungs, and my son making the baby laugh. 

Yet, in every family gathering there is a note of sadness, and we don't always acknowledge it. I meant to mention it out loud, but I did not. Missing from this gathering were my nephew, Keath, my Great-niece, Karissa, and my Dad, Les. Dad is our most recent loss, just nine months ago. He loved family gatherings and every aspect of big family life. 

The second-eldest of 10, chaos was the bread and butter of their daily life. Once when all 5 of my kids were at home and my folks were in town for Thanksgiving, I apologized for the general VOLUME in our home, which was considerable. Dad just smiled and said, "I love it." In his last decades of life, really after his retirement, Dad was a peach. He literally got sweeter by the week. He loved everyone and enjoyed everything. His quiet reserve slipped away and he became a
toe-tapping, hand clapping music lover. He laughed out loud. When he met my great-niece just before her first birthday, he gushed proudly, "She's absolutely perfect." He thanked people for the smallest kindness. He was only grumpy when ill or injured. And after 61 years of marriage, my mom misses him desperately.

Now for the part no one wants me to say. My Dad was no saint. In fact, in earlier years, he hurt one member of our family so badly, I don't see that wound healing. He was strict and exacting. He was unforgiving. He was "always right" and gave no quarter. It is probably true to say that he was blessed to have those 2 decades after he retired to win us over. 

We eulogize the best parts of the person when they die but we also still have to come to terms with the other parts. In polite society, we don't say unpleasant things about the dead. Many deaths are like this; it's our humanity showing.

Our family has experienced at least 3 suicides, but as a group, we can't/don't talk about it. No one wants to be the one to raise the topic. The generation below me has done better handling the truth. They love and commemorate the dead on various occasions. They are more outspoken then we are. 

I do talk to my own kids about suicide, especially when they are teens. It's such a vulnerable time. I want them to know what it was like for us to walk behind that coffin and see a young person whose life was cut short. I want them to know what they cannot know at this age: death is permanent. I tell them, "if you can't tell me, tell someone, and keep telling until someone helps you." I press cards into their hands with toll free "teen help" hotlines and I hope with all my heart it's enough. 

I am digging deep to see why I did not bring up our dead loved ones at the family reunion. I did put up a small memorial but never pointed it out. What is that about? I think of little Karissa, who never made it out of the neo-natal ward, and kick myself. Why didn't  I talk about her?  And why do I feel so awkward when my mom says she misses Dad? She's supposed to, right? Yet I have no training in how to respond to these comments.  I remember when my dear sister-in-law was in the ICU and I was lying on the floor of the waiting room, shaking uncontrollably. I was literally shaken to the core, for perhaps the first time in my life. 

I wonder if part of the depression that often comes with grief is from not wanting to deal with the "unresolved" parts of the relationship. In other cultures and parts of the world, mourners rip their clothing or wail uncontrollably. I can't help but think as grievers, we need more of that. Yes, grief takes time; above all, time. I believe it also takes truth-telling, as hard as it is. 

What would it be like if we told the truth? She was bossy, uncoordinated and often awkward. She screwed up a lot. She made 5 million mistakes, most with love, some out of sheer stubbornness. She was impulsive and that hurt a lot more people than she intended, but at least she could cook!

Love

Because life has been so full, full, full lately, I have been thinking a lot about blogging but not doing a lot of blogging. So I am "putting a toe in" and for your reading pleasure, I present a short list of things I adore:

I love the rain.  Love it.  I  LOVE IT!  We got "sheet rain" today in Seguin.  I let the Littles splash in -- then sit in -- then roll in the puddles.  They had a ball.

I love how little kids laugh.  It is truly the sweetest thing.

I love the crack of the bat and the sound of the crowd. I love the smell of the dirt and the heat and the sound of the ball hitting the mitt.  I even love it when someone bobbles the ball and all the parents say, "Ohhhhhh" in the saddest way.  I love keeping score and I love analyzing the stats even more.

I love our new kitten and our old dog and that they both love me. Pets are so awesome. I love the way Bubby "sings" when we do and is so jealous and how kitty purrs so loud when I first see her in the morning.

I love watching Pepper drive and I love riding with her and I love it that she takes me to work instead of the other way round.

I love my nieces and nephews on both sides though I don't see much of any of them.  I love FACEBOOK because it is the tie that binds.

I love Dr. Sanchez. He's my Puerto Rican superhero.  And he's super sweet. And he probably is helping me save my own life.  Here's his picture but he's cuter in his glasses. (Don't worry, Dear Hubby loves him too.  He's humble and loveable.)

I love watching Tinker's face light up when she rhymes something or sounds out a word. She'll be reading wonderfully by August -- her revelations light up the room. Oh my gosh it is the greatest.  

I love hearing the boys play an elaborate game that spans the whole day and involves hats, plastic airplanes, towels and a lot of giggling.  I love that they love each other. I was so worried three years ago that Tinker and the Captain were too close for The Blitz to get a foothold but there is enough love for all.  Yay.

I love clean laundry and I do not love wrinkles.  I miss having long mornings in the laundry room.

I love hearing Sunshine sing and she is singing a lot for me lately.

I love that both Bigs are growing up.  I love that they will leave us one day and I do not love thinking overmuch about that.

I love my job and my customers. I love it.  I think it is good for all of us, though I miss my kids all day.

I love my friends.  I have the most amazing friends. I do not spend much time with them now but I love them all the same. Cocktails tomorrow night, ladies!

I love blogging and glad I remember that now.  I have been so distracted lately with all this love.

I love the idea that you now may tell me what you love.  Please do.

I'm Glad to be Here

Day 1 of the 10 Day Family Re-Charge

I'm glad to be here.  I'm grateful for space and shelter and running water.

I'm grateful for hands suddenly able to cut a heart and for hands that reach for forbidden markers.

I'm glad to be here.

I'm grateful for the crisp skin of baked chicken and the creamy comfort of polenta.

I love the smell of cooking in the house.

I'm glad to be here.  I'm grateful for teens who cook and leave messes in the kitchen

and for the prayer of washing dishes.

I'm glad to be here.  I'm grateful for the blessing rain - so grateful -

and for the sounds of laughing and fussing; for running feet and banging doors.

I'm glad to be here. I'm grateful for one more day I have not earned;

Blessed to have one more day on this ancient earth;

One more chance to laugh, to live lustily, to reach out to love.

I'm glad to be here.

PS -- la pequeña muchacha returned yesterday evening for a short stay. By law, I can't post her picture here!  But if you email me, I'll send you her picture!  She's a cutie!

Training Kids to Eat

People frequently comment on how well my children eat.  They love healthy foods.  I am convinced that almost any child can be trained to eat well.

I know there are plenty of naysayers out there.  You don't have to defend yourself to me!  This is for those who are unhappy with what their kids will eat.  I can tell you that not only has this worked on my 5 kids who don't have my genetic preferences-- including one child with sensory integration disorder and two kids trained in early eating by others-- but also with  two little boys I babysat and two originally picky foster kids.

I once read that a child  has to see a food 20 times to eat it.  I followed this advice with our oldest and every child who has crossed my threshold since.  I don't have to threaten or cajole them into eating it;  a dozen or 20 times after it shows up on their plate, they do eat it!  It's miraculous. The key is, don't say anything at all about it unless they ask you a direct question.  In that case, answer the question in a straightforward, non-emotional way:  "Those are peas, darling."  "Spinach is green because of photosynthesis."

Here are few things that have worked in our household:

• The real trick is to plate small portions.  I don't make them eat new foods and I don't make them eat everything.  If I've done a good job, they are asking for more;  otherwise, plate less next time.
• I let my kids stop eating when they're full.  A little of each thing is enough for dessert.  New foods have to be touched.  That said, if it's a food I know they eat -- like green beans -- they have to eat it to get dessert. 
• Consult a chart of "proper" serving sizes for kids of various ages and only put that much on their plate.  For example, a serving of brown rice for a two-year-old is 1/4 cup, so that's all I plate.  If they want more later, they can certainly have it!
• With a new or disliked food, plate only a tiny bit, like three peas or a teaspoon of spinach.
• That new food needs to show up every day or even twice a day in order to get them used to seeing it.
  
• Consistency is key;  if you want them to eat whole grains, you must stop buying and preparing "white" foods. Whole grains have a nutty flavor and their palates have to become accustomed to it.
• Try replacing 1/4 to 1/3 of the flour in any recipe with whole wheat flour.  At first, you may want to replace only 1/8th until your family stops noticing; then work your way up.
• The Thank You Bite.  This brilliant idea came from my niece, Lisa.  Even if you don't like something, you take a thank you bite.  A single bite.  I don't use this at home unless we have company, but my kids know it is the rule in restaurants and other people's homes.
• Check for food allergies; very young children often eschew foods that they cannot tolerate or to which they are allergic.
  
• Sometimes you can trick kids into trying foods by not plating them.  When the child questions why they didn't get it, we say mysteriously, "Oh, this is grown up food.  We're pretty sure you're not old enough to eat it yet."  This is how cherry tomatoes became a 3-year-old foster child's favorite food.  You can't overuse this ploy, of course, but it is very tempting to kids of most ages!
• Make sure to introduce new or disliked foods with other familiar (but not favorite) foods.  If the new food is a main dish (like veggie lasagna) make sure the next meal has a familiar, accepted main dish.
  
• Take the sweets out of snack time.   A litany of sweet snacks just encourages kids to eat lightly at meals and hold out for the next snack.  Yogurt,  fruit, a boiled egg or cheese and crackers all make fine and filling snacks.
• Take them shopping.  Let them pick out a fruit and a vegetable and serve them both as soon as possible.  It's irresistible.

You Can't Hurry Love

A few days ago during nap time my phone rang and Sunshine, reading the caller ID, yelled, "It's The Captain's school."

"Hmmm," I thought, "time for the ARD review already?"

Not quite.  The Captain, it seems, had been falling apart at school.  Can you say, "Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, BING!?"

This child could be a cover model for a story entitled,  "What to Expect of Your (Former) Foster Child."   Poor boy.  I'm sure that his teachers, who at least on one occasion have read my blog, have wondered why we call him "The Captain."  Because up until now, at school he has been an angel.

Here in the trenches, we know he is a perfectly normal boy and a fairly bossy one, at that.  At school, though, he has been wearing that halo.  Then, like clockwork, he began to test their true love for him.  We will never be sure what has caused this sudden rash of testing -- it could be the natural progression of relationships in the life of a fairly broken little boy.  However, we strongly suspect that it is closely related to the now very obvious pregnancy of one of his teachers.  He's been through 3 pregnancies with his birth-mommy;  it's a lot for a little guy to take on.

I've had the opportunity to discuss this with his teachers on a daily basis now for several days.  Yes, I said every day.  God bless his fabulous teachers.  They love him and have great compassion for him which is certainly helpful when a defiant 3-year-old is systematically tossing your library into the middle of the room.   On Monday, though, I felt perplexed.  I thought we'd had a couple of real breakthroughs over the weekend.  I'd taken care that he was as well rested and well fed as he could possibly be.  And yet, another break down.

As I hung up with his teacher, and started making lunch, I pondered possible interventions.  Suddenly, I found myself humming a Motown oldie, "You Can't Hurry Love."

"I need love, love
To ease my mind.
I need to find, find
Someone to call mine . . .
But how many heartaches
Must I stand
Before I find someone
To call mine?  . . .

No, love, love,
don't come easy
But I keep on waiting
Anticipating
For that soft voice
To talk to me at night
For some tender arms
To hold me tight . . .

You can't hurry love.
No, you just have to wait.
She said, love don't come easy,
It's a game of give and take."

Thank you, Diana Ross and the Supremes.  This could be the theme song of his life.  Thank you, Holy Spirit,  for reminding me once more, that although this precious little spitfire has been in our home for a whole year already, he's spent two-thirds of his life being moved from one caregiver to another and having his little heart broken over and over.  He's still un-moored.  So it's not terribly surprising that he's coming a bit unhinged.  You can't hurry love.