It's Been a Minute

It's Been a Minute

The last couple of years have been a little . . .well . . . let's say nutty. I'll spare you the details and start with now. I've decided to start updating the blog because I think it might be helpful for other people with adopted kids or maybe even just other people with teens. 

I do not have all the answers. I'm fairly certain that often I don't have ANY answers. What I have noticed though, is that knowing we're not alone and that what we're going through, if not "normal" is at least not "uncommon," is very helpful. So here I am, warts and all. It won't be pretty but it will be true.

That said, there may be times that for moral or legal reasons, I can't tell the whole story. You'll just have to trust that details left out are out because they are (1) protecting kids or (2) they can't be disclosed at this time. 

The "Littles" will all have birthdays in the next two months and will be 16, 15, and 14.  I can't believe it. A couple days ago we celebrated 13 years of Tischler life together. Wow. I think about the tiny strangers that came to our house that blustery February day and honestly can't imagine (and barely remember) life without them.  

I thought I'd be overwhelmed with child management but that was not it. I was overwhelmed with laundry and still am! I worried I would lose them but they stuck to me like glue. The real challenge was nights. I don't think I slept the first 2 months they were here; The Captain was so traumatized that it took him literally hours to fall asleep and the Blitz also had serious sleeping issues. Oh, I long for those easy days of toddler life! 

These  days, we have teen problems. Do you remember being a teen?  I do, and it's been a minute!  It was AWFUL! I felt ugly and unloved, pretty much all the time. And guess what? That's what it's like being a teen. Not much has changed. Except, now they have 1000 times more images a day to compare themselves to and strangers on the internet to help them feel bad about themselves. 

These three are all very cute and talented. I hope one day they will truly know it. They aren't at a place to take my word for it, of course. The Captain made the JV Baseball team, a pretty big deal. Tink is in the community youth choir and The Blitz is on his middle  school Theater UIL team and his MS Cheer Squad as the Mascot. 

It's not all roses though. There have been very serious, thorny problems too. School problems. Legal problems. Family problems. Moral problems. And it has not been at all smooth sailing. 

That's why I think I need to restart the blog: to remind you and me that we can all get through it. In short . . . to say that even though there are the problems --- all those lumpy problems -- at the end of the day, inside these thorny, horny (yes, I said it), awkward teens, there are also those sweet little kids just trying to be loved. 

So, here I am, back again. Let's wander up this rocky road together. Cheers. 

Morning Play LIst, aka Morning Rituals

Morning Play List, aka Morning Rituals

It's 7:45 AM and I'm sitting alone at the kitchen table, forcing myself to eat a little breakfast. Today is our first "trial run" of our morning routine for school. We run our morning and evening routines the two weeks of summer camp that proceed school so we have a chance to fix our timings, add in essential missing elements, etcetera.

As I'm eating, Taylor Swift's "Never Grow Up" comes on. It's been on the playlist since the "Bigs" were the only kids in the house. And I'm still trying to preserve those last vestiges of innocence in the "littles." It's all just mind boggling.

I had so much fun updating my morning playlist recently, mostly inspired by Apple TV's Ted Lasso and Trying. My gosh, they have the best soundtracks. I recently added The Rolling Stones, "She's a Rainbow", and Sia's "Unstoppable" among others. Someone grumbled when I started up the playlist this morning, but it does actually help us all and a couple of songs later, sure enough there was a song he'd added to the mix. 

The playlist was born when the girls were school aged. We'd just returned home from a road trip and we had some road trip rituals: We'd eat breakfast, pack up the trailer, nestle the kids in the car, hook up, take off, and plug in a certain CD the girls loved to sing along to, which happened to be, Wee Sing America. We'd hit the first couple of songs in order and then had our favorites we'd skip around to before choosing an audio book or gazing out the window. 

When we got home, it occurred to me, maybe that type of ritual would help our mornings. We were homeschooling at the time and the girls had a hard time getting started some days because their mama had a lack of structure. We now know their mama has ADHD, but that's another story! I never mentioned the morning playlist, really just kind of did it for me, but started playing it every morning in the kitchen. Before long, our mornings smoothed themselves out. 

It's not magic, but works like it. We hear it, and subliminally, we move to the starting line. We take our marks. We get ready. We move through our routines. Please note, I am part of the "we." It helps me focus. If I'm up early, I don't usually turn on the playlist until my alarm goes off. I'm working or knitting or focused on a project. I'm not yet in "ready mode." The playlist turns it all on.

15 years later, the playlist has taken on a life of its own. Once someone mentioned they'd heard a particular song too much, so I took it off. A couple years later, someone mentioned the tone was "preachy. Ok. I do take feedback. It has morphed over time and sometimes a song, like the one from Sia just mentioned, comes up that just must be added. I don't worry about the length of the list. When we leave the kitchen, I turn it off. Sometimes we hear 15 songs and sometimes we hear 3, so it doesn't matter. On weekends, I start on track 6 or 8 just for fun. No one's ever noticed. Once, when my dad was dying and I'd had a pretty bumpy day at work, I played it while I cooked supper and no one even noticed; it was weirdly settling. 

Do you have playlists that help your family through its routines? If so, I'd love to hear about them them! Just for grins, I'll share our current version below, but know, it may not even be current by the time you read this! Cheers!

"Holy as a Day is Spent" (Carrie Newcomer)

"Souls like Wheels" (Avett Brothers)

"Never Grow Up" (Taylor Swift)

"Island Song" (Adventure Time)

"She's a Rainbow" (Rolling Stones)

"Unstoppable" (Sia)

"All About That Bass (Meaghan Trainor)

"Rise Up" (Andra Day)

"This Is Me" (Keala Settle)

"Beautiful" (Christina Aguilera)

"We are the Champions" (Queen)

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (Iz)

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!

Hot Chocolate Memories

We were outside on Sunday and the air had a frosty nip to it and smelled like snow. I didn't know I remembered what snow smells like. It didn't snow of course, but the Littles would have been so, so happy if it had. It would never be what they really want, of course. They want the kind of epic snows I had as a child; they want the 4 foot drifts and the snowmen and a snow fort worthy of a cowboy. I don't know if anyone gets that kind of snow anymore, but it is as much a part of my childhood as Barbie dolls and Lincoln Logs.

In Colorado, when it snows, you still have school.  I remember my mother forcing me to put pants or snowpants under my dress because we had to walk 3 blocks to school and it was cold and snowy out there!  People shoveled their sidewalks, of course, but we took quite a few "short cuts" through snow drifts. We had recess too. No one had ever heard of "indoor recess." I don't believe we had a single time when the weather was too inclement for us to go outside.

(This picture isn't us, but it sure could be!)

It was a different world. I loved waking up to see the world blanketed in white. I doubt if Mom loved it. We'd put on our school clothes, then bread sacks over our shoes to keep our shoes dry and so the boots would go on easier. Then a sweater, snow-pants and snow-boots. Then hat, scarf and mittens and finally, a coat. These manipulations required adult assistance. It's hard to put on boots and it's even harder to zip your coat with mittens on . Little kids never had gloves back then. I think you were a teenager before you had gloves. Nothing fit 100% either; my snow clothes were once my sisters and my brother wore my cast-offs. I'm not sure where my sister's came from!

:
When we got all of that on, we could barely walk. It was a stiff legged, robotic walk at first as my knees learned to bend under the snow pants and my ankles got used to the boots. We would venture out and I still can taste that first whiff of fresh clean snow air. I loved how quiet the world was, blanketed in snow. We were often quiet the first few minutes as we listened to the loud sound of our own breathing in our scarves.

If it was a school day, I'm sure Mom closed the door and collapsed with a cup of coffee. If she was unlucky and it was a weekend, she probably braced herself for our inevitable and too fast return. When we came home, she always made hot chocolate. This was before "mix" and packets so it was yummy. One of my favorite childhood smells is the smell of scalded milk!  I make this for my kids on cold days still.

Hot Chocolate

1/3 cup dutch processed cocoa, unsweetened 

1/2 cup sugar

pinch salt

Stir all above together to break up the starch in the cocoa

Add:

3/4 water

Heat over medium high heat until the cocoa simmers 

Add:

3.5 cups milk, slowly, 1 cup at a time until heated then add more.

Top with marshmallows, (lots).

You can also add a pinch of cayenne and a teaspoon of cinnamon; that's our current favorite way to enjoy it.

What's your favorite hot chocolate memory?

The Importance of Being Earnest

I am keenly aware that like most bloggers, I post mainly bright news, the happy stories. If you know me "in person," you'll know that's pretty true to me; I tend to lean optimistic. My motto growing up came from a Sunday School song: "Brighten the corner where you are."

That said, it's important to also be frank. I know our family is not the only one struggling but families tend to keep these struggles private. That sinister voice whispers, "It's all your fault; you're a terrible parent" and when we listen to that inner lie, then human nature is to hide it, to cover it up, and try to look good.  No one is helped by this.

Thus, here I am with a true story of three adorable children and how hard life  sometimes is with them. I am hoping that my talking about it might help other families who are struggling. 

Our "Littles" came with baggage: hundreds of toys, plenty of clothes and many books . . . as well as,  tox screens, prematurity, neonatal drug exposure, past head injuries, PTSD, learning challenges, and more. Their paperwork is literally over a foot high. I am the constant recipient of parenting advice. I have read more books and articles on parenting in the last 5 years than most people read in a lifetime. We talk about parenting every day. We try it all. It all helps a little . . . and nothing "works."

Foster kids are different. People cannot understand it because it's not a world most have lived in and it's not talked about. They have baggage. And lugging all that baggage around as a very young child changes them. It doesn't just change their attitudes, it changes their wiring. Thinking can be changed, hearts can be moved, but beliefs -- especially the ones formed when one is pre-verbal -- are very hard to change. Their little hearts have been broken in ways we cannot -- and do not want to -- know.

So they do what they do.

Tink acts inappropriately a lot of the time; she laughs too loud, talks too loud, acts suggestively, breaks things, drops things, runs into things, and generally seeks attention almost constantly. Her teacher kept complaining about her behavior but would not try the interventions we recommended. Finally, I spelled it out. "This child is not like other kids. She never gets enough love and attention. She didn't walk until she was 18 months old because she survived life in foster care by eating. She was huge. She was in foster care because when she was 8 months old, her mother's paramour threw her across a room and into a wall. She had brain damage that healed but her heart is broken in a way we can't begin to understand. She will do anything to make you love her. Please try to love her."  The letter helped. Things got better. She's the "easy" one.

The Blitz, generally a loving and happy boy, wants to have friends, but doesn't really know how to. He's smart as a whip but motor skills are such a challenge. He has tantrums the likes of which I've never seen. They are doozies. They may last 5 minutes, but 30 minutes to an hour is more common. A century ago, someone seeing a fit like his would call an exorcist.  It's terrifying; he looks (and acts) likes he possessed. His common refrain is, "No one loves me; no one cares about me." And it's devastating; it breaks your heart. There is nothing we can do to stop or shorten it. So far he has not done this at school but it is  only a matter of time. Their frequency and intensity is increasing. He has a 90% happy, wonderful life, but the 10% is very, very dark and terrible.

The Captain has serious learning challenges and he is in a tough position; he knows he's not like other kids. He's an amazing athlete and very good at making friends. Yet, he knows he can't do what his peers can do. His PTSD flares up when least expected. The oddest things set him off and he can be very scary.  He has a very fierce and hot temper. He tries hard to control himself, but he just is not able to. He is a brooder and will stomp and slam for an hour after the most minor correction. He has learned skills to help him cope but anyone who has lost control can tell you, it is a very tough thing "in the moment" to force yourself to call upon those skills.

Our house is a mess. They are chewers: they chew their clothes, books, bed sheets, fingernails, toenails, anything that doesn't bite back. They'd probably chew on the dogs if they dogs would let them. They're "pickers" too and bits of wallpaper are missing all over the house. They've flooded their toilet a dozen times. Their carpets are destroyed. Their toys are in pieces; we could have named them all "Bam-Bam." We teach, we correct, we re-teach. They are slowly improving. This destruction is somehow in them and hard to root out. Personally, I think it is a form of self-destruction.

Yes, of course we are doing things to help them. All we do is talk about how to help them. Our pediatrician is trying to help us find a new therapist; none of the dozen I've contacted will call me back. Medicaid therapists who treat children are few and far between and most have a waiting list.  Both the boys see the developmental pediatrician but we can't miss an appointment; the waiting list is a year long. The Blitz may be on the Autism Spectrum; that would explain his tantrums but not do much to impact them; stay tuned on that one. The Captain has just finished a long and intense series of tests to narrow down his learning disability and in January, he will finally begin receiving more and  -- more appropriate --educational interventions. Tinker is finally in a good place, behaviorally at school; we have to stay on top of it. Academically, she rocks.

Do not misunderstand: I love these three with a ferocity I'd have not believed possible. I will move heaven and earth for them and I would not trade them for the world. They are my training ground.

Nonetheless, life has irrevocably changed.When the school calls, I pray that it's a fever or a field trip form not returned. I never thought I would be "that mother" dreading calls from the school, but I admit that I am now that person.  The big, happy family I'd dreamed of looks a lot different than I thought it would. Almost no one asks us over; we're  too big a challenge. We don't have much company here either; life is too volatile and unpredictable. I thank God every day for big sisters and grandparents who love you no matter what. [Add to that cousins, Aunts, Uncles and shoe-string relations; our families have been AMAZING.]

Speaking of sisters, life is hard for the older girls. I try not to raise my voice but do, at least once, every day. Daddy, more often. The Littles can be naughty. Sunshine's friends are very understanding but you really never know what is going to happen. Both the Bigs have sacrificed a lot for the Littles. One person told me I'd ruined the older girls' lives. I disagree. It has changed their lives, certainly and in ways I never could have predicted. The calm, sweet life they had as little children is not the life these kids have and it's not the life they have anymore, either. It's raucous, it's crazy, it's loud and it's chaotic.. It's what it is. It has been hard for them but I have faith that it has also been instructive for them in ways books can never teach. They are self-sacrificing. They have a sense of family and responsibility that I never could have taught them. They know what it means to love. It comes from having to work at loving another person. When you fight for that love, it never leaves you.

There is a lot I don't do any more. I don't live in a clean house or even a tidy one. I don't put up Christmas lights. I don't write a lot of cards. I don't scrapbook. I don't even try to talk on the phone during "awake" hours We don't -- or rarely do -- go to restaurants. I don't go to the gym; I exercise at home. I don't stay up late; I go to bed early and get up at the crack of dawn because I don't have much left at the end of the day. We don't go to church every week and the kids don't go to Sunday School because last year was basically a disaster. I don't take them anywhere for play dates; I have only very rarely dared to leave them in that way. And, I don't give up; I can't.

I do get tons of advice, all of it honestly well-meaning, I do keep trying different things. I do keep hoping and praying, reading and making calls. I do advocate for them and their special needs and I am well known at their school. I do keep trying to clean and organize and one day, we'll get there. I do play with them and correct them and tell them every day that I am very glad they're mine.

Perhaps more relevant, I do thank God every day for these three beautiful souls. I thank Him that I am able to see that beauty in them and that, in fact, I love them more every day. I thank God that they love me too and can see beyond my impatience and -- at times -- my hopelessness. I do surrender; I finally get that I am not in control and I am not in charge. I can't change them, but I can love them and love does change people, in Love's own time.

I have said all this because you probably know a family like ours. Their kids came from Russia or Louisiana or the next county. They are adopted kids or they came the "usual way." They are "That Family." They make a ruckus at church. Their kids misbehave in school. Their house is a mess. The parents look stressed and you whisper to your kids, "Don't play with them. They're naughty."

That is the family you need to reach out to. Meet them in a park. Take Mom a cup of coffee.  Pray for them. Kiss your own kids and thank God that they have had YOU all their lives. You are the best gift you can ever give them.

God bless them; God bless you.

PS -- Please check out this link offered by my friend Sue Sneed:  http://supportforspecialneeds.com/2015/11/18/daily-dose-13/

Back to School for Anyone and Everyone

Blink! Summer's over. Wow, that was fast!

It's my fault it went so quick. Did I mention at any point in my last post I was taking teacher certification courses over the summer? Well, now you know. And I got a teaching job; a great job in a Title 1 School with an amazing staff. So school has started and we all went back. Here's the proof:

Tinker Bell - 2nd Grade

The Blitz  - 1st Grade

The Captain - 2nd Grade

Pepper

Sunshine

Special Ed Faculty at Voigt Elementary Yay!

In addition to being back to school, we are back to ball. I should have some photos to post next week but here's one little cutie to warm your heart:

Happy Labor Day Weekend!!

Life in the Fast Lane

Oh, the lazy days of summer!  (This is where you insert that sound of a record scratching to a halt.)

Okay, they haven't exactly been lazy days! If you saw my post on organizing the family for all-day out-of-town sporting events, you have a pretty good idea of how my summer is going.  Here's our schedule:

Monday - recover from the weekend and do a mountain of gross, sweaty laundry (see Saturday and Sunday). I exercise. Take the kids swimming. Reading. Math.
Tuesday - boys have therapy and other appointments; try to squeeze in cleaning the house. I exercise. Reading, Math.
Wednesday - Weight Watchers, I exercise, take the kids swimming; more errands and appointments. Laundry. Try to spend  quality time with husband. Reading, Math.
Thursday - I exercise (see a trend here?, Spend the day finishing the laundry, grocery shopping, prepping snacks and packing for the weekend. Reading, Math.
Friday -  Hit the road early with Sunshine, Tinker and the Blitz. Check into our hotel, head to the ballpark. When we drag back to the hotel late at night, swim the Littles, bathe everyone, get them in bed. I exercise. Meanwhile, Dear Hubby, Pepper, and the Captain stay at home to do the same ball playing with The Captain.
Saturday - Just like Friday without the driving.
Sunday - Just like Saturday except the driving comes at the end of the ball playing and Mama gets a day off of exercise . . . well, after I get in at least 10K steps, that is!

It is a wild and crazy life and I wouldn't have it any other way. There is nothing I love more than watching my kids play ball. And the exercise, well that's about leveling up my own life, so that has to hit the top of my priority chart.

We are also having a lot of fun, so that's what summer's about, right?  Sunday I called Pepper to let her know we were headed home to celebrate Father's Day, and not only had she organized a Father's Day meal, she had also organized a picnic to Barton Creek for Monday!  So much fun and something I'd probably not have gotten to without her support. 

It made me revamp my schedule to decide that Monday will be FUN Day after our busy ball weekends. Yes, the laundry must be done, but so must FUN!

The saving grace in all of this is I do have a master schedule for the week days, so most days we are getting in the kids reading time, sight word games and math. At least we are managing to preserve their brain cells and hopefully avoid the "summer slide." 

This is our last week of our summer round of well-checks, dental appointments, etc., so that will be several hours back in my day. I can finally stop emergency cleaning and get onto decluttering! Yay. In July, we have only Sunshine playing ball so may get some camping in. That said, I am also on the lookout for fun, free family activities, so if you have any ideas for us, send them my way via comments or Pinterest!

Have a wonderful weekend.