It Takes Time

Today marks the one-year anniversary of the day Little Man moved in with us and made us a family of five. That little boy is celebrating the day by puking his guts out. Subsequently I am celebrating by cleaning puke out of our mattress, his hair, my clothes, the rug, and anything else within spit radius. (Please feel free to feel simultaneously happy and grossed out for us.)

Tomorrow will start the new school year, something we've actually done with all three boys before. For the first time we're repeating life events with them. We've been school shopping before, met new teachers, signed them up for sports. It feels like we're starting to get into a rhythm, in some ways. But in many others we're still flying blind, and the constant refrain is "it takes time."

The adoption process takes time. We're getting there. We've been told by our adoption lawyer and our caseworker that it is very likely we can get it all wrapped up by the end of this year. We go to court again in mid-September and we will hopefully get some more details. We're excited for this process to come to a close, but when it does there are still other things that will take time.

The other day I told a friend that I'm happy that the first thing people think about my children is not "they are so traumatized," because that means that they are healing and their scars don't show all the time (we've come a long way from anxiety meltdowns in Target). But, those scars are there. And some things have to get worse before they can get better.

Healing is happening for them. The boys are trusting more and feeling secure as members of our family. But they have a long road ahead of them. Just because you can't see their scars doesn't mean they aren't there. Anxiety attacks and behavioral issues are still a regular part of our lives, but they aren't happening in a vacuum with no cause. These things are the effects of years of trauma.

Andy and I are fixers. We're constantly trying to figure out what we can do to help the boys learn, understand, process, heal. I'm researching, all the time, methods that we can implement to provide more felt security or to reduce anxiety. We want so badly to take this pain and confusion away. But the truth is, these things take time.

So, as much as it may seem like the Young household should be "business as usual" now after a year, our "usual" looks different from a lot of families, and it's just going to take time.

Thanks for continuing to pray for us, think about us, read this little blog, and ask us how it's going. We love and appreciate you all. 

#facepalm

#facepalm

This is how we feel a majority of the time. But, the good news is, looking back over the last year or so, many of those facepalm moments have become quite hilarious to us. So, in the spirit of keeping things light on a day that started out (and ended) so hard, here are some of our favorite facepalm moments...

1. Once upon a time I walked into the bathroom and half the floor was wet. I asked D what happened and he pointed at the door and said "I tried to pee in the toilet from over there." #facepalm

2. From tonight, Andy: "Stop making faces at me." S: "I wasn't." Andy: "But, we're looking at each other and I can see you doing it." #facepalm

3. That one time Little Man threw up at the kitchen table and immediately said "Can I finish my breakfast?" #facepalm

4. Frequently S will come downstairs well after bedtime and say something like "My arm hurts...when I do this" (while pinching himself). #facepalm

5. Earlier in the year D had a little crush at school. The teacher told us he was being disruptive in class by throwing his snack across the room at the little girl he liked. When I asked him why he did that he said "I wanted to share my snack with her." #facepalm

6. Little Man came inside from playing and stated "I'M POOPY!" Andy replied, "Why did you poop your pants??" The answer: "Because I stayed outside!!" #facepalm

7. Before we moved, we all shared one bathroom. One time I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and sat in a puddle of pee. #facepalm

8. Conversation with my 9-year-old, about wearing his 3-year-old brother's clothes. Me: "D, why are you wearing your little brother's underwear?" D: "Because I wanted to." #facepalm

Turns out a lot of these moments are centered around bodily functions. Ah, life with boys.

There's an Army Man in my Medicine Cabinet

The last time I (Andy) posted anything on a blog was when Xanga was cool - so bear with me. I've been told that I write like I talk so feel free to respond and interact verbally while you read this.

The army man may or may not be mine but the fact remains that there is a an army man on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet in our master bathroom and I didn't put it there. He's been there for at least a month a half and I don't see him retreating back to base camp anytime soon. It has been such a gigantic life change to go from being just the two of us to the now family of five that we are. (Wow! I still can barely believe it!)

I can't help but look back over the past ten months and try and list the hundreds of changes that have happened in our life. Bigger house, bigger car, more toys, the seemingly million appointments every month, lack of personal space, and the list goes on and on. But for every one change in our life there's a hundred for each of our boys. Between our three boys they have lived in eight different homes, they have attended three different school districts, they've had countless caregivers, and their list goes on and on and on.

These boys, our boys, are our life now. We can't remember what our life was like before them and we don't care to know. Of all the places they have lived ours is different because we will, God willing, be their last home as children. Ours is different because they are healing here. Ours is different because they can call us dad and mom. And one of the many things these boys need is to be somebody's life. They need to be in a place where they can leave toys everywhere because it's their house too. Building in basic security, that a lot of us got as kids growing up not even realizing it, is what we do most often with our boys.

This is what's been on my heart lately because this is a really tough part of foster care and adoption. It's easy to forget that the boys are stuck in survival mode sometimes and that makes it frustrating for us.

So here's an update on where we are at with our adoption process. We went to court today for what we thought was going to be a kind of pretrial. It was actually just a time to set up the termination hearing. It could have been more than that if the birth parents had decided that they wanted to voluntarily consent to our adoption. So now we await the termination hearing which lasts for a day and a half and its decided whether or not to terminate their parental rights. The birth parents can still consent as late as the day of the hearing.

This is a very strange and difficult spot for us and we would appreciate your prayers. Pray that we can navigate our feelings and have the wisdom to guide our precious and fragile boys through this process. Even though we try on our own too often, we know that God's plan will be the last say.

Transition

There are several words that get used often in the realm of foster care that just become part of daily jargon.

Permanency
Best Interest
Permanency Goal
Accommodation 
Transition

These words just used to seem like regular words to me, until these words had something to do with the future of my children.

Lately, the word transition has been on my tongue constantly. Like, I'm pretty sure I say it 100 times a day (Okay fine, like 10 times a day). But what does this word mean exactly? Or, at least, what does it mean for us?

[Definition #1] In the last month transition has meant an emotional time of weekend visits with our new Little Man (whose name also starts with S, so we'll be calling him Little Man to cut down on the confusion). The transition started with a three hour visit on a Saturday. Then a nine hour visit the next Saturday. Then an overnight visit the weekend after that. Then a full-weekend visit last weekend.

Little Man moves in with us tomorrow night, and that transition will come to an end.

[Definition #2] But then, we will embark on a new transition, the transition of Little Man actually living every day in our home. The time it will take for S and D to understand that their brother isn't going "back" anywhere. The time before Little Man stops calling me "Mommy Liz" and starts calling me "Mommy." The time between tomorrow and whenever we start to feel like this "new normal" is normal.

And really, we are already in the process of another transistion -- our original transition. The transition that went something like "Just the Two of Us" to "We. Are. Fam-I-LY." In case you've lost track of time, that was a mere five months ago.

In the course of all this transition, we've started to understand that we will probably always be in some sort of transition according to someone. Caseworkers, Case Aides, Court-Appointed Advocates, Counselors, and other professionals all refer to this time as transition, but we refer to this time as life.

I Wouldn't Trust Me Either

My children have never lived in a safe place before. I'm not talking about the kind of "safe place" you consider your best friend, where you can say something stupid and not feel judged. I'm talking basic-level safe. Like the kind of place you go when you're hungry or sad, where you get food or comfort. I mean the place you go for a bandaid and a kiss when you fall off your bike. Or the kind of place you sleep restfully in at night. The kind of place where nightmares are comforted, not created.

While some homes they've lived in offered more safety than others in some respects, they still were, at best, inconsistent in their safety and protection of my precious boys.

Everyday we try to instill in our sweet children that they are safe with us, that we will protect them. We tell them we will never intentionally hurt them, and we are quick to apologize if we accidentally hurt their feelings.

We hug and kiss our adorable little guys often and make sure to tell them we love them all the time, because they've spent so long experiencing a world vastly different from that. But four months cannot erase eight or nine years of fear; A small collection of days filled with love cannot wash away the stain of neglect.

The boys' experience shows that the very adults who should be loving and protecting them often do the opposite. The children who I feel like I was created to love have no way of knowing that I won't abandon them, or hurt them; because in their experience, people's words can't be trusted. So, sometimes, the track record of the adults in their life causes them to resist opening their hearts up to us. They feel a little too vulnerable, so they start to shut down to protect themselves.

So we keep hugging, and kissing, and building up. We keep telling them they are safe, and we'll do it everyday for the rest of our lives, God willing.

They don't fully trust us now, but everyday they believe us a little more. And I don't blame them for doubting us. Because, if virtually every adult to this point who was responsible for caring for me had neglected or hurt me, or blurred the lines of appropriateness when I needed them to protect and love me, I wouldn't trust me either.

What's This Really About?

I really wish I had some chocolate right now. 

Seriously.

Here's the thing, almost every time I really crave chocolate I should ask myself the following question, What's this really about?

Chocolate is one of my [less mature] coping mechanisms. In my vast 27 years of life I have accumulated several effective coping mechanisms. Chocolate is not the best, but it generally is my favorite when I'm stressed.

...And the reason I would love to resort to my favorite coping mechanism is because of the overuse of one of my son's only coping mechanisms.

S had a series of tantrums of epic proportion tonight. Like, epic. And the finale included "I just want to be out of this family right away!" Too bad kiddo, that's just not going to happen.

These tantrums started because I put avocado in the chicken salad. I know, I know...how could I?! If you lived here, you'd probably be packing your stuff after that kind of stunt from me.

Anyway, the tantrums ended with S going to bed early. After he had a some time to calm himself down, and I had some time to calm myself down...I went back up to his bedroom to talk to him about the series of unfortunate events (because I've learned that you can't reason with a hysterical child, no matter how solid your logic is).

Since S has eaten my offensive avocado chicken salad before on numerous occasions and loved it, I really didn't talk about the food thing at all. Instead I asked, "What's this really about?" Or, something close to that in 9-year-old speak.


We sorted through the excuses and got to what was really bothering him. We talked through it, and got him to a place where he was feeling a little less distressed. Don't worry, we also talked about the consequences of our actions when we choose to be disobedient and say hurtful things, and he knows that he is the one who chose the behavior that resulted in going to bed early and losing some privileges.

The point here is, I could get really offended that S won't eat what I make him for dinner, or I could get really hurt by his comment about leaving our family. But instead, after taking a few calming breaths, I decided to ask, "What's this really about?" Because, apparently we can't all have highly developed coping mechanisms like me...

Code Language

Andy and I speak in code a lot now that we're parents. Since the boys can't spell quickly, I often spell out different words, but Andy's not big on that...so we've come up with some code words we use while planning different things we don't want the boys to know about quite yet.

M-D's is code for McDonalds.

As in, "Should we stop by M-D's for a little after dinner snack?" (Ice cream cone).

QT is code for Quiet Time.

As in, "I think after lunch we should all have a short QT before we play outside."

Cinematic Feature is code for movie.

As in, "Do you think it's a good idea to do a family cinematic feature tonight?"

The boys haven't figured out our code language, thank goodness. But we've found out that they have some code language of their own. And while we appreciate that the boys haven't figured out our code language, it's important that we try to decode theirs.

A few weeks ago, I was trying to get our dog, Jackson, to leave the kitchen while we were eating. I told him over and over...and over. But he didn't listen. D was standing there when this was happening, and he said:

"Jackson isn't listening very well. If he keeps doing that are we going to send him away to live at another house?"

Code language alert.

I assured D that we would not send Jackson away because he is a part of our family forever. This is important because we weren't just talking about Jackson. This is an important question for a child who has moved to four different homes, with four different caregivers, in four years.

Sometimes their code language is pretty obvious, and sometimes it's not. But, we continue to try to give answers that provide them with security and reassurance that they are an important part of our family, and loved very much.

Birth Parent Visits

In Illinois, there is a status hearing for each case every three months. At this hearing, the caseworker reports how the kids are doing in their placement, how their relationships are with their birth families, etc. There was a status hearing for our boys the week they moved in with us, and so the next one is scheduled for Tuesday.

At this hearing, the main goal is to decide whether the boys' visits with their birth mom should continue. The decision will be based on a report from both their caseworker and their court-appointed advocate on whether or not the visits seem to be in the best interest of the boys, or if they are having a negative impact on them. This is based on a number of factors, including our observations of their behavior.

Currently the boys' visits with their birth mom are limited and monitored. We haven't noticed any real behavioral issues with them after visits. So when we were asked by the case worker and advocate if we had noticed any extreme behaviors after the visits, I told them no, and also gave my opinion about whether or not the visits should continue.

I think they should.

That may seem strange, but here are a few of the many reasons why I would prefer the visits continue:

First, the truth of the matter is, she is their birth mom. I will never be able to erase that truth, and I never want to. If I were to try to discount her role in their lives, I would be ignoring so many of the genetic and experiential things that have come together to form my children's identities at this point. Regardless of her ability to care for the boys, she is part of their story, and now she is part of ours. That will never change.

Second, eventually these visits with her will stop. It's hard to communicate this point well without sharing too many details about their case, but that day will come, and it will come at the end of a much-too-long journey in foster care for my children. At that point the minimal emotional confusion that the boys experience during these visits will stop being triggered by her physical presence, but it will not stop. What's more, is that eventually my children will begin to understand more clearly the path that brought them to us, and that will serve to confuse their feeling about their birth mom and family even more. My children have a lifetime of dealing with complex feelings regarding their relationship with her ahead of them, regardless of whether or not she is physically present in their lives. At this point, they are still young enough to appreciate their limited time with her, and I want them to enjoy that before it becomes clouded by all the things they are currently too young to process.

I do hope that the judge decides it is in the best interest of the boys to continue the visits, for the time being. However, I am also looking forward to the day when a judge is no longer the one making those decisions, or when they no longer have quarterly status hearings, or a case number, or a different last name... 

"He said you were fat!"

A little while ago, through a series of unfortunate events caused by annoying red-tape issues within the system, D went about two and a half weeks without his medication. Both of the boys have ADHD, and are on the more severe side of the spectrum. At home we dealt with it the best we could, and found some semi-effective ways to help him focus and help us cope. School was a different story. The kid was outside of his mind at school. It was a rough time, but we all survived. I'm not really going to get into the whole story since that's not actually what this little update is about...

Anyway, after one of the rougher days during the medication gap, I was sitting with D on the couch rubbing his hands and feet (make note: I was touching his feet. Yes, I love this child), and asking him about his day. My poor little guy was so upset because another kid at school was being mean and hurting his feelings. I asked him to tell me the things that the boy was saying, so I could help him process how he should respond in the future. In the most forlorn voice he said, "He said you were fat!!"

Well after some more conversation I gathered that the kids were telling "Your Mama" jokes, to each other, and D apparently took it very personally. It was all I could do to hold in my laughter at this point. My little guy is so sweet and loves me so much that his feelings were crushed because of a "Your Mama" joke. Heart stolen. Again.

I wanted to share this story for a few reasons. First, it's flipping adorable. Second, while we do experience very difficult things in our journey with the boys, we are not without moments of "normal" parenting joy, and I want to make sure everyone knows that. Finally, while the majority of children who have been in the system for as long as our boys struggle with serious attachment issues, we are beyond amazed and thrilled that our children do not. These boys have readily accepted us as their mom and dad, so much so that D is upset when he thinks someone may be insulting me -- his mom. This is huge and wonderful. Please rejoice in this with us.

Thanks so much for all the messages, comments, prayers and other support you've shown to us -- we hope you keep sharing in our journey, and all the joy and sorrow that may come with it.

Homework and Heartache -- Timeline

"Create a timeline with five events from your life. List the year the event took place."

I was born 1986

I graduated from high school 2004

I graduated from college 2007

I got married 2007

I became a foster parent 2013

Simple Enough.

Except if you're a foster kid.

This is the homework I helped S with last Sunday evening after we got home from our 48-hour "vacation" in Michigan (their first vacation ever). I quickly thought of a few neutral, at-best, events to suggest (ex: "I moved"). Before I went into damage-control mode, S thought for a few seconds and then came up with the only event he could think of to add to his timeline, "Our vacation to Michigan."

While he finished his timeline, I finished my mini-breakdown in my bedroom, and Andy explained that "Mama is crying because she just loves you so much!"

When S was done, his timeline consisted of the day he was born, playing on a baseball team last year, the two times he moved in the last two years, and our "vacation." The last four events on this timeline happened all in a span of 2 years. That school project was a heartbreaking reminder to me that my son has few fond memories from the first seven years of his life.

Foster parenting is no joke. It is crazy hard. Parenting these boys is super challenging. They have experienced so much trauma, and that manifests itself in their behaviors. Some days S drives me bonkers, but then there is a moment like the timeline thing, and the fact that this kid has had more painful experiences in his 9 years than most adults hits me again...and again.

There's no real solution to this, no happy ending for now. All we can do is love these boys hard through the pain and all that comes with it.

We would really appreciate your prayers as we walk alongside our boys as they navigate through their confusing experiences and try to heal.

Thanks for your continued prayers!

Our Kids, and 5 Things I've Gathered

As most of you know, our little family doubled in size on Saturday! We are now the proud parents to two awesome boys. There's not a whole lot we can say on here, but we can tell you a little. They are brothers; the oldest, "S," is 9 years old, and "D" is 8 years old. They are both sweet kids, very very energetic, and super goofy. We love them so much already.

The boys are adjusting very well to the move, and we are trying to do the same. Before yesterday, we  told people that we were just waiting for our life to explode once we got kids...and it definitely has! This week is spring break for them, which is so nice for the transition. We will both be home for the majority of the week, getting to know them more and getting used to being parents before we take our hot-mess-of-a-life out into the public. We are going to try our best over the next week to get them (and ourselves) into a schedule and get us all used to our new "normal."

Meanwhile, during the last 48 hours or so that I have been a parent, I have come to a few conclusions about life as a mother. Here are the top five, in no particular order:

1. The "bestselling movie" section at Target is designed to make me look like a bad parent (cue: breakdown in the aisle because "The Amazing Spiderman" Movie is not on the shopping list today). Same goes for all of the shelves right at the checkout.

2. The kitchen timer is my new best friend. ("30 minutes of Quiet Time, then the timer will ding and you can get up.")

3. "Quiet Time" is just a nicer way of saying "Parental Sanity Break"

4. "Bedtime" is just a code word for the period of time where we turn the lights out and hide until they fall asleep.

5. My husband is amazing. There is no way I could do this parenting thing without him. Seriously.


And that is all I have the mental capacity to share right now. Oh, and this...

D is a budding photographer. He took this artsy picture of his shoes on my phone today. He would own Instagram with his photo-taking talent.

Thanks for your prayers! Please continue to shower us with them!