Emotional Container

Parenting is exhausting. So. Very. Exhausting.

I'm pretty sure no parent is going to argue with me on that. There are many exhausting things about being a parent.

Never-ending dishes from 5 people.

Toys. Oh, so many toys. Everywhere.

Constant refereeing.

The mountain of laundry that comes from having 3 little boys...the majority of whom wet the bed, nightly.

The ceaseless effort that goes into trying to raise them to be somewhat well-functioning beings.

Never sleeping in. Ever. Ever.

Yes, all of these things (and many many more) are what makes parenting exhausting many days.

But then there are those days. Days where "exhausting" doesn't even being to describe the day we've had, or how spent I feel. No, some days leave me far more than exhausted, they leave me weary.

Yesterday was just such a day. We've had many days like this. Sometimes it's because several of the many (many) appointments we have to schedule regularly happen to fall within the same 48 hours, and then, just for fun, all the boys decide to lose their minds. Other times, it may be because one of the boys is working through something difficult that we can't see, which sends him into a frenzy over the purple-ness of the berries in his cereal, which somehow today are much more purple than the every other day (yes, this actually happened). Sometimes it's a school thing, sometimes it's a trauma thing, sometimes it's a birth mom thing, sometimes it's a brother thing.

Well yesterday it was like an everything thing. It started at school -- complete defiance. All day long. Then it escalated at home into the mother of all tantrums (several hours of screaming, stomping, kicking, crying, insults, drawing on the walls, etc).

Lucky for us (and not so lucky for the babysitter), we had to go to a foster care training last night, after the worst of the tantrum was over, but before we had a chance to talk him through it. It was perfect timing in fact, because the training we are currently taking is to help better understand and respond to children who have experienced trauma.

This class is gold. There are so many helpful insights. But one thing in particular stuck out to me last night. One of the trainers, who is a former case worker as well as a seasoned foster and adoptive mom, said that foster and adoptive parents of children who have experienced trauma need to be emotional containers for their children. This means providing a safe environment where the children can feel and express the entire range of complicated emotions that comes with repeated trauma.

Often, my children respond in ways that don't seem to make any sense in a situation, or seem like gross overreactions, at best. But, then I remind myself of the things we know they've experienced, and I cannot begin to relate to what is going on in their minds because of the fact that they view the world through trauma-tainted glasses.

Being an emotional container is wearying. It's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But, if I do not allow my children to feel whatever they feel about what has been done to them (while teaching them appropriate alternatives to expressing those emotions), I am only solidifying in their minds the messages that their trauma has piled up in them -- you're worthless, no one loves you, you are not important.

I refuse to speak one more negative message into the lives of my precious children. So, we battle on through the hardest days. We brace ourselves, as emotional containers, for the onslaught of emotional vomit that has come as a result of years and years of trauma. And at the end of the day, we are weary. But I also know where I can find Rest for my soul and where I can find strength to do it all again tomorrow.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

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...

Our New Normal

The boys have been with us for almost a month. In that time, they have moved to a different town and a new house, and then another new house (with us), embraced a new mom and dad, been introduced to new extended family members, learned new rules, slept in new beds, gone to a new church, started at a new school, met new teachers, seen a new dentist, gone to a new daycare (before school), made some new friends, and much more.

It will be a while before their little lives settle down enough to become the new normal for them, but we are doing all we can to get there and support them through this transition.

Our life changed a little too...correction, everything is different now. We are adjusting to our new normal as well. Our new normal is crazy and awesome and horrifying and exhausting. There are several things that have changed in our lives that make up our new normal, for example:

-Two little crazies call us "mom" and "dad"
-We are constantly tired. Constantly.
-One of us says the phrase "Don't even look at each other" at least once a day.
-We celebrate successes with stickers (sorry if that slips into the rest of my life, i.e. Congrats on your new baby! Here's a sticker!)
-If I'm home, there's a good chance I have a kitchen timer on my person.
-"Did you pee IN the toilet?" is a question I ask just about daily.

There are also several things I didn't realize I would experience when I became a mother like:

-The indescribable joy I feel when my youngest child belly laughs...seriously, happiest. sound. ever.
-The fierce love I feel toward my oldest child during a meltdown
-The intense heartbreak I feel when my children are beyond frustrated that they don't understand their homework
-The overwhelming pride I feel when my children say they do something "just like MY DAD!" (referring to Andy)

Our new life is absolutely insane. And our brains are constantly overloaded. And our hearts are constantly overwhelmed. And we feel like we're making 10,000 mistakes a day. And figuring out how to be good parents to our two little crazies is the hardest thing we've ever done in our whole lives. But we love these children more than life, so bring it on.

Thanks for your continued prayer and support for our family!

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!