Sensory Processing Disorder

Sensory Processing Disorder is a newer condition to me.  Some terms used to describe people with this disorder—or are adjacent to it—are sensory seeking or sensory avoiding.  Just to keep things interesting, it is important to remember that an individual can both seek and avoid sensory input. Another thing I find true about any of these diagnoses is that almost everyone can relate to the feelings and situations described.  A diagnosis is appropriate when professionals conduct lengthy interviews and tests to perceive symptoms that are consistent and persistent and play a dominating role in a person’s work and school life.

We have one child who has been assessed by a professional who determined that SPD is quite strong in her.  We have two others who have not been assessed, but who behave in ways that lead us to suspect they would also be diagnosed.  They all have strong compulsions to touch anything and everything, even if there is a negative consequence (like being burned). They also have aversions to sensory input.  My kids specifically repel from noises that do not typically bother others. Certain types of clothes are a no-go because they are too uncomfortable.

We have a variety of toys, tools, and routines to help our kids function at their best.  First, we flat-out avoid situations that could get loud.  It is just not worth overstimulating them or causing them pain. We also talk about expectations and engage in role-playing before we have an event where sensory seeking (like touching everything) is not appropriate. 

We have an entire box of fidgets to pacify touchy hands.  Our Occupational Therapist suggested heavy work and different ways of moving to satisfy some of those compulsive needs.  So, when we see a kid starting to buzz, we have them carry random heavy things from here to there and back again as a game. It usually ends when she can no longer stand because she is laughing so hard. We tell them to move like bears or crabs on their way to wash their hands. It is a fun way to get chores done and helps them focus because of the work required to complete it. 

We have TheraBands to work muscles and give safe ways to exert themselves. We also have sensory brushes, weighted blankets, and a light machine. I would love to get one of those stretchy swings in the house, but I don’t know how to pull that off.  For now, we have a circular swing hanging off a tree branch that they can sit or stand on. 

And finally, there is the glorious play bath. The sensory play that can happen in a bath is varied and open-ended.  As long as they follow basic parameters, they are free to explore and discover on their own.  It’s marvelous, especially finishing with lotion, songs, quiet talk, and hair brushing.

I find that even our kids who don’t have SPD behaviors benefit from a lot of these practices.  We all get overstimulated, after all.  Have you tried any of these things to calm yourself or a child?  Anything I failed to mention?

Thanksgiving

I’m interrupting my series—who saw that coming?—on special needs that we accommodate to talk about Thanksgiving. 

First, here is my antisocial opinion/rant about Thanksgiving.  It’s getting lost, which is a grievance and forfeiture by us as a culture.  Back in the old days (*ahem*), Halloween was a one-day event. Costumes, décor, and candy were in stores around October 1^st.  I think churches contributed to the spread by offering ‘alternatives’ to Halloween parties.  Initially, they were genuinely alternatives, taking place on October 31^st.  Then some figured they could get more people if they didn’t interfere with the big day.  The spread began.  Parties, trunk-or-treating, haunted houses, and pumpkin patch visits, filled the entire month and more. This year, I saw neighbors putting up decorations in August!

On the other side of the day, another phenomenon occurred: Christmas!  I have seen countless memes celebrating this new seasonal trend: September and October are for Halloween, and November and December are for Christmas minus a single day set aside for Thanksgiving.  This is lamentable—except to retailers, I suppose.  I know Thanksgiving is sticky because of the ties to the nation’s shameful history. But giving thanks and practicing gratitude is good for all people.  Pausing before the Christmas bustle to adjust our minds and hearts benefits our mental, spiritual, relational, and financial health. Approaching Christmas—as Jesus-followers and not—with a healthy mind gives wisdom to how we spend our time and money.  Who doesn’t want that?

Ok, rant over. 

Our Thanksgiving was wonderful!  We had friends over on the Saturday before and took the week off from school. I did some cleaning and purging at the beginning of the week and we did extra crafting and cooking. Then for Thanksgiving, the seven of us had lunch, did Christmas decorating, went for a freezing walk, and watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  Yesterday we shared leftovers, continued decorating, and played games.

We have this set of cards for adoptive families. It looks like a standard deck of playing cards, and each card has a question or activity.  They’re handy for starting conversations. I always wonder what the balance is on these things. I don’t want to cause emotional heartache unnecessarily.  But I also want to provide safe times to talk about what might be ruminating.  I want to normalize acknowledging their beginnings.  I do not want to pretend or wash away their first families.

There are seasons where we talk quite a bit about the girls’ first family. And then there are stretches of being more in the present. Holidays understandably carry more memories and grief. Using the cards sets aside a dedicated time for the girls to share and for the grown-ups to tell the girls how important they are.

I am so thankful for this life.  I am thankful for technology that allows for connection across the miles.  I am thankful for each member of my family.  I am thankful I get to stay home to homeschool.  I am thankful for a God who is near, who cares, and who saves.  I am thankful for our new king-sized bed that fits everyone for story time. I am thankful for the warm house. I am thankful for the chilly fall weather.  I am thankful we are relatively healthy.  I am thankful my adult kids and husband have jobs where they do good work.  I am thankful for friends and family.

I Started Writing This, But Saw Something Shiny

Here we are on day two of looking at some of the issues we have encountered with any of our five kids.  If there were a poster family for ADHD, we might be it.  You should see me trying to write this post!

Starting with my parents, there is not one in my family of origin or current family whom ADHD hasn’t given a big fat squeeze! When you are raised by and with people who have ADHD, it is like water to a fish: I just don’t know any differently. Doesn’t it take your family four hours to leave the house? I thought everyone had trouble with being on time, remembering why they are where they are, knowing they are forgetting something, and having no idea how long any particular task takes. I thought spaghetti-like conversations were the mark of being female because there are so few men in my family.  I thought losing things like keys, wallets, and important papers was common for everyone. I never examined why everyone I am related to is always procrastinating, thriving on self-imposed deadlines, and swinging from hyper-focused to being incapable of finishing anything.  I didn’t know I had ADHD. And then I moved 2000 miles away.

Separated from my ultra-ADHD family members, I started to see myself in a new light.  Flitting from one topic to another during conversation, or one task to another didn’t look so normal. Suddenly, my behavior—and my daughter’s exasperation—finally clued me in that I might share this diagnosis.

And guess what? ALL FIVE of our children have signs of attention deficit.  God chose so well for us!  This is one we know and embrace! When we homeschooled our son, I read to him while he did flips or hung upside down on the couch. Observers doubted his comprehension or retention.  How could anyone pick up on my words with that much activity?  We lovers of people with ADHD know that the truth is that if all his attention went to holding still, he would have none left over for listening. And today you will always find him with little Lego figures in his pocket so he can fidget whenever he needs to.

We can make these accommodations for all our children.  It is a perk of homeschooling to arrange the day to help our kids be successful, turning something like ADHD into an asset!  We alternate active and quiet activities and provide ‘busy hands’ when there is a need to be more still.  The girls illustrate what I read, play with fidgets, sit on inflated textured pillows so they can wiggle in a smaller space, or snuggle under weighted blankets.

Outside of school, we watch their faces and body language to see when we need to intervene before they run into a virtual wall.  We have breathing games to help them slow their brains down. Charts are around the house to help the girls stay on track with various routines. And big, active, or heavy movement is worked into every day.

It took me three and a half hours to write this. I distracted myself. Four daughters took turns interrupting me with their needs.  My husband came and went. And I distracted myself.  By the way, my little series may be interrupted by other posts because focusing on one theme is difficult for this gal!

Attachment

We were on a waiting list for attachment therapy and it would seem that every local qualified therapist left to have a baby last year.  In desperation, I started reading in every spare moment anything I could find on trauma, attachment, and home therapy solutions.  I discovered (like 80% through a massive tome on attachment) that attachment and play therapies are what we do most naturally with our kids!  Why was it so hard for me to find?!  I invoked the homeschooling motto “Well, I can do that!” and got on with it.

Here's my disclaimer: I am not a therapist and have little academic training in therapy.  My experience with professional therapists in caring for my foster and adopted kids has all been positive. They know more than I do, but they are difficult to access, and I need to serve my kids today.

Attachment therapy, as I understand it, is engaging with someone using the five senses either focusing on one sense at a time or combining them. The point is to attach one to another in as literal a sense as possible to build trust and lasting emotional attachment. 

So for sight, we sustain eye contact during songs, games, and snuggles. We play the staring game. We stop what we are doing to look at each other when we speak, especially when we praise each other.

We surround ourselves with ‘positive’ smells using essential oils, yummy food, and soothing lotions. Baking cookies or popping popcorn have us all breathing deeply!

We share new or favorite foods and talk about them in detail; if I can actually feed them, all the better. Universal Yums sends a box of snacks from a different country each month.  We share the box with family friends, and it has become something we get so excited about.

We listen to music and our surroundings on a walk. And we love to sing! This school year we have been working on harmonies and rounds, which require active listening. The girls also do well listening to read-aloud stories.

We tickle backs, caress hair, wrestle with safety parameters, swing, and give tight squeezes for touch activities that grow attachment.

Generally, I try to have at least four sessions with each girl every day.  The time is frequently shared, and other times I work one-on-one. “This Little Piggy,” butterfly kisses, mirroring, and echoing games are regulars. I kiss without the smack because it’s hilarious to my girls. We get eye-to-eye until one of us giggles. And we don’t waste bath and hair time.  They have become sacred as we sing songs dedicated to each girl, pick out colored barrettes, and massage in sweet lotion.

How have you been attaching to your people?

Family Culture

I am reading a Bible plan about developing a family culture of strong faith.  Today’s focus was on defining traits that would characterize our family.  I’ve been praying about it, looking for wisdom and insight.

Honesty is a no-brainer for my family.  I’m a bit of a freak about it.  We often say, “We tell the truth in our family.”  It shuts down a lot of nonsense before it starts. Some other traits that I want to mark my family are mercy, trust, and compassion.  Our One Word of the Year this year has been attachment.  It’s a key word for kids from hard places, but a necessary component to any healthy life.

I continue to pray as I move through my day.  I want to be purposeful and mindfully foster a culture for our family where each is washed in traits that draw them closer to God. I want them liberated and equipped to carry out the work God calls each of us to do.

Do you do this?  Are there words or traits that naturally characterize your family?  Are there things you purposely develop?

Both And

 I hope it is obvious that I love my crazy big family. I could write books about each member and not comprehensively convey the exquisite beauty and value I see. God made and ordained this family to be. All in His perfect timing—which often felt too slow to me—He fit each person together to create something that I pray radiates through time and space with His love.

However, the paradoxical truth is that, if everything were perfect, three of my kids wouldn’t be mine.  I wouldn’t even know them.  While I am confident that God is pro-adoption and that something holy happens at these unions—fusions—adoption is nearly always preceded by brokenness. 

When trying to help our girls understand what was happening to them—and we must always be mindful that their lives thus far have really happened AT them—I used an analogy of boats. 

Imagine every family being a boat.  Sometimes these boats run into trouble.  The trouble could range in range and magnitude from a scrape on the hull to decimation.  When the boats leave people in the water, people from other boats can pull them up. 

This analogy models all the complexities of real life.  Which boats can take on new passengers?  Are all the people in the water rescued, or are some left behind?  What if people from one boat end up in a whole bunch of other boats?

Sometimes the degree of separation the analogy gives brings relief and clarity.  Other times the separation can’t be perceived, because reality is oppressively painful. Then I must set aside any attempts to explain or assuage and just sit and grieve with the ache and unanswered questions.

Adoption is wonderful.  It is often a saving grace, a second chance, and a glimmer of hope.  But just as frequently, it is mixed with grief; a capsized vessel; and shivering, wary new passengers who’ve survived the unspeakable.

I love my family.  My girls are mine, wholly.  I love raising them.  I get to share my days with delightful little sparks of joy. And if their lives were perfect, we wouldn’t even know one another. 

Weekends

 

A typical weekend day frequently starts a little after midnight when our bedroom door creaks open to spill the hall light on my face.  My three-year-old has one of those impressive little clocks that is red when she is supposed to be in bed and green when she can get up.  At midnight it is decidedly red.

On this particular day my son, who regularly takes morning duty on the weekends, is sick; I figure the best plan is to take the baby to the basement to sleep so she doesn’t wake the house at 6:30 again.  Sleeping with her is an adventure all its own because she can have night terrors and thrashes.  This night, she flops herself enough that by morning, she is upside down in the bed and I am cuddling/guarding myself from her feet.

After getting three heads of hair brushed and fastened in place, we are off to the church building.  I can’t help but smile when my three littles sprint when they spot my oldest daughter waiting for us in the lobby.  She helps us wrangle the girls into their respective Sunday School classes. We four adults make it to our seats moments before the service begins. While the announcements are made my husband whispers that he is grumpy.  I ask why.  He says it’s because he hasn’t kissed his wife all day.  I lean in and he is magically cured!

I am frustrated with myself during the service because I have difficulty focusing.  Usually, I take notes to stay on task, but this morning I assumed a more passive role and paid for it.  I range from praying for each of my kids and husband to listening intently to the teaching on Zephaniah—a favorite book because of the image of Christ dancing over us.  Interspersed between these heavenly-minded activities I discover the Bible app has a new “pages” feature, wonder if Derek Hough is still a Mormon, try not to fall asleep, and pray/imagine how great it would be if we could get a second vehicle.

Once home, I help the littles get out of their tights—one pair heads straight for the trash can. I take a 5-minute break in my room and answer some texts.  I get on Facebook for a minute—why do I do that?!  I see a wholly inappropriate reel that I send my husband and two choice friends who won’t think less of me.  Then I scuttle downstairs to cut my son’s hair, supervising the three-year-old, who is eager to ‘sleep’ up all the fallen hair with the broom that I keep reminding her to keep on the floor. 

After that, I ask my grown girl to take the chicken out of the oven as I run up to comply with a request to check a painful vulva to see if it needs cream—it doesn’t, but some is applied anyway. I give medicine to another daughter who is fighting yet another UTI. Then I check on the most recent poo to confirm that it does, indeed, look really cool.  I kiss my adult daughter before she goes to Bible study and feed the three littles.  My son joins us after a shower. My husband returns from grocery shopping just in time to kiss the girls while I kick them to the backyard to burn some energy.

Sending the girls to the backyard means hearing the slider open and close with a frequency that makes me wonder if we have an asthmatic donkey in the house.  Potty breaks, asking for things, telling on each other, asking for food—we did JUST eat.  Today is momentous because the neighbor boy was permitted to get tossed over the fence so they could play together ON THE SAME SIDE!  So exciting! The slider wheezes a few more times to announce how much fun they’re having. I bring the baby in because she keeps screaming her various protestations.  She decides to spend the next half hour cleaning up a single puzzle.  Works for me!

When my oldest girl returns from Bible study, she and I take the littles to friends for our weekly play time while our men (my husband and son plus her husband) play games.  They have three kids whose birthdays are just a few months before our youngest girls.  And the six of them are divinely matched in their cute/naughty ratios to be splendid playmates. 

Today is special because we share our monthly Yums box where we sample snacks from around the world.  Today is Belgium.

Our washer is broken, so I run my laundry through her machines because she is the rockingest friend ever.

We do our bedtime routine that includes a chapter from The BFG. After that, it’s movie time for the adults.  We are watching the Hunger Games movies with our oldest and tonight’s the fourth!

Meet My Family

 

There are seven of us.

My hero husband came out of retirement to allow me to stay home with the girls.  He is a gamer at heart.  He has weekly games at the table and on the computer, and we are still longing to find a way to fit board games into our schedule.

I am homeschooling the girls, devouring every book on adoption, trauma, and a variety of special needs. I often feel underprepared and lonely on this walk.  There is much we can’t talk about.  Some surprises knock me down, and other things repeat like a dripping faucet. The combination has been difficult to bear.  Other times, I feel capable, ready, connected, and hopeful.  I haven’t felt so emotionally unstable in all my life.  There are days I hardly recognize myself. My hope comes from knowing God’s strength is revealed in our weaknesses.  Let me tell you, God’s strength is written all over my story.

Our firstborn and only son is 25. He is an ELL Assistant at a local middle school and leads Lego clubs around the greater metro area after school.  While the plan is for him to get a place of his own after the new year, his presence in the house has been unaccountably valuable in helping the girls adjust to their new family. He evens out the adult-to-kid ratio!

Our adult daughter is 23 and works as a vet tech and dance teacher.  Although there were many unexpected turns, she is doing exactly what she dreamed of when she was little. Her ultimate goal is to be a wife and homeschooling mom. She is living in an adorable apartment about three miles away.  When she is over, every one of us is elated.

Then we have our ‘middlest’ girl, our serene ballerina, who is 9 years old.  She is eager to please and light veritably shines from her smiling face. Her goal is to be a teenager, which doesn’t seem to mean what she thinks it means.  Her sincere desire to be good is endearing. Her heavy grief for her first family is inspiring—I’ll demonstrate that over time. She has an insatiable curiosity, which can be frustrating as we work on foundational things.  The phrase ‘wanting to run before she can walk’ suits her.

Our twinkle berry is 7 and she barely touches the floor.  She flits everywhere and has a laugh that takes her to another dimension. Her progress in every area is astonishing—spiritual, academic, physical...  We aren’t always sure what she picks up because her brain never seems to settle.  Then, months later, she will say something that shows she is absorbing everything.

And finally, our baby is pushing four with fervor. She is equal parts raging tornado and sweet KitKat.  I have a little notes page on my phone where I write about things I want to remember, and she has inspired half of them. Here’s an example.  KitKat fell off the couch and immediately retold the story with wide-eyed wonder. “I was on the couch, and I fell off the couch, and I died!!”

There we are.  May the adventures begin!

Are We Crazy?

 “Honestly, I think you’re both crazy to do this.”

These are words from friends we’ve known for eight years. We have been through a lot together. We watched their family of four grow by three more kids. They watched our two kids grow through their high school years and step into adulthood. They abided with us in prayer and encouragement through two heaping handfuls of loss. Their opinion matters because they know us. And perhaps because we already knew they were right.

Imagine a middle aged couple, one retired and the other perimenopausal. They are *this close* to empty nesting. They’ve taken up ballroom dancing and took a train to Niagara Falls for their 25th anniversary. The story is written by countless couples who’ve walked the same path.

Then what? Well, according to these trusted friends, they went crazy. To be clear, we went crazy.

What did we do? We adopted three little girls aged two, five, and seven.

I'm Back!

 November 17, 2024

I’m back!  It’s been seven and a half years since my last post.  What’s happened since then?  Well…let’s see.  We moved our little family of four to the Sacramento Valley to finish their high school years.  We moved into a 1000-square-foot apartment that was three doors down from my oldest friend.  She was fostering a five-month-old and we took over as her child-care providers.  

We lived between the two apartment units in a state of grace for nearly a year.  My friend welcomed another foster son who was 16.  Then she took in the baby’s mom.  Her heart was big.  But things took an appalling turn and so many hearts were shredded into tatters. 

As horrendous as the experience was, all four of us knew that we would do it again if it meant a child was safe for at least the time she spent in our home.  So, we dove in and became foster parents again.  We went through a depressing combination of waiting and heartache, including a mind-boggling three-month stint with twin toddlers.

Meanwhile, both kids graduated high school. I got my BA in Education. My daughter got certified in Animal Training and Enrichment. My son graduated from WGU in the spring of 2020.  2020!  We don’t need to revisit that, do we? 

We got to work with Afghan refugees in a program that took a few forms as it pivoted around the California Covid lockdowns. My son and I ended up going into the home of one family with five boys to provide tutoring and friendship.  My daughter and I delivered gifts, and she recorded my reading books to them in over 200 videos! 

Amid that, I got a job running the birth-through-Kinder program at our church. I had the unique experience of starting a Sunday School program including recruiting and training 75 volunteers at a megachurch. 

We made it through all of that with a small group made of people most precious, most noble, and most loving. I felt like I had front-row seats to God’s provision and grace watching these amazing people.

And my hero retired!  There was no way we could afford California, so off we went!  In the fall of 2021, we landed in Iowa!  I love it here.  We happen to live in the most urban part of the entire state, and I would prefer to live in a more quintessentially Iowa part of Iowa, but here we are.

I got my degree in—get this: Master of Science in Learning Experience Design and Educational Technology. Yep, I did!  I got a marvelous job at a little Lutheran preschool.  Best. Job. Ever! 

All of that fails to compare with the biggest news.  Are you ready?