Instant Attitude Adjustment--oof!

Spring break is over and it's time to get back to life (I still can't say that without singing Into the Woods). I know that first day back is always challenging. I know this. It is. Knowing doesn't make it easier, but it helps to know why things are hard. It's just the law.

And boy, we followed the law! Second day back wasn't any better. I knew that the next step is my own attitude. I get ugly in my heart after repeated poor treatment. Like I deserve better. It's gross and difficult for me to manage. So, there I was at dinner after two super hard days with the girls, wrestling and forcing myself to be pleasant.

Then it happened. The humbling gut-punch. My girl gushed her multiple thank-yous for a basic dinner of meatloaf and baked potatoes with corn (I was done being sad that we were out of broccoli). Another was pretending to be on a baking show and kept calling the meatloaf meat cake. Other girl was happily smashing everything on her plate and being sure that each person had napkin, utensils, and drinks--repeatedly.

Then a girl said, "I feel like crying because I am so happy to eat this. When we were with (first father), we didn't eat this kind of food. We sometimes had peanut butter sandwiches or nothing. Thank you, Mommy, for making this. Thank you! It is so delicious!"

If I were reading this, I would assume the writer was paraphrasing and exaggerating. Let me tell you, I am toning it down.

My DRA (dirty rotten attitude, doncha know) evaporated, leaving behind humble gratitude tinged with some shame. This life is so much bigger than me and my fragile ego.

Dual Lives: Trauma and Handwriting

Raising kids from hard places is complicated.  Raising kids is complicated. It is more than a 24/7 job. Somehow, we manage to fit more than the allotted time because there is just so much to do, so much to worry about, so much to pray about.

The thing that makes raising kids who have been exposed to trauma different is that the two don't--or shouldn't--go together. Kids are kids. They are wiggly, curious, excited, inexperienced, naive, naughty little sponges. Trauma is traumatic. It breaks and twists. It changes brains and scars personalities. It brings out fearfulness. It brings intimate knowledge of hard things, things no one needs to know. It causes people to exist in the flight/fight realm even when everything should be calm and safe.

Again, the two oughtn't go together. Kids and trauma shouldn't mix. But they do, and all too often.

Raising kids exposed to trauma means embracing the whole unwieldy mess. It means teaching kids about hygiene, handwriting, and how to greet people, but being ready to stop the world when a memory unravels them. 

When it is possible, you have to keep going with normal life. And normal life is engrossing. Brush your teeth already! Please make your lips touch when you have food in your mouth. Julius Caesar had gained popularity with the general public by winning distant wars. But the Roman governing officials didn't want a king. You may play with that after you clean up the toys you were playing with. Suddenly normal life is set aside because something is wrong. What?

It's even more complex when the memories are so buried that the child can't articulate what they are responding to. Triggers are everywhere and every-day life can feel like a mine field. When a sound, a temperature, a texture, a taste, a gas station, an atmosphere, or a smell can remind a child's body of a time when they felt threatened or unsafe, the child doesn't always understand what is happening. They fight to figure things out, when everyone around that continues to act normally, like the world isn't on fire. It is confusing and scary. And their behavior can also become confusing and scary.

As parents, we become detectives. But we must move delicately, like studying a most rare and fragile flower, or navigating a snakes'-den of wires on a bomb. Or both. 

To do it well, you have to walk the tight-rope. You need to press on with normal life, ever vigilant for triggers.  You need to continually strengthen attachment, so that when things get hard, they trust you to see them through. They can't do it alone. And neither can you.

I Did Something Right

I had a rough day coming off a hard week. I screwed up multiple times. I missed good teaching opportunities. I was impatient. I missed out on connection. I resorted to lazy parenting with the most basic strategies of bribes and lame threats.

But I did some things right. I made a healthy-ish lunch and had a plan for dinner.  I finished the week of school.  I made doctor and vision appointments.  I kept trying.

And I did one thing really well.  We were at the doctor for one girl, who was scared, with the two others, who were slightly giddy that we weren't there for them. The two were wiggly and chatty, suddenly happy to get the doctor's attention.  The other had all four limbs wrapped around my body and would only speak by whispering in my ear.

I was able to successfully activate the two sisters' compassion and redirect their behavior to reflect how they would want to be treated. Win!

The one being seen said she was scared. Great words! Let's talk about the worst thing that could happen. What's the big scary thing? She said she just wanted to be happy to hear that the test results were negative. Well, of course! It would be easy to be happy about that.  But that is not the only way we can be happy. We can choose our happy, even when we have to hunt a little bit. How could we be happy if the test is positive? She managed with minimal help to come up with five things! Victory!

The day was a mixed bag. But in order to get out of bed the next day, we need to take the wins and celebrate them.  We need evidence that we can do this well. So, we learn from the mistakes and dump 'em. And we celebrate the victories for what they are. Yay!

It Seemed Like Such a Good Idea

 It took days to shake the image from my mind.  My daughter, with safety goggles propped up unsafely on her head, left hand on a piece of wood, right hand aiming a power drill at the same piece of wood, was grinning at me as I entered the area.  To be abundantly clear, her eyes were on ME while her finger was on the trigger of the drill aimed at her hand. Can you see it? I can't STOP seeing it.

The day started so beautifully.  It was a Friday that my husband had off. The girls actually slept in a bit. We had a peaceful breakfast. The weather was nice enough for them to play outside, which they did without a fuss. After a leisurely morning, we thought it would a great idea to spend the afternoon at the science museum.  We had been once before, and it was just the last hour that the place was open.  It went well, so this seemed a great way to fill a few hours.

When we got there, one of our girls was attacked by ADHD FOMO. She couldn't focus on anything because her eyes kept wandering to other areas to see what she was missing. She was totally overwhelmed. 

Next we tried to sit through an astronomy film on the domed screen.  That was just silly, expecting 4, 7, and 9-year-old girls to be still for that long.  Bust.

So we headed for the "Maker" area. Crafting is my girls' idea of heaven. It is the one activity that can occupy the bigs for hours. There were several stations within the area, and I settled into one with the littlest.  The other two wandered around, getting the lay of the land.  They settled in the wood-working area. When the baby followed them, I did, too.

Which is when I got my haunting nightmare image that won't leave me alone.  My husband was setting each up at a different station and had given instructions to the eldest first. Then she apparently ticked every box of instruction and did the opposite. Safety goggles? Certainly not on her eyes. Placement of hands? Certainly right where the drill is going to go. Where do you look when your hand is on the trigger? Well, obviously never at the drill itself. Be still my heart!

Homeschool Curriculum

I am excited about the next homeschool year because I decided to write the curriculum myself. I am a diehard Sonlight fan and used it to school my first two children from first grade to twelfth. I shopped around and landed back at Sonlight for my girls.

When I made the purchase (with no little kicking myself for getting rid of most of it from the first time around), the price hurt a bit. Then I made adjustments to how we were schooling, which led to more purchases. At the time, I was earning a little income from the job I left to homeschool. I knew that would not be the case any other year.

I was browsing at a local bookstore with my husband and we were looking at some of the great deals they offered.  Offhand as we left, I said, "I'm going to just write my own curriculum and get books from there." I took myself by surprise because I hadn't realized how much I'd been thinking about it until it came out of my mouth. My husband protested, knowing how much I love Sonlight.

But once I said it aloud, it took on a solid form and this enthusiasm started bubbling up. I could hardly wait to get home to start planning. Guess what I will be doing over Spring Break? 

March: 2025

We made it! It's now! March, 2025. When I started the little series of March posts, I hadn't realized how long ago 2018 is. In my head, 2020 was just last year.  It seemed only smart to back up a couple more years for context. But, I don't know if you know this, 2018 was SEVEN years ago!! How'd that happen?

Where are we now? I am homeschooling! Praise be to God! I have all three at home. I do not need to keep track of three different schedules. I do not have to worry about three different germ sources.  I do not have to undo teaching or decipher what really happened on the playground.  All three girls are learning about Jesus and Biblical literacy. Ah...

My husband and I switched roles to what is more familiar to us both. It was a painful sacrifice to give up retirement and return to full-time work for him.  He was a wonderful homemaker but didn't love the tasks involved with being a stay-at-home dad.  And I loved my job, but I was itching to school all three of my girls myself.  This is good.

The girls are still healing. I am still learning. I need Jesus each day. Therapy is a need that is far away. Diagnoses are sketchy. Homeschooling answers so many of these things. We start the day with Bible and prayer. We incorporate Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Socioemotional Intelligence Education into the week. We feed their artistic creativity with tons of music. I accommodate and modify lessons to scaffold learning. I use tools like essential oil rubs, Thera-bands, weighted blankets, fidgets, and Starbursts to meet both sensory-seeking and sensory-avoidant behaviors. We have a Cozy Corner for big feelings, and can stop the world when a new memory emerges or we hit a trauma trigger.

What more will this March hold?

March: 2019

Continuing our retrospective into Marches past, we zoom from 2018 to 2019. We lost our precious girl to a Native American family thanks to ICWA laws. It was devastating and our family was still in the deep throes of shock and grief. 

To be honest, the four of us still have wounds from losing our little girl that merely gape a little less. We miss her and pray for her daily.

At this point (in 2019), we were licensed with an agency and hoping to be a safe place for kids in need.  We'd given ourselves a month to make zero decisions after our girl left. Then we discussed whether we would continue as a foster family.  We unanimously decided that if kids didn't get to choose to be foster kids, we WOULD choose to meet them there.  We knew it would be hard, but we could trust Jesus to sustain us.

On a more celebratory note, my first daughter graduated high school! In March, I was writing her transcripts, and she was wrapping up final projects to complete her high school education on the fifth of April. Pretty exciting stuff. She did not enjoy school, and her graduation marked an accomplishment that I hope she still loves.  

Our son was in college, and I decided to join him. In March, we were preparing to begin at WGU on the first of April. I was finally going to get my BA! I spent March hunting down transcripts from my lifetime before raising two kids.

What a March!

We Got a Van

 I mentioned before that we got a van.

You want to meet her? Here she is!  Her name is Penelope Gabrielle Sage, thank you very much! Her official color is green-brown, according to the manufacturer. Who on earth would think that would be a pretty color?  Green-brown?  That is the color of poo. Why did no one speak up in that meeting?

Anyhow, I don't think she looks green-brown.  I can't actually say what color she is. The repairmen reported the color is tan, and I suppose that's a nice catchall name and as good as any.  It's just car-colored like my hair is hair-colored.  The ultimate non-descript.

I am thankful for this gal. Because of her, we get to GO! We've visited the Omaha Science Center, the local children's museum, and friends. It's so nice! Even being able to pick up groceries is a gift.

We have also enrolled the girls in dance and choir.  Our musical girls are gaining a lot of Good Things because of this.  So, welcome, Penelope Gabrielle Sage! Thank you for the adventures AWAY from home!

Doctors, Specialists, and Therapists, Oh my!

I'm processing a lot since our girls' last doctor visit.  We have been on waiting lists for various therapies for the entire two years that they've been living with us.  That is a long time.  However, the number of people trained in the treatments recommended for our girls does not match the number of people needing the therapy. And there is an apparent baby boom among these golden ticket therapists, so it seems there are more on maternity leave than there are taking patients.  It's a frustrating situation.

But I am a card-carrying homeschool mom, so I read books, watch videos, and do my best to meet their needs.  I've done this before when my son needed speech therapy, and I got tired of sitting behind a mirror at a university speech therapy program 100 miles (no lie) from home three days a week just to watch people not understand him.  So, I decided to do it at home. The first time that boy said "k," I could have flown!

Later, I discovered my first daughter has the most severe dyslexia of all the dyslexias.  This goes with her over-achieving, competitive personality; if she's going to be dyslexic, then she's going to out-dyslexic all the dyslexics! All the therapies available were through the public school system in our area and I was invested in staying out of that dysfunctional rabbit hole. So, I decided to do it at home.

We participated in therapies for our first foster children and the experiences were overwhelmingly positive.  I learned a lot. Since then, I got my degree in education, with dual emphases in Gen Ed and SPED. The various diagnoses and possible diagnoses of our girls don't scare me very often (mostly).  I feel like I can tackle them with some competency.

Put that on the shelf for a moment with me while I discuss a deeper thing that I don't like talking about.  I have said before that our interactions with therapists and medical personnel for all our foster placements and adopted girls have been positive. But my experiences with doctors for myself and my children have been wildly different. Ask me how long it took to be diagnosed with POTS, and how I was treated until I was. I had an eye doctor throw a pen across the room and storm out because he conducted the entire exam not knowing my contacts were in.  There was the dentist who rested his tools on my chest and grabbed 'widely' to pick them up.  I can't forget the gynecologist who argued with me to get an IUD while he biopsied my uterus.  When I wouldn't give in, he tore off his gloves and dropped them on the floor before walking out.  He left me bleeding on those gloves, shaking.  Whenever my friends went for their visits, he told them that they should tell me to come back to get the IUD, hipaa be damnned. Thankfully the experiences with my kids' doctors tended toward mere incompetence and arrogance.

My point is that I'm scared. So scared that I didn't even recognize it. The girls' current primary said she would try to push some referrals to get therapy going.  I'm grateful.  Relieved.  I need help.  They need help.  It's a good thing.  

But I was cooking dinner that night and making mistakes that would make my poor grandma roll in her grave.  My dinner roll dough took my KitchenAid for a walk across the length of my counter.  I burned my fingers as I tried to get the meat from the drumsticks I cooked.  The entire room looked like I violently decorated it with a 20-pound bag of flour.  I got overheated, so layers of clothes littered the floor because I'd ripped them off and dropped them where I stood.  And then I cried.  And cried.  

My sweet husband came to my rescue, asking me what was wrong.  I asked if we could just pretend that I was on my period because whatever was going on was just as reasonable as that.  He stifled his laughter as he watched me tear at drumsticks and cry that it looked like meat stuck in a dinosaur's maw and that I didn't want to eat dinosaur food.

It took the next 24 hours for me to realize that I'm scared of getting entangled with therapists who'll make my girls' lives harder.  I'm scared that helping in one area could exacerbate dysfunction in others. I worry about getting entrenched and not knowing how to get out.

I have no pat answers yet. It astonishes me that God works on me while I am trying to raise these girls well.  I didn't think this was something I needed to address.  It just is: I don't trust doctors, but I do what I need to for my kids. But maybe changes are coming?

Homeschooling Schedule

I have the privilege of being a new homeschooler and veteran homeschooler at the same time.  I started homeschooling a few weeks after my second baby was born so that my 2.5-year-old would have dedicated time with me.  We kept going until that baby graduated high school.  Through those years we moved twice, changed churches a few times, and lived several different lifestyles.  I founded and ran a homeschooling group with friends.  We did tours and playdates.  I wrote entire programs for us to carry out in co-op-style classes.  I also counseled new homeschoolers, getting them set up to school their kids successfully from home. Throughout all that, we had different children in our home because I was either homeschooling or nannying them.  

I've got some experience! But, true to the assertion that there are as many ways to homeschool as there are families, this is new and different.  Schooling three kids specifically NOT from the beginning with more special needs than my first crew and in relative isolation is different. So, true to form, I am learning as I go.

I recently changed our homeschooling schedule because I was really overtaxing all of us by trying to do a little bit of everything each day.  I thought the consistency and small bites would provide routine so that growth would be steady and the predictability would give the kids a sense of safety and ownership of their days.  It's a good thought worth its place, but it was time to wriggle things around.

So now I have staggered days. On Mondays and Wednesdays, we do core work using Sonlight curriculum. That is Bible, Social Studies/History, Literature, and Science.  I use the four-day schedule, so we double up and still complete a week's worth of work in a week.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we do extracurricular activities like Spanish, Piano, and Recorder.  Fridays are special because my husband is home every other week, so we go on outings with him.  When he is at work, we do arts, cooking, and messy science projects.  Each day we do Movement, Reading, Writing, and Math.  We also do a preschool-style circle time each day with things like prayer, calendar, weather, and Bible verses and stories.

So far, it's working out pretty well.  I might flip-flop the pairs of days because I chose hefty work on the days we are committed to Choir and AWANA.  But I'm going to wait.  Because the change is about looking at the week as a whole, I'm giving myself a solid month to adjust.

Our daily routine still exists regarding blocks of time.  I am eager to see how the opened space allows for more connection and breathing room.  

My Little Dream

 My Little Dream

Did I mention I got a new-to-me van?  It is very exciting—in a thrilling and nail-biting way.  Our insurance went up unexpectedly, and I worry I hurt our family trying to afford a second vehicle.  AND at the same time, I live in a state of relief because I can get us out of the house.  If there is an emergency, I have a van with car seats and I am ready to go.  (If the emergency is that we have been cooped up far too long and we need to get out to avoid carnage, so be it.)

Well, I have been doing a little dreaming with this newfound freedom. I want to travel.  My bigs and husband all have to work, so it is not feasible to get us all vacationing together.

Next year we will have a fourth-grader, which means National Parks are free for the family.  I’ve never been to a National Park, despite growing up in a state with one of the highest numbers of them.  Now we live in a state with zero. 

For my first trip, I want to go west so the girls can meet their new family members.  In subsequent years, I would like to go east to visit beloved friends and perhaps see historical monuments to align with our school when the next one is in fourth grade.

My oldest daughter and I mapped out a route to see people we love plus six National Parks and 13 states!  Since it’s dreaming, we also hit Disneyland and the ocean—because how can we go so close without visiting? Drive time alone is just under four days.  Can I do it?

It's Been a Rough Week

 I’ve been writing this post in my head for days.  I keep going round and round about the title. 

Breaking The Cycle
It Ends With You
It’s Me, The Problem is Me
Do You Really Expect Them to Fix it On Their Own? (Ya Dummy)

What do you think?  We are having a week!  Like, the entire week feels like one interminable Monday. There are times when all the training just goes out the window.  When I am worn down and can't remember the last break I got, I feel like two people.  There is the rational part of me who knows what would help.  And there is the exhausted shell-of-a-woman part of me that can't muster the best practices. The girls are stubborn, needy, mean, argumentative, demanding, whiney, mean, disobedient, aggressive, disrespectful, loud, distracted, and mean. 

At one point I told one that she cannot play with her sisters anymore because she is not being kind.  She yelled that she was just about to change it when I interrupted.  Oh, really?  I just looked at her.  She might actually believe that she can be mean and had planned on changing her behavior seconds AFTER I intervened, and that I am the unreasonable one.  I could almost go along with her narrative if she changed her behavior even once.

After steeping in this yuck for a week, I feel just as mean and ugly as they are.  I want them to shape up so I can get in a better mood.  Whoops!

Can you hear the record scratch and breaks screech? Yeah, me, too.  It doesn’t make me happy or the situation any easier, but I at least have a cognitive understanding that they aren’t going to get out of the mire on their own. *Sigh* I’m going to have to be the grown-up and press into the Holy Spirit to scrub me clean and fill me up.  I need to be the change because this is definitely not working.

How Many Times Do We Have To Do School?

 Our first week back to school after the holiday break didn't go poorly.  It was made more challenging by the anti-naps our four-year-old pulled on Monday and Thursday nights. I didn't mean to sign up to be up for an hour or two in the middle of the night!

Tuesday morning, Litte Miss crawled in bed with me all cute and snuggly.  I kissed her good morning and said, "I love cuddling with you, Sweet KitKat, but it's time to get up."  I made my way to the bathroom and heard her little voice from deep in the bed, "WHY?"  I told her that we need to do school.

I stifled a chuckle when I heard her incredulous, "Again?!"

Language

For the past couple of days, my seven-year-old has been given instructions that she hasn’t followed.  I know, blow me down!  A kid didn’t obey?  Whodathunk.  What is remarkable is that when asked what instructions had been given to her, she answered with a poorly paraphrased answer.  We would reiterate the directions, and she would quickly adjust her behavior.

After seeing this a few times, I wondered if her brain is interpreting so quickly that she doesn’t have time to process the precise words people say.  So, we played a game to test my theory!

I went around the breakfast table, saying four words at a time for each kid.  On the second loop around, each kid had to say the same words back. 

I gave my three-year-old associated words coupled with sign language and she did nicely. 

For my nine-year-old, I started easy, but she asked for more difficult words.  By the last round, she couldn’t remember her words and said, “I think you need to bring it down a notch!”  She cracked up the whole table with that line.

I worked hard to stump my 25-year-old and could not. My husband joined us for the last round and I couldn’t stop laughing at the words I selected.  I got him on ‘read,’ because he said the baby’s word instead: ‘room.’

As for the seven-year-old, I tried different tactics to see if I could replicate what I was seeing.  I used synonyms, words associated with a theme, and unrelated words. Each round after the first, she kept trying the word ‘smile.’  A few times she tried words that had been given to another player.  I did notice that she never repeated the words in order.  There was always one word that seemed to capture her.

When the game was finished, I talked it over with my 25-year-old son, we were thinking ‘smile’ had been used in the first round.  I looked at all the notecards and was surprised to see that I had never given ‘smile’!  But I did give her ‘happy’ and a sister ‘laugh.’  She did it!  She interpreted the words in the same way we’d seen her do before.  So cool! 

My husband asked, “So, how are you going to teach to that?”  Hmmm…  That’s the rub.

By the way, this was fun!  I recommend pulling this activity out next time you are looking for something around a meal or when you need to wait quietly somewhere.  Everyone was engaged, and there were a lot of laughs.