Hurt Kids

This is Sugar Monkey.  He always reminds me of a coin.  On one side, he is the MONSTER LOVER OF KISSES, will hug you infinitely, talks in a sweet voice, wants some candy or sweet thing to munch on, and will snuggle on up with you.  I LOVE that side.

On the other side, the flip side, he's  . . . well, . . . he's quite a bit like a two-year-old hankering for a spanking. 

Thanks to our marvelous family counselor, which side of Sugar Monkey we get is no longer as random as a coin toss, and no longer as split as 50/50.  In fact, the more we learn how to love our little man better, we see 'the flip side' slowly disappearing.  Woot woot!

Here's what we've learned about our hurt little boys:
      *  If you love on them the right way, they get better. 
          It's a bit like moving a boulder, but it's completely do-able.
      *  How their pain is evidenced throughout their lives still continues to boggle my mind.  I'm  
          always looking at our counselor and learning, 'oh!  This is part of his attachment issues, too?'
      *  Choose your battles.  Their heart is what's at stake -- not their manners, or their behavior in
          school (those are all BIG, don't miss what I'm saying) but his heart and soul are the foundation
          we need to focus on.
      *  Loving a hurt kid will undo your type-a personality, and your micromanaging, overly ordered
          way of thinking.  I have this need to be in control, of everything.  It's not healthy.  And heaven 
          knows God is using these two little boys to help me learn to let go.
     *  What people think of you, your parenting, and your child is not important.  Whoa.  Take it in. 
          People aren't used to dealing with hurt little ones.  They think in terms of the standard model
          of development and when you're kid isn't a cookie-cutter of the other kids -- well, judging eyes
          might follow you around.  But you have to guard that precious heart of yours and just know
          that you might still be undoing what had been done the first years of your child's life.  And
          that's more than okay -- that's magnificent.  So instead of wasting time getting others to
          understand, just walk along and do what God has ordained you to do -- love your precious
         child. 
     *  Never stop learning.  Yeah, we know you took those classes before you adopted.  But until it's
          right there in your kitchen pitching a fit, then half the things you heard about, you probably 
          forgot.  Keep going to attachment classes; keep reading those adoption books.  Keep meeting
          up with other foster and adoptive moms or dads.  Don't think you've got it.  Because unless
          you're a family counselor, or have some otherwise appropriate degree, the rabbit hole of hurt
          goes deeper than what we think we understand.  Promise.
     *  Focus on the positive. (More on that in a coming post!)

Oh!  Time to pick my kids up from school!  Yippee!


** When I mention, "the right way" earlier, I mean that we don't just love our adoptive kids the same way we love our biological kids.  They need more.  And if you learn how to love them to meet their social and developmental needs, then the floodgates of potential and promise pour out from there.  :)

The Learning Curve

It's fascinating how you can read a book about attachment, learn the basics on a subject, and still forget the entirety when it comes to living it out.  I suppose it's like any other lesson in life: love your neighbors, be thankful in all things, turn the other cheek.  We learn and forget in the span of a breath.  I cannot tell you how many times I ask our therapist why my child behaves a certain way, and he explains some aspect of attachment that illuminates the world again.  Yet when Sugar Monkey doesn't play well with others, or All-Star is torn up with worry, I forget anew.

The learning curve is so much bigger than I ever thought it would be.

I started reading Ann Voskamp's, One Thousand Gifts.  Have you read it?  It's life-changing.  Well, it seems to be and I hope it to be life-changing.  I just pour over the pages like she's written honey of which I can't get enough.

I've started my own gratitude journal with the hope that it begins to transform my heart the way that it has hers.  Should you be interested, the title refers to an endeavor challenged to her to write down 1,000 gifts God had given to her.  Then her thousand-item list became lifestyle of gratitude.  She found the 'joy in all things,' about which Paul wrote, stems from thanksgiving.  The challenge lies in becoming a person who is indeed daily, hourly thankful.  It's a fascinating book.

Savor the little things, say all mothers, because the little things disappear all too soon.

little hands fetching to be held
wide eyes ready to play
arms lifted high, begging to be pulled to the sky
squeals of delight
little voices speaking, i love you

But when little men roar about a world from which they have fallen victim and then beat their chests against any perception of pain anew, it feels so easy to board up a wall of protection instead of waiting for the tears of relief, (which will fall in time -- just wait) and then to love and feel thankful for wet, tear-stained faces to smashing deep into the belly.

Hard.  But necessary.

Today we had one meltdown over homework before the neighborhood friends arrived to bring joy back to the day.  One meltdown with screaming and head-banging and tears that eventually slowed, then drifted into a stillness of regret.  Waiting for that stillness, I finally asked why we had that meltdown.  He said he saw he had one more bit of homework and it tipped him over the edge (in little man, absent of feeling words, vocabulary).  Now?  He's up in a tree with his brother and two neighbors.  And I'm thankful these boys have each other, that the tree holds four bodies mightily, that laughter squeals fill the neighborhood whether the neighbors like it or not, that my boys are safe and happy,
and that they are mine.
My messes forever.

Sugar Monkey

Sugar Monkey is ridiculously creative.  I have no doubt that he'll grow up and work in a field where imagination is key, such as a chef or musician.  One day, I got a package in the mail, and Sugar Monkey asked if he could have the box.  He eagerly took it to his room, opened all the sides, colored it, glued things to it, and climbed inside.  He found a plastic dome that as part of another toy and placed the dome on his head.  Then he came out and presented us with an astronaut inside of his very own rocket.  He had a control panel for guiding the rocket, his space helmet, and was ready for travel.  It was incredible.

In fact All-Star was kind of jealous.  He asked for a similar box, but was quite disappointed that he couldn't devise a rocket as well as his brother.  It was quite a testimony to the originality that Sugar Monkey produced.

And even know, his favorite activities involve modeling clay, cooking in the kitchen, creating artwork, or making jewelry for his mom.  He loves decorating his room, much to his mother's chagrin, with stickers on the doors, and doodles taped everywhere.  And it's just pretty darn incredible that being sent to his room is never a death sentence because he always has his imagination.  Love that.

Day 2: Why I Love My Kids

Sugar Monkey is a truly funny guy.  In this video, my husband calls me out and he says, "grab your camera."  So I'm standing there, camera in tow, and he says, "I want you to watch this leafpile."  So I turn on the camera and this is what I get:

He had me laughing so hard!  

I don't know where Sugar Monkey got it, but he is often looking for a laugh.  He is even moreso with his friends.  Thankfully, I haven't gotten any reports home of him trying to be the class clown!  His teachers seem to genuinely believe he's just a sweet kid.  Which he is!  And that's what makes his nickname so perfect!  Sugar Monkey to a T.

A Glass Half Full

I've never considered myself a negative person.  I feel like I'm always smiling, and always joshing around about things.  My sister might tell another story.  I once asked her to make sure she called my college girlfriends should I die and she thought I was morbid and refused.  Oh well, college gals.  If you don't hear from me after a few years, just assume the worst.

All-Star and Sugar Monkey

I tell you what though, as a parent, I think I'm realizing just how negative my general outlook can be; I'm sorry to say.  My kids have had a hard story -- not the worst stories I've ever heard, by any means -- but tough enough that I think they are phenomenal little miracles.  With all of that hardship, they are not without their scars.  We see their scars on a daily and often hourly basis and it wears us out.  I won't lie to you that in the day-to-day walk of life, hubby and I feel more exhausted by their "difficulties" than we have pity for their recovery.  

So this is what I want to do.  And bare with me as this is definitely more for myself than it is for you.  Just like in November, people all over Facebook shared one thing for which they were grateful each day of the month.  So for the rest of December, I want to share one thing a day that makes me so proud of my little guys.  It's an effort to help me focus on the positive, and maybe even help you guys get to know our crazy family a little bit.  

Don't worry, though, I'll post my normal stuff too.

Before I get to posting about all this, I want to give my kids some fun nicknames.  So in looking at the picture above, my oldest is on the left, and I'll nickname him All-Star.  My youngest on the right will go by Sugar Monkey.  I think those nicknames say a lot about them already, and if you don't get the implications, maybe over the next month you will.

YAY!  I'm so excited about this journey in sharing with you all the best parts of my kids.  

So here's day #1:

All-Star working on putt-putt

All-Star is a go-getter in a way that I have never been in my entire life.  While I sit back and worry about failure, about getting hurt (physically or mentally), my son wants to tackle life like we're on a football field.  The day he got his first scooter, he began to spend inordinate amounts of time practicing his scooter and had it mastered within days.  It didn't matter how often he fell, or how tricky the idea of it was at the beginning.  It didn't matter how young he was or how little he had for an example.  He dove headfirst into the project and didn't emerge until he was a successful whiz on the streets of our neighborhood.  

This makes me so proud of him.  I know that he doesn't give up when something seems hard and that puts him above the rest of the kids -- and makes him super-special.  Most of us want to give up when something seems hard.  But he doesn't.  He works it through until he's the one in charge -- not the fear that crumples the rest of us.  It's pretty stellar.  HE's pretty stellar.