More life in my day

In the last three months we have gone from having three children to having five. One of those five has significant behavior issues. Two of them are toddlers. Two of them have significant schooling needs. People keep telling me that I have my hands full and I guess they're right. Some days I get overwhelmed and frustrated and wonder what on earth I'm doing. Most days, though, I enjoy what I do. It's challenging and rewarding. It's really the privilege of a mom to be able to build relationships with her kids and watch them grow. Helping them to grasp a difficult concept and use it is so much fun!
There are many days in my life that it takes every resource I have to pilot through the day and get my little treasures tucked away safely back in bed at night. Those days are either the most rewarding or the most exhausting depending on my attitude.
When I meet my challenges head on I can fight hard and get a lot done. But in the end it's not enough and I'm exhausted by the sheer enormousness of my task. It's never finished.
When I get up knowing that I have to depend on God's grace to accomplish my tasks I don't find the task to be any smaller. I do find it easier to bear. I learn to see blessings in the work. I find it easier to allow myself to rest when necessary because I know my life is in the hands of the One who will equip me with everything I need to do His will.

Beginnings

I've realized that I haven't really given an overview of 'our story' on this site.  Our story is really a long one.  It's hard to pinpoint a time when the story of our foster experience began.  So maybe I'll simply post the autobiography I had to write as part of our home study.

My Story

The linoleum was cold on my feet as Christie and I slipped into the dark kitchen. My sister, Amanda's, ninth birthday slumber party had been great and now it was time to make breakfast. Christie dug in the olive green refrigerator while I hunted up the Betty Crocker. We gathered our ingredients with the normal whispers and giggles of seven year olds. I couldn't find a recipe for raspberry muffins so I used the blueberry muffin recipe.

“So how many raspberries do we put in?” Christie whispered. Her mom didn't cook much. This was her first time in the kitchen.

“It doesn't say anything about raspberries. Maybe we should just use the whole bag,” I said.

She looked at the gallon bag of hand picked raspberries for a moment and agreed. We poured the gallon of berries and juice in and eagerly waited for the lovely pink batter to cook.

The remainder of this story is rather obvious. The poor muffins were ruined! We have pictures of the disaster. I still get teased about it on the holidays. What I have wondered as an adult is: what on earth were two seven year olds doing in the kitchen alone?!?!? The answer to that explains a lot about who I am.

My parents were loving, hard working people. We never doubted that we were loved or that we would have food on the table. I was the middle of three children. Amanda, eighteen months my senior; and Jacob, five years my junior. My mother was a nurse who could always pick up extra shifts if money was tight. Dad was a jack of all trades. He dropped out of school after eighth grade and worked as a trucker, electrician, handyman, janitor, AC repairman and now freezer maintenance for an ice cream company. He would work any job to provide for his family. They taught all three of us children to work hard too. In order for the house to run smoothly, we all had jobs to do. My sister and I learned to cook at an early age. By the time we were twelve and thirteen we did most of the housework as well.

When Amanda and I were very young, my parents became Christians. Some of my earliest recollections are church events and worship. My parents understood so little about God and we learned with them as they did. It was natural for us to pray and talk of God. We never questioned whether or not we belonged to Him or whether He really existed.

When Amanda and I were school-age, Mom decided to homeschool us long enough to teach us to read well. The book “Why Johnny Can't Read” had affected her strongly and she wanted us to have a good start. She joked in later years that she guessed we just never read well enough because she never did put us in school. We did attend one semester of public school. Dad had been out of work for some time and had found a job in Virginia. He traveled up from Tyler, TX and promised to come back for us as soon as possible. Mom and us kids moved in with Grandma and Grandpa who insisted we go to school. It was rough for everyone. Mom had a new baby (Jacob) and we didn't really understand why Dad was gone. Our friends at school told us he would never come back. He did. Later that year, we all moved to Virginia. Even Grandma and Grandpa followed and found a house close by.

My parents have said that living in Virginia was hard. Everything was expensive and it took a long time to find friends. As a child I remember the huge house we rented with the big backyard and lots of trees. Amanda and I played together all day long and alternately babied Jacob or avoided him. We learned to love reading and make believe. Mom and Dad got us a piano and a guitar and encouraged us to learn how to play. We joined a church and a homeschool group and were leading families in the Virginia homeschool movement. I hated math; loved acting and singing. Mom discovered that I had dyslexia and had to spend lots of time helping me understand various educational concepts. We began learning sign language. For me, life in Virginia was easy.

Another great perk of living where we did was that Washington, D.C. was only an hour away. Friends and family would come visit during the summer or on holidays and we would haunt the Smithsonian. Our homeschool group did field trips to the Arlington Cemetery and Monticello. We picnicked by the Potomac river in the spring.

One of my biggest childhood struggles was bedwetting. I was born a preemie. I don't know if that had anything to do with my struggles, but my other siblings didn't have the same problem. Dad had been a bedwetter as a kid, so my parents were more understanding than some. I was woken from sleep one night by Mom wiping my face with a cool rag. A strange man was with her who explained to me that he had a machine to help me learn to not wet the bed. They slipped a strange metal pad under me that was hooked to a machine and explained that when I wet the bed it would wake me up and help me learn to go to the bathroom. It woke me in the dark of night with a reverberating clamor and an ominous red light. I ran out of the room in a panic, too afraid to turn it off. My parents tried to get me to use the contraption but eventually gave it up. I eventually learned how to control my problem on my own.

Christie was my best friend in Virginia. She was an only child of a Philippino mother and an American father. Her grandmother, who lived with them, didn't speak any english. I loved to sit in the kitchen and listen to Lola and Mrs. Peer talk. It sounded so romantic. The experience probably ignited my love of languages. Christ ie and I spent hours talking girl talk in the tree in their back yard or playing dress-ups with the prom dresses my mom had found for us at the local Goodwill. We were inseparable. I'll never forget the day Christie told me their family was going to move to Georgia.

“We won't be able to be best friends any more,” she said matter-of-factly.

“We can try,” I countered. My heart was pounding and I fought back tears.

“We'll probably find other best friends,” she said.

We ended up moving from Virginia to Ft. Smith, Arkansas before Christie and her family moved, but the relationship was never the same.

Moving away from Virginia was an adventure for me. Living in the south was so different. People carried groceries to our car. Sonic was a novel experience. Eventually we moved from a set of seedy apartments in Arkansas to a home with five acres just across the river in Oklahoma. Now we were country people. Dad's brother showed up on our doorstep with ten colored chicks from the feed store and a goat. We researched chickens with relish and build a chicken coop in hopes of getting eggs someday. Every chicken turned out to be a rooster. One thing city people don't know is that baby roosters don't come with a fully developed crow. When they hit puberty they begin developing it with all the skill of a thirteen year old boy trying to sing in the choir. It didn't take long of being woken at 5:30 in the morning with a cascade of aching crows for us to decide that these chickens would make better soup than pets. The goat grew up to be an ornery thing and was shipped off to a friend who wanted him.

A long trip further into the country finally ended at a large field full of horses. A weathered old cowboy sold my parents a chestnut mare he promised would be the perfect children's horse. Another thing city people have to learn is that the horse is the cheapest part of the deal. Sugarbaby came home and we bought saddles and brushes and feed. A bay pony followed her; then a parade of others. My early teenage years were taken up with showdeos (a junior rodeo), horse shows and trail riding. I learned to ride english, western and bareback. My parents bought a baby and Dad and I broke her to ride. Hours and hours were spent learning and working with the gorgeous creatures.

Not long after we bought our first horse, I fell off of one and broke my shoulder. That was the beginning of a long series of family tragedies that marked my adolescence. I can't remember them all in order. They all came on so fast. Amanda came down with Transverse-Myelitis and was paralyzed from the waist down. She had to relearn how to walk again. Dad fell off a horse and broke his shoulder bone, scapula and several ribs. He was out of work for a couple of months. Grandma was diagnosed with lung cancer. We spent lots of time with her in her last months. Dad had his first heart attack when I was almost sixteen. We spent my sixteenth birthday back in the hospital with him. Grandpa died of liver failure. He'd been a cargo pilot in the air force. Lots of his cargo had been agent orange. All of these tragedies forced us to grow up fast. We took care of the house and our own school work while the adults dealt with the difficulties. I questioned the goodness and faithfulness of God. He showed Himself good and faithful in the midst of difficult circumstances.

When I was fifteen, I met David's family for the first time. His mom was having a baby. My sister worked with the midwife who helped her deliver. They were homeschoolers too! They hadn't been involved in our homeschool group before this. They got involved in the homeschool group and started going to church with us. When Dad was in the hospital and recovering from his heart attack, I went to homeschool coop classes with the Baucoms. When David's dad got pneumonia, and David and his older siblings were gone, I moved in and helped out for a week. The Baucom family quickly became my second family. David is the oldest of seven, so his younger siblings were pretty young. Their family celebrated the Biblical Holidays instead of our conventional Christian ones. That fascinated me. I learned about the holidays and how they point to Christ. David played the guitar and we quickly hit it off. He started teaching me how to play better and we spent hours after church practicing. Many Sundays I would hang out with the older three Baucom kids: David, Diane and Joel. We'd get Joe Muggs coffee and sit talking at Books-A-Million for hours. Diane became my best friend. I quickly began to compare every other guy I knew to David. None of them measured up. But he didn't seem particularly interested in me. He was four years older. I settled in for friendship and worked hard to just enjoy his company without hoping for more.

I started taking college classes when I was sixteen. As dual enrollment, I took one class at a time until I graduated high school. By the time I was eighteen, I already had a semester of college behind me. College was a different thing for me. Before I had always been described as 'one of the Rowell girls'. Everyone knew my parents, my sister, my brother. I was defined by my family. In college, I had to begin figuring out who I was on my own. I was known only as Danielle Rowell. It was a novel concept for me. I enjoyed my studies and interaction with teachers. Interactions with my classmates was more difficult. Many of them seemed immature. I was used to being responsible for my own school work and studies. Getting good grades was important to me. I was going to college on a scholarship and didn't have the money to try again if I failed. I didn't really form any lasting friendships in College. Then again, I already had the one that mattered most to me.

Just after I graduated, the Baucoms announced that they were moving to South Dakota. It would probably only be for six months, but I was heartbroken. My anchor was being pulled out from underneath me and I wasn't sure what to do. They left and I cried all night long. When Diane called me before spring break and her family offered to fly me up to visit I was ecstatic. I left my books behind and spent a glorious week and a half in South Dakota. We went to the badlands and Rushmore and Crazy Horse. We laughed and talked and played together. I got to be close to David again for a while. We stayed up all night after a movie with his siblings sleeping around us and talked. I knew now that David was the only guy I would ever want to marry. But we were still just friends. When their six months was over, they learned that they'd be moving to Texas.

I helped the Baucoms pack to move to Texas. My heart bled with every packed box, but I tried to work cheerfully anyway. Diane and I emailed each other constantly while they were in Texas and I tried to focus on my schoolwork. One day, Diane sent me an email.

“I think David is going to talk to some girl's dad,” she said.

I felt sick as I stared at the words. I was going to lose him forever. If he'd just stay single, at least we could be friends! I prayed and sought to give the situation to God.

The next weekend, David showed up at my church. I expected him to announce that he was courting a girl. Or maybe already engaged. He led worship that day and I struggled to pay attention to the chords we were playing. No announcement came. After church, David blew me off. I was a little upset that he didn't want to hang out as usual until I saw him talking to my dad. Talking to MY dad! My heart fell to my stomach and started fluttering around there. Poor Dad. Mom had to work that day. He was left driving home with just me and Jacob. Amanda had gotten married the year before to her childhood sweetheart. The next week was excruciating. The parents talked and prayed and whispered behind closed doors. Finally, my parents gave David permission to pursue a relationship with me. (If any of this sounds old-fashioned......it is. Our parents latched on to some very conservative beliefs and raised us very carefully. There's ups and downs to that, but right now it's just part of my story.)

David and I courted for four months. We were engaged for eight. We were legally married two weeks before our actual wedding date so that our dads could perform the wedding ceremony. On June 1, 2002, I married my best friend. Our first kiss was an awkward one in front of the entire audience but we've gotten better. We honeymooned for a week in South Padre before coming home to Texas.

Married life has been an adventure. Much of it has been spent realizing that we don't believe all the same things our parents did. Reviewing our own relationship with God, with each other, with life. Assumptions we originally held have changed and we're stronger for it. We still celebrate the Biblical holidays, though we take part in our church and my families celebrations too. We are homeschooling our children but are willing to accept that other forms of schooling may be used in the future. We live in the country, but aren't really wedded to the idea of getting back to nature.

I got pregnant with Danae after 3 months of marriage. We were so excited! We put money down on a home and moved out to the country. Pregnant life was difficult. I was tired and sick. No one told me my personality might change or that I might gain fifty pounds and have a hard time losing it. We assumed that I'd be able to give birth naturally like my sister had. I couldn't. Danae was born by c-section in Tyler on May 24, 2003. She was over a week late but otherwise healthy happy and adorable. Adjusting to motherhood wasn't easy but it was satisfying. Thankfully Danae was an easy baby because I was pregnant again just 9 months later.

Drew was born by c-section in Tyler on October 6, 2004. He was five weeks early and sick. The doctors rushed him to Dallas and he spent almost two weeks in the NICU. As soon as I was released from the hospital I went and stayed with him. When he came home he was fussy and didn't sleep well. After two months, we discovered acidophilus for babies and it changed our life. It settled Drew's stomach and he became a happy, compliant baby. We figured we were done having babies.

In June 2007 we decided to try one more time. I was beginning to get my own health under control and we really desired to add to our family. Devin was born April 6, 2009 after nearly a month in the hospital. He was early and tiny. He refused to nurse or sleep. He also refused to act like a preemie, preferring instead to try and catch up to his siblings as quickly as possible. Now he's a headstrong, healthy, lovable little two year old.

While forming our family has been the biggest adventure of the last few years, we've been busy while doing it. When Danae was three months old, we took her camping. We hiked in the mountains of New Mexico and even made a trip to Juarez. When I was pregnant with Drew, we packed ourselves and a couple of David's brothers up and spent two weeks in Washington, D.C. Last year we made a trip out to California, stopping at the Grand Canyon and Petrified Forest on the way. We love to travel and experience life. Someday we'll pack up the family for a European vacation. There's too much of the world to see to spend all of it in one place.

For David and I, adoption has always been an option. We didn't know exactly how we'd go about doing it, but we've always had the desire to do so. Foster care is a step toward that for us. We have the opportunity to welcome children into our home and providing them stability when they need it the most. Honestly, we do hope to eventually find a child or two (or three!) that we can adopt on the way. God has blessed us with open hearts and a peaceful home and we'd like to share that as much as possible. We weren't long married before we began coming across people who had adopted or were doing foster care. Everywhere we turned, it seemed like God was nudging us in that direction. Actually taking steps toward doing it has been scary. There are so many 'what if's' in the situation. Mostly, 'What if this doesn't work out?'. Everyone knows someone who's had a horrible experience with foster or adopted kids. We are choosing to step out in faith and know that God knows where He's leading.

I was looking through my daughter's photo album the other day. There was a picture of her about eighteen months old. She was sitting on our kitchen island dressed in a jumper, covered in some kind of cake batter and licking a beater. The look of utter joy on her face made me smile. Today, Danae and her cousin got into the kitchen made a cake for my brother-in-law's birthday. I realized that somewhere along the way, I've begun equipping my daughter to live her own life. I hovered in the corners making sure that everything was done right but I wasn't really needed. Amy and Danae read instructions, measured, stirred and scraped. They talked and giggled like girls do and when they were done, a beautiful yellow cake was baking in the oven. While I hope that my daughter can learn life's lessons in an easier way than I did, I find myself thankful for the responsibility that I learned to bear. It grew me into the woman I am today.

The Brilliant Diaper Bag

Every so often I come up with an awesome idea.  One of those that makes me go, "Oh, my gosh!  Why didn't I do this before?"  One that makes, or is supposed to make, my life easier.  One of those is once a month cooking.  More on that in some other post.  Today, it was my diaper bag. 
Maybe it's because I've never had 3 children who required changes of clothes and snacks available in a pinch.  It's been a while since I had 2 children in diapers at the same time; add to that extra clothes for Miss Pink and a couple of odds and ends for Danae and Drew and I have a packed bag.  Right now I carry a backpack.  Compact, simple, not organized.  But I had an idea and I think I'm going to love it.  It's so simple!  I got a gallon-sized freezer bag for Miss Pink, Devin and BT (A new addition I haven't mentioned in the blog yet.) and put their names on them.  I also got one and labeled it 'Food'.  In the kid's bags I put their changes of clothes and diapers (for those who needed them.).  The food has snacks enough for each person, a few napkins and plastic spoons.  Now at a glance I can tell who needs what,whose diapers are whose and what extra snacks I might need.  Brilliant!

Planning for spontaneity

I realized today as I had to postpone a visit with a friend  that there is currently no time in my life for spontaneity.  At 10am I couldn't just drop stuff and go visit.  Animals next door had to be fed, men at the office needed to be fed, Miss Pink would need to be picked up at 3 and I've got laundry demanding attention.  These days my life has to be carefully planned so that I don't drop balls.  So I'm juggling today in order to visit tomorrow.  I can make breakfast ahead of time, get up early to feed animals, prepare lunch for the office tonight and maybe do some extra house chores this afternoon.
Life cannot end just because we're fostering and doing other crazy things.  Instead, I seek ways to prepare us for the activities that take our time.  It's not always easy, but there's a certain sense of accomplishment when my plans succeed.  Being a stay at home mom is far from an easy task.  I never really imagined that my life could be this full of important things.  I once heard a woman speak on ordering your life; cutting out all those silly activities that you don't really like or need to do anyway. I had a few things that I decided to let go.  It was good for me to learn how to say 'no' to things.  Sometimes even things that I wanted to do but had no time or money for.  Now, though, I have lots of important things that I need and want to do and even they must be ordered.  As we begin moving out of our 'new child' phase of fostering I really want to remember how to pick up relationships and activities that are still important to me and figure out how to order them into my busy life.  My husband and I have been able to have time together again.  I've talked with my sister a couple of times on the phone.  I'm going to visit a friend tomorrow.  We had homegroup at our house last night (yep, everyone in our homegroup was willing to fill out background check forms so they could come over!  Great people).  We live a highly relational life.  We love living life with our friends.  Looking back over the last two months, that's been difficult to do at times.  Maybe, just maybe, we're learning how to get it done again.

Adjustment

  I don't know that I really expected this.  The sleep deprivation, crying, confusion, anger.  And that's all from me!  The emotional stress of bringing a new child into the house is similar to coming home with a new infant.  Everyone has to figure out where they fit again.  People not integral to the immediate survival of the family get neglected.  Our own marriage relationship gets neglected a bit.  Our kids find new ways to demand attention.  Schoolwork slides.  Housework slides.  I find myself in a fog wondering who I am and how I got here.
  All that said,  I wouldn't give it up.  We have our rough times.  But Miss Pink is a beautiful, energetic, sweet kid who has come from an insane life.  If my adjustment is this difficult I can't imagine what she's going through.  Her mom didn't bother to call twice when she was supposed to. Her visit is going to be rescheduled because the foster mom of Pink's brothers can't make it.  She's going to school in a few days and going to be separated from a family she's barely beginning to know. 
  I took Pink to her first play therapy session a couple of days ago and was reminded that four years of abuse cannot be undone in two months.  So we'll keep praying and working through and loving our Miss Pink.

Why is it always the most inopportune time?

When we went to bed last night it was 88 degrees in the house.  We're working on getting money scrounged together today to replace our airconditioner.  The loan we've been waiting a month for fell through so we're starting over.  It's hot.  And I'm crabby.
Yesterday I received an offer to begin catering lunches for my husband's office.  I've been wanting to do that for years but had given up on it actually happening.  Now his boss wants me to put together a proposal.

Today the phone rang. You know....that call.  Would you be interested in taking.......

Why does that always happen at the worst time?  Has anyone had a placement that came at just the perfect time and just happened easily?  When I have time someday I'll sit down and write about the craziness surrounding Miss Pink's placement.   For now I'll just say that we may have two 2 year olds in the house soon!  Is that crazy or what!?! 

I honestly do love my life. :-)

Lightening The Load

Yesterday my sisters-in-law came and helped me put 21 meals in the fridge for the upcoming month.  As a homeschooling mom of 3, foster mom of 1 (who is of course doing "school" with the rest of them) I have a lot on my plate.  I also cater lunch for 3 to my husband's office.  And keep the budget balanced.  And do the housecleaning, laundry and chauffeuring.  You get the idea.  I'm not superwoman. With that being the case, I have one of two options:

1. Wear myself to a frazzle trying to get it all done. And fail.
2. Get some help.  And still don't get it all done!

So here's what I'm doing.

1. Started paying my sisters-in-law $10 each to come clean for one hour a week.
2. Committing to meal planning and major preparation once a month to help lighten the overall load.
3. Making my two oldest kids (6.5 and 8) responsible for their own clothes and  their little siblings.  I wash it and deliver it to their room.  They fold and put away.
4. Set up a schedule for washing sheets and towels once a week. (this is required by law for foster homes anyway, I'm just implementing it housewide.)
5. Committing to school scheduling once a month so that I know what we're supposed to do and when.

As the month goes by we'll see how this works in practicality.  I also want to:

1. Start exercising 15-20 minutes each day.
2. Start tracking my Weight Watcher's Points again.
3. Practice my guitar 3x a week.

These are things that have fallen by the wayside lately.  Things that take care of me.  If I've learned anything in the last 9 years of marriage it's that if I don't take care of me I eventually fail at everything.

Here we go

So.... We've had a placement for two weeks now and I find a need to connect.  To know that I'm not the only one out here bowled over by this experience.
Our Miss Pink is 4.  She has two brothers who have been placed elsewhere.  She calls us Mommy and Daddy, loves our kids, loves our home, demands every scrap of attention we have, does things simply because we told her not to, loves to sit in my lap and be read to, gets into the gum every chance she gets, tries to eat stuff she shouldn't, throws fits when we take it away, sings twinkle twinkle little star like an angel, lives for play-doh time and is thoroughly loved by all of us.
I have little time to sit and update this but I hoped I could use it as an outlet for thoughts and emotions.

"Come on Mom.  In the other room.  Come sit"
 She's watching a movie with the family and I'm needed. :-)