Quotables and Bullet Points

• Caleb, aka kid #3, is laid back. He's seriously low key - and it sometimes disguises itself as laziness. Yet, underneath he's got this creative and incredible inner world. He's got a fabulous ear for music. He's funny - but he can be so quiet you miss funny comments. So, I thought I should record recent Caleb comments for posterity.

"When I die and go to heaven I want to get the body of a lego guy." - Caleb

"Mom, I think I can breathe through my ears." - Caleb

• I am riddled with guilt because our puppy has an ear infection. I have no idea why this is my fault, but it feels like I failed at puppy ownership and will have to turn in my " Humane Individual Card". This is compounded by the fact that we returned Psychotic Oso, may he rest in peace, to the shelter a week after rescuing him.

• We're homeschooling. It's going well. I am still not convinced we are lifers. Homeschooling is an imperfect solution (Back-off you homeschooling nut jobs - It is NOT perfect, and not everyone should do it.). However, public school are jacked too, and so is private school. So where does that leave us?

"Je ne sait pas" is French for "I don't know".

I think it sounds classier than, "I'm clueless."

So

"Je ne sait pas."

• I have a cold. I hate colds.
  

• Abby is wearing a princess dress over her footie jammies tonight. She is kid number four, so we don't care. She's sleeping. Sleep is good - she could ask to sleep in medieval chain mail and we'd probably say "yes."
  

• I talked with this amazing woman who just adopted a newborn. She's in her late 40's and has 10 kids, and a whole bunch of foster kids. Most are special needs. She's normal looking, and put together - in case you were wondering. I'm pretty sure she knows a lot about the important things. Plus, she said, "Get Pull-ups; it doesn't matter if your daughter is 6 years old when she is finally potty trained." , and that makes me like her even better.
  

• I'm excited our little church is hosting an Orphan Sunday initiative. Go Us. We're little. We're made up of mostly new Christ-followers. And we're talking orphan care.

• I've taken to carrying around a bottle of childrens' antihistamine with me. My allergies are become a PAIN, and I've found a swig of liquid Benedryl is the fastest solution. Pretty sure nobody's doctor recommends that.
  

Denial and other parenting tactics

Where to begin?

Daughter #2 (and kid #4) was adopted through foster-care. She was itty-bitty when she came to us and thus avoided much of the trauma her biological sisters endured in their home of origin. My brown-eyed girl is an absolute doll; everywhere we go I get random strangers commenting on her general cuteness. And, let's be honest here, the girl is SUPER cute. She is also bright, maybe even very bright. So I have this darling and intelligent kid and it's easy to assume everything is normal. Oh, there are indicators that something is amiss, but they are easily overlooked, and to the general public they are entirely invisible. Even to our friends and family these "QUIRKS" are nearly invisible.

Yet...

According to Karyn Purvis (adoption and childhood trauma specialist), and our pediatrician and my daughter's occupational therapist there are almost certainly physiological differences in her brain. These differences can be managed, but they will never go away. Never. They will likely have bigger and bigger implications as she grows and matures.

What's a mom supposed to do with that? 'Cause the kid looks normal, and she's my daughter and I love her. How do I come to grips with that? How do I tell people who need to know what's really going on and still keep my daughter's story her own. If I told people, would they even believe me? I don't want to give my daughter a label that carries a stigma, but how do I let the world know that not all of the same rules apply to this pretty little brown eyed preschooler?

And, seriously, how do I parent this kid?

SI dysfunction.
Adhd.
Information Processing/Auditory Processing Disorder
Sensory Seeking.
Poor transitioning.
Executive Function Differences.
Causal Relationship Issues
Sleep Disorder
Preconception /Body Awareness Problems


It's an alphabet soup of mumbo jumbo.

If any of you lack wisdom, he should ask God, who give generously to all without finding fault and it will be given to him...James 1:5

Ah God, it's me, I need wisdom. I need a generous heaping helping of it. Because you've called me to mother this precious child, yet I don't know how...

Bear, the Psycotic Dog

My kids have been begging for a pet for years. According to them they were the only kids in America without a one; it's a terrible burden to bear. I held out for a good long time, but the mom guilt gets to you after a while, so it was time to consider. consider. consider. pet acquisition.

Reptiles, amphibians, and rodents are icky. They were, and are, an absolute NO GO!

Cats give me hives and make it impossible to breathe.

Dogs...I'm allergic to some dogs. But there are a few that I can tolerate.

Thus, began the saga.

The story begins with me doing hours upon hours of research into hypo-allergenic dogs. Apparently, poodles are the hypo-allergenic-ist of all dogs. So people cross breed poodles with other breeds to get the hypo-allergenic qualities of a poodle and hopefully breed out the poodle ugliness. They're called designer dogs, and unbeknownst to me they are all the rage. There are labradoodles, and goldendoodles, and ausi-doodles, and cockadoodles. And then there are micro-mini versions of all of the above. It boggles the mind.

There is also a breed called bichpoos A certain sad and pathetic bichpoo had taken up residence at the Dumb Friends League, and my internet research had brought him to my attention. Eddie and I went to check on the hypoallergenic qualities of this dog, and ended up bringing him home. He was a sorry sight. Bad hair cut. Recently neutered. Skittish little thing. But he loved me - loved me to distraction.

We named him Oso, which means bear. It was wishful thinking.

One week and a couple hundred dollars into dog ownership we discovered a thing. The dog was psychotic. Fear had driven him insane. Really. I'd leave and he'd freak out to the point he'd start injuring himself. He chewed off his own claw. We're tolerant of neurosis, so we though we could deal with that. Until he started growling, barking and lunging at every little boy in sight. There are currently 4 little boys in residence. So poor Oso had to go before he attacked a kid.

(Philosophical sidenote: Some people are like Oso, the Psychotic Dog. They are so driven by fear that they hurt themselves and others. The need to control destroys them and the people around them.)

We returned Oso, the Psychotic Dog to the shelter Wednesday. But, of course, the story cannot end here. My kids have ridden an emotional roller-coaster. It went like this:

Children had born the burden of pet-free status for years.
Finally, they got a dog.
The dog was psychotic.
The dog had to be returned.
Imagine with me the years of therapy this kind of trauma could entail...


I needed a hypo-allergenic, non-psychotic puppy, at a deep discount, and in a hurry.

So I email every breeder of hypo-allergenic pups this side of the Mississippi, begging for a discount. Designer dogs are expensive. I needed a miracle of puppy proportion.

Kathy, at AAC Ranch, came through for me. She had mercy on our pathetic story and sold us a darling little fuzz ball at an $800 discount. We call her Kota. It's short for Lakota Pumpkin. "Pumpkin" because its October. "Lakota" because that is kid #4's ethnic background. I think it might be weird to name your dog after your daughters ethnic background. I mean really who names their dog African American, or Northern European? You see what I mean?

Anyway - we are now pet owners. She's nine weeks old. And a puppy in every sense of the word.

INFP

Our small group recently did the Myers-Briggs test and a spirtual gifts inventory. I am an:

INFP (an acronym)
Introvert - I renew energy by being alone. I am introspective and contemplative.
iNtuitive - Patterns, intuition, and relationship inform my life. I dream.
Feeling - People, and their feelings play into my decision making.
Perceiving - I like my options option, and am comfortable with being in process.

Now I've been an INFP since the very first time I took this personality inventory in high-school. People who know we well, and understand the Myers-Briggs verify my INFP status.

Here's the rub. The test I took last week turned out a bit differently. Though I AM an INFP I act Like a INTJ.

This annoys me.

It annoys me a LOT.

Because it sorta means I operate outside of my wiring. I've adapted to my life by acquiring survival skills.

Like being logical.
Like paying attention to details.
Like being goal oriented, and task focused.

These things aren't bad things, but let's be honest here, there not all that FUN either.

They're functional.

But, once, I was a dreamer.
Once, I was an artist.
I used to now how to glory in the beauty of a fall afternoon, and NOT do my laundry.
And believe it or not, years ago, I had the reputation of a slacker who distracted others from their work.

(In self-defense, I wasn't an actual slacker; I was just skilled at working the system so my work took me less time. I do, however, plead the 5th on the part about distracting others from their work. It might have happened, a time or two or... )

Life is stressful. It's busy. It's full of tasks that need to be done. right. now.

But somewhere in the midst of things I've lost the art of play. I lost the head in the clouds day-dreamer I used to be. What if I could just:

CHILL OUT!

and play.
and read.
and dream.
and pray.

What if I embraced these tendencies in my children?

a hand full of shells...

Theoretically, has settled down for us.

Theoretically.

The actuality is somewhat different.

We may have downshifted, but the RPM are just as high. We've traded in the freeway for off-roading. So while we cover ground more slowly the climb is more intense and it requires more skill in the assent. The slower speed lets me be intentional about the things in which I involve myself. And so many things vie for my attention. Good things. Really good things. Excellent even.

But my energies need to be focused.

I like missions statements. I get geeked about stuff like that, so I'm trying to develop my own.

Here is what I know: When I try to grab hold of life by living for myself...I end up chasing after the wind. I arrive with handfuls of hard won... nothing, and I am empty for all my chasing.

2 Corinthians 5 talks about being compelled by Christ's love to be a part of the ministry of reconcilliation. I know that sounds like a bunch of churchified mumbo-jumbo. Still, it speeks to me because there is nothing so compelling as the love of Christ. Nothing so motivating.
There is a song we sing at church that says " if His love is an ocean then we're all drowning" and it is true. After experiencing the radical, crazy love of Christ there is no going back. Nothing else feels like life...nothing else satisfies. His love engulfs and it changes; it compels me to action.

'Cause when you walk with God the things he cares about become the things you care about. His passions become your passions, and his heartbreak your own.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done", becomes an authentic thing.

The particulars for me center around orphan care, issues like fatherlessness, and poverty. They center around engaging the comatose Church in America with the heart of God. For God so loves the American church, now enslaved and chained to the things we have long pursued, that he gave his only son that whosoever believes in him should be disentangled from the consumerism that so easily entangles and experience life, both here and in eternity.

Still working on that missions statement.

The Business of With

Near is not with. It's near.
With is near on steroids.
With has power.
Near is about proximity.

God said, "I will be with you always..." It's a God thing this with business; more than the sum of its parts. Exponential. Transformational. Important.

For this season I need to be with my kids.
We're reading together. I'm actually listen to them.
I see my daughter healing up.

Sunshine and roses.
Sunburn and thorns.

It's flippin' exhausting this with business.

But good.

Except for when it's crummy.

Remind Me: Its a Season

So I haven't blogged in forever. I've been busy. Uber, ultra, insanely busy. And loving it. I hung up my home school hat and pulled on a new elementary school teacher one. I rocked it, if I do say so myself, for one whole calendar year. It was totally energizing. Unfortunately, it was also unsustainable. The thing is, I have 4 little kids, and a very busy husband. And while I was off teaching my closets got cluttered, my hubs got a smidge neglected, and my kids went along for the roller-coaster ride. For while I had as near a perfect set up as any working mom could hope for but I had forgotten an important thing:

Near is not With.

Somewhere in the business I lost touch with my childrens' hearts, at least to a degree. Eddie was feeling like I didn't like him. I dig my husband. I didn't have time to call my sisters, or my friends, or my mom or dad. People became tasks. And that, my friends, is a problem. I was near my family, but my heart was not with them, and they suffered for it. My girls, in particular, are walking with a bit of an emotional limp these days. It needs to be addressed.

So I quit.

Ouch. That stings. Oh, how that stings. It feels like a little bit of death. I LOVED my job. I was really GOOD at my job.

But remind me this is a season. It is a season, right?

There is an old cliche that says, "When God closes a door he always opens a window?" I think that might be crap. Like God sends us scrambling out the escape hatch because He somehow screwed up Plan A. It does, however, feel like God has asked me to walk right over and close a door. He didn't close it; he asked me if I would trust him enough to close it myself. So I'm left here asking, "God why did I close the door? I know you love me. I know you have good for me. But closing that door cost me." And he understands that. He knows what it cost me. And I am waiting to see what door he opens before me. I am looking for a door, not some measly escape hatch. A door. Plan A. And maybe it's just living in this season, at home, with my 4 little kids. Maybe it is the chance to be WITH, and not just near.