Good News, Bad News

Good news.  We got a dog! Cooper is our new “mastiff mix,” chosen for the mastiff’s reputation of being “gentle giants.”

Bad news.  Cooper’s “mix” part seems to trump his “mastiff/gentle” part.

Good news.  G and Joseph lovelovelove the high-energy dog.

Bad news.  We needed to make an unexpected trip to Florida.  PetSmart screened Cooper and we arranged for them to board him… but they changed their minds when we went to drop him off... mere hours before we were supposed to leave.

Good news.  We found a last-minute boarding place!

Bad news.  We had to drive with intensity, rushing to beat a snowstorm, driving 14 straight hours with only two 10-minute breaks.

Good news.    G was a great passenger!  No complaints.  He spent a good deal of the trip using his “phone” and “computer” to be a Dispatcher (“you want 80 snowplows in Atlanta, Mama?”).

Bad news.  We left behind a trifecta of urgent home repair issues.

Good news.   Fixed!  Crisis averted.

Bad news.  During the fix, plumbing issues were discovered.

Watching for the good news…

 

Good Choices

G had an unbelievable summer, behavior-wise. 

 

There was the one incident with the locked bathroom door to conceal the broken faucet.  But I kind of chalk that one up to “boy” more than to “lack of self regulation.”

 

Otherwise, his choices have been astounding me.  Like when he asks for gum to help himself calm down.  Or when he calls: “I’m angry!”  Or even when I give him a consequence and he responds by… complying.

 

Not saying we’re perfect.  But we have come a lot closer to healthy.  And it’s very nice.

Hilarity from G

G dictated a letter to Mr. Peter.

 

Midway through, he had me write:

 

Knock Knock.

 

Who’s there?

 

Mr. Joke Man.

 

Mr. Joke Man who?

 

Mr. Joke Man YOU!

 

And that was it.  Rolling around on the floor laughter.

 

Awesome.

Angry

When I moved into my house, I had to replace the big front window.  Very expensive, but now I LOVE my front window.  Its sides can crank open and let a terrific cross breeze through the house.  Actually, only one side cranks open.  The other side, G broke a couple of years ago, so it’s permanently closed.  I remind G often that he is not allowed to touch the crank.

 

But recently, he did.  And he broke the window.  Broke it permanently open. 

 

I was angry.

 

My first move was to confirm he had done it.  I asked.  He hesitated.  I asked why he was hesitating.

 

“Because then you won’t want me any more.”

 

Mercy.

 

We have a routine, started during our visits in Haiti, where I tell him he’s my son, I’m his mama, and I’ll love him forever.  Every day we go over that.  We talk talk talk about families and what it means that we’re a family.  He tells me that he never wants to leave me when he’s “a big man,” and I assure him that he can choose to stay if he wants.  Over and over and over.

 

I often turn down invitations so I can give him focused attention.  Since Joseph came home, he has commented on the constant efforts that I make to pour into G’s love tank.

 

Yet he would consider that I wouldn’t want him any more over a broken window?

 

And this makes me truly angry.  The years spent in an orphanage, molding G’s core beliefs, carving a deep pit of need in his baby heart.  Now our years are spent filling it up, by God’s grace.

 

“I could never not want you.  You are my son; I am your mama; I will love you forever.  Even if you made the biggest worst choices and I was the most angry, I would always still love you the most.  I will always want you because we are a family.”

 

I’ve read that, worldwide, at least 18 million children are living in orphanages or alone on the streets.  No one  to pour mama-love into them.  Does that make you angry?
 

Miracle

After a heart-wrenching good-bye to Mr. Peter, G spent the next day with a babysitter he hadn’t previously met, and then the following day with another new babysitter… and he had great behavior both days!  He’s talking about how sad he feels.  He’s using his tools to help himself through each day.

My child who cannot do transitions is doing well through this transition.  Praise God.

Incentives

I've wanted to start G on an incentive chart.  Creating a chart has been on my "To Do" list for months.

Then, after one tough day, I simply grabbed a scrap of paper and drew 4 lines across it.  I wrote in 2 topics to help Mr. Peter and 2 just for me:

- Wake up; no arguing.

- Prepare for nap.  No trouble.

- Good rest.  No trouble.

- Clean up before bed.

10 smiley faces = $1

Done.

And it's been working great.

G is excited when he gets it right.  He just had one of his best weeks ever.  He's learning about money.  He's learning about handling disappointment when he doesn't earn the smiley.  He's learning that after he makes a bad choice and reaps a consequence, he still has the ability to make a good choice next time.  All good.

Plus - I realized that we've got to get going with learning bible verses.  First up: "Do everything without complaining and arguing so that you may become blameless and pure children of God."

He's learning it.

That verse works well with his incentive chart because he doesn't earn a smiley if he complains, argues, or delays obedience.  Great stuff. 

And - let's face it - the verse has been good for me to think on too.

Striving to keep running with purpose in every step!

Behavior

We've continued to navigate some challenges with G's behavior.

Church has provided plenty of "opportunity" in this area.  G transitioned from the preschool room, where free play was the norm, to the K-3rd grade class, where the children get to engage in more learning.

Me: "What did you do this morning, G?"

G: "Iz so boring, Mama.  We's just learning about God.  All da time.  Every time.  Just learning about God."

He seems to feel that he already knows enough.  He's done with learning about God.

Most weeks, the children start in the church service with the parents and then they're dismissed to their classes, where they get picked up after church.  However when we take communion, the children are welcomed back into the service.

This hasn't gone so well with G.

Imagine the scene.  Everyone in the sanctuary has been solemnly preparing for communion.  Everyone is quiet.  That is, every except G, who suddenly bursts out:

"I WANNA GO HOME!  I WANNA GO HOME!  I WANNA GO HOME!"

Yep.

Church: The New Battleground.

Math Skillz

I watch G playing with his action figures.  He's got them talking to each other.  One guy is turned to face the other.  He states authoritatively:

"Eighteen comes after eleventeen!"

Yes, our counting challenges continue.

Pronoun Awareness

G seems to finally be moving past the stage where everyone is "him."

This stage has provided plenty of awkwardness as G has not only asked loud, ill-timed questions of me, but has added the insult of gender confusion. For example: "Mama, why him (the lady standing 2 feet from us) smoking dat cigarette? Dat gonna make him sick?"

Not that he's getting his pronouns correct yet.

Now it goes more like: "My teacher gave dat to me. Him said - her - him - she - HER said iz for me."

We're getting there.

At the Post Office

I've grabbed 2 books for G to read while we wait.

I survey the line and know that I've been optimistic.  We're facing a 50 book wait.

G plops down in the middle of the dirty floor to "read."

Other children are standing in line.

One boy - a big boy - 9 years old? - is sitting on the only chair.

The boy moves to stand with his mother, and I suggest to G that he take the chair.

G stirs, but immediately the boy jumps & dashes back to claim "his" chair.  He throws a triumphant glance at G.

This has no impact on G.  He sits & reads.

The minutes pass.

The boy is again standing with his mother.

I notice that G is moving towards the chair.

The boy notices too.  He makes a dash, bumps into a man, continues his scurry towards the chair.

Too late.  G is sitting.

I watch the boy loom over my son.  The boy twists his face into an intimidating glare, which he locks on G.

I watch.

G meets the boy's eyes.  G shows no fear.  No doubt.  No tension.  With pure confidence, G states: "Don't look at me."

The boy shrinks back and returns to his mother.

Spending his first 3+ years in a Haitian orphanage, there are many lessons that my son didn't learn.  Self defense he learned very very well.

Don't mess with my kid.

Sacrifice & Love

I spoke (wrote) too soon.

That first six days of post-surgery peace were a miracle.

But no sooner had I written about it, than G's internal switch flipped to "fight."  He literally turned to me and said, "I gonna fight you," and we were back to dancing - trying to help him maintain his peace.

At one point, he was thrashing out with everything he had.  Normally, I would sit and hold him on my lap and help him ride it out.  Instead, I was trying to keep him facedown, for the sake of his eye. 

Picture me lying on my back, hugging him to my chest, while he's rampaging.  He has no comprehension that with every "fight" he is putting himself at greater & greater risk of losing his eye.  I, of course, have full comprehension, but I can.not.stop.him. 

I can try as hard as possible to communicate the risk to him.  I can stretch in every way to create an environment that sets him up for success.  As he succumbs to meltdown, I can hold him.  I can choose to hug him through every blow so that he recovers with the least damage possible.

I can try to do everything in my power to protect him.  But I cannot stop him from hurting himself.

I try not to post the ugly on our blog.  Everyone - all of us - have ugly that we choose & experience.  This ugly is not who G is.  It's just what he's having to get through now, as any of us have personal struggles to get through.

However, G is providing me with such a profound life lesson, that I feel I have to share it.  I want you to learn with me.

As I mother G through this time, I cannot escape thinking about Jesus.

When he lived on earth, Jesus considered a path that would cause him great pain, a path that may have appeared impossible.

He weighed it against his love for us.

He chose to step into it.

Without a single complaint.

He poured out a gift of love.

Living a patient life, teaching, providing example after example.

Sacrificing, even accepting death on a cross.

Because I didn't get it.  I don't get it.  Time & time again, I make wrong choices.  I do what I should not do.  I fight to do the very things that are condemning me.

And, in spite of all that, Jesus loves me fully & completely.  He sacrificed everything so that I could have life... a life I could not attain on my own.

As I would do anything for my son, as best I can, even as he fights against himself & against me... Jesus did everything for me.  Perfectly.  He saved me. 

He offers this free gift to everyone who is not at peace, to everyone who wants it.

I'm learning about sacrifice.  About love.

I'm grateful for that.

Names

(Blogger won't let me add a photo today)


Learning our names has been the big challenge lately.

I've made the spelling of G's name into a song and we sing it all.the.time.  He loves it.  Mumbles through the beginning and shouts out the last letters.  That beginning part - just not interested in learning it.

We've talked about our last name, and how we share it because we're a family.

We've talked about G's middle name, and how - with all 3 names together - that makes his "Big Name."

Talk talk talk.  Still, if you ask him his name, it's anyone's guess how he might respond.  Sometimes he'll say "Four."  He may shout out the last letters.  He may just give you his whole Big Name.

Yesterday we were driving & talking about God.  G wanted to know: "Waz God's Big Name?"

 I guess I don't know everything either.

Guess Who's Counting?

Number 3 - Take your rightful place in the line up.


Numbers 7 & 8 - My apologies.  You no longer get a never-ending loop of "thethen, ayet, thethen, ayet, thethen, ayet".


I've been practicing counting with this boy for millions of months.  And last night - success!

A rousing celebration was held.  Finally my efforts paid off.


Or so I thought.


The next morning Mr Jim casually mentioned "I've been working with G on counting."

Is there anything this man can't do?

Learning Social Skills

A humorous twist in our interactions with Jacob, the neighbor boy.

Jacob is not helpful in my ongoing quest to keep G in a calm state.

This weekend Jacob announced: "I have an idea (seriously - he says that every time, including putting his index finger on his chin)... we'll play the STILL game!" 

The STILL game quickly turns into the PERPETUAL MOTION game.  G gets so exclted that he embr*ces Jacob in a big bear hug and offers some klsses to his chest.  Jacob looks a little weirded out, but still doesn't leave.

"I have an idea...  I'm a robot.  You give me directions."

The robot game gets exclting and G embr*ces Jacob in a big bear hug and offers some klsses to his chest.  Jacob looks a little weirded out, but presses on.

"I have an idea...."


Later, Joseph & I try to help G understand rules about hugging & klssing.  We do simple explanations and elaborate ones.  We give demos.  We talk specifically about the Jacob situation.

Finally G interrupts: "No, Jajesh.  I say you.  I klss him lots."


Apparently, Neighbor Etiquette Classes will be ongoing at my house this summer.

Fallout

I spent the weekend at an AMAZING "therapeutic parenting" conference.  It was instructive and encouraging and... overwhelming.  What an intense weekend.

Today Mr. Jim wrote me a note: "G was really emotional today.  When I wouldn't let him do something he started crying...."

Tonight at dinner G said "I'm like-a baby.  Feed me Mama."  And we did the baby routine all through the meal.  I needed to hold him, feed him, clean his face with the spoon, burp him. 

Totally coincidental, I'm sure, that his days with babysitters led to this regression.

At least I can practice all of my wonderful therapeutic parenting.

Learning to Play

A friend commented recently on the development of G's imagination.  I've been wanting to write about that, but especially after I saw what Lori wrote at Countdown to Homecoming.  You should read it.  She perfectly summed up our experience with "learning to play."  Our only difference is that - instead of stuffing string into cars - G stuffed little toys into zippered bags... as many toys as possible... and cried when no more toys would fit.


I remember last year when the first warm-enough-to-play-outside day came.  I bundled G & myself up.  I took a book to the back deck so I could read while G played.  I choose a place to sit in the sun at the edge of the deck.  ...  And G sat rightnext to me.  I let him sit there a while to acclimate. 


And he kept sitting.  I picked him up off the deck and encouraged him to "go play."  He looked at me and came to stand rightnext to me.  I read for a while. 


And he kept standing.  I got down, picked up a big stick and gave it to him.  He stood there and held it.  I waited.


And he kept holding it.  Finally I got down and got my own stick.  I showed him things a stick can do... tap on the deck, drag in the mud, reach to the tree... demonstrate demonstrate demonstrate. 

Then I went back to my book.  And G came to sit rightnext to me.  So frustrating!

fast forward

Recently we had our first warm-enough-to-play-outside day of this year.  G ran outside and immediately invented the game of "find the biggest two sticks you can; throw one up in the air, and hit it with the other stick."  

 

 Yay G!

Amazing Artwork

You haven't asked, but I will tell you my own favorite-ever post:

Confident Expectation

I love that G knows I will always think his work is fantastic.


Today's example was when this was presented to me...

...with great joy & pride!


Me: "G, what an amazing picture!"

G: "I make it!"

Me: "The orange is beautiful!"

G: "Iz like-a house!"

Me: "A great orange house!"

G: "Fo Jajesh an me an Mama!"

Yes, a great orange house for our family.  Dig it.

An interesting result of our family weekend

Apparently, G was paying attention last weekend.


His cousins have a dad.


My sister & I have a dad.


This led to some interesting conversations this week for Mr. Jim, including:

"You my daddy?"

and

"You my daddy."

Mr. Jim has felt a bit uncomfortable.


I like the conversations.  Love seeing how G's mind works - observing what's around him and trying to apply it to himself.  And - our family is unusual.  When G brings it up, we have good conversations about what our family does look like.

"Our family does not have a daddy.
Our family has a mama and a brother and a brother."

Good opportunities to talk about God as our Father too.

This ties in with how G has been trying to figure out who loves him. 

Enter: The Project.

We cut up a bunch of photos of our family & friends... talked about how they're related... what the families look like... how they're all different... who we love...etc.

G liked The Project.  We went back to it a few times this weekend.

Whether or not he now accepts that Mr. Jim is not his daddy - well, that remains to be seen.

Love

Pete has been doing some work at my house.

...like going into the crawl space to prop up the floor that's sagging under the water heater!!!!!!!  But that's a story for another day...

G and his babysitter Mr. Jim have been watching Mr. Pete work.

Later G asked me: "Mr. Pete love me?"

Me: "No, G.  Mr. Pete does not love you.  Mr. Pete is our friend.  We like our friends.  We love our family.  Mama loves you.  Joseph loves you.  You love Mama.  blah blah blah blah love blah blah family blah blah blah blah love blah....."

G firmly asserts (no question what-so-ever): "Mr. Jim love me."

I do it!

The little one LOVES to dress himself for going outside.

The jacket is a major production.  He's got the whole "flip it over your head" thing going on.  This requires careful laying out of the jacket, deliberate consideration over which side to stand on, and puposeful flipping of the jacket.

It also requires a rapt audience.  "WATCH ME!  WATCH ME!"  I stand at perfect attention, lest he decide that his 5 minute performance didn't get its deserved attention, thereby forcing him to start afresh.  Often I'll complete the pageantry by clapping for him, allowing us to actually move towards the door.

This morning we completed G's amazing feat of magnificence.  I put on my own jacket and grabbed my purse... and received my own applause "You did it Mama!  Good job!"

G also likes to put on his hat.  It has tasseled pieces that hang down to cover his ears.

...only somehow he tends to miss his ears.

One tassel down the back of his neck, and the other tassel down his nose.

Cute enough to make the whole jacket production enjoyable, eh?