Tough Love

Man, I'd love to say that every day is roses and sunshine.  And just live by my highlight reel that appears on Facebook, but today was rough.  Tough love has been tough.

It was our first day of youth sports with our littles.  It was a stressful situation for my two loves in foster and my own youngest daughter, as well as me.  I've never been a fan of chaos, the lights, sounds, all the motion.  Even when my husband and I got married, he told me from the get go, "Our home will be a home of peace."  And for 20 years it has for the most part.  I had my own daughter in tears as she tried to defend a boy in basketball that was much taller than her and his size scared her, along with the fact that the coaches are yelling directions to each kid in the young league, the buzzer is going off each 5-10 minutes for quarters or breaks to end.  Then, my youngest little love looking shell shocked that her moment to play Tiny Tots Basketball had arrived and was not frightened to even try to follow directions from a stranger, even when she had played basketball with my others already.  And my next to youngest little love looking every bit confused and not sure where to look or focus or what to do, generally overwhelmed but the whole experience.

So, after all that, I did manage to get some smiles from them as they got their end of games snacks.  Almost like it was a reward for enduring that hard exercise.  I can only hope that this dive into youth sports gets better.  The time factor was what always held us back with my older teens, but no choice when CPS is forcing your hand to involve them in something like this.

Naps, ahhhh, my moments of joy.  Got a long 4 hour nap in for them all after basketball.  Thank God!

To which we woke, made and ate dinner, then went to the park for some sunset playtime.  And then the chore of shopping with three kids under 7 years old and a teenager.  As tedious as grocery shopping can be, I actually enjoy the task of making the list, marking it out, and preparing the meal list each week.  It speaks to my organized side.  And I'm really good at saying, "No" at the stores to all demands and requests from my group.

It's the last hour of today that has sent me into Tough Love mode.  When I give in and buy the carrots and celery and ranch you ask for, and you eat much of it, and then choose to spit on another's snack, then get removed from the kitchen table without getting to finish your snack.  Or when I then tell you to help push the wet laundry into the dryer, that's all, and you stand there screaming and crying at the top of your lungs without stop.  And I escort you to your bed for the night, and then after 30 minutes of crying and screaming at the top of your lungs in your bed, to which I sincerely hope the neighbor's aren't playing in their pool, where her bedroom window faces, so they won't hear that I'm really not touching or hurting you, you try to come and give me a hug.  Tough Love sucks sometimes.  I can't reward you for misbehaving or screaming.  But I can't also reinforce some weird idea that your love can be earned, because I will love you through the misbehaviors and craziness that has been done to you by others. 

Add to all this, having a sick husband since Basketball this morning, who has slept for now 12 hours straight, minus the 10 minutes he came to the dinner table, looked at it and made himself a grilled cheese and went back to bed. 

I finally leaned against the kitchen sink in exasperation only to realize that both sides are overflowing in dirty dishes, even through the dishwasher is running.  And my teenager is busily creating a masterpiece cookie dough recipe with Christmas music playing.  It's in that moment that I see that I am blessed, even in the craziness.  I'm not perfect, and Thank God for that!  And even though I may look through other's highlight reels on social media, I know they too will have rowdy and disorderly days.

So, to today, I say "Not Today Satan", because I will still praise the Lord in my hot mess of a day.  And I will still apply tough love and love all my kids in all situations.  And forgive me if I sit at the kitchen table and listen to Christmas music in June in Houston, while I eat my slice of apple pie, Nutella cookie that my teen made, and sip on my glass of ice cold Coca-Cola.

My Teen Baker

Confessions of a Foster Mom

Confession #1: Being a foster parent is H-A-R-D.
I had a teacher on my team this year who knew she was moving and selling her home and she would talk about how she had to make sure her home was "model ready" before leaving for school each day because realtors or visitors may come to look.  And all I could think of, having never lived through that, is that's exactly how I feel.  Maybe your gifting is hospitality, and to some degree that's a teacher, has to be, like customer service.  But when those drop in visitors rub you the wrong way, over stay their welcome, put your character or decision making skills into questions routinely, or judge your cleanliness skills (like a light bulb being out and reporting it), you become less like this.  And they keep coming back into your home, your "peaceful place" and disrupting.  They come monthly, they text you, email you, call you, ask questions that you've already answered to another worker, and on and on.  I mean, seriously, can't they just read the monthly reports I legally have to file, or read the group text message chat where I sent them all the info already?  I think I know how to raise a child.  I have 3 of my own biologically.  But I've never had a child who has been hurt or been in trauma like these.  And I have zero experience with making a blended family work.  My better half and I are coming up on 20 years married.  It's a learning curve for sure.

The part that makes my heart hurt is the uncertainty and stress that is displayed in my littles when someone comes into our home monthly, 3 separate visits per month, in the crazy behavior where they run around, act silly and refuse to talk coherently, jump on and off furniture, roll around on the floors.  And when the visitor leaves, they are their normal, settled self again.  I know they don't do it on purpose, but man this is hard reassuring them, reminding them that no one will hurt them here, or that this visitor will not take them away.  Especially that last one, when I don't know for sure, as their case comes near to the end.  I, myself, feel in a state of uncertainty, because I'm "not a party to their case", so how can I reassure them constantly and not feel exhausted from this?

Being a foster parent feels like an invasive procedure, like when I had any of my 3 C-sections where everyone is looking at everything God gave you, and pulling everything apart in surgery to get to the beautiful baby within.  And that's why I have another confession.

Confession #2: Being a foster parent is W-O-R-T-H it.
I say this confession, not because I feel like it sometimes, but as a reminder to myself daily.  Loving someone is a daily choice, that can be easy or hard, but a choice nonetheless.  I've seen my littles come out of their protective shells.  Where once they were afraid of the dark, now are no longer.  Where once they would stiffen and "straight board" you when you had to pick them up to put them in their car seat or do this when unlocking their seat belt that was between their legs, now, not at all.  And when I told them to "Go play!" and they just stared at me like, "What do you want me to do?"  And now when I say that, they run, and play, and laugh, and scream.  That's why I say it's worth it.

Putting yourself and your family out there for strangers to repeatedly judge, critique, invade is something that will make you feel so many emotions, and sometimes within the span of a few minutes.  But while it is hard, it is worth it, if I remember who all this fuss is for.