Do you ever have those moments of weakness where your head opens, your brain falls out, and you say something that you come to regret later?
Mine was four months ago when I said in passing that I might like to put together a Christmas program as a part of my volunteer duties as worship leader for the Sunday school at my church. By worship leader, I mean me trying to coordinate a Powerpoint with words, memory stick with song, microphone, hand actions and appeal to 80 kids from age 3 to 12. It's more like a spastic one armed monkey dancing for coins than worship most Sundays but I'm doing my best and hoping God will bless my efforts. Add to the fact that I volunteered before I knew my life would hit hyperspeed with two girls that run (as my husband calls it) on "max velocity" during the waking hours.
Nonetheless, my pet peeve is people that go back on their word or shirk responsibility so I determinedly set out to put together a Christmas program. I looked through endless scripts to modify, listened to many .mp3 versions of songs (including a free download of "Away in a Manger" that sounded like a rather inebriated Russian trying to learn English with a strong techno beat pounding in the background), and watched a YouTube video for hours trying to teach myself sign language to "Silent Night".
I soon realized I should have started practice WAY before Thanksgiving. I cut "Silent Night" down to one verse only as that's all the sign language we could learn. I cut out the song at the end of the program because I only get about 10 minutes at the start of Sunday school to try to teach the kids all they need to know. What really happens is that my pre-schoolers kind of watch me in wander, swaying side to side, picking their nose, lifting up their dress, mumbling a word here and there but give the chorus a great gusto. The third and fourth grade boys are "too cool for school" and act like hand actions are beneath them. The fifth and six graders hang back hoping I won't notice that they are trying their best to act bored. Or maybe they really are bored.
Anyway, we finally got through a rehearsal on Sunday complete with several microphone fiascos and two missing actors. I felt slightly ready as I made my construction paper wise man crowns and found a blue throw pillow that will double as a pregnant belly. I still hadn't solved the problem of Mary needing to "deliver" in front of the audience (i.e. shake the pillow out from underneath her large white tunic and somehow translate that into my friend's very much alive baby being placed in a manger) when I was notified that due to the recent ice storms, the church was without power and the program would have to be postponed.
No problem, thought I, it gives me a week to think through the final placements and flow of things...until I was notified by three separate sets of parents of kids WITH speaking parts that their children would be MIA on Sunday. A quick email to a friend allowed me to find a replacement female Shepherd #2 but alas, I am still sans an Innkeeper and a Wise Man. I've told Darren that if worse comes to worse, he will have to be my oversized Wise Innkeeper Man. If anyone else doesn't show up, he could end up being my oversized Angelic Narrating Wise Innkeeper Shepherd Man. Hope he can learn a lot of lines fast, if need be.
And we already have a Moses costume for him to wear. It may be mixing our milliniums and make Biblical scholars roll over in their mausoleums but it's the only costume that fits a 6'5" Angelic Narrating Wise Innkeeper Shepherd Man. If it's not the Best Christmas Pageant Ever, at least it will be memorable.
Family
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
(Foster) Pilgrims' Progress
Many of you have asked if I am seeing any improvement in previously mentioned issues so here goes...
1) Eating habits - getting much better...still spilling on shirts and floor but they are doing their best to use utensils and not their fingers. They are sitting until dismissed and want to pray at meals after the main prayer. We have done two restaurant outings and they did okay.
2) Whining and pouting - WAY better...K still has to push us to see if we mean what we say but is immediately and immensely contrite when she knows she is going to time out. S has had several days without a time out at all. Once she FINALLY understood that the next step after a verbal warning was a time-out, she is starting to learn to rein her emotions back in. She used to go from zero to sixty into the red zone routinely and now, she realizes we are not budging. They also have started playing by themselves better, which was something that did not happen for three months.
3) Name changes - this was one that we were not sure we were going to do but in talking with other foster moms and in realizing that we would like a little more identity protection, given the proximity of the birth family, we have decided to change their first names upon adoption. We talked about names that have significance to the family and let them choose from those. S is all for the change...K was a little more reluctant. They are keeping their current names as middle names so we have started mixing in their first and middle names in addressing them to get them used to the identity. DCFS is not really for changing names as they say kids have enough grief and loss but other foster moms have said their kids viewed it as a "rite of passage" into their new family. The difficulty is that S and K will have had a full or partial school year with their existing names so the transition may be a bit rough for everyone to remember.
4) Transitions from birth family - as the girls get more comfortable with their new home/family, they have started opening up more about their past. Some of it is pretty shocking, some of it is frustrating, and some helps us to understand them a whole lot more. S, in particular, remembers A LOT and hence, has had a tougher transition. We have talked about what a birth mom is, what an adoptive mom is, and what a step mom is and she can now differentiate. We've also talked about what it means to be adopted. I told her that I know about her birth family and that it is okay to miss them and talk about them. She still doesn't understand why she can't live with her grandma and the reason why is too complicated for a six-year-old to understand.
5) Attachment - what nobody told me is that I would possibly be the one with "attachment issues"...the girls have done fine. It took me a good two months to feel like their mom, especially when there are definite personality clashes from time to time and a general tendency for one of them to run at hyperspeed non-stop all day long. My head would be reeling at bedtime and I'd wonder how in the world I was going to get up and do the whole thing all over again the next time. That's when I remember my sister Mary's quote from Isaiah 28:10 "Line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little, there a little..."
Sometimes I am too close to the process to see the progress but this foster pilgrim will keep building and re-building foundations and pray that God will grant the increase.
1) Eating habits - getting much better...still spilling on shirts and floor but they are doing their best to use utensils and not their fingers. They are sitting until dismissed and want to pray at meals after the main prayer. We have done two restaurant outings and they did okay.
2) Whining and pouting - WAY better...K still has to push us to see if we mean what we say but is immediately and immensely contrite when she knows she is going to time out. S has had several days without a time out at all. Once she FINALLY understood that the next step after a verbal warning was a time-out, she is starting to learn to rein her emotions back in. She used to go from zero to sixty into the red zone routinely and now, she realizes we are not budging. They also have started playing by themselves better, which was something that did not happen for three months.
3) Name changes - this was one that we were not sure we were going to do but in talking with other foster moms and in realizing that we would like a little more identity protection, given the proximity of the birth family, we have decided to change their first names upon adoption. We talked about names that have significance to the family and let them choose from those. S is all for the change...K was a little more reluctant. They are keeping their current names as middle names so we have started mixing in their first and middle names in addressing them to get them used to the identity. DCFS is not really for changing names as they say kids have enough grief and loss but other foster moms have said their kids viewed it as a "rite of passage" into their new family. The difficulty is that S and K will have had a full or partial school year with their existing names so the transition may be a bit rough for everyone to remember.
4) Transitions from birth family - as the girls get more comfortable with their new home/family, they have started opening up more about their past. Some of it is pretty shocking, some of it is frustrating, and some helps us to understand them a whole lot more. S, in particular, remembers A LOT and hence, has had a tougher transition. We have talked about what a birth mom is, what an adoptive mom is, and what a step mom is and she can now differentiate. We've also talked about what it means to be adopted. I told her that I know about her birth family and that it is okay to miss them and talk about them. She still doesn't understand why she can't live with her grandma and the reason why is too complicated for a six-year-old to understand.
5) Attachment - what nobody told me is that I would possibly be the one with "attachment issues"...the girls have done fine. It took me a good two months to feel like their mom, especially when there are definite personality clashes from time to time and a general tendency for one of them to run at hyperspeed non-stop all day long. My head would be reeling at bedtime and I'd wonder how in the world I was going to get up and do the whole thing all over again the next time. That's when I remember my sister Mary's quote from Isaiah 28:10 "Line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little, there a little..."
Sometimes I am too close to the process to see the progress but this foster pilgrim will keep building and re-building foundations and pray that God will grant the increase.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Princesses and the Pee
WARNING: Those of a more discrete disposition may want to skip this post...
This random bedwetting has got to stop...
Both are repeat offenders. One who shall remain nameless (or initial-less) decided she wanted to sleep in her underwear last night so she could be just like her dad (who I'm sure is delighted to have that shared with all the blog followers). Anyway, she must have decided her bed was just too comfortable to get out of this morning to go to the bathroom and instead decided to leave me a large pizza-sized wet spot. She told us she was awake when she did it so I put her in the shower (which she hates) so she can remember next time that 'tis better to get up than to wet the bed.
I went to get the other one up the other morning, giving her hugs and patting her bottom...which was soaking. She also left me a surprise. She said she was too tired to get up.
They aren't consistent enough for me to insist they wear pull-ups every night. Well, I did have one episode where the older one really WANTED to wear pull-ups like her cousins (I have three nieces who wear them) and so she purposely wet (and pooped) the bed (what kind of neurosis is that? But she's the same one who will fake a cough because she really like cough syrup).
I know there are kids with legitimate bed-wetting issues...however, ours can mostly be pointed to them going to bed later than usual, not making sure they go potty before bedtime, just deciding they don't feel like getting up or having too much to drink past 7 PM. And one time it was because we forgot to leave the door open a crack so that light could pave the way to the throne room.
So this morning, as has happened randomly over the past three months, I am washing sheets and underwear...at least this time, there were no pajamas involved thanks to someone thinking their dad is the coolest thing since sliced bread.
This random bedwetting has got to stop...
Both are repeat offenders. One who shall remain nameless (or initial-less) decided she wanted to sleep in her underwear last night so she could be just like her dad (who I'm sure is delighted to have that shared with all the blog followers). Anyway, she must have decided her bed was just too comfortable to get out of this morning to go to the bathroom and instead decided to leave me a large pizza-sized wet spot. She told us she was awake when she did it so I put her in the shower (which she hates) so she can remember next time that 'tis better to get up than to wet the bed.
I went to get the other one up the other morning, giving her hugs and patting her bottom...which was soaking. She also left me a surprise. She said she was too tired to get up.
They aren't consistent enough for me to insist they wear pull-ups every night. Well, I did have one episode where the older one really WANTED to wear pull-ups like her cousins (I have three nieces who wear them) and so she purposely wet (and pooped) the bed (what kind of neurosis is that? But she's the same one who will fake a cough because she really like cough syrup).
I know there are kids with legitimate bed-wetting issues...however, ours can mostly be pointed to them going to bed later than usual, not making sure they go potty before bedtime, just deciding they don't feel like getting up or having too much to drink past 7 PM. And one time it was because we forgot to leave the door open a crack so that light could pave the way to the throne room.
So this morning, as has happened randomly over the past three months, I am washing sheets and underwear...at least this time, there were no pajamas involved thanks to someone thinking their dad is the coolest thing since sliced bread.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Perpetuating the Myth
The big question at our house this past week was, "Is Santa Claus real?" S told me her classmates say he is not. And being that I still want to use the whole "Santa Claus is making a list and checking it twice" as leverage this Christmas season, I told her that if she thinks Santa is real, then he just might be.
So now the girls check under the tree every morning to see if Santa has dropped off more gifts. Heaven forbid that I have an uneven number of gifts under the tree or Santa must be favoring one girl over the other. S feels the need to remind me every day that we need to leave cookies for Santa. I really sense that Santa has a fondness for monster cookies;-)
I like these fictitious characters that keep kids in line. The Tooth Fairy kept S from bawling over having two teeth removed. Santa keeps them both behaving from Thanksgiving until Christmas. The Easter Bunny will be put to work later on. Man, I'd tell them there were ankle biting monsters under their beds if it kept them from getting out of bed.
I know. You are shaking your head and "tsk tsking" me right now. Don't worry...in addition to saving for their college tuition, we are setting aside money to pay for intensive therapy when they are older. After all, with us as parents, they are guaranteed to need it!
So now the girls check under the tree every morning to see if Santa has dropped off more gifts. Heaven forbid that I have an uneven number of gifts under the tree or Santa must be favoring one girl over the other. S feels the need to remind me every day that we need to leave cookies for Santa. I really sense that Santa has a fondness for monster cookies;-)
I like these fictitious characters that keep kids in line. The Tooth Fairy kept S from bawling over having two teeth removed. Santa keeps them both behaving from Thanksgiving until Christmas. The Easter Bunny will be put to work later on. Man, I'd tell them there were ankle biting monsters under their beds if it kept them from getting out of bed.
I know. You are shaking your head and "tsk tsking" me right now. Don't worry...in addition to saving for their college tuition, we are setting aside money to pay for intensive therapy when they are older. After all, with us as parents, they are guaranteed to need it!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Pants on Fire
"Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive."
- Sir Walter Scott
We've had to have some serious discussions on honesty around here. S came home from school with a thing of tinted lip gloss she had found on the playground. She was very excited thinking finders were keepers until I told her she needed to bring it back to school the next day and turn it into the office. I told her it was the type of lip gloss probably used by one of her teachers. She was a little crestfallen but woefully put it back in her backpack. The next morning, K comes into my room with about 12 lbs. of lip gloss smeared on her lips. "S gave me some MAKE-up!", she proudly proclaims. I come downstairs to find S with another 12 lbs. smeared on her lips. I tell her that was not a good thing to do and to put it back in her backpack for school.
She comes home after school, and I ask her about the lip gloss. She tells me that she did turn it in and it was Mrs. J's. I tell her I am proud of her for doing the right thing even though I know she wanted to keep it.
Fast forward to parent-teacher conferences when her teacher hands me the SAME tinted lip gloss and says S has been keeping it in her desk. I confront S and she tells me, "I really did think I gave it to Mrs. J." So now evidently THINKING you did something is the same as REALLY doing it. Not quite.
And then there is K. I hear a raucious fight break out between her and S when they are downstairs where I can't see them. I come in to break it up and K says, "S hit me." Darren hauls S off for a talking to and a time out while I interrogate K. "Did you do anything to make her hit you, " I ask K with my best "bad cop" impression. She stares up at me with big, brown eyes and seriously shakes her head. "Are you sure?" I ask her again because the story is a little fishy to me. "No, I DIDN'T!" she vehemently denies.
When S's time out is over, Darren comes out to talk with K. "S says you hit her. Did you hit her?" Darren asks. K looks at me. She looks at Darren. She looks back at me. Then, she cocks one eyebrow, looks at Darren and says, "Why, did she tell you something?"
BUSTED. And a wailing liar, liar pants on fire goes off for a time out and a talking to of her own.
When first we practice to deceive."
- Sir Walter Scott
We've had to have some serious discussions on honesty around here. S came home from school with a thing of tinted lip gloss she had found on the playground. She was very excited thinking finders were keepers until I told her she needed to bring it back to school the next day and turn it into the office. I told her it was the type of lip gloss probably used by one of her teachers. She was a little crestfallen but woefully put it back in her backpack. The next morning, K comes into my room with about 12 lbs. of lip gloss smeared on her lips. "S gave me some MAKE-up!", she proudly proclaims. I come downstairs to find S with another 12 lbs. smeared on her lips. I tell her that was not a good thing to do and to put it back in her backpack for school.
She comes home after school, and I ask her about the lip gloss. She tells me that she did turn it in and it was Mrs. J's. I tell her I am proud of her for doing the right thing even though I know she wanted to keep it.
Fast forward to parent-teacher conferences when her teacher hands me the SAME tinted lip gloss and says S has been keeping it in her desk. I confront S and she tells me, "I really did think I gave it to Mrs. J." So now evidently THINKING you did something is the same as REALLY doing it. Not quite.
And then there is K. I hear a raucious fight break out between her and S when they are downstairs where I can't see them. I come in to break it up and K says, "S hit me." Darren hauls S off for a talking to and a time out while I interrogate K. "Did you do anything to make her hit you, " I ask K with my best "bad cop" impression. She stares up at me with big, brown eyes and seriously shakes her head. "Are you sure?" I ask her again because the story is a little fishy to me. "No, I DIDN'T!" she vehemently denies.
When S's time out is over, Darren comes out to talk with K. "S says you hit her. Did you hit her?" Darren asks. K looks at me. She looks at Darren. She looks back at me. Then, she cocks one eyebrow, looks at Darren and says, "Why, did she tell you something?"
BUSTED. And a wailing liar, liar pants on fire goes off for a time out and a talking to of her own.
Snow Farts and Reggies
S comes home with these little paper books from school to practice reading. She is about 90% with the words but this last week, she came home with a book entitled "The Fort". I hear her reading in the back seat and the "o" must have looked like an "a" because she rattled on and on about this "snow fart" that the characters were building. I was going to correct her but I have the sense of humor of a 10-year-old boy at times and still think the word "fart" is infinitely funny.
Meanwhile, K mixes up her Bs with Vs and her Ws with Rs so "red" comes out "wed" and "vehicle" comes out "bee-hickle". My favorite was this morning and she was flopping around in bed, she turns to me all of a sudden and says, "My undaw - rare (underwear) is widing (riding) up my butt (forbidden word by her dad - she is supposed to say "bottom") and givin' me a REGGIE (wedgie)!"
I'm off to build a snow fart right after I take care of this reggie.
Meanwhile, K mixes up her Bs with Vs and her Ws with Rs so "red" comes out "wed" and "vehicle" comes out "bee-hickle". My favorite was this morning and she was flopping around in bed, she turns to me all of a sudden and says, "My undaw - rare (underwear) is widing (riding) up my butt (forbidden word by her dad - she is supposed to say "bottom") and givin' me a REGGIE (wedgie)!"
I'm off to build a snow fart right after I take care of this reggie.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Why Online Shopping is King
Remind me of this post the next time I get romantic visions in my head of me and the girls shopping for a gift for Darren.
We went up to my hometown to see Beth, Lisa and Co. for Thanksgiving. High on my list of priorities was a chance to shop at my favorite mall. I thought the girls and I would have a lot of fun picking out gifts for Christmas for everyone.
I must have overdosed on crack to have such warped visions.
I should have realized that the messed up sleep schedule, the overstimulation, the excitement of the holiday, etc. would pave the path towards the day I decided the rest of my Christmas shopping would be done at night in my bathrobe with a laptop computer.
Perhaps it was the fact that they thought it was fun to race through the store or try to drive the cart (subsequently into SEVERAL displays) or when I tried rain boots on them and they took off running with the plastic ties tying the shoes together STILL attached.
Perhaps it was the fact that S thought everything she saw should be for her or that she threw a fit when I could only find one item for Darren in the store and it happened to be the one K picked out.
Perhaps it was the fact that S decided it would be funny to lag behind me so far ON PURPOSE while trying to hopscotch to the tile grid in the mall and when I would turn around and tell her to get up by me (as I am manuevering K and several bags), she would smirk at me and stay put until I went back to get her.
Timeouts don't work so well in a mall. I tried to find a place to give her one but it was Black Saturday, the mall was packed, and nary a bench to be found. Plus, I had to stay close enough to make sure no one took her (although at that point, I would have seriously considered PAYING someone to do so), so she ended up on the floor by a kiosk. She promptly turned around and started sorting through their sweatshirts as I stood a few feet away.
Then I grabbed S's hand to keep her up next to me and she went limp and shrieking to which point I tried to pull her back up again and tripped over her. I had HAD IT! I pulled both girls by the hand back to find my sisters to let them know this shopping experience was for the birds. Both girls were crying, slobbering, snot-dripping messes trying to wriggle out of my grasp but alas, I put my game face on and marched them out to the car, past many dismayed shoppers.
Within 15 minutes of buckling their shriekinesses into car seats (a challenge in Darren's two door car), they had fallen fast asleep.
Lesson learned. The next time I even THINK about attempting this again, someone please do me a favor and stage an intervention.
We went up to my hometown to see Beth, Lisa and Co. for Thanksgiving. High on my list of priorities was a chance to shop at my favorite mall. I thought the girls and I would have a lot of fun picking out gifts for Christmas for everyone.
I must have overdosed on crack to have such warped visions.
I should have realized that the messed up sleep schedule, the overstimulation, the excitement of the holiday, etc. would pave the path towards the day I decided the rest of my Christmas shopping would be done at night in my bathrobe with a laptop computer.
Perhaps it was the fact that they thought it was fun to race through the store or try to drive the cart (subsequently into SEVERAL displays) or when I tried rain boots on them and they took off running with the plastic ties tying the shoes together STILL attached.
Perhaps it was the fact that S thought everything she saw should be for her or that she threw a fit when I could only find one item for Darren in the store and it happened to be the one K picked out.
Perhaps it was the fact that S decided it would be funny to lag behind me so far ON PURPOSE while trying to hopscotch to the tile grid in the mall and when I would turn around and tell her to get up by me (as I am manuevering K and several bags), she would smirk at me and stay put until I went back to get her.
Timeouts don't work so well in a mall. I tried to find a place to give her one but it was Black Saturday, the mall was packed, and nary a bench to be found. Plus, I had to stay close enough to make sure no one took her (although at that point, I would have seriously considered PAYING someone to do so), so she ended up on the floor by a kiosk. She promptly turned around and started sorting through their sweatshirts as I stood a few feet away.
Then I grabbed S's hand to keep her up next to me and she went limp and shrieking to which point I tried to pull her back up again and tripped over her. I had HAD IT! I pulled both girls by the hand back to find my sisters to let them know this shopping experience was for the birds. Both girls were crying, slobbering, snot-dripping messes trying to wriggle out of my grasp but alas, I put my game face on and marched them out to the car, past many dismayed shoppers.
Within 15 minutes of buckling their shriekinesses into car seats (a challenge in Darren's two door car), they had fallen fast asleep.
Lesson learned. The next time I even THINK about attempting this again, someone please do me a favor and stage an intervention.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)