Our two new family members didn't know how to entertain themselves and we added to that by being on call for the first 6 days. How fun to play ALL DAY LONG. It was hard to understand how a 9 year old wouldn't know how to play games and a 5 year old who didn't know BASIC bathroom hygiene. We went from compassion to frustration to disbelief for 12 hours a day. It was too loud and too tight without being able to go outside and run off some energy. There was too much to correct, too many walls of conflict to run into, and too many people doing it...all day long.
Mealtime was difficult, and we had to sit down 3 times a day. Our eyes caught each others' as they both declared whatever we were having as "nasty" before actually getting to the table. It wasn't nasty, they just didn't recognize our food. They had limited palates and limited experiences. They always ate, but it was painful to hear and watch.
Looking back, these children were completely uprooted, brought an hour and a half from the only homes, schools, day cares and case workers they had known. They weren't even sent with all their toys, they didn't have the clothes they wanted, or even the dolls they slept with at night. (TRUE STORY) They knew none of our routines or schedules, saw no one they knew for days, didn't have any assurance of our care for them, and considering that they slept at night...well, that's more than I would've done in their place.
For 3 weeks I was extremely emotional and doubting my abilities. I needed my college kids to go to school because frankly, they hadn't asked for this, and we needed less help parenting and more space. I felt grief and relief as they returned to school mid-January.
Thank God I knew a friend who could help me and took my calls at 9:30pm and just let me cry and eek out my honest and raw feelings. I heard her say, "It will get better" and I tried to believe it. I told her things I would NEVER say in public but I felt them so loud and clear I had to admit them or combust. I didn't wear make up for 2 weeks because I couldn't risk tear trails down my face and I couldn't help crying every single time I was by myself in the bathroom.
NOTE: Every minute wasn't bad, it was just hard. Harder than I had expected.
Richard began his work season and was gone 5 days in a row on week 4. School was cancelled because of ice 3 of those 5 days. Sheridan wasn't sleeping well, I wasn't coping well, and I had to call in help one day so I could have 15 minutes to pound the carpet in my closet and ask "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?" An angel of a friend played a board game with them and read books. Praise God. It was a good reminder of His presence, even though we were struggling.
I was talking to God. I was talking to Him more than I had in years. I was trying to read a devotional called Whispers of Hope, I was reading Jesus Today, and I was reading Jesus Calling. I posted Bible verses all over the house to remind me that He hears our prayers, breaks the chains of bondage and is close to all who call to Him. He was, of course, with us, and had gone before us and was holding us up. NOT because we were doing something good, but because He loves us and wants us to depend on Him like that EVERY DAY. I know He heard me in the closet, because I was able to come out and continue on.
Sheridan was a warrior, kept on keeping on...kept us focused on the future. It wasn't until month 2 when she got tired of sharing (everything) and wanted her "baby of the family" status back. It wasn't really what she wanted, but the stress and changes were just starting to get to her. Her stomach was aching everyday, even when the others were at school. She didn't know why but I did. I ate very little the first month for the same reason.
Jordan and Cameron finally decided they were going to stay here about week 8. Cameron started calling Jordan by her new name, and the tantrums and conflicts became further apart. They had already moved through any honeymooning (best behaviors) they were going to have about day 10...so that only left UP for behavior as far as we knew, and prayed.
And it finally did "get better." We started laughing more, I could look at Richard in the eyes without crying, I could talk to friends without becoming emotional, I could make a meal without major protests, we could do school work without tantrums, beds were made without battles, bedtime became bedtime, and they became part of us. We took them out of town overnight to Mimi and Gramps. I hosted my event with NO major issues at home. We took them to Branson for few days during Spring Break. I went out of state to work for 3 days. We finally caught up to our new "normal."
Today, they are different than 120 days ago, and so are we, and we're all learning to be part of our family...
They sing "Colby Max" now. (Toby Mac)
They eat salad and other veggies.
They know Bible stories and ask to have them read before bedtime.
They learn AWANA verses and sing songs from church.
They play independently.
They do flips on the trampoline.
They've been to their first amusement park and water park.
They swim without life jackets and jump off the diving board.
They learned how to squirt someone with a garden hose.
They learned to ride bikes and race on scooters.
They learned how to hit a ball with a fat bat and play Yahtzee.
They can put away laundry and fold towels.
They feed the dog and set the table.
They laugh at jokes and win at Uno.
They make good grades and love their teachers.
They want to sit with Richard and I whenever we are watching tv.
They love their brothers and sisters and talk about them daily.
They take turns saying the prayers at meals and at bedtime.
They look at us in the eyes, write notes to us, and hug often.
They are kids, being kids, and they are ours.
