A place at the table.

One of our kiddo's self talk is really bad.
I've talked before about the attachment cycle, a baby cries and a tender, responsive, and consistent care giver is suppose to respond, every time. This cycle of, I have a need- I get upset... You hear me, you come- you help me calm, this is the attachment cycle. This cycle happens hundreds of thousands of times in an infants first year of life, and it lays the foundation for self-worth, self-efficacy, and mental health.

Unfortunately, three of our five kiddos didn't get this ground work laid correctly. And we are working to help shift and replace their foundations. I consider it one of our most important roles.

The negative self talk is heart breaking for me and comes from this experience of: I cried and no one came, I do not matter. Or I cried and someone came and treated me poorly, thus I am bad. The way I often describe it is this, most children walk into a room and assume everyone in that room adores them, and wants to hear all about their minecraft explorations, or worm digging, or football practice, they assume that they are the center of the universe. And so it should be.

Many kids who didn't have the correct attachment foundations don't feel this way. They walk into a room and assume they are disliked. They assume that they are the worst, or the stupid-est, or the one everyone is laughing at. And so many times any correction, or rule enforcing comes across as a direct confirmation to them that their worst fears are true.
"I knew I was the worst one."
"I knew she didn't like me."

Recently the negative self talk had taken a turn for the worse with one of our sweet babies. So we began talking with him regularly about how his choices, whether good or bad, do not effect our view of him. We talk with him regularly about how our love is constant, just like Papa God's.

Its been interesting to see his development as this truth has begun to take hold in his heart.

Yesterday I totally messed up with him and flipped my lid. As I was apologizing (a few minutes later) I asked him, "Do you still love me?"
He looked up at me as if I were crazy.
"Of course!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
As I pulled him in tight I whispered, "Thank you! That is exactly how I feel whenever you make a poor choice. Of course I still love you! I will never stop loving you."

He asks for reminders about his status of unconditional love. What I have found most interesting is this, he often asks at dinner.
He still needs confirmation of his spot at the table.

He doesn't ask in times of trouble, and he doesn't ask in times of joy. He asks during the everyday moment in which we gather to feed our bodies and pour into each others souls.  The time when he looks around and can tangibly see each person's spot. He can actually see all of us, at once, fitting together, tucking ourselves around the table. And it is in these times when he feels our closeness as a unit, that he still doubts his place.

And that makes me cry.

And yet, what I love, is that now, instead of sitting there silently questioning his worth and his belonging. He reminds himself.
Sometimes it is a quiet whisper I hear him saying to just himself as he waits for his turn to talk about his day, and sometimes it is a declaration that he makes to all of us. "You guys love me no matter what!"

Progress is slow when you're shifting foundations.
But progress is progress.

This. Is. Important.

Today we applied for Laila's passport.
It is suppose to arrive on Christmas day.
There is no better present I would like to give my children.
I told Laila today, "This means the world is now your playground! Where do you want to play first?"
She robustly responded, "Smart Cow!" (our local frozen yogurt shoppe.)

So maybe she doesn't quite understand the magnitude of the "whole world" yet. But I know she will.

I told David, this is such an important day for her, as important as the day she gets her drivers license, or even gets married. It is so significant. (He knows I'm fairly dramatic.)

Helping my children understand the world, and explore it all, has always been a huge goal of mine. Some of my best memories, and perhaps some of the most defining, in my life all correspond with a stamp, sticker, or punch in my passport. 

To me a passport is a really big deal.
I got a little emotional when we left the office.
To me a passport means... the world!

My parents did a wonderful job of helping my sister and I explore the world. And my grandmother has always been the source of my "gypsy blood" as my mom calls it. You see, she told my grandfather that she would not marry him unless he took her on an airplane. He was a man of his word, so they wed in July 1947 and hopped on a plane from Oklahoma City to Tulsa.

And she hasn't stopped since. She has been to all of the continents, and has taken her grandchildren with her to many of her destinations. When I was eleven she told me to pick anywhere in the world, and we would go. So we went to Spain, Portugal and Morocco. We still talk about that trip. And a few special stories.

It was on that trip, after a particular meal of pigeon and leeks in Morocco that many of our tour group mates were grumbling. When we returned to our hotel, which had open windows as the sand and winds blew in off the Moroccan coast, a woman in our group started complaining to my grandma about the sand on the floor, my grandma tells the story of me looking at the woman and saying, with all the innocence and honesty that eleven year olds produce, "If you wanted this to be like America why didn't you stay home?"

I remember being a little scared but mostly completely fascinated as we watched the easter parades in the streets of madrid (Think KKK meets bloody jesus statues, and ornate floats being carried on the backs of hundreds of old men).
I remember riding a camel into the sunset in Morocco, and being on my first nude beach.
I remember wandering the markets of europe with my grandma following closely behind me hoping I would remember the way back as I searched for the perfect gem to take home.
I remember riding the bus into the cobblestone streets, sure we would be wedged between the buildings.
I remember eating olives off the trees in Portugal and standing in the same spot that once Christopher Columbus had stood.
I remember watching snake charmers in Africa.
And tortoises in the Galapagos.
I remember my sister and I trying fruits we'd never heard of in Ecuador.
I remember her and I swimming with sharks and holding hands squealing into our masks.
I remember standing in the Colosseum and shuddering.
I remember feeling the walls of the catacombs in rome and crying.
And sitting in the ruins of a public bathe in Sardinia.
Mostly I remember the palpable feeling of history, of depth, of understanding, and purpose.
And each time, my world being put more and more into perspective.
Whether I was hiking the Great wall of China, or feeding orphans in Africa, the world was becoming smaller.
With each trip, stamp, and sticker, I saw God's plan. I saw God's people. I saw what was important and what wasn't. The cross-cultural importance of relationships, family, education, and unconditional love. Every trip helped bring me back home. To what matters.

As a teenager, I would say without a doubt, it was through my travel around the world, and my faith, that I realize how unimportant highschool really was, how important and wonderful my relationship with my parents and family was, and how much I really loved my home.

I still have my passports from growing up, my very first one that was issued at around four months of age, to the one I had to get extra pages for in my busy traveling years, to my current one. And I still look through them all! Each of those stamps, stickers, visas, and punches has a lot of power. A lot of stories a lot of meaning, a lot of depth and purpose.

I want my children to be citizens of the world. Not in a new world order kind of way. But in a, I live my life with perspective, kind of way.

The perspective that only comes from experiencing other cultures and realizing how small it all really is.

This is so important to David and I.

Do you have something that you want to instill in your children, something that is so important? How do you signify it?

Ninja Turtles and Massages: ways to heal attachment.

I promised a follow up to my post yesterday. And I've already had a lot of emails and questions. And my answer to all of them, "Trust your gut". What do you think your baby needs? Do that.

A lot of questions about "crying it out".
I believe that we learn our children's cries fairly quickly. We know what a scared cry, a hungry cry, a tired cry, and a hurt cry sounds like. If you lay your baby down for a nap and she cries for one minute and then falls asleep that's not letting her cry it out. That could be what's normal for your baby. I don't know, you're her mama. Trust yourself.

When I refer to crying it out I am referring to what has been coined "Ferberizing" or "Ferbering" which is a sleep method created by a man named Richard Ferber. It teaches how to train your child to sleep through the night by letting them cry for five minutes, then going in and patting them on the back, singing, or whatever ways you can calm them without holding them. Then you leave and let them cry for ten minutes and repeat, then you let them cry for twenty minutes, etc. with a strong willed child, this can last all night long, sometimes for up to seven nights. (It is also common during this "training" that babies get an ear infection at some point due to the congestion caused by crying.) That is letting them cry it out.

(Here is a lengthy article that summarizes Ferbering and the lasting effects.)

As far as scheduling goes: I love them. I have five little kids, we couldn't function without our schedule. And my infant has a schedule. But if she wants to eat and its only been an hour since she did last, and I know she's not tired, and she's dry, and she's not in pain, I let her! I go through my mental checklist first. But I know her, and I know her signs and if I know she's hungry, then she gets to eat!

A lot of people mentioned Baby Wise, or Growing Kids God's Way. I did not. Mostly because they have recently had to change a lot of their language and such and their books are no longer as strict as they used to be as a result of all the negative medical attention as well as scientific attachment attention they were receiving. As a result, their books are a little less black and white as they used to be, and more grey, like the real world. If you attend a class with this label it can really depend what type of information you get based on how black and white the teacher sees these things. I believe there are a lot of things about it, that if used in moderation, or with the whole child in mind, will work. Unfortunately a lot of people just leave with "the schedule" ingrained in them.

I have had twelve children under the age of three in the last three years. (We do foster care and have adopted, and birthed one of our own during this time period.) And only two of them have had the start that I believe every baby should get. And none of them have experienced a great prenatal atmosphere (Which is an entirely different and important post!). All of that to say, I have made it my mission to learn and study how we can heal our babies!

Whether you're an adoptive or foster mom like me, and know that your kiddo didn't have an attentive, nurturing, and loving care giver consistently throughout their first days, months, or years. Or you are a bio mom, like me, who has realized since having her babies that you made a couple big mistakes. Here is what we need to know: we all heal our babies, and ourselves the same, through connection.

I also want to highlight another group of moms, moms who have either had premature babies, or babies who were born with birth defects, or for some other reason needed severe medical care as an infant. (I have one of these.) Unfortunately their little brains look the same as the brains of babies who have been abused or neglected. Do you know why? Because infants don't know the difference between medically necessary pain, and abuse. Their brains don't understand the difference between medically necessary incubation and neglect. Their brains just registered, you hurt me, I cried, you didn't stop it. Or maybe you couldn't even touch them for a few weeks or months when they were born. Their brains didn't register that was because you were trying to save their life. Their brains registered neglect and pain.

Okay breathe.
Because their is so much hope. And so much we can do.

Healing Ourselves
A very very important aspect of attaching with our kiddos is understanding our own attachments and coming to terms with our story. Your own attachment history will greatly influence the way you care for your children. In fact, research shows that for most peolpe whatever attachment they tested at 12 months of age, they will keep throughout their life. Therefore someone who grew up with an insecure attachment may not have the same ability to provide the consistent, nurturing, responsiveness to their infant that would help their infant obtain a secure attachment. Simply because they do not know how to do this, it was never modeled to them, and this has therefore changed their view of what is appropriate or correct.

All of that to say, if we are aware of our selves and what we experienced, or have a lack of experience with, we will be able to better care for our children. A great resource if you feel that part of your journey in bringing healing to the children in your life is to come to terms with, and obtain an "earned secure" attachment for yourself is a wonderful book by Daniel Siegel and Mary Hartzell called Parenting from the Inside Out. There are also therapists trained specifically in attachment that you can seek out. (I personally had an Adult Attachment Interview(AAI) and have studied how our own attachments effect our parenting, it is a huge piece of the puzzle in my opinion.) There is a short assessment you can take here that will give you a brief idea of what attachment style you have across multiple different relationships. All of this is huge in how we see our children and how we can clearly decipher what they need.

Touch
We must touch our children. Physical touch is just like air and water to humans. Yet for those of us trying to repair an attachment, it is even more important. Depending on the age of your child this will look differently. But touch is powerful. Studies recently have shown that daily massage is STOPPING the progression of Alzheimer's!

If you have an infant there are many infant massage classes or DVDs you can look into. But I always encourage massage! It is shown to help integrate the brain (One of the things that we see happen when children are left to cry it out is that the two hemispheres of the brain do not communicate with one another the way they should.) and it floods the child, and the masseuse with dopamine, one of the strongest calming neurotransmitters and an essential element for attachment! In older children it could look like trading off back massages, or hand massages or foot massages. (This also helps in HUGE ways for babies who are detoxing for those adoptive and foster moms who are caring for drug exposed babies, this is ESSENTIAL!) and for those of you who are doing everything right, massage those chubby happy babies, it will strengthen your attachment with them and bring them lots of love:)

Attention Time
This is another strategy I use. Attention time is like nursing a baby, but for ANY age. This is a time set aside that it is just you and them, doing what they want to do. They lead.

We have scheduled attention time in our house, we have dates, which are attention time away from the house. But I try to daily do attention time in the house as well. It can be as little as ten minutes at a time, maybe two time's a day. But during this time they get to tell you what to do. You could be playing in the fort, flying a B-17, having a tea party, playing a game, lifting weights, or fixing a bike. You are looking them in the eye. You are matching their behaviors and emotions. You are following their lead, and you are on their level both physically and emotionally.

Think about when you are nursing a baby... You can't really do anything else. You are looking at them, you are touching them, you are comforting them, you are following their lead, you are talking sweetly, and you are just oozing love. That's what attention time is like, but for a six year old, or a sixteen year old.

So how does this work in my crazy house you ask? Different depending on the day. But usually I am doing this with my three oldest before quiet/nap time. Or before bed. I put them to bed in ascending order. The babies go down, then the four year old, who knows attention time is before naps, has already set up the little pet shops. So there I am playing pet shop and being a kitty cat for ten minutes (and yes I carry the timer and let them set it for ten minutes, and give them a two minute warning). I'm following her lead. I'm whispering when she whispers, she is close to me, and we're just having a blast. Then it's the five year olds turn, and off I go to fight Donatello and Michaelangelo in a fight to the death. We wrestle, we roll, we laugh, we tickle, and then as I am putting him to bed, I am massaging his arms and singing him a song and looking in his gorgeous brown eyes... And so on.

And don't get me wrong, I am totally exhausted after just thirty minutes of this. But I know my job is to help my older three heal. I want to help provide them every opportunity for a secure attachment. And if playing Ninja Turtles and giving massages is how I can do that, I'm in.

Resources
There are a lot of resources out there on this. The best thing I think you can read is The Connected Child. (We have used this book long before we had adopted or foster care kiddos).

I would also encourage you to learn about sensory needs. Often times babies who have cried it out develop sensory issues. (There are MANY reasons kids develop these so please don't start judging!) But this is a contributing factor. When their brains are flooded with those stress hormones the brain can not be integrated and work cohesively... Ways we see this in older children, and infants, is in sensory sensitivities. The best place to start is with the book The Out of Sync Child. Each chapter starts with a little assessment and it is just super user friendly. Sensory sensitivities can look like so so many things but for instance, if you have a toe walker, if you have a kid that refuses to wear socks, if you have a kid who can spin for hours without getting sick, if you have a kid who is often complaining about how loud things are, etc. this is a HUGE topic. Start with the book. (And yes we all have sensory sensitivity to some degree.) Understand, that by integrating sensory rich activities into your day you can greatly improve the brains integration and see huge strides toward healing in your children.

There is hope. There is a never a child, there is not a brain, and there is not a mama that can't change! Our brains can change. Our attachments can heal. And we can all see this happen in our homes if we continue to educate ourselves, encourage one another, and talk!




















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Things I Won't Miss....

Other mothers out there parenting small children, let me hear a war cry...

Maybe you don't have a war cry, but you probably need one. I suggest "Eshet Chayil" It means woman of valor in Hebrew. It is a praise and blessing in the Jewish community. Women say it to one another and often times husbands say it to their wives (they actually sing it out of Proverbs 31, I love that). I learned about it here. It's a wonderful blog, and the woman did a 'woman of valor' series that I adored.

Needless to say I'm thinking of getting Eshet Chayil tattooed... That's my warrior cry. (And I am convincing my sister-in-love to get one with  me.)

You know how people always say to you, "Enjoy these times!"
"They go by so fast."
"You will miss it!"
Some days I want to slap those people.

Here are just a few moments from my daily life on the front lines that I dare say I will not miss.

Getting ready in the morning. That is if I get ready in the morning. Those few mornings a week I can muster the gall to leave the children unattended for a few short moments so that I may be privileged enough to wash their sh@t, vomit, mucus, and other nasty germs off of my body. Only to be interrupted at least a dozen times in the ten minutes I am naked in the shower. With whines of needing juice, complaints of siblings, injuries that need band-aids, and requests for new batteries in whichever toy they are currently thrusting at my exposed body.

This morning as I dressed I had one daughter under my dress, playing peek a boo with another daughter who was clawing her way up my tights. As my son continually asked questions about the plans for the day, and our almost two year old ran off spraying my perfume all over the house.

I dream of the day when I can get ready uninterrupted. When I can take a shower, and maybe even deep condition my hair, without the door slamming open and several children piling in as my warm air escapes.

I will not miss serving all five of my children all day long. You know those love languages we speak of. You know what's lowest on my list, acts of service. I was never that girl offering to get drinks for people. Or cleaning the house when my mom was sick. Or even getting my sister a glass of water when she lie dying on the couch of the latest flu to hit school. And now all I do all day (and night) long is make sure other people are happy. A lot of them. Do you know how many glasses of juice, milk, or water I get every day... At least 30. And every    single    time, I am having to explain why it can't be juice every time. Or why they can't have juice boxes at home. And then I'm wiping butts and bathing people. I am brushing teeth, and picking up toys. I am finding pacifiers all day long. And I am tying shoes, and buttoning pants, and zipping coats, and giving medicines, and vitamins, and applying lotions, and doing laundry. I never want to do any one else's laundry. I will not miss the laundry.

I will not miss cleaning the bathrooms twice a day due to the massive amounts of toothpaste I find EVERYWHERE, and the urine that is found in very odd crevices of the bathroom. I will not miss the bathrooms of a mom who has five small children.

I will not miss the noise level. There is always a loud crisis occurring in my home. And at some point, I BELIEVE, there will not always be two children yelling and/or crying at THE SAME TIME.

I will not miss the comments I get from strangers. And the looks when I have all five children in a store, three in the cart, two holding on, and no room for groceries. I won't. When we ever go anywhere when my kids are teenagers I plan on just going incognito. People will think I am the teacher, or the bus driver, or the older weirder girlfriend. They'll never know I'm the mom. The kids will all look the same age, and it isn't too obvious that they are from the same family, so we will be much more socially acceptable.

I will not miss the trash. Daily I am cleaning up massive amounts of trash. Today there was styrafoam ALL over the house, little balls of it. Yesterday it was small bits of crepe paper. Very small bits. I don't know where they find their supplies, but once they find it, they secretly plan how to best make a mess with whatever odd object they have stashed away. And then they go through the house spreading it.
I found a toilet paper roll torn up into thousands of pieces this afternoon... in my sons pillow case.

I promise I won't miss the diapers. Or having to bathe them all.
I won't.

I won't miss the schlep. The coats and boots, and mittens, and diapers. We recently flew commercially to Pittsburgh. And I schlepped five children's necessities through airports during the holidays. I won't miss it. The extra outfits in case of accidents, the toys, the teething rings, the medicines, the sippy-cups, different ones for each child. And don't forget the wipes, and the diaper rash creme. The strollers, and car seats, the wraps, the blankies.... And they all have different allergies of course, so the snacks, different for each child. I swear this was me walking through DIA.

I won't miss it.

I know I'll miss things.
I will miss morning snuggle time in our queen bed, all eight of us (yes the dog comes up too).
And I will miss reading them books on my lap.
And I will miss them thinking I am smart.
I will miss singing them songs.
And I will miss the way they play with me. Doing my hair, and rubbing my face, and piggy back rides, and cradling, and all those things.
And I will miss other parts.

But the first few nights that I sleep through the night without having to nurse a baby. Or help someone to the toilet. Or calm a child crying from night terrors. The first morning I wake up and realize that this season is over... I will smile. Because I think it will get so much better from here. 

Today

Today we learned a lot. Most importantly I learned how essential a Nalgene is when potty training! Yes, that's right... we did our first outing today, undies and all... And Tre peed in the Nalgene twice during our thirty minute Wal-Mart jaunt! Definitely suggest that as a permanent diaper bag fixture while potty training (plus they're supposedly not safe to drink from any more, so this is really a green thing to do, since you can't recycle them either, it's called reuse!)  But we also did a little baking. You might not know but Tre turns two tomorrow! So this evening we baked a tractor cake! 

I really wanted to do a fondant beauty, but I realized there is nothing boyish I could do... therefore I did what any mom of a two year old boy would do, I 

made a John Deere tractor cake! I knew I couldn't go wrong. And I was so right! When Tre saw it he went wild! He was so excited! That made it all worth it! Tomorrow my baby will officially be a toddler, that makes me cry! 

my naked chef.

Did I mention?

Have I mentioned that we  are potty training at our house (by we I mean tre. David and I are helping, but as far as going in the potty, us adults pretty much have it down, minus a horrible Christmas night two years ago, but that's another post for another day, right David?!)? Yup! Any advice is welcome! He has been doing fantastic until today, I introduced underwear, cause he can't go running around naked once we leave our premises, you know! Well, underwear has put a big dent in the process, so far he has peed and pooped in his underwear all day. Once I take them off he goes right in the pot! Not really sure where to go from here! I am taking the relaxed route though, not to stressed about it, but if we save three or four diapers a day, it's a success. Now if he is five and still where we're at today, then I'll be worried! 

Oops!

Today Tre diarrhea-ed in the pool!

Question- Was it a public pool?

Answer- yes.

Next Question- Did they have to empty the pool?

Answer- It was in the baby pool, and he was eating chips and I kept seeing floaties and I thought he was spitting out the chips. Later I put two and two together!

Next Question- So you didn't tell them?

Answer- no. I picked him up, it squirted all over me, and we left.

Next Question- Is he sick?

Answer- I don't think so. But he did eat two packs of raisins this morning.

Maybe in the future I will limit his raisin consumption... at least on the days we go to the pool! 

Fun times! 

My fearless one...

I have written here before about Tre's fearlessness, and how at times, it is very scary. For example:

- When he stood at the top of the stairs and screamed "MeMa, Watch!" as he just jumped all the way down them. 

- Running full steam into the ocean until being tossed back to shore by waves, and then doing it again!

-Just jumping into pools, with no swimming skills at all, and just standing at the bottom looking around. 

And the stories go on. Today was the first time Tre showed true fear. Here is what he was afraid of:

Now you might not see anything particularly fearful in this photo, cause I sure didn't. But there was a "fuzzy" floating in the tub tonight. It is the little black dot near the top corner of the tub. He was mortified! He was screaming, and clawing his way out of the tub as he slipped and slithered back in, to his worst fear of actually touching the fuzzy! Then he got to the point of paralyzing fear where he just sat there staring and screaming, he couldn't move any more. I eventually rescued him and removed the fuzzy, and bath time returned to normal. Kinda funny that his first real fear was a fuzzy! 

Tomorrow we start swim lessons, and yes, I did say "we"! I have to go in too! Can you tell I am thrilled? But I figure if he doesn't learn soon he will die this summer. I'll let you know how it goes! 

Hard Day, Hard Head

Tre has had a hard day so far. He has really gotten into climbing lately. And I am taking the approach that if it isn't high enough to kill him I will let him try it. So this morning he was climbing up the magazine rack onto the couch arm rest. But then he would stand on the armrest and leap onto the couch. Well he fell backwards from standing on the armrest and hit his head so hard on the floor I thought he fell through. Then he cried so hard he threw up, all over me! Then I was writing the post about the meatballs and he climbed onto the sewing machine cover and then onto the new keyboard box, then onto the camera box and tried to get on top of the desk. I told him to get down. He said no. Then as he was standing htere reaching for the computer mouse it all collapsed and he fell in between the book case and desk and smacked his head on both. One bloody lip and many tears later he is fine. I think I will curtail the climbing for the rest of the day!

MeatBALLS

We had a little spaghetti and meatball incident lately. I took a phone call during dinner (mistake one) and assumed David would watch Tre (mistake 2). Well, a few minutes later I heard David screaming, "Oh no, TRE!" So I politely ended my phone conversation to go check out the damage. As I walked up the stairs David said to me, "I only turned away for a minute.." (mistake 3). I huess David got involved in whatever was on television and Tre dumped my milk everywhere. So as David was walking hte five feet from the couch to the kitchen Tre then found my spaghetti and meatballs that was still on my plate and assumed that teh spaghetti was for eating and that the BALL was for throwing. When David turned around from getting a towel and carpet cleaner for the milk a meatball came whizzing by his face. And as he looked he saw that the meatball had been thrown all over the living room and our living room was covered in red sauce! Ah, fun times! There are only a few scars remaining.