Say Yes

I'm finding that my memory is getting worse and worse. There are a lot of things Adam and I often say from Nolan's toddlerhood. Isaac recently asked us to tell him some of the cute things he used to say. 

I had nothing.

And the thing is, Isaac was supremely cute as he began talking. I mean, he was basically 1 year old perfection. But we had to reeeeeeeeally think about some cute Isaac-isms. I ultimately decided I need to write more things down. So, I'm working on it.

Anyways.

This 2018 year has started off heavy. Between the miscarriage and the emotional weight of Sammy's always evolving situation and some other life happenings, I've felt maxed out. Nolan and Isaac have hit new strides in their disobedience and their energy. The two combined can be exhausting. Suffice it to say, I was having a hard time enjoying them in the mix of the heavy stuff and their new found love for pushing (bulldozing, pummeling, ignoring, etc) all the boundaries. There's truly nothing that sends me down the spiral of mom guilt like failing to enjoy my kids in these "precious little years." 

I got to take 4 hours away from the crew one Saturday morning recently, and it did wonders for my overall well being. The next day felt loads lighter, even though the children behaved no better. 

Since then I've looked for ways to cherish small moments even if the large, large majority of my day is correcting, training, disciplining, and threatening to throw ALL THE TOYS AWAY. You get it. This is as simple as giving Nolan a good bear hug before he climbs into the van to go to school. Or smooching Isaac's still so very soft cheeks after he goes pee standing up (when did he get so big?). It's finding even one thing to compliment them on, even if the whole ding dang morning has been a cat fight. It can be so hard to "soak in these little years." 

I listened to a podcast while prepping dinner one afternoon during nap. Lisa Harper was the guest, and she mentioned that she got to ask Beth Moore her one golden piece of parenting advice. She was expecting a mind blowing truth to come from THE Beth Moore. And Beth said, "Say 'Yes' as much as you can!" And that really stuck with me.

So, tonight, while my better half and absolutely the fun parent has been out of town, I heard Nolan obnoxiously calling out for me after I put them to bed. I say obnoxiously because it was clearly his fake cry. I opened the door asking why he was crying, and he mostly calmly said, "I just wanted you to snuggle me for a little bit longer."

Say yes as much as you can.

I quietly closed the door and climbed into his bed. I confess I was still annoyed with the way in which Nolan cried out for me, but I savored the few extra minutes to lay by my growing first born. And I don't normally want to give up my time after that final goodnight. But I thankfully heard the quiet reminder in my head, "This won't last forever." There will be a last time that he calls out for me to snuggle him at all. 

As I laid my head on his pillow with him, Isaac called out asking if I was snuggling Nolan. I told him that I was, and he asked, "Why?" And I answered honestly. "I'm not really sure. But I am!" So of course he asked, "Will you snuggle me, too?" 

Yes, Isaac.

Nolan's breathing slowed to a steady pace. I got up to move on to the next one.

Isaac was basically giddy as I picked him up to sit in the chair and hold him. He laid his head on my shoulder, put that thumb in his mouth, and he snuggled close. He eventually turned his head toward me, putting that sweet face of his in my neck. We both exhaled deeply. There was no rushing these moments. 

I sat in that chair with Isaac against my chest and his face in my neck. And I prayed over his little heart. And I wondered how many more nights of snuggles I'd have with him like this. He'll get too big before I know it.

I put him back in his crib, and I kissed Nolan once more. And I walked out. Thankful. Thankful that Nolan obnoxiously whined for me because I've been looking for opportunities in my days to say yes more. I've been looking for the delight in the middle of the discouraging days. 

And I chose to write it down because this ordinary happening will likely slip from my memory, but I'll get to look back and remember it now. 

Being Mommy is hard and sometimes so consuming that I feel like I get lost in it all. But it's also an honor and a blessing to have these little ones call me Mommy. 342,098 times a day. 

Fostering Families

Over the course of the last six months, I've had a lot of thoughts about Sammy's mom, and there's one that has been the loudest and most frequent. And I'll get to that in a minute.

We had court last month, and prior to that, my frustration with his mom was pretty high. It seemed like visits with her children were not a priority. She'd either end them early or skip them all together, sometimes cancelling them just an hour before it was supposed to start. There have been other issues with her that strongly affect Sammy's older siblings. Knowing those ongoing issues were adding to my frustration.

Then I met Mom. 

The morning of court, we had to wait in a waiting room for an hour and a half before our case was called. So, I got to watch this mama interact with Sammy (don't even ask how I felt about bringing an 18 month old to court) for quite a bit. And it was gut wrenching. Sammy didn't really want to be around her. He'd toddle over to her for a few minutes at a time and then race back towards me. I gave his mom a bag of goldfish, hoping to keep Sammy by her side, but it only worked for a little bit. I did this with the little toys I brought, too. 

I felt so sad for this mom.

I brought a couple of books because Sammy genuinely loves books and being read to. I gave them to her to read to him. This whole experience was so emotionally draining for me as I felt such sorrow for this mama. 

When I came home and tried to talk to Adam about it, I choked back tears and forced the sobs down, all the while declaring, "That's her baby!!! She had to watch her baby pick a different mom over and over!" This isn't right!" 

And I said for probably the 79th time over the last 6 months, "She needs a foster family!!"

This is what I keep coming back to. Not anger. Not frustration (though that rears it's ugly head). Not judgement. 

Compassion.

These kids are in care because this mom had literally no other person she could ask to take her kids. She has no relatives here. NO FAMILY ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND. She has no one who loves her kids that she could reach out to  and ask for help. 

I can't even begin to know what that feels like because I have a full list of people who would take my children in a heartbeat before DFCS would ever need to find an open home for them. 

So, what I keep asking over and over is this: why are we not fostering the whole family?

Who is cheering mom on? Who is making sure she gets healthy? Who is modeling to HER what a healthy family looks and functions like? What if she's never known anything but brokenness? 

What would it look like to put this whole family in foster care? What could it look like for this whole family to get help together? Or maybe not even together but if mom had a shot at some intentional and loving care for her own well being in efforts to restore this family. What if mom really knew that as Sammy's foster mom, I'm rooting for her success, for her health, and for her future. 

[There are certainly situations where parents are 100% unfit and unsafe to parent and cannot be near their children because the situation is that dire. I'm not talking about that situation.]

I keep dreaming up what this could look like. And I don't have a solution, by any means. But I can't help but wonder if there's a better way for some families to be restored. I struggle with feeling like we are setting Sammy's mom up for failure. Because even if she does work her case plan and the judge decides she is a stable person, ready to parent, then we throw these 3 kids back into her care and say, "Good luck,"? Is it realistic for these parents to be able to thrive after reunification when they did figure out how to get their own life stable but they do not have the emotional, mental, physical, and financial demands of their children to also meet? This seems ridiculous. 

There has to be a better way. For everyone.

Because Sammy's attachment to me gets stronger by the day, while his attachment to his mom becomes less and less. If this family really does reach reunification, have we done even Sammy a disservice? As he'll lose the mom he knows best for his actual mom he just barely knows? I'm not a psychologist and have not done any research. I just have to wonder, is this the best we can do? 

After Sammy's visit with his mom this past Sunday, he came home with some new toys and shoes from his mom. And you know what else she got him? She got him a book just like the one I gave her to read him that morning we waited for court. It was by the same author and looked very similar. 

Tears just came to my eyes again. 

I have to believe she wants to do this thing right. And I can't help but wonder how much closer she'd be to getting this thing right if she had someone loving her and coaching her through it.