The last of the vacation photo dump

Parenting teenagers ain't for sissies

If you have teenagers that seem to be sailing through life with every accomplishment, that have it all together both inside and out, the ones with the awards and lots of self control... stop reading this post now.
This is for the rest of us.
Don't get me wrong, I know there are children that are just easier to parent than others.  But many are not, and this post if for the parents of those young adults.

This thing called parenting is not for wimps.

Here at the Crazy house, we've had seasons that have presented extra parenting challenges.  That's the nice way of putting it.  By "parenting challenges," I mean some choices have been made that others (society?) don't necessarily agree with, and the ramifications of those decisions have to be dealt with.
And this is such a season.
Help me, oh Lord, to be strong.  Help me, God, not blow my stack like I did last time, because that so didn't work.  Help me hold it together... again.  My treasure is precious.  Help me know what to say and when and where to ask for help.  Help me.

There are things, many things that happen here in the Crazy house that I won't talk about here.  Talking about poop being smeared on the walls by your toddler is one thing.  But the transgressions of older children is another thing entirely.  Those things should not be broadcast on the world-wide-web for obvious reasons.
Let's just say, this thing called parenting is not for wimps.
Wait... I said that already.
Maybe it's worth repeating.

I remember the days long ago, when I struggled to teach my young children to say please and thank you.  I wanted them to be that kid that just said it all on their own without prompting.  I wanted them to try their hardest to like broccoli   And salad.  I trained them to make their bed.  And see God's beauty in the every day.  And love one another.  And not to use the words idiot or stupid.  I remember it was so hard.  And now I look back on those days and wonder... What in the world was I thinking?!
Now they have grown.
And now it seems even harder.  The stakes are so much higher.

I've been involved in discussion with 3 different moms very recently, and this very subject has come up, the challenges of raising our young adults.  And all 3 times, we moms have kinda sat there in awe that we're not alone.  That it's not just our family or our kid that's falling short.  It feels so lonely.  It feels heavier when you're dealing with things of this magnitude and thinking it's only your family that is going through it.

3 teenagers under our roof at one time.  13 years cumulatively of parenting them.  They are so amazingly different, and it goes without saying that different issues come forth.  1 and you think you've got some of it down.  2 and surely you've covered your bases.  But no.  Number 3 comes along and knocks your socks off with a whole new set of issues that you hadn't even considered yet.  3 different children each with their own unique challenges. And top it off with a drastic shift in the parental support system.  I'm finding that moms really don't want to talk about the struggles they have with their teens.  It's like it is a dirty little secret.  It suddenly becomes really hard to admit in the first place that our family isn't as wonderful as it may look from the outside.  You never know who will judge, and suddenly the implications of the shortfalls are huge!  Your toddler throws sand at the playground, and it's okay to talk to other moms about how to teach him how to stop and how frustrating it can be.   Because that's what toddlers do, right?  They throw sand.  And occasionally they may bite another child.  And maybe even dropped the F bomb once in front of your mother-in-law when you least expected it.  But that's what toddlers do!  That's how they learn their place in the world.  They live in their world and try it out, and nobody (including yourself hopefully) thinks what a bad mom you are when things aren't perfect.  But things are different when your teenager sneaks out the window in the middle of the night to get drunk with his/her college friends.  Suddenly the parents feel the judgement of their own shortcomings.
What could I have done to stop this?  
Where did we go wrong?  
How could I have done things differently?  
When did things start to go bad?  
What do we do now?
They grow up and the transgressions and their natural consequences can be far more serious.

I want to say this part very clearly.
Sometimes our teens are just like the toddler throwing sand in the sand box.   Because that's how some young adults are wired, to try stuff out even when they know isn't what they're suppose to do.  They push the boundaries   They cross the lines.  They say hurtful things.  They don't think, and they do what they know is wrong.  And despite how hard we work to parent them correctly, despite not only our best intentions, but despite really hard work and doing everything right, (and let's face it, that's not even possible!) they can fail to make the best choices.  And that's our job as parents to keep re-drawing the lines showing them what is expected.  We must find every opportunity to tell them how wonderful they are despite it all.  Pray for them.  Respect them through it all.  To redirect their paths, and to love them unconditionally despite the holes they dig.
And that task ain't for sissies.

So what does a parent do when the stakes climb even higher?  What do we do with issues like
Pregnancy.
Aggression.
Promiscuity.
Bullying.
Drug usage.
Lying.
Violence.
Anorexia.
Cutting.
Pornography.
Depression.
Addiction.
Theft...
Talk about it.  You and your family are not the only ones.  Don't judge one another.  Support one another.  Be there for the mom next door just like you were when they threw sand.

There but for the grace of God, go I.

Jude

Ya...

...I think I'm gonna have to copy this shoot for each of my kiddos.

I mean really... is he not the most gorgeous child you have ever seen?

Goodness golly I am in love with this child.  He makes me want to be a better mother.  I want to do it right for him.  I think back about that terrified baby boy we were handed in the orphanage, his sweet yet beautiful and perfectly made twisted feet, all the therapy and surgery, and am amazing how far he has come.
How far we have all come.

Okracoke Island

I was 19 years old the last time I was on this island.  Or rather the only other time I was on this island.  And it's still a pretty magical place.  

Full of bicycles and families.  

And a dreamy lighthouse.  It was my favorite of the three lighthouses that we visited.  

Cemeteries and old oak trees. 

(I remember when I first saw these headstones 25 years ago.  Eliza is the mom that lies next to her husband, Job, both of whom died in their 60's.  Next to her are her 4 sons, who passed 30 years prior, with in the span of a year.)

Peel-n-eat Cajun style shrimp (I will not tell you how much I ate.  Far too embarrassing.) and pirate lore.  

I hope more than anything that I can bring my family back her someday... someday sooner than 25 more years.

Insignificant things

I am home now.  

Someone threw up within 5 minutes of me walking in the door.

But I'm still living vicariously through the pics that I'm still editing.  

Last night, someone asked me what the highlight of my trip was.  And I had a hard time coming up with an answer.  I rambled on about lots of insignificant things until I realized that we didn't really do much... and that was the best part of the whole trip!  It was a lot of doing nothing significant.  

Asked again, I'd say the best part was numerous walks on the beach in the wind.  

Seashells.  

A baby turtle we almost released back in the ocean only to discover it wasn't a sea turtle after all.  

A glass of wine on the porch with friends.  

Singing and the sand between my toes.  

See?  

Lots of not much at all. 

Linking up with Stefanie @ Sunday Snapshot. 

North Carolina Ferry Division

You sick of me being a tourist yet? 

Hatteras to Okracoke, NC
I intend to drag this out as long as possible.

Living with attachment issues long term

I tell people all the time, especially when we're knee deep in discussions about adoption or attachment issues.  Ya know, some kiddos just don't handle institutionalization well.  Some come out of it just fine.  Some go straight to their new family and never look back with smiles and enthusiasm.  And others, like our sweet thing, will likely always carry the scars of growing up in an institution with too few care givers, or not enough food, or not enough clothing, or a lack of stimulation, or insert any basic need here.  And most fall somewhere in between  
And the thing is you have no idea if your child will be the one that comes through it all with flying colors or carries the scars until it's a done deal.
You just don't know.

Of our 3 adopted children, 2 transitioned pretty much according to the text books.  Both Jude and Mimi were best case scenarios when it came to how they transitioned to our family and attachment.  They grieved.  They fought it hard.  But the difficult process of loss and coming into the fold of a new family, showed all the evidence that they would come through the difficult process of adoption healthy in the end.  But we also have one of those children that just didn't handle it well and shows the evidence that she will likely carry the scars regardless of what we do.

For this reason, I was incredibly hesitant to leave on my me-vacation.  I had left her once before, on our trip to China to get Mimi.  But of course there was something that just didn't sit right with me about leaving Tess for this very self indulgent 8-day me-time trip.  I'd be the first to encourage mama's to get away and rejuvenate themselves.  But I certainly hadn't been encouraging myself to do that.  It had been 5 1/2 years since Tess came home and over 1 since Mimi came home.  I knew it was time.  But still... how do you walk away from a child that really isn't sure if you're actually going to come back.  I mean way down deep in her soul, she's honestly not sure if I'm gong to permanently leave her or not.  And no amount of talking and assuring can change that.  I was leaving her with Papa.  So of course wasn't like I was leaving her completely without a parent.
But still...  how would I get on that plane and say goodbye.

But I did leave for 8 days.
And I cried when I left.  And so did she.
And I seemed to text constantly to my loves at home.
And the next day I assured her I'd be home in 7 days.
And I sent pictures.
And Tess sent me pictures. 
And soon I told her I was coming home in 4 days.
And I sent her a video of the beach and the waves.
And when she asked, I reminded her I'd soon be home in only 2 more days.
And we talked about how school went the next day.
And daily she tore off the paper rings on the chain that marked the days till I'd come home.
And she cried at night and made one last phone call across the country.
And she asked when I'd be home, and I finally said that the very next day I would be the there to tuck her in and say prayers the very next night.

Over a week later, when the plane landed, according to plan I was extremely rejuvenated and refreshed.  As I trotted down the airport concourse, I felt a bit like a child when I was walking far more quickly than necessary to greet my family.
And there they were, all 8 of them waiting for me.  7 voices squealing Mommy! so excited to see me.  16 legs running my way.  16 arms that reaching out to squeeze my legs and my neck and my shoulders.  8 I missed you soooo much!  I was once again encircled by the shoulders of the man I had missed so dearly.  But in that moment there was 1 that needed more.  She needed more than a hug and embrace.  In that moment when all were so excited and happy, Tess looked so scared and seemed to need reassurance that I really was back.  I crouched down and looked into her big brown eyes.  I told you I was coming back.  And I will always come back.  We're family.  And we're stuck with each other.  Forever.  I could almost see her exhale in that moment.  Exhale all the doubt that she had held in her those 8 long days.  And as she did, I don't think I've ever seen such eye contact as she stared into my eyes.  Her tears instantly welled up, and she started a quiet cry.  Tess, I'm right here now.  And I scooped her up and held her.
In the car on the way home, she fought falling asleep.  I knew she was afraid I'd disappear if she close her eyes.  Only when I told her that I was the only one that would carry her from the car to her bed that night, did she finally suck on her two fingers and allow her eyes to close.

So where does this leave us?
Well, we're still on the path of attachment.  Don't get me wrong.  It's wonderful that we've come so far that she was feeling such relief when I returned.  Her missing me is a huge deal.  But the fact that she has these seeds of doubt that she is safe and loved, and worry that she will be abandoned yet again, and stress, (really, should any 5-year-old carry this type of stress?) is a sure sign that 5 1/2 years later, we're still on the road to secure attachment.  Once again, we're assured that we're definitely moving in the right direction... in a direction of love, peace and acceptance.  But we're not out of the woods yet.

And as the years pass, the destination seems to matter less than the journey itself.

Bodie Lighthouse

I've fallen in love with the light houses.
They are magical and stately and captivating.
I know.  I know.  Perhaps this is just like the tourists that I see that come to my desert and pull over to take pictures of the saguaros.
But I am a tourist, and I love these structures never the less!

Linking up with Lisa @ Favorite Photo Friday.  Head on over to be inspired!

Guest Post {Jessica}

I have a three-year-old daughter who is congenital quadruple amputee. Most simply put that means she has limb differences of all four of her limbs. She has no left arm, a very short right arm and short legs. She and my son are less than a year apart in age. 

Before my daughter’s adoption, over and over again we came back to the question, how will having a differently abled child impact our energetic happy-go-lucky son? The answer, we’ve learned, is in all the best ways. 

Those first few months home had moments, multiple moments that were rough, really rough. But that had very little to do with the special need and everything to do with adding another person into the mix. Another person who inexplicably needed time, attention and love. 

These days the two are friends. The kinds of friends who clamor together at inopportune times for ice cream, who squabble over toys and who share joy in conspiring against their parents. It’s brutal and beautiful.

Everyone knows that the way to teach kindness and compassion is to live it. Having a special needs child, like many other life experiences, fast tracks that learning.

We were recently somewhere with an adaptive climbing wall. We all paused to watch a woman who was paralyzed from the waist down use her upper body strength to climb the wall. When she finally reached the top, she ran the belled and we all cheered. My four year old cheered like only a four year old can -- loud and long. I know that moment has stayed with him because he’s asked me about it several times since.

Because my daughter is getting a power wheelchair, when we are out and about power chairs and car lifts always catch our eye. My son recently came running up yelling, “Mom, mom, look that man is driving a power chair.” The man in the chair grinned and give a little wave.

While my son is certainly getting a more expanded view of the world around him, his horizons aren’t the only ones being broadened. Having a very active brother pushes our daughter. If he can do it, well, she can too. I’ve also noticed that when she does need help, she frequently turns to her big brother before asking my husband or me. Not only does he help her, but he’s intuitive in his help. Before we got steps leading to and from the couch, my daughter frequently was frustrated that her feet dangled far above the floor preventing her from getting off unassisted. While my husband and I were scratching our heads trying to figure out how to solve the problem, my son pulled an oversized decorative pillow from the other room and shoved it under her, allowing her to climb off. 

All of this is not to say that there aren’t some tricky moments. What do you do at the amusement park when one child won’t ever meet the height requirements for some rides? How do you choose which rides you will go on and in what order? Do you split up? Alternate?

We try to follow the advice from Siblings Without Rivalry. In their book, authors Fabers and Mazlish emphasize loving uniquely, not equally. This is good advice (even if hard to implement) for any sibling relationship, but it’s especially meaningful when there are siblings of varying degrees of ability.  Each child needs their own autonomy and the knowledge that they aren’t expected to be each other’s parent or a caretaker. Being brother and sister some days is more than enough.

While it can be difficult to make sure each child gets his or her due, it’s also easy to worry unnecessarily that the scales of life tilt too heavily to the special needs side.The other day my son drew a picture of all of us. In the picture his sister had no arms. I was about to go all Freud on the whole thing and wondered if that’s how he saw her. Then I noticed he drew me with no arms too.

I know my children’s interactions with each other, like their relationship with me and their father, will influence all of their future relationships. It will shape the friends they choose, the spouses they will marry and some day the kind of parents they will be. 

From each other, they are learning there is no greater love than that a man lay down his life for a friend.

Jessica blogs over at limb different.  Head on over to hear more about this wonderful family and Jessica's thoughts. 

Cape Hatteras Light Station