Bringing Yan Rui Home, Part 2

Jan, a women in our congregation, told me that the women of Evergreen Church, our church home, would sponsor a spaghetti dinner for us, in order to help with adoption funds.  I remember being all sorts of giddy that they would want to support our family in bringing our girl home.

Of course, we are a smaller church....

At the most, in the busy months, we have maybe 190 people show up on a Sunday morning.  It was estimated (I can't remember by whom) that the women would raise around $1000.

The day came; and the spaghetti was served.

Friends came.
   
             More friends came.  Church members came....

And more....

The women ran out of spaghetti.

More was brought in, and that was eaten as well.

I believe, if I remember correctly, that there were double the people that were expected.

I left that night, and I remember not being able to sleep....because I was trying to figure out how to make it up to these women....I wrote in my journal about how difficult it is to accept gifts that you feel you don't deserve at all and that you know you cannot pay back.   I realized, as I stressed out about accepting such a giant gift, that I feel like that with God sometimes.....like I wish I deserved what He gave.  But I don't.  And He doesn't care.  And He gives anyway.

And I have to learn to accept it.

And so.....

I went to church the next day, pretty humbled, not really wanting to look the ladies in the eye; knowing they had put so much time and energy into that dinner for our family to bring our Yan Rui home.

For me; a large part of the gift was the obvious support they were giving as we sought to seek out and pursue God's purpose for our family.

I wasn't sure I was prepared to accept the money without crying.

And then....

they told us how much had been raised:

Not $1000, as I had originally assumed, but $11,000+*, and I started crying (and snotting) all over the place.  This small group of women in this small country church raised more money than our adoption agent had ever heard of in a spaghetti dinner.  And I was all sorts of thankful and surprised and humbled before I had ever heard the amount.

I'm still working at accepting the gift with grace without trying to pay it back somehow.   :)


So, Yan Rui will soon come home, and it was this group of women along with all of our family and friends that came to eat those noodles that helped to get us to this point today.....

Just three four days away from meeting our girl and bringing that adorable, "sometimes obstinate**", "active" girl that "likes the color red" and "loves to play hide and seek" home.

* By the way, the total amount raised (more checks just kept coming in) was $15,000.

Another friend of ours raised $360 at his church, and another $5000 came in after that!

We recently withdrew the last of our adoption funds and I am crazy excited and kind of blown away to tell you that our adoption has been paid off in full.  (Yes, I cried and snotted about that too!)

**The words in parentheses are words the orphanage used to describe her.  We can't wait to add to that word list as we get to know her more.


 

Bringing Yan Rui Home

I have been wanting to write a blog post about our newest member of the family....and every time I try, I feel like I have too much to write. I decided, in the end, that our letter to family and friends is as good a summary as any...And the response from our family and friends is pretty amazing. I'll share that in the next post.

  Dear Family and Friends, As many of you know, Keith and I are in the process of adopting a five-year-old girl named Yan Rui. (If you are trying to figure out how to pronounce her name, we have no clue either! We’ll find out when we meet her.) She is living in an orphanage in Anhui, China, and we are hoping and praying to bring her home soon. Many of you have been interested in our adoption, and while I know I have shared parts of our story with some of you, we wanted to take this time to share more fully with all of you. I, Karla, can hardly remember not sharing our house with someone while I was growing up. My dad’s younger sister came to live with my parents when she was a teen (I was a baby), we had exchange students throughout the years, my cousin stayed for a while, and my parents began taking in foster kids when I was ten years old. We adopted my twin brothers, Ken and Bill, when I was twelve. My brothers have developmental disabilities, and we learned, through them, the importance of patience (when they were starting fires and peeing on the cat--haha!), of understanding (when their limitations made things difficult for them), of advocacy for those who can’t advocate for themselves, of perseverance in frustrating times. Last year, our family was involved in building a group home for one of my brothers, because we couldn’t find one that offered the excellent care that we thought he deserved. I have worked in group homes for over ten years, because I knew (from my brothers) how much of a joy my life would be if those with special needs were a part of it. Keith was adopted by his father when he was about six years old. Adoption, for him, was also a normal part of life. His dad was the only dad he knew. His dad was the male influence in an otherwise all-female household. His dad is the funny accent our kids giggle at on the other end of the phone. And his dad is the one who goes “all out” with welcome when we visit him in summer time. Naturally, when Keith and I discussed growing a family, adoption was part of that dream. We didn’t spend a lot of time discussing specifics early-on. Then, in 2004, we had quadruplets. They were born at 28 weeks, and all of our babies were in critical condition for 3-4 months. One of our daughters lived for one week before Jesus took her home, and at two points in the neonatal process, the doctors informed us that there was "nothing else that could be done". Our son had a severe brain hemorrhage and our daughter lost “too much” oxygen, and one doctor warned us to "be prepared to take home a child with special needs”. If, of course, we brought home a child at all. Our kids, the three that survived, did not come home with special needs. In fact, they are all thriving and meeting expected developmental milestones. Yet we believe that God prepared us to parent a child with special needs, and we want to be able to do that through the process of adoption. While some of you have called Keith and I “saints” for considering a child with special needs, we happen to know, through our relationships with those with disabilities, that we will be way more blessed being Yan Rui’s parents than she will be in being our kid. :) Some of you have wondered why we decided to adopt from China when there are so many children in America who need our help. Our intent was not to adopt from a certain country as much as it was to adopt a child who was considered “hard to place”. China has a specific list for children who are “waiting” because of their age or disability, and Yan Rui’s file was the first file we were shown. Yan Rui’s disability happens to be cerebral palsy, and we are not certain where she is, developmentally, because we have read reports ranging anywhere from 18 months to 3 years. We aren’t confident that any of these reports are accurate. We will not know for sure how much support she needs until we bring her home.  We are including an expenses sheet, because we want to share exactly how much funds are required and where those funds are actually going. (I am not including that here, but know that adoption costs are anywhere from $22,000-31,000.) We know that the adoption is expensive and some of the line items seem excessive. We believe, though, that Yan Rui shouldn’t be kept from a home because of that excessive cost. Honestly, that expense sheet was a struggle for Keith and I. We know we are called to “care for the orphans”, and while we don’t believe that means everyone should adopt, we believe we have the experience and support necessary to parent a child with special needs, and we feel God prepared us to do so through a long list of experiences and people in our lives. And yet…. we began our adoption journey in November of last year, and realized quickly that we do not have the funds to do this on our own. In discussing our struggle with some wise people in our lives, we decided that we had to trust that “anything is possible with God” and that money is not an issue for Him. (We’re never sure if believing and acting on these things is called faith or stupidity, but we’re hoping we are walking in faith). :) While we have the resources to provide care for our daughter long-term, initial adoption costs are making it difficult for us to finance getting her here. We are humbly asking that others in the Body of Christ partner with us by praying for Yan Rui as she waits for her forever family and by helping to provide the funds necessary for us to welcome her home. Thanks so much for your support, The Foisy family

2012 Updates

July Basil and September were playing with Lincoln Logs. Somehow, Basil had all the "fire wood". Sep wanted to buy some. 

Basil: "The fire wood is $1." Sep gave him $1, and he gave her one measly piece of firewood. She was mad. 
Sep: "I hardly get any firewood and I don't have very much money!"
Basil: "Otherwise, you could take a train ride, and the train brings you to a wood pile, where you can get three pieces. It doesn't cost any money." 
Sep: "Oh good! I'll do that." 
Basil: "You need a ticket to get on the train." 
Sep: "How do I get a ticket?" 
Basil: "You pay me $10."

August

Soren, to Zeke: I am sorry for punching you....

....I thought you were Seppy.

September

Zeke might have higher-than-necessary hopes for his upcoming Karate classes. I overheard him saying to Soren, "Bubs, soon you can watch me do a back flip and high-kick my opponent in the stomach!"

---------

Soren says he remembers being inside my tummy. He swung from my bones and stuff. 

I'm not sure I believe him.

October

September, in her usual dramatic way, said to Soren, mid-argument, "What would you do if I died right now??"

Soren replied, "Step on you."

Virginia Vacay

In June, for three summers, Keith has "pastor classes" in Virginia.  We go along, because we'd miss him and because it's not home.  We can trick the kids into thinking we took them on vacations once in awhile.

Here are some highlights of our "vacation":

Day 1: Keith went to class from noon until 5, and we locked ourselves out of the apartment the whole time.  Spent lots of time wandering around.....
We went to the (air-conditioned) book store for REALLY long and then to some skate park (where I had to sign a liability waiver for my kids to run around with no skateboards and where the kids got REALLY dirty from sliding down the black skate ramps). We went to another park that was "fun, but WAY TOO HOT....WE ARE DYING!"
So....to stop their sudden deaths, I told them we could go to the local pool and then it started thundering and everyone started getting up and leaving right when we got there...
Free movie tomorrow morning, if we don't lock our keys in the van first or something.

 Day 3 so far: Zeke called the local police by pushing the Emergency Button on the wall in the public bathrooms, Baz accidentally walked into someone else's apartment and let a lightning bug go (that he meant to show Keith), and our $8 popcorn was more expensive than all five of our ($1) movie tickets.

Day 4: Children's Museum: Every other kid "milked" the fake cow nicely, into the bucket. My kid (Zeke) decided cow utters looked like squirt guns and sprayed innocent bystanders. Then, he talked Soren into drinking the "milk" (water). I banned him from the cow. (Wonder why the cow was turned off the next time we went back???)

(This happens to be a pic of Baz and Soren.  I was too busy yelling "Stop" and "Quit!" when Zeke was milking the cow and didn't have enough hands for a photo shoot.)

 Day 5: We resorted to taking my sister's advice and trying free samples at the local Costco. Soren had a funny look on his face and would NOT try the vitamin drink. While we were standing there, he went up to the lady serving it, and said, "Did you say something about HAIR in it?" (She didn't. She said it is healthy for hair, bones, and skin.) He took one after he realized it was hair-free.













Day 9: On our way to "more adventures", Zeke saw a Yard Sale sign, and said, "Hey, Baz....why would anyone want to sell their YARD?"

Day 10 and stuff:
We bought some cheap entertainment, like squirt guns and bubbles.
Apparently, the two don't mix well.
Sep chose to do bubbles, and the boys...?
Well, they chose to "Shoot down and destroy" (yes, their words) her bubbles.  Not happy, that girl.

Other days:
We acted like a normal family and took at least one (or two) cute pictures.

 

Because I Suck at Regular Updates

Run down of Events since "last time"....

Mostly cut and pasted from Facebook...

The Sunday school teacher said, "You are going to write a prayer to God. Write thank you for whatever you want to tell him." So, Basil, our VERY LITERAL child, wrote this: (October 2011)

This is a cute pic of our cute kids because we have decided to adopt a cute kid from China!  They wanted her to see, (as much as a photo can tell...) whose family she would soon be a part of.  Maybe it's best that photos don't speak??  ;)

;

(January 2012)

Zeke got glasses, even though he said, "I don't NEED glasses!  The letters were just really small!" Now, with the assistance of his new frames, we can all chant (like we are back in the 90's and talking about a mullet), "Business from the front and Party from the side!"  (Yep, that's Spongebob!)  

(February 2012)

Papa and Gramps made a bunk bed for Soren in the boys' room, so we can squish one more kid in our house.  Our newest member of the family, Yan Rui, and Sep will share a room.  Sep's excited.  Yan Rui doesn't know to be yet.  But who wouldn't be excited to be a part of the Foisy family!??

(March 2012)

See?  Sep really needs a sister, so these poor super hero guys can learn to respect themselves again.

(various dates in 2012)

More "Catch Up" to come....

Preparations...

The kids were playing in one of those gross play areas in Burger King.

They were playing Tag with some other kids and seemed to be having fun, until S suddenly moved away from the little girl she was playing with and sat by herself in a corner.

I didn't know why, until....

the little girl's brother quickly piped in, "That's her lucky hand!  She can do everything with it.  She can tie her shoes, and even do the monkey bars".

And then all of the kids  came over to take a look.

Except S, who ran down to K and I, to whisper to us, "That girl has a really little hand!  It kinda scares me!"  And we talked about how she shouldn't tell the girl that, because that would hurt her feelings.  (Apparently, she already had, as you'll read later.)  Maybe, she could just respond by saying, "That's okay if your hand is a little different.  Let's go play."  

At the same time, the girl didn't want to play anymore, because she "was hot".

By this time, I was literally teary.  Because I didn't want my kids to be those kids.  The kids that are completely un-accepting of others' differences.  And because I just heard Z say, nonchalantly, "It looks kinda like an alien to me..."

And so...

I called him down, and we talked about how that the word, "alien", is NEVER okay to say to anyone about the way they look.  We talked about how all people are different, and none of us look the same.

While I honestly don't think he meant to hurt the girl's feelings, (I mean, aliens are cool, right!?) he does not often think before he talks (I understand that....that very trait comes from me).

Z sat for a second, thinking, then went back up to ask the girl to play.

S sat a little longer, and had lots of questions about why kids' hands would look like that, so we talked (shortly) about how some kids' development is effected before they are even born, and we reminded her about the "bump" she used to have on her head and how that was different too, but that different is okay.  And not scary.

And we encouraged her to ask the girl, again, to play.

She went back into the play area.

But she wasn't playing with the girl.  She was sitting a little ways away.  Head down.  Gloomy.

And when she finally came down the slide, she burst into tears, sobbing loudly, and saying, "I feel bad because I told her that her hand SCARED me!" to which K replied, "Yeah.  Don't do that."

So she cried harder, and sobbed, "I'm SORRY!  I'm sorry....(sob, sob, snort)."

(And then she cried again in the van.  And again when we finally got home.)

And while I am not proud for not having prepared my kids to respond to that little girl's differences, I am proud of both of them for:

1). Going back and playing when I encouraged him to (Z)

and 2). Feeling SO SO bad for realizing that she hurt someone's feelings (S).

I said, "Ya know, S.  I know you will do things differently next time, and I am proud of you for realizing you hurt her feelings and for feeling so bad about it.  That makes me know how much you really care about people and about how they feel."

And then there were many more questions about why kids would WANT to hurt others' feelings.   "And why would kids tease her at school, because her brother said some kids are mean to her?"

I wondered, right then,  if you ever get over feeling, as a parent of a "different child", like you want to beat the crap out of every kid that looks at your kid the wrong way.

And I know my kids were the ones that were looking at her the wrong way this time, but we plan to prepare them to respond differently (gracefully) next time.

That's all we can do as parent, right?  Learn from the past and prepare for the future?

Super Boy

I am a little bit of a spoiled brat, maybe, and I often wonder why we don't see more miracles in our lives.  Why doesn't God show Himself to us?  Why were there a bunch of miracles in the Bible, but we see "none" of them today?

And then...

I recently brought Z to a mandatory neuropsychology assessment.  Because of the massive brain hemorrhage (and therefore shunt placement) he endured in neonatal, Z is evaluated every three years, to assure he is reaching developmental milestones.

Last time I brought him in, the neuropsychologist said to me, "THIS is not the boy I expected to see.  According to his charts, he has had quite a significant brain bleed....and I know he has cerebral palsy."
I wasn't sure what he meant, but he told me later, he was surprised at how well Z was doing.
The doctor was glad for his development, but Z did have some minor deficits then, mostly in fine motor skills and some processing tasks.  He was processing alot of things on only one side of his brain.  I wasn't worried.  I didn't really see any ways that those things limited him in any way, so I mostly blew it off.

THIS time, after his SEVEN HOUR appointment, the doctor said, "You have an amazing boy here.  His processing is even on both sides of his brain (which is good), the deficits I noted last time are no longer, and he is keeping up with his peers."

"All good things," I thought, "but not surprising."  (Of COURSE he was doing well!  Why wouldn't he be!?)

E'hem.

And the doctor went on to say, "I did not expect this from him.  Most kids with the level of brain damage he has endured are able to keep up with their peers for the first years of life.  They develop at a similar level (running his finger in the air at a slow, steady incline).  However, when their peers begin school, kids like Z develop on the same developmental path as they have been (slow incline), while their peers' progress more quickly and on a steeper incline.  I am astounded to let you know that Z is keeping right up with his peers.  He is an amazing young man.  I am glad to have worked with him."

"Amazing," he said again.

And I tried not to get all teary and emotional.  Because I am raising a kid whose development is unexpected.  Is atypical.  Is....can we say...a miracle?

And I didn't even know.

Or I forgot to look.

So I left thankful.  Wondering how many other miracles we miss every day.

(And knowing that I will forget and be ungrateful probably by the time I got home.)

Parents

Our kids recently took on the role of parents.

B just re-glued the piece of counter top and re-assigned the chore chart.

S gave M a bath, saying things like, "M, are you okay?" and "Are you ready for me to wash your hair?"

Z, well.....

Z ran around the house with his Superman/pirate costume on and did his ninja moves at (all four) parents as they went about their business.

In more detailed (and possibly boring) news....

M is in the 82nd percentile for height, which is pretty crazy, since it's always lucky if our older kids even make it on the chart.

He no longer says, "I wuv you".  He says, very clearly and precisely, "I L-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-love you, mama." And he now says, "Spiderman" and "Don't give me a spankin'" instead of "fighter man" and "Don't give me a fankin'".

I kinda miss his Bubsy talk.

B now has "I will not talk like a robot" on his star chart.  (Who imagines writing that  on their kids' reward chart before you actually have a child of your own??)

Z's flip flops broke, and when I started shopping for winter shoes, I remembered that K still needs to teach the boy to tie.  Tying is hard for him, because 1). He'd rather not take that long on any one particular task 2). His fine motor skills aren't part of his super human powers.  K gets to teach him, because I made a deal: if I taught the other two, he would teach the third.

S has long hair right now.  Longer than it's ever been.  She actually told her "hair-cutter" to cut it short the other day, and I stopped her.  I don't know why.  It's kinda stringy and always knotty.  But I just didn't want her to get it cut and hate it.  I told her we should bring in a picture of a short cut that she likes, so she has some idea of what it will look like.  Anyone wanna send me ideas?  I googled cute, short, girl haircuts and got nothing.

Stealth

Let's all take note for a moment that all four of our kids are getting gifts in the mail, from their aunt.

For no reason.

She's nice.  We like her.  Thanks, Auntie Ang.

She knows them so well, somehow (even living hundreds of miles away): She (very appropriately) gave B Transformers (e'hem, robots anyone?) and S girly, beady bracelets that will give her an excellent excuse to get away from the boys once in awhile.

M was given a Webkinz Jr. (who knew there was Jr.?!) to boss around on the computer, (since he really, really likes to boss but is not big enough for anyone to take him seriously).

And Zeke...

You can see that Z is getting a Captain American costume WHILE he is also wearing a Spiderman costume, which he just switched into after donning a knight's cape for most of the morning.

So the kid ran and jumped and tried cool twists on the trampoline and threw his shield like a frisbee....and (and, and).

You should know that M spent alot of that time (in between Z's twists and spins) trying to take away Z's new shield. He kept having to go to time-out for whining and crying for the thing.

Z wasn't ready to share yet.

M finally went to bed, still begging for the shield.


And while the boy didn't get the shield in the end, he did use his crazy stealth moves to somehow end up with both his new toy (the puppy, appropriately named Noh under his arm) AND Z's new Captain America mask.

The little boy's got skills.

Elmer's Glue

My sister knocked off a part of my counter yesterday.  It must be her really large hips!  (Ahahahaah!  Sorry, Jod).  She ran into the corner of it, just like I have at least three hundred times before.

I've packing taped it on in the past, but it looks stupid. When my sister was over, she put a hunk of scotch tape on it, but that looked even worse.  I just peeled off the whole piece of counter and threw it in the drawer.

Next thing I knew, Keith had it all repaired.  And I was so proud.  I was a beaming wife.  So glad for a husband that "gets 'er done" (the whole time, I was wondering why the counter piece took preference to the broken bike tire that's been in the driveway for WEEKS, but.....) *

After I exclaimed my love for Papa once more, S said, "Mom, B did that."

And so I began my exclamations again, but replaced, "I just love when Papa does those things" to "I just love having a crazy controlling robot for a son".  And B beamed with pride.

Apparently, Elmers Glue Stick (purple) is just about as good as duck tape!?  Who knew?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Just so you know, K does actually help around the house alot.  But B beat him to it this time.

Spidey, R2D2, Beauty, and Some Kind of Crazy Control Freak....All at a Home Near You

I'm guessing the people who have been invited to read this blog have stopped now.  I don't really have a lot to say still.
Let's see.  Z lives in a costume.  Usually they are too short and really freaking tight, (and I look at him and start sweating vicariously), but apparently, it's a RIOT to be Spiderman in our town, and not so much fun to be plain ol' Beeks.

B is still talking like a robot, but we've narrowed it down.  He talks in "robot voice" and gets all stiff-armed when he is asking a question he knows he won't like the answer to OR when he is self-conscious about other people listening.  He doesn't go all R2D2 with other kids, if no adults are around.  It's weird, but I guess we all did something weird when we were growing up, right?  To introduce myself to my first friend, in Kindergarten, I said, "Hi.  I'm a turtle.  Do you want to be my best friend?"  And I used to pretend I knew how to speak Chinese.  B speaks Robot.  I spoke "Chinese".  K says not to worry: "We both know he won't be talking robot as an adult, right?  It's bound to stop sometime".  And so, I'm reminding him when I can....and waiting.  I wish his batteries would run out or something.

S is pretty sure she didn't request M as a roommate, and she's ready to trade him in for someone else.  She loves him, but she's pretty obsessed about getting her beauty rest, and she DOES. NOT. WANT. M to be talking to her "ALL NIGHT" or climbing on her bed before she is ready to be awake.  The girl is generally an overly kind and patient kid, but if you wake her up before she's ready, she gets pretty darn feisty!  I heard her yelling this morning, "Get.  Out. Of. Here. Now.  I. Mean. It. NOW!"  And I wondered who the heck swapped that with S....
But she explained it when I went to find our real girl.  "M woke me up!"  I reminded her she used to share a room with both B and Z, (and Z used to be awake all night, talking...And screaming when he wasn't talking), so she really should be thankful.

M is two years old.  Three next month.  And the kid is a mess.  I actually brought him to the doctor the other week, because he was so freaking contrary.  All the time.  About everything.  Apparently, that's just who he is, because there is nothing wrong with him, physically.  He's stubborn, that boy.  He makes B seem tame at that age. The difference, though, is I don't have to try 200 different parenting techniques with this young one.  I know what worked and what didn't with "crazy stubborn", and we're going to bypass those things that didn't right away.  B got too many choices as a young crazy control freak, so that by the time he was 3 1/2 ish, he thought he could rule the world.  It took some time to pull him in. This boy, M? Well, it sucks to be the youngest sometimes, small boy.

Song

My girl sang in church the other day.  In front of people.

People.

You know...the kind that look at you and sit quietly and attentively while you sing.  


Well, not actually while you sing and definitely not while I sing, but while S sings.

She wants to be a singer.  Or at least, she wants to "sing for free in churches".

And she wants to get paid to be an artist.  She said, "I think I could get paid for both, cuz I'm good at them, but I think I will sing for free."

And so, she started her singing-for-free career a couple of weeks ago.

Brave girl, we are proud of you.  Especially because you are the one who has "I answered people when they talked to me" on your star chart, because you don't always like to open your mouth.

And yet, somehow, amazingly and against my glossophobic (how'd ya like THAT word!?) judgment, our girl sang.

Roosters

The kids were eating chicken nuggets today.  S said, "Mom, are chicken nuggets REAL chicken?"  I said, "Yep", and B quickly threw his nugget down, and said, in (nervous robot voice), "Mom!  Why do we call them chicken peenies (Foisy word for boy parts)!"

"We don't," I said, "We call them chicken nuggets." 

"But, MOM, why do we call 'em chicken PEENIES!"  

And the question and answer went on and on, with me trying to figure out where he was going and him not giving me any more information (as usual with this boy).  

I told him to stop asking the question, unless he could give me some reason he was asking.  

He sat there about five minutes, silent, and finally said, "Why did Papa tell M to get off his nuggets when they were wrestling the other day?!" 

And I died laughing, because the boy connected that, and thought he must be eating chicken penises!

No wonder the intensity in his quest for answers!  

Super

Bubs is a super hero junky. He recently whacked me on the head with his light saber, all the while holding a six-shooter in the other hand and donning a Superman cape on his back.

He's been stealing his big brothers' Batman underwear, and he refuses to wear them the "correct" way.

He wants "to see the picture".

So, saggy in front. Revealing in back. (Underwear maker guys: When will you think to put the cool pictures in front!?! Our kid has been experiencing the feel of a man-thong for weeks now!)

The superboy is never actually Superman or Spidey.  He is "Spidey's younger brother" or "Superman's kid" or Robin's cousin or something. Last night, I heard K say, "Spidey's younger brother isn't powerful. The only reason Spidey has powers is because he got bit by a spider. Spidey's brother can't do anything."

The boy didn't look impressed.

I'm guessing K is just helping the kid reach for the sky and be the BEST hero, not just the hero's brother. Or else he likes to smash any creative juices our kids could possibly have. Or....(I'm assuming this is most probable), the guy just likes to bug!  (Keith!?)  :)

Since M is a single two-year-old (versus three), he gets to wear his super hero costumes places our big kids would never have even attempted. Three two-year-olds make a scene. And three two-year-olds with costumes on make an even bigger scenes.  With costumes, we'd have had to nod and smile to "You must have your hands full!" an additional 300 times.

So, M got to wear his costume to a basketball game and to the store and the church potluck. The basketball game was a fine place for a costume. The bleachers gave him the necessary "air" to do the special hero "jumps" he can't do at home. And he happened to like the small audience he acquired.

But the potluck? The potluck and costumes don't do as well together.

It was really hard for "Spidey's little brother" to understand that he had to take his mask off to get the lasagna into his mouth. Again, the kid was not impressed.

Right now, our young hero is taking a nap with Batman in one hand and Mr Freeze in the other. AND his cute little face is all snuggled in his puppies blankie. Because, like I said, the superhero is only two-years-old.

Or six, if you ask him.

Pirate Costumes and Perseverance

We're about half way through 1st grade right now, and I feel cheated. Like maybe we all should have started school when we were 30. Because I am learning so much more this time around than I remember learning then. I didn't know camels had big feet so they wouldn't sink in the deep desert sand. And I didn't remember that there were actually rules for reading. It's fun to learn "when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking" now that I actually care.

Z often disappears while I'm trying to act out my teacher role, Ms. Mama (Bwaaahahhhhaaa!). I find him under the table or in the bathroom or playing in the living room. I keep telling him he'd be in trouble if he was in public school, but the truth is, he's not, and so....since the kid is actually listening while he's doing those other things, I let him wander (within reason, of course). He usually has the easiest time with new concepts and he knows the weekly memory verse after the 1st day. For now, I guess I'm fine with him being under the table. As long as he can count his coins or do the 100 chart from there.

Not only is Z usually under the table or laying on the floor for school, but he is also donning some crazy costume. We've had Spider man, Iron man, a pirate, a knight, and a cowboy grace our presence in the last month or so. We came home from church today, and the kid stripped as he walked in the door. Screw the church clothes. He has stripey pirate pants and a knight cape to throw on! Right now, he's doing quiet time in a cowboy hat with guns strapped to his hip.

I'm thinkin' his costumes might be what he considers attractive for the ladies. He might be practicing up on the womanizing skills....
In bed the other night, he told B, "When mama and papa die, we can live together. We'll have two wives and a bunch of babies! Won't that be cool!?" I guess his focus on the wives and babies is helping him not be too shaken up about K and I being gone some day. (E'hem. I feel so loved!)
----------------------------
If I reread my blog right now, I'd probably be reminded of lots of difficult times with B being REALLY stubborn. (Sorry, B, it's true....I don't know WHERE you get it...) We constantly reminded ourselves, during that time, that stubbornness can be called perseverance, and perseverance is good. Right!?

There was a time there when the stubbornness in him couldn't handle choices. We'd give him the choice of Spidey or Light Year pajamas and he'd be pissed that he couldn't choose his bedtime. We'd give him the choice of Cheerios or Rice Krispies, and he'd be traumatized by our not offering Chex. We'd let him pick out his clothes all week, with the understanding that I laid out his clothes on Sunday.

He'd freak.

Every Sunday morning.

So we cut him off from choices, cold turkey, and it was like we slipped the kid a Prozac. He was calm and cool. And way happier.

Now that he's almost SEVEN (SEVEN!), we've been slipping in more and more choices, and he seems to handle them better now. I noticed today that he had on holey jeans for church, and I realized I didn't lay out clothes for him last night. I asked him to please pick out jeans without holes, and ya know how you get all tense; like you're gearing up for a fight? That's what I felt like, like I was imagining my response to his craziness.

And then...

There was no fight at all. He did it, no questions asked. No complaints.

Must be because he'll be SEVEN in a few days! SEVEN!

One of the reasons I'd want our kids in "real school" (as our kids call it) is not so much that I'd like them to interact with other bratty kids, but because they need to interact more with adults. Both S and B have "I answered when people talked to me" on their star chart, and while they do try, it is really hard for them. Even when B talks to ME in front of other people, he starts doing this crazy robot voice and gets all stiff and red. It's like he'd rather be a machine than to face the evil alien adults observing his every move.

I asked him, once, if he was embarrassed when people talk to him. He wondered how I knew. I told him he was talking all mono-tone and his face was bright red.

Now, any time one of our kids' face is red, B still insists (a little stubbornness there yet, I know) that it's because that particular kid is embarrassed.

B ate Z's box of Christmas candy (on accident), and Z was in a fury (as much of a fury as Z gets into...like he might have been breathing a little harder and apparently, his face was red). B assessed the situation, and said, "Z, why are you embarrassed that I ate your candy? That is not embarrassing."

M Facebook Updates

Hey! Who has been praying with M?! I always say, "Jesus, thank you for..." and then let him say some stuff he is thankful for. Last night, I said, "Jesus, thank you for..." and he responded, "BOOBIES!" Papa!??

I found M, on my bed, holding a tampon, an empty Hersey's wrapper, and a tube of toothpaste. Ah, the necessities of life....

M put on Z's muscular Spidey suit, looked down, and exclaimed, "I have man boobs, mom!"

M said he wanted more cereal in his bowl. I told him he had TOO much. He said, "I want THREE much, mom!"


In the last week, M peed in his bed two times. He doesn't want to wear diapers anymore, because he's a big boy, but I don't want to wash his sheets again. I was putting on his cloth diaper cover over his undies, and he said, "Is that a DIAPER?!" I said, "No, it's an undie cover." And he said, "No, mom. It isn't. It hasta be a band aid." So, the boy is wearing a "Band aid" to bed, I guess.

M: "Mom, what's that on your neck?!"
Me: "It's a scarf, Bubs."
M: "Oh. Are you a scarecrow??!!"

A little confused about how to get these on.

Some Facebook Updates about Z

How come Zeke unscrewed the salt cover just enough so I didn't notice but enough so that it poured a giant pile into the dozen eggs I had mixed to make omelets?

How come Zeke had to quick touch the raw chicken on the counter? And why, when I said, "Zeke, don't touch that. That can make you sick!", did he LICK his finger off?

How come Beke's just cut up a caterpillar with my scissors?
"Because it could be poisonous, mom. I didn't want poison around here."
That sucks, then, that you used my KITCHEN scissors to do it, doesn't it, Beeks!?

Beeks puked, then wanted pizza. Guess who thought that sounded like a fine idea? E'hem. Not me.

The kids were playing 20
questions. It was Z's turn to think of an object, so he hinted (as he always does), "Ask me if it says,
'Woof!"
B said, "Does it say, 'Woof'?"
"No," said Zeke, "September
already asked that!"
The answer? An electric horse that zaps electric currents when bugs come by it.
No one wants to play with him anymore.