Bananas, Grapes, French Fries and NYET SHKOLA!

School started last week and my littles merrily skipped off.

On Monday, that is.

Daniel came home, thrilled to see me. "Mama! I missed you! I miss Grace! I miss Claire! I miss Wyatt! I miss Papa! I miss Grandma! I miss Jenny!" 

It is rough for a kid who just found his place to willingly leave it everyday.

Tuesday rolled around and with it rolled the tide of trouble that comes when little Amerikranian boys didn't realize that they would ever have to go back.

He is not bad or mean. He is disruptive.

Make the children laugh.

Teach them Russian.

Touch everything.

Disruptive.

And although I had told the principal that he would act like a two year old, I think it came as a surprise to her that I was spot-on.

And, of course, I worry. Because that is what mothers do.

I sought advice. One friend told me to pull him out for a few months or at least wean him into the day. Another recommended homeschooling. And as much soul searching as I have done, hoping to find one shred of a homeschooling mother inside of me, it is not there.

On Wednesday I went to school and sat with him for three hours. I had to hold him twice, but other than that he really did very well. I sat with him and explained what was being taught to him.

He really is so much smarter than anyone has ever given him credit for. The children were supposed to write their names on white boards. I have shown Daniel his name over and over but he has never expressed any desire to write it, so I wrote "Dan" because, let's face it, "Daniel" is harder. I figured he could trace what I had written. Instead he looked at the name plate that the teacher had written for him and put on his desk and...well, I will let you see what he did...

Not shabby.

Thursday Daniel had his first pediatrician appointment. He is healthy. Just small. He has lost weight since being off some of his medications and that has at least given him a healthy BMI.

He went back to school after the doctor appointment and did well.

By Friday, he was a little more used to the routine, but still having some issues. Not sure what, but when his teacher brought him to the car and said, "I will see you tomorrow!" and I said, "Tomorrow is Saturday." She said, "Hallelujah!"  ...so I am guessing that she was as ready for the week to be done as he was. 

Thankfully, the other three had a much smoother week.

Grace is in fourth! (my baby!!!), Claire is in first and Wyatt is in kindergarten.

Grace is miffed by the personality survey that I sent back to the school. Apparently me saying that praise is a good motivator means I don't really know her. I don't know what she wanted me to put...Maybe I should have said "fifty dollar bills."

Claire has a loose tooth. And she has been saving it for weeks. Her big plan was to lose it at school and get one of those nifty tooth necklaces to bring it home in. They are currently out of stock in her class room and so her tooth still dangles. By a thread. It flips when she talks. I am hoping they get those tooth necklaces back soon. If they have been caboshed due to budget cuts, I say that we all ok a referendum to pitch in a little money to give kiddos a cheap thrill.

Wyatt is in kindergarten. And I haven't had much of an opportunity to properly mourn it. I am happy to say that he is still a mama's boy, even though I ditched him for much of the summer. Sunday night before school started he told me he was scared to go to kindergarten. I asked why and, although I am not fully clear, I think it has something to do with girls.

Another struggle that this past week brought was food issues. We have constantly had some small struggles but with everything else, this last week was worse.

What Daniel will eat is a moving target. One day all he will want is eggs. The next the mere mention of an egg has him flipping out.

There are three things that Daniel will eat, non-stop, as far as I have observed: Bananas, grapes (green), and french fries. At least the first two are healthy and I can substitute sweet potatoes on the last one. It was my vision to do his future bride a favor and make sure that he would not be a picky eater. It is still my hope, but it is somewhat fading.

This morning while doing some reading, God showed me that His grace is like wind. It will come. And it will change things.

So, I will hold on to that truth, Readers, as I am off to the grocery to raid the produce section.

Watch Out!

We had a really good day downtown. Hear Care Connections, a great NFP that helps people get hearing aids, held their second annual Lend Me Your Ears walk-a-thon. 

It seemed really well attended and it was a perfect day to be out. 

In other news, Starry, the mascot from our Christian radio station, may or may not now have a rational or irrational fear of little boys with Russian accents. Thank goodness it is a padded costume. I am sure that it lessened the gut punch that was distributed after a well-meaning hug. 

What can you do? 

Laugh. 

Driving in the car on the way home, Gracie decided to fill us in on what she wants for her birthday. Items include a hamster and a pocket knife. 

Garth told her that if she can remember to feed the dog that it will be something he considers. 

I.E. I am pretty sure we are never getting a hamster. 

He told her that she could have one when she moves to grandma's house. 

Another argument ensued in heavily accented English about how Daniel wants to be the one to move to grandma's house. 

Loving my life!

Best. Day. Yet.

I decided that this post is going to be dedicated to telling how to get on with life. Or at least advice that I am trying to follow.

And, of course, I am the expert, having finally had one Really Good Day.

Hurrah!

Without further ado, I will commence with the dispensing of wisdom.

• Ask for help. Everyone says they want to help you. Give them a chance to bless you, it will bless them and allow them to forever be a part of your story.
• Take showers. Even if it is two minutes while someone is banging on the door.
• Wear eyeliner. Well applied eyeliner will accentuate the dark circles under your eyes and make you look like a rock star.
• Wear crazy earrings. They will detract from the aforementioned eyes. And you will know that your ears look good, even if you are wearing your pajamas.
• Kiss your kids. Tickle them. Enjoy them. Even if it is only for two minutes while someone is banging on the door.

Happy Birthday To You, You Live in a Zoo

Today was my birthday. 32.

I have to say that throughout the day the Jim Gaffigan schtick about "It's my birthday, why do I have to wear pants?" kept running through my head. I think that most of us have this expectation that on our birthday the world acknowledges our greatness and we shouldn't have to lift a finger. And although I wouldn't come out and put it that way, it sure would have been nice. Haha.

My husband is gone, so no singing, no presents from the kids, little/no consideration from the kids. And certainly NONE from the Blue-Eyed One. He really has no idea what a birthday is and he sure didn't learn today.

In the spirit of making me feel special, Claire followed me around all day singing (in various voices, ranging from her own to the Chipmunks) Happy Birthday. But not the traditional one. Oh no. The one befitting my circumstance; "Happy Birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey and you smell like one, too." How apropos.

I took Daniel to school to get started with the registration. I had been kind of conflicted about what to do, but this morning I woke up with a very clear answer, so off I went. He is very excited and I am hoping that it works out well. He will be in an ELL (English Language Learner) program at a different school from the Brown-Eyed Ones.

It is funny, because really, I can say, that Daniel did very well today. Day three without a nap and fairly good behavior, but again, it was my birthday and so his behavior wasn't quite up to my Birthday Queen standards. I am sure that tomorrow will be better. (My perspective, that is.)

Tomorrow also marks the day that we will cut back another dose of his tranquilizer. Just to clarify: he is not on them because of any intrinsic issue, it was crowd control back at the orphanage. In my opinion he is much better off of them. Happier. He gets grumpy when he is tired and being on tranquilizers three times a day is not energy inducing.

I think that God's grace for this moment is writing this blog. When I am in the thick of things, I am always thinking about how I might describe it in the most positive terms and that helps me have a more positive perspective.

Because sometimes things really stink.

It stinks that I have a beautiful little boy that struggles as a result of a lifetime of selfishness on the part of the adults who were supposed to care for him.

It stinks that my house has not been peaceful since he stepped foot in it.

It stinks that I have spent a sum total of two days with my husband during the last 30.

It stinks!

But in the midst of all the stink, God is faithful and little moments of the beauty to come manifest. 

Especially at bedtime.

When I first got Daniel, bedtime was a traumatic nightmare. Screaming. Pushing his bed against the wall so I could have him between my body and the wall so he would feel secure. Hours of him fighting. Hours of him rocking until he would pass out from exhaustion.

Now bedtime is an oasis. I give him a bath and towel him off. He smells like coconut instead of orphanage funk. He styles his hair in the mirror. He air boxes like a pro when I wrap the towel around his waist. We go to his room. We look at his picture book from the orphanage and he tells me again that we need to find a home for Sasha Pastov. We pray. Then we snuggle. Peace. His little hand, cool from the shower, touches my face, my hair, my arm. He is learning that I am the mama that won't clock out after six hours. That I will be there. At night. In the morning.

And he rocks.

And then he stops and snuggles into me.

And looks at me.

Until he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

(Sasha Pastov is the little boy on the left)

Cha-cha

Becoming

I would imagine what it would be like when we brought Daniel home. I figured if I imagined that it would be horrible that I would be pleasantly surprised (doesn't that sound awful?!)

It hasn't been horrible.

It has been hard.

Very hard.

And good.

Very good.

The physical demands on my body are almost overwhelming. I realized yesterday that I hadn't taken a shower since Monday. Delicious.

I lay down to sleep and my joints and muscles scream after a day of dealing with Daniel. Picking him up. Holding him while he goes through detox from the psychotropic drugs that they were feeding him (and all the other children in his orphanage) three times a day. We are weaning off of them gently. It is crazy that he begs for them as I cut doses.

Being his mother is a whole different ball of wax than being Grace, Claire and Wyatt's mommy. There is an element that is pride related. I have always had the children that people compliment. Now I have the little boy that splashes a girl at the zoo and earns glares from mothers. I can say I am hereby ashamed of the times that I have made judgements about other peoples children or parenting skills. Some people are genuinely horrible parents, no doubt, but some are just in over their heads. And right now that is me.

And then I lay down with him and he traces the lines of my face with his little fingers and tucks me in just right and then rocks himself to sleep. Which the first time I saw broke my heart, but it really is soothing. I was with him last night until he fell asleep and he almost had be asleep too with his rhythmic rocking. And then he stopped. And I was like, "What is the deal?!" and he was asleep.

He is kind with the other kids. I mean, typical sibling things, he isn't a saint, but neither are the other three.

Nothing matters to him. There is nothing that can be taken away that will make him repentant if he is being naughty. The biggest punishment is making him sit in my lap when he wants to make trouble.

He asks to go back to the orphanage. This does not make me feel bad at all. It is perfectly understandable; it was his home. It was predictable.

He flipped out after talking with one of his old friends who was adopted last year. I think it scared him that she couldn't speak Russian anymore.

He now uses some English words, "Let's go!" "Doctor!" "Mommy!" Little by little.


He knows that he is changing. And that is exciting and scary for him.

He is becoming Daniel Sponseller.

Home boy

Had another really good day. 

A couple of mini meltdowns that if I hadn't experienced much worse with this child might have phased me.

He is scared. 

Of cars. Of dogs. Of warm water. Of rubber snakes. Of black beans.

But gradually I can see him gaining confidence. 

Picking the beans out. Riding in the convertible. Petting the dogs. Trying to scare me with the snake. Taking a shower without screaming like we are giving him an acid bath. 

And these may seem like small things but these small things are God working. Like He has been all along. 

Taxi Cab Blessings

Yesterday morning as we were on our way for our third and final sputum collect at 7 am. (Listen to my plural possessives...don't we sound like a nurse today?!) we called a taxi like we usually do and waited. And waited.

And waited. 

All the while the clock was ticking and I knew that if we don't get there in time that we would have to do it all over again next week. 

Finally the cab arrived. 

Now let me set the stage by saying that children who are in orphanages rarely, if ever, ride in vehicles. This can cause for some interesting issues when they are introduced to car riding. For many kids it is car sickness. Thankfully that is not our issue. 

For Daniel it is terror. Cling to the armrest, wrap feet around mama as many times as they will go terror. One of the ways that he combats these feelings of fear is by telling the drivers, "Hey, Uncle, slow down! What are you trying to do?"

Most of the drivers chuckle and proceed to ignore driving advice from an eight year old who looks like a six year old, acts like a two year old and can swear like a sailor. 

The driver that we got yesterday was different. 

Immediately he began a conversation with Daniel about how lucky he is to be going to America (which Daniel says he misses, by the way) and how Daniel needs to obey his new mommy and daddy and not run away and be honest and not steal and so on and so forth. 

The whole way to the medical center. 

I asked if he would wait for us because I thought he was really nice along with the fact it is nice to be able to leave when you want and not wait around for an elusive taxi.

All the way home was the same consistent chatter. "Dan! Love God! Obey your mama and daddy!" Etc.

When we arrived back at the church he let Daniel climb into the front seat and "drive" and geek with the controls. 

I gave him a nice tip and told him thank you and walked into the church feeling that it was really nice to meet someone who was so understanding. 

About 15 minutes later there was a knock on the door. It was the cabbie. He wanted to talk to "Dan" so Daniel went out with one of the ladies here and they had a chat. About five minutes passed and Daniel ran in with a big bunch of mums for me and said, "Mommy, I love you!" (in English) and ran back outside. I went out with him and saw that the driver had given him a pillow pet to use in the car to put on his mommy's lap so that he would not be scared.

When the lady from church came back in she said that he told her that Daniel reminded him of himself. And that he had also been adopted. And that his family saved his life and gave him many opportunities. 

And I realized, once again, that all along God has been bringing people into Daniel's life who speak truth to him and point him towards his Father. 

And that is not the end of the story. Last night, very late, a text came through to the girl who had called the cab in the first place saying that the cabbie is and will be praying for us and that he is thankful for my mothering heart. 

Good and bad are sprinkled though every day. But God is so gracious. Giving more than I could ask or imagine. A community of people who have gathered around all over the world, to bring this precious child of God to a family. A church that has welcomed us and stepped in when I have nothing left to give. A brother in law who took weeks in a row off so that he could minister to me and to this boy. A passport that was issued within two days as opposed to two weeks. A visa that took 20 minutes to get. Tickets home on Monday. A supernatural love that kicks in when the normal kind is fed up. A little boy who claps at the end of hymns during worship. Who says that he loves God.

An angel driving a taxi.