Ledger Keeping

For some reason, the original link to this post is not working for many people, so I am reposting it below:

Sunday I rode to church in the very back seat with the second oldest and the youngest the two hardest.  One is very affectionate and prone to multiple fits of sulks, one is not at all affectionate, and prone to lashing out in anger at his brothers, but you can tell he longs for affection anyway.  We played rock paper scissors, thumb wars, sang itsy bitsy spider and Jesus Loves Me and Ringa Linga (sue me), and a couple tickling games.
the tickling game are a trick, a back door to some physical touch and affection.  I hold the child’s hand, open, palm up in my hand, and I forget to let go.  With the index finger of my other hand I trace a light circle in that small palm while chanting one of two rhymes:
All around the garden

Ran the little mouse.

One step, two steps,

Into his house!

 

Or: All around the haystack

Ran a little bear.

One step, two steps,

tickle under there!

When I reach the one step line, my fingers walk up the child’s arm and tickle or poke under the arm or chin.  I don’t torture them and tickle relentlessly it’s just  light tickle, and they generally beg for more, and these boys are no exception.  Furthermore, we did it so often that when we were finished and laid back in the seat and watched the cars go by, I forgot (ahem) to release his hand, and he gripped mine so I couldn’t even if I had wanted to.

Sometimes the haystack is a small tummy.

Our ride was a success.  Church service itself  was a bust, if what we were interested in was spiritual growth or biblical information making it into the Unicornian boys.  they talked, whispered, wriggled, elbowed each other and my son (who elbowed back), attempted to get me to play thumb wars with them, rattled papers, and refused to read the Bible pages in their native tongue which I had printed for them.  But our adorable but prickly number 2 boy allowed me to continue to stroke his hair, rub his back, put an arm around him, and otherwise let me in past his well secured gates for a while.   So, IOW, also a success.

After lunch I attempted a nap while they played outside with the HG and FYG and the Striderling and his sisters.  I didn’t get much of a nap because they think it is the funniest thing in the world to wake me up by shouting at me and watch me leap and shriek.

We went to a fountain on campus and played and splashed, and boy 1 had to change his clothes in the bushes behind me while I stood guard in front of him with a towel because he had been stubborn and not brought shorts to change into, so somebody else bought him a pair at goodwill.

Boy 4 got sunburned because he didn’t want to leave his shirt on when I told him he needed to and host papa decided to let him remove it, and now they are both sorry and one of them is quite uncomfortable.

Boys 1 and 4 took my heart and made it theirs all over again when they were playing with the grandbabies and being tender and adorable, and boy 4 dashed into the hear of the fountain to rescue one of the children who ventured too far and was afraid to return.

We came home and had food and bike riding and more food and looked at pictures, and watched a movie and had more food and caught fireflies, and looked at a Galileo’s thermometer, and popped popcorn and ate a huge bowl, and everybody was in bed and asleep within 15 minute of being told to go, although child 4 had one of his ‘turns,’ but child 2 permitted himself to be piggybacked upstairs to bed.

All in all, I would say more on the plus side of the ledger than minus, today anyway.

P.S.  Child 2:  stoic, hard to reach because he will not make himself vulnerable.  He is also the child who confidently informed me that when he comes back at Christmas, he will be big enough to ride in the front seat.  You heard my heart drop like a lead anchor when he said that.  No, they do not know we are moving to the Philippines in November. We had not had time to tell them and we don’t know how.   I did not know they would already be making plans to come again and again by three days in.  My heart hurts so badly over this.  And theirs, when they find out?  Oh, Lord.  I fear for that child’ locked up, walled in heart, because he very much has one, and it’s vulnerable.

  1. Hope this posts. Yesterday, I kept getting an error message “Error establishing a database connection.”

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Keeping a ledger

Sunday I rode to church in the very back seat with the second oldest and the youngest the two hardest.  One is very affectionate and prone to multiple fits of sulks, one is not at all affectionate, and prone to lashing out in anger at his brothers, but you can tell he longs for affection anyway.  We played rock paper scissors, thumb wars, sang itsy bitsy spider and Jesus Loves Me and Ringa Linga (sue me), and a couple tickling games.
the tickling game are a trick, a back door to some physical touch and affection.  I hold the child’s hand, open, palm up in my hand, and I forget to let go.  With the index finger of my other hand I trace a light circle in that small palm while chanting one of two rhymes:
All around the garden

Ran the little mouse.

One step, two steps,

Into his house!

Or: All around the haystack

Ran a little bear.

One step, two steps,

tickle under there!

When I reach the one step line, my fingers walk up the child’s arm and tickle or poke under the arm or chin.  I don’t torture them and tickle relentlessly it’s just  light tickle, and they generally beg for more, and these boys are no exception.  Furthermore, we did it so often that when we were finished and laid back in the seat and watched the cars go by, I forgot (ahem) to release his hand, and he gripped mine so I couldn’t even if I had wanted to.

Sometimes the haystack is a small tummy.

Our ride was a success.  Church service itself  was a bust, if what we were interested in was spiritual growth or biblical information making it into the Unicornian boys.  they talked, whispered, wriggled, elbowed each other and my son (who elbowed back), attempted to get me to play thumb wars with them, rattled papers, and refused to read the Bible pages in their native tongue which I had printed for them.  But our adorable but prickly number 2 boy allowed me to continue to stroke his hair, rub his back, put an arm around him, and otherwise let me in past his well secured gates for a while.   So, IOW, also a success.

After lunch I attempted a nap while they played outside with the HG and FYG and the Striderling and his sisters.  I didn’t get much of a nap because they think it is the funniest thing in the world to wake me up by shouting at me and watch me leap and shriek.

We went to a fountain on campus and played and splashed, and boy 1 had to change his clothes in the bushes behind me while I stood guard in front of him with a towel because he had been stubborn and not brought shorts to change into, so somebody else bought him a pair at goodwill.

Boy 4 got sunburned because he didn’t want to leave his shirt on when I told him he needed to and host papa decided to let him remove it, and now they are both sorry and one of them is quite uncomfortable.

Boys 1 and 4 took my heart and made it theirs all over again when they were playing with the grandbabies and being tender and adorable, and boy 4 dashed into the hear of the fountain to rescue one of the children who ventured too far and was afraid to return.

We came home and had food and bike riding and more food and looked at pictures, and watched a movie and had more food and caught fireflies, and looked at a Galileo’s thermometer, and popped popcorn and ate a huge bowl, and everybody was in bed and asleep within 15 minute of being told to go, although child 4 had one of his ‘turns,’ but child 2 permitted himself to be piggybacked upstairs to bed.

All in all, I would say more on the plus side of the ledger than minus.

P.S.  Child 2, stoic, hard to reach because he will not make himself vulnerable.  He is also the child who confidently informed me that when he comes back at Christmas, he will be big enough to ride in the front seat.  You heard my heart drop like a lead anchor when he said that.  No, they do not know we are moving to the Philippines in November. We had not had time to tell them and we don’t know how.   I did not know they would already be making plans to come again and again by three days in.  My heart hurts so badly over this.  And theirs, when they find out?  Oh, Lord.  I fear for that child’ locked up, walled in heart, because he very much has one, and it’s vulnerable.

 

 

 

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Why we do what we do

“Mama, I just saw the world light up!”- an excited little boy texting me via i-translate to convey his thrill over a huge lightening flash he saw during a thunderstorm we were watching together.

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It hurts too much? You did not just say that.

While at the splash park a few days ago, two ladies watching  the boys and I interact asked me some questions about them- polite, reasonable questions.  I don’t mind.  It is a chance to advocate for orphans and for orphan hosting, causes my readers had no idea I cared much about, right?

Who are they, and what language are they speaking? How did they come to be here in our tiny midwestern hamlet?  Do you speak their language?  How do you communicate (it’s mostly really not that hard).

As I explained about orphan hosting, they asked that one question, and said that one thing that drives me nuts.  I know, I really do, that not everybody is built to handle this.  I know that often you are not in the right season for one reason or another.  I have been there.  I do get it.  But this?  I don’t understand:

“Do you have to send them back?  Oh, well I could never do that, it would hurt too much.”

“Yes,” I said.  “You do, even if you are planning to adopt, you have to return them and pursue adoption while separated, and we are not in a place to adopt.”

So then I heard again how they could never do that because of how much it would just kill them to give the kids back.  And to my horror, I began to cry.  “Yes,” I said, as I choked back the tears.  “It hurts. I’m not going to lie, it hurts like you would not believe.  Like nothing else.  But I have a choice, and they don’t.  And they already hurt all the time.  We decided it was worth the pain we’ll experience to do this for the kids, because otherwise, they may never live in a home instead of an institution for the rest of their lives.  So it hurts like no other pain, but we think it’s important.”

I believe that with all my heart, but the boys had not been here 2 days before I was crying over the idea of having to say good-bye again in 8 weeks.

As we were talking the boys had been playing.  I am not sure if they noticed my agitation and tears, but they suddenly decided it was time to leave, so they gathered our things and headed to the car.  I stood up to go, wiping away my tears and she again assured me, as I walked away, that she just wouldn’t want to send them back, so she couldn’t do it.

Good Lord.  I don’t want to send them back, either.  I know there are good reasons not to orphan host.  I don’t consider that to be one of them.

If not me, than who?

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Culture of Discontent

Ads work by:
convincing us we have a problem which must be solved, usually by:
making us feel somehow insecure or discontented
then supplying the means to solve the problem, usually by convincing us they are the experts. Here’s a lovely example:

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