So today I got to hang out with a very sweet little cutie pie. Her name is Liga (pronounced Lee-GUH) and she is 4 years old. She is from Latvia here on an orphan hosting program (see sidebar for link). Liga's host parents and I are in the same small group at church, and they are totally cool with me getting some of Liga's awesome hugs and kisses. Liga is not 'just' an orphan, she is a special needs orphan, making her situation even worse.
I'm not sure what all is 'wrong' with her....she can walk and talk and is working on potty training. She sang to herself and loved the My Little Pony collection my girls brought out and loved to build with the blocks. Seemed pretty typical. She knew enough to be sneaky and she played many of the same little 'games' with me that my own girls have played with me. Things like crawling in my lap and pretending to be a baby, complete with fake crying, or pretending the pony was a hat or scratching her finger and then letting 'momma' kiss it better. Yup, that works not matter what language you speak!
Know what else is funny no matter where you're from? Passing gas. Yes. And today I learned the Russian word for it: pook-ee-ED (or something along those lines). She is clever enough at some point to remember I had made a sort of big deal about her toots and the announcements of them, come up behind me and make a fake 'toot' with her lips and then crack up laughing saying, "Pook-ee-ed!"
I don't know what her story is, or how long she has been at her orphanage. I watched her wolf down her yogurt and felt a little pang in my heart. Okay, a big pang. Not only for Liga and her plight, but also for her mother who is missing out on these things. Where is she? Does she have any idea what she's missing?
I can't imagine missing all the things Liga's birth mother isn't able to be a part of. And as for Liga, I will start praying in earnest that God will send her a mom and dad to scoop her up, laugh at her toots, and kiss her tiny cheeks.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
My Ridiculous Day
The last couple of days have been the kind of days I think I shouldn't be allowed to DO anything. Everything I do or touch turns into a project I was not anticipating.
School? It's not just school. It's a treasure hunt for pencils that walk away and hide. Oh, and think the ruler will be where it's supposed to be? Nope. Even though I try to keep all the things I need for school in my school area, little artists think otherwise. And apparently the ruler makes a great ramp for the toy cars. Figures.
Breakfast? It's not just breakfast. It's a chance to pick up soggy Cheerios off the floor with a crying, milky three year old.
Errands? Errands with kids are interesting, to say the least. Today's task seemed easy since all I had to do was drive thru the bank. That's it. Just drive through. Of course, it's 19 degrees when we try and go, which means socks, shoes and coats are a must. Times 3. Which means they all have to be located x3 and put on, laced up and zipped. Times three. And my garage door hates the cold as much as I do because it won't come down. Up, yes, but not down. And I can't leave if the stupid door is up. So I struggle with it, finally get it down and get back in the van. I don't think I thawed out til we were on our way back home.
At some point vacuuming seemed like a great idea. Then I vacuumed up a cute little Hello Kitty sock. I told myself I didn't care. It was an old sock and was almost too small for my youngest anyway. I soon realized I had to care, bc the sock had clogged the tube and there was no suction. So I take apart the tube as best I can, but it's stuck smack in the middle and there is nothing in my house long enough and thin enough to poke it loose. Twenty minutes later, I get it out and finish vacuuming.
"Hey kids, it's COLD! Let's have a fire!" Oh, wait, there's no firewood. No big deal, we'll gather all the limbs that have fallen in all this INSANE wind and burn those. Oh, wait, they're too big. No big deal, I'll break them. Oh, they won't break. No big deal, I'll saw them. Oh, I sawed them into pieces that are too big for the fire place? No problem, I can saw them again. On the hearth. Making sawdust. On the floor I just vacuumed.
There's a lesson in here for me. Maybe I just need to learn when to quit. Or maybe I should just learn when not to even start.....But hey! Tomorrow is another day. One with NO fires, errands or vacuuming. I cannot guarantee no Cheerios, though.
School? It's not just school. It's a treasure hunt for pencils that walk away and hide. Oh, and think the ruler will be where it's supposed to be? Nope. Even though I try to keep all the things I need for school in my school area, little artists think otherwise. And apparently the ruler makes a great ramp for the toy cars. Figures.
Breakfast? It's not just breakfast. It's a chance to pick up soggy Cheerios off the floor with a crying, milky three year old.
Errands? Errands with kids are interesting, to say the least. Today's task seemed easy since all I had to do was drive thru the bank. That's it. Just drive through. Of course, it's 19 degrees when we try and go, which means socks, shoes and coats are a must. Times 3. Which means they all have to be located x3 and put on, laced up and zipped. Times three. And my garage door hates the cold as much as I do because it won't come down. Up, yes, but not down. And I can't leave if the stupid door is up. So I struggle with it, finally get it down and get back in the van. I don't think I thawed out til we were on our way back home.
At some point vacuuming seemed like a great idea. Then I vacuumed up a cute little Hello Kitty sock. I told myself I didn't care. It was an old sock and was almost too small for my youngest anyway. I soon realized I had to care, bc the sock had clogged the tube and there was no suction. So I take apart the tube as best I can, but it's stuck smack in the middle and there is nothing in my house long enough and thin enough to poke it loose. Twenty minutes later, I get it out and finish vacuuming.
"Hey kids, it's COLD! Let's have a fire!" Oh, wait, there's no firewood. No big deal, we'll gather all the limbs that have fallen in all this INSANE wind and burn those. Oh, wait, they're too big. No big deal, I'll break them. Oh, they won't break. No big deal, I'll saw them. Oh, I sawed them into pieces that are too big for the fire place? No problem, I can saw them again. On the hearth. Making sawdust. On the floor I just vacuumed.
There's a lesson in here for me. Maybe I just need to learn when to quit. Or maybe I should just learn when not to even start.....But hey! Tomorrow is another day. One with NO fires, errands or vacuuming. I cannot guarantee no Cheerios, though.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Unless You're in my Shoes
So, I have a child that is a challenge. Not that she isn't wonderful and funny, expressive, smart and insightful and 100 other 'positive' things, but she IS, honestly, very challenging. And I'm going to say it, because no one really wants to admit they have one of those. Or if they do, it's in hushed tones, down played and with piles of guilt.
So enough. She's a challenge. But she's my challenge and if you mess with her, I will bury your body where it will never be found.
She was my easiest pregnancy. No morning sickness, no cravings, and I carried her like a basketball under my shirt until towards the end where I got fat all over. But I digress.....
Then she got here. I tried to nurse her and I thought she was going to suck out my shoulder blade. It never got 'better' and I gave it up at 8 weeks. She was colicky. She wanted to be held all the time. She screamed as soon as she got in the car and cried til she got out. Every trip. For almost 2 yrs. She hated stores. She cried from entering til exiting. Every time. For over 2 yrs. When I took away her bottle she went on a milk strike that went on for almost a year.
Every thing she did made me feel like a failure as a mom. And it didn't help when I tried to talk about what was going on, no one thought it was really that bad. But it was. And everyone said it would pass. And it didn't. It just morphed. From one 'thing' to the next 'thing'. Then her personality got blamed on her red hair or being the second child. I figured that was it bc I had nothing else to go by.
As time went on, there were other things that would stand out to me at random...her physical abilities, her need to smell everything, her obsession with swinging and jumping. She HATED preschool. HATED. I finally let her 'quit' and her upset stomach stopped and she quit grinding her teeth.
Then my sister sent me this link HERE and it was like this mommy-blogger had been raising MY child the last 4 years. It was a little unnerving. I like how she laid it all out in her blog, which is also part of an overview of a book that I ordered Right That Minute, which is why I linked you to her blog. No need for me to reinvent the wheel.
I was excited about this book helping me become the parent my daughter needed, but I was still skeptical. I wasn't sure it would work and what if my child was somehow manipulating me? Was I just giving in to her? Was I catering to a 'faulty' personality? Or what if she acted the way she did because I was a bad mother to her?
This book has helped me see that her brain is literally wired differently. And there are things and strategies that Gabe and I can use (very easy ones, no less!) to make things easier for us and work WITH her instead of setting us all up to fail. The closest example I can thing of is this: If your child is dyslexic, is insisting/yelling/punishing them going to make them NOT reverse their letters and numbers? Can you 'make' them NOT be dyslexic? If you just stick to your guns and refuse to recognize the difference your LD child has, will that somehow make them be able to read? NO. It won't and it can't.
It's the same with a 'spirited' child. And you can believe what you want, and you can think what you want, but you CAN'T tell me that this isn't real. Or that I'm wrong. Or that my child is anything less than awesome. If you don't have a spirited child, you haven't walked in my shoes.
I don't want anyone to think that this blog is a rant or a letter in my defense. I have written this blog so that other frustrated parents can maybe see their own child in mine, or ease their own 'mommy guilt' and find the same resource I have. I am only half way thru the book, and I feel like I have a different outlook. I have better skills and me and my child (and thereby the REST of my family) are flowing better.
I am working on giving my daughter coping skills and self confidence while she learns that I understand her and love her to pieces. And isn't that what being a parent is all about?
Here is a link to the book.
So enough. She's a challenge. But she's my challenge and if you mess with her, I will bury your body where it will never be found.
She was my easiest pregnancy. No morning sickness, no cravings, and I carried her like a basketball under my shirt until towards the end where I got fat all over. But I digress.....
Then she got here. I tried to nurse her and I thought she was going to suck out my shoulder blade. It never got 'better' and I gave it up at 8 weeks. She was colicky. She wanted to be held all the time. She screamed as soon as she got in the car and cried til she got out. Every trip. For almost 2 yrs. She hated stores. She cried from entering til exiting. Every time. For over 2 yrs. When I took away her bottle she went on a milk strike that went on for almost a year.
Every thing she did made me feel like a failure as a mom. And it didn't help when I tried to talk about what was going on, no one thought it was really that bad. But it was. And everyone said it would pass. And it didn't. It just morphed. From one 'thing' to the next 'thing'. Then her personality got blamed on her red hair or being the second child. I figured that was it bc I had nothing else to go by.
As time went on, there were other things that would stand out to me at random...her physical abilities, her need to smell everything, her obsession with swinging and jumping. She HATED preschool. HATED. I finally let her 'quit' and her upset stomach stopped and she quit grinding her teeth.
Then my sister sent me this link HERE and it was like this mommy-blogger had been raising MY child the last 4 years. It was a little unnerving. I like how she laid it all out in her blog, which is also part of an overview of a book that I ordered Right That Minute, which is why I linked you to her blog. No need for me to reinvent the wheel.
I was excited about this book helping me become the parent my daughter needed, but I was still skeptical. I wasn't sure it would work and what if my child was somehow manipulating me? Was I just giving in to her? Was I catering to a 'faulty' personality? Or what if she acted the way she did because I was a bad mother to her?
This book has helped me see that her brain is literally wired differently. And there are things and strategies that Gabe and I can use (very easy ones, no less!) to make things easier for us and work WITH her instead of setting us all up to fail. The closest example I can thing of is this: If your child is dyslexic, is insisting/yelling/punishing them going to make them NOT reverse their letters and numbers? Can you 'make' them NOT be dyslexic? If you just stick to your guns and refuse to recognize the difference your LD child has, will that somehow make them be able to read? NO. It won't and it can't.
It's the same with a 'spirited' child. And you can believe what you want, and you can think what you want, but you CAN'T tell me that this isn't real. Or that I'm wrong. Or that my child is anything less than awesome. If you don't have a spirited child, you haven't walked in my shoes.
I don't want anyone to think that this blog is a rant or a letter in my defense. I have written this blog so that other frustrated parents can maybe see their own child in mine, or ease their own 'mommy guilt' and find the same resource I have. I am only half way thru the book, and I feel like I have a different outlook. I have better skills and me and my child (and thereby the REST of my family) are flowing better.
I am working on giving my daughter coping skills and self confidence while she learns that I understand her and love her to pieces. And isn't that what being a parent is all about?
Here is a link to the book.
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