It's been more than two whole months since my last post.
Haven't felt much like writing.
Part of that is life's busyness. The other part is fatigue and nausea from this fresh pregnancy.
The remaining reason is probably due to tough seasons and hard feelings.
It's hard when someone you trust critiques your parenting and says something hurtful. It really cuts to the bone. (Let me state on behalf of all moms everywhere that it's RARELY okay to judge another mom's parenting style. Unless you have raised this person's actual children or Jesus himself- (1) you don't know what you're talking about, and (3) it will not be received well, so just don't.)
Anyway...a lot has prevented me from writing, or wanting to write. Sometimes the inspiration just isn't there. And sometimes the timing just isn't right.
Things have slowed down recently. Visitors have come and gone. Owen's first birthday celebration has passed. Our household has mostly healed from various ailments. First trimester symptoms have lessened. I'm back in a writing state-of-mind. Kind of.
I've noticed a funny phenomenon over the last few years since we became parents to our big boys. The interesting thing is that it seems to apply to family, friends and strangers alike. When people meet our family and find out our boys came to us through the foster care system they automatically assume two things: Rocky and I am saints who have rescued these boys, and my children need extra of everything (love, attention, food, allowances, chances, etc.) because they must have lacked so much before they came to live with us. While I can understand these sentiments, let me state very clearly THEY ARE NOT TRUE.
Rocky and I did not choose foster care because we wanted to rescue poor, sad, neglected and abused children. We do this because we take absolutely seriously God's command to care for the orphan and we believe wholeheartedly in reconciliation through Christ. All things are possible, right? We were not trying to build our family through foster care. We were not intending on "keeping" and raising someone else's children forever. We did not plan on our first placement resulting in the termination of parental rights and adoption. We are not do-gooders who set out to change the world through fostering. We felt a call, saw the need, had the means, and obeyed. It's that simple.
Do we love our kids? Absolutely! We could not walk this road if we didn't. Everything, and I mean everything, we do we do is for our children (even when it seems strict or mean).
Are we thankful that we get to adopt them? Of course! While reconciliation and reunification with their birth family was our #1 hope and prayer, we are grateful that when that possibility slipped away we were here to catch them where they fell.
But we are not saints. We are no heroes. We make lots of mistakes. We are normal parents.
I think the assumption that hurts us, and our children, the most is the one that assumes our children need to be spoiled rotten and be exempt from consequences because they are poor foster kids. They've had a hard life. They need to know they're loved and they'll know that through an abundance of food, gifts, hugs, kisses, and grace. Lots of grace.
Listen, I hear you. I know why someone might be tempted to think this way. It's a very nice, kind, Jesus-like way of thinking. And we all need grace (always).
But let me be completely real here.
Most people who think this way have no idea what they are talking about and are completely wrong.
I know that sounds harsh. I know that sounds mean.
I'm okay with being the mean mom.
Because you know what? This mean mom loves her kids so much that she will not overlook it when they break the rules (repeatedly), will not let them get away with lying and stealing, will not tell them it's okay when they put their hands on each other or another kid in anger, will not allow them to make the rules in our home, will not sit idly by while all the things I've been pouring into them over the last two plus years are disregarded and shrugged off in a I'll-do-what-I-want attitude.
I won't.
And that's exactly what they need from me.
They need me to be consistent. Consistency means I will not act out of emotion, but instead will parent fairly.
They need to know that I can't be swayed. My steadfastness means that no matter what they do, good or bad, I love them because they're my children and I'm their mom and there's nothing they can do to change my love for them.
They need to know that there are consequences to every action. This will teach them to think before they act, and to make better choices next time, building a skill they will need the rest of their life in every circumstance and relationship.
They need to know that they cannot be disrespectful to adults. Because allowing disrespect will mean that everything they've witnessed prior to coming into our home was ok. And that is a lie.
There are so many things my children need to be successful, kind, forgiving, loving, confident adults someday.
And this does not include dessert every night.
My kids have a lot of issues. They've experienced trauma, and neglect and witnessed things they should never have had to. I know their issues. Rocky knows their issues. Those closest to us know their issues.
They need a lot of help. We need help as a family. Help with consistency, boundaries, love. And while I appreciate those who love the boys wanting to "spoil" them to show them just how loved they are, this should never include questioning our parenting, doubting our love for our children, or undermining the goals and best interest of our family.
We have received tons of wonderful, unconditional support from family and friends over the course of this journey, and I know that will only continue as the boys grow and really find their footing in our family.
So my one and only request is this: If you see us struggling, offer a hug, a word of encouragement, and prayers.
Isn't that more valuable than anything else, anyway?
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