Summertime

Summer is around the corner. Nearly 12 long weeks of sunshine, playing outdoors, swimming at pools and beaches, going to parks, and doing lots of arguing, inevitably.

My boys fight like Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau in Grumpy Old Men, only not nearly as subtly prankish banter. More like the knock-down, drag-out scene where they fight like boys, rolling around on the cold ground of the ice fishing village.

So. Much. Fighting.

And arguing.

And tattling.

And just general annoying behavior befitting three year olds as opposed to kids that are 7.5 and 8.5, respectively.

Such is the reality of trauma.

Reminding myself daily that I do not really have a 7.5 and 8.5 year old is hard work. They're more like 4 and 5 emotionally, 5 and 7 developmentally (on a good day). On a bad day they can range anywhere from infantile to 8.

See, kids without a trauma history have bad days, too. They might have a tantrum, regress a bit in behavior, act of of character. But for kids with a trauma history, who's brains have literally been wired incorrectly because of their environment and exposures, bad days look very different. They look like Mad Max: Fury Road. Fast. Chaotic. Violent. Relentless. Bad days mean attacking others but also self-sabotaging. They mean not being able to self-regulate and certainly not allowing themselves to feel safe or loved. And honestly, on those days, they aren't very lovable, which makes it even harder.

This family makeup of ours is strange. God knew what He was doing, absolutely. But some days, it is incredibly difficult to watch my one-year old exhibit better behavior than my big kids. It's frustrating to have to repeat myself over and over and over again, only to have it forgotten or ignored. It's exhausting to to have a child with special needs, although no fault of his own, who requires so much more attention, affection and affirmation than my toddler.

I have to constantly, minute-by-minute some days, remind myself of the positives. Remind myself of the truth.

They have grown considerably in the last 2.5 years.

Their speech was literally unintelligible when they came to us at 4 and 6. Now they speak clearly and have learned excellent manners.

Tantrums used to be the only way they could express their heavy feelings. Now they use their words and they understand their feelings (most days).

My oldest used to resent me- Now he calls me mom, tells me he loves me and asks me for hugs and extra time spent together.

My middle couldn't tie his shoes, count consistently or read at the beginning of the school year. He can now.

Both boys are wonderful to Owen. He loves them so much and they are so sweet with him.

The boys tell us we are the "best" parents and are starting to show appreciation for the way we show them how much we love them.

They know we are family forever, even if they forget it on bad days.

If I didn't recall these things regularly, I would despair because day-to-day can be really hard sometimes. Therapy helps. Having someone to vent to who can help explain my children to me makes me feel less crazy, and more capable. I struggle less with taking things personally. I can acknowledge their limitations most days. Sometimes I fail and expect way more from them than they're capable of delivering. On those days, I reap what I sew.

I'm learning.

I expect I always will be.

We have another baby due in less than 5 months.

Our house will once again be thrown into upheaval. Triggers will be pulled, buttons pressed. All of our children will have to adjust to another little person demanding of my time, taking away from theirs. I suspect we will experience some regression and bad choices, because sometimes a new baby is a reminder that they have been replaced before. A new baby means less love and attention from mom and dad. A new baby means mom drifts further away from being the mom she needs to be.

Only not me.

And I will have to remind them- not me.

I'm not that mom.

They can trust me. They can know they aren't being replaced, but are being added to. They will know they are the most important big brothers and that they are needed and valued. They will know that this baby simply means more love, more laughter, more joy, and more TOYS!

Hopefully I can count on that to distract them from their painful memories and hard pasts.

They don't live there anymore.