Mother's Day Reminder: 100+ Ways to Screw Up Parenting and Still Raise Pretty Great Kids

100+ Ways to Screw Up Parenting 

and Still Raise Pretty Great Kids

(in no particular order)

In spite of the fact that the vast majority of my children have come from very challenging places, I’m fairly satisfied with the way all of them are turning out.  They are resilient, loving, people who struggle daily, but who persevere and are tough, in the good sense of that word. 

They love each other and are committed to making their lives different.  Several are now married with children of their own.  I’m seeing a break in the cycle of poverty and poor decisions that impacted them as children.  And my birth children, who walked beside their adopted and foster siblings through all the issues, have grown-up with a desire to give the world more than they receive.  Overall, we have raised many unique individuals and I’m happy with the works in progress. 

Another adoptive mom called me in tears yesterday saying, “What am I doing wrong that not a single one of my children will listen to anything I say?  What kind of a mom am I? 

I paused and listened to her desperation and then said, “A mom like me.  You aren’t doing anything wrong.  And you are doing lots of things wrong. But this isn’t about the mistakes you are making or even what you are doing right.  You are a good mom with a virtually impossible job. You are weary and this is a very hard life we have chosen. You can do this and they know that you love them.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment.  “This is so hard.”

Yep.  It is. But so often when I talk to parents, I just want them to remember that they are human and they will make more mistakes than they can count.  But mistakes are not what define them – especially in the eyes of their children. 

The truth is, when they are older, our children usually don’t remember what we remember.  They barely remember our faults and mistakes.  Except in cases when parental conduct is on an extreme for an extended period of time and physical or emotional harm results (i.e., abandonment, abuse, addiction, mental illness etc.), children more often remember how they felt, rather than nitpicking every decision you made.  If they feel that you loved them.  If they feel that you cared.  If they feel that they mattered to you. Then the mistakes are pretty much irrelevant.

Just for fun, I tried to think of 100 ways I have messed up parenting the 53 kids that have come through my home. Because I have been parenting for 24 years and I still have little ones, it is safe to say that I have tried a variety of approaches to this parenting gig.  In some ways, I’m lucky because I get to keep practicing!  In others, I’m not so lucky because no matter how much knowledge I have, I find myself continuing to make mistakes!

Anyway, I made myself stop at 106 – which is likely to make my OCD readers a little edgy!  But it wasn’t even a challenge.  If I had allowed myself, I could have come up with 500 without too much more thought.

Let’s face it.  Parents are hard on themselves.  And even harder on each other.  Sometimes we feel like we have all the answers and everyone else is doing it wrong.  Other times, we know that we are desperately in need of help, but we are afraid to admit our shortcomings for fear of criticism. Neither position is particularly compelling.

As a mother of so many children over such a long period, I have learned one solid truth about parenting.  Kids are resilient and parents are human.  We will make tens of thousands of mistakes as we attempt to navigate this parenting experience. Sometimes, we will have days or weeks of constant mistakes.  Other times, it will feel like everything is working better than we could ever imagine. But in the end, it is a balancing act.  Trying to avoid the extremes on a regular basis, while trying to find that magical place that allows us to raise productive members of society who have something to contribute.

So here’s my list.  If you don’t find yourself somewhere on here, please contact me immediately.  I want to know how you do it.  (I’m serious!)

Yelling.
Not yelling when the situation demands it.

Losing your temper.
Losing your mind.

Spanking.

Not spanking.

Being overly impatient.

Wishing that this wasn’t your job.

Making this job all about you.

Telling your child the truth in a hurtful way when you are frustrated or angry.

Refusing to tell your child the truth so that you won’t “hurt feelings.”

Crying in front of your kids.

Trying to hide all your emotions from your children.

Creating a fantasy world with Santa Claus, the tooth fairy,
 the Easter Bunny, etc.

Refusing to participate in “white lies” with your children.

Having no rules for your child.

Having too many rules for your child.

Allowing your own emotions and frustrations
 to impact your parenting.

Ignoring your own needs for the “sake” of your children.

Standing up for your child when his conduct is unworthy.

Failing to stand up for your child
 when they deserve your support.

Trusting your child when they are not trustworthy.

Failing to trust your child 
when they are actually telling the truth.

Allowing your child too much freedom.

Giving you child too little freedom.

Trying so hard to be your child’s friend 
that you forget to parent.

Trying so hard to parent that you forget
 that they are growing up.

Giving your child whatever he wants without earning it.

Failing to reward your child for anything.

Praising your child for everything (good or not) 
to make your child feel special.

Thinking your child is not “good enough” (perfectionism).

Criticizing too much, too often, and too harshly.

Being afraid to critique your child 
even though your child needs to learn.

Missing nights of homework.

Placing homework and school above everything else
 at any cost.

Giving in to a tantrum just to get it over with.

Not realizing that tantrums are sometimes the only way

 young children can communicate a strong emotion.

Keeping your child up too late.

Refusing to change bed time for any reason.

Holding your child all the time.

Choosing not to hold your child all the time.

Keeping a strict feeding and sleep schedule,                                                     

 even though it means you have to miss opportunities.

Remaining flexible and allowing the day to run its course,                                

even if things get missed.

Laughing at your child when they are humiliated.

Not laughing with your child.

Attempting to entertain your child all the time.

Refusing to entertain your child at all.

Missing a major event (recital, play, etc) 
due to other obligations.
Attending every single activity for you child,                                                        

 at the expense of other important activities.

Letting your baby cry it out.

Not letting your baby cry it out.

Taking your child to the doctor too often 
out of fear, insecurity, or uncertainty.
Refusing to take your child to the doctor 

when it might be a good idea.

Choosing vaccinations.

Refusing vaccinations.
Creating a calm, scheduled, routine, predictable life,                                          

  at the expensive of last minute opportunities.

Creating a relaxed, wild, unscheduled,
 fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants life, at the expense
 of missing opportunities due to poor planning.

Planning every detail of your child’s future.

Failing to plan any details of your child’s future

Overreacting to every emotion your child feels
 and trying to fix it.

Ignoring your child when they need you.

Not using a car seat properly.
Letting fear make you overly zealous

 in your safety precautions.

Letting your child do something others perceive as dangerous because you feel like they will be fine.

Not letting your child try something
 for fear they might get hurt.

Allowing your child to fail and feel the consequences.

Correcting every mistake your child makes so that he does not bear the feelings or responsibility for his actions.

Missing the signs of depression in your child.

Thinking that every normal hormonal teen act of crazy                                

    requires institutionalization.

Comparing your child to every other child you meet.

Missing major warning signs in your child’s development.

Allowing your child to participate in too many activities,                                

 causing stress and exhaustion.

Refusing to allow your child to participate in any activities out of fear or laziness.

Allowing your children to spend the night with friends.

Choosing to keep your kids at home at night for safety.

Allowing your child to be his own parent.

Refusing to allow your child to grow up.

Over protecting your child from the outside world.

Giving your child total freedom.

Home schooling your children.

Sending your kids to public or private school.

Letting your child sleep in your bed.

Choosing not to let your child sleep in your bed.

Not sitting down for a minute and talking to your child/teen.

Trying to listen to every little thing your child/teen has to tell you, at the expense of other important people and issues.

Putting your children before your marriage.

Hurting your children to protect your girl/boyfriend or spouse.

Drug testing your child even when they are clean.

Denying the obvious signs of alcohol and/or drug use in your child.

Spinning your wheels in an effort to make your child happy.

Not caring whether your child is happy.

Making sure that your child has everything (and more) 
that their friends have.

Not buying your kids anything that makes them feel included in their peer group.

Constantly catering to picky eaters.

Refusing to make anything your child likes to eat.

Overfeeding your children, especially junk food.

Underfeeding your child.

Trying to solve every problem your child encounters.

Not helping your child find solutions to problems they face.

Doing your child’s homework just to get it over with.

Refusing to help with the homework at all.

Babying your children so they wont grow up and leave you.

Treating your children like adults 
and making them grow up too fast.

Centering family completely around your children

Forgetting you have children 
and making it all about the adults.

Making every craft on Pinterest to impress your children, who could care less.

Thinking you are a failure because you can’t make anything on Pinterest and you think your children care.

So, there is it is.  My long long list of faults.  Tomorrow, I might print the next 100!  Come on guys.  We can do this. 

BEAUTY'S POWER COMES FROM OUR ABILITY TO RECOGNIZE IT.

THE REAL POWER IN BEAUTY IS OUR ABILITY TO RECOGNIZE IT.

By Anna Giattina Lee

April 12, 2014

It’s spring again.  And just like the miracle of seeing a baby in the womb of a pregnant women never ceases to amaze me, the transformation that takes place throughout spring overwhelms me with moments of unspeakable joy.

I go to bed in darkness, although sometimes the moon moves through the frames of my 6 windows like a movie in super slow motion.   At first, I awake each morning to light flooding through the empty branches of the 50 foot tall trees, lighting my spot on the bed. 

But as spring makes it’s way into my heart, the light turns to sparkles and flashes as it makes its way through the dense green leaves and is reflected back, making me feel like I’m inside a crystal looking from the inside out. 

The windows are open, and I get to hear the leaves as they gently rustle against their branches and rub across my screens to remind me of their presence.  I hear the geese fly over my house with their familiar sounds and I imagine their predictable formation as they make their way over the mountain to the lake a short distance from our home.  The birds sing their various songs.

The house is still amazingly quiet and my littlest one, who still sleeps in our room, breaths gently and mumbles in his sleep as the sun does it’s job and gently pries his tiny eyes open.  He smiles from ear to ear with his eyes still slightly full of sleep in that sweet way that adds to his innocence.  Whether he sees me or not, his first word is always “Nanna,” which he speaks in a raspy small voice that is evidence that he has just woken up.

“I’m here baby,” I say as he looks for my head poking out of my old quilts that I layer to cocoon myself.  He climbs out of his bed dragging his blanket behind and comes to join me in bed for some cuddle time before the day begins full force.

These moments are beauty.  And when I am aware.  When I allow myself to see and feel and hear beauty.  When I recognize it for what it is, I am stunned all over again.  As if it is the first time I have ever understood beauty. 

Why?  I ask repeatedly.  Why do I have the ability to recognize and appreciate beauty? God you didn’t have to make that possible.  But you did.

And then the answer comes in almost the same words every time.  “The most incredible thing about beauty is not that we can see it and feel it and hear it.  But that God gave us the ability to recognize beauty.  To experience it.  To appreciate it.  To love it.  To take pleasure in it.  To let it excite us.  Motivate us.  Enliven us.   To make us happy and creative and joyful.”

And my friends, that is a gift.  A grand gift from God. 

And one that leads us back to Him and His beauty. 

Thank you God.

Part 7 - Lee Family: Our Birth - Foster - Adoption Journey to 20 Children

Part 7 continues Heather's story. NOTE: I posted Parts 6 and 7 together so go back to Part 6 if you want to read this in order.  

This is a story that is so full of life and death.  It speaks to many that are hurting.  

Heather's Struggle to Find Her Identity

What I didn’t realize fully until Heather was gone and I was able to read her journal was that she started her journal when we grounded her from basically everything in her life.  We call it the Bed, Blanket and Bible Drill.  When we have run out of options and the kids get in to trouble with everything they own and every privilege and it looks like nothing is safe – we clean out their room of everything but a bed, blanket and bible.  Okay, we might leave some empty furniture out of convenience, but basically the idea is to remove everything that is cluttering their mind, tempting them, and causing them to be too busy to listen to themselves, to us, and to God.  No music.  No books.  No posters or pictures. No technology.  No TV.  No phone. No nothing.  Oh, did I mention No Door?  Yep. We remove the door too.

We leave them with their own thoughts, God’s Word, and a comfortable bed – they can keep a pillow too. As a result, if they want to engage with people or technology - they have to join the rest of the family or do nothing at all. 

We’ve done this more than one of our children -- to varying degrees and for varying lengths of time.  Sometimes, it works and helps the teen clear his or her mind and get back on track – realizing all that is lost and appreciating it all the more.

Once, after trying this with two of our 16-year-old foster children – they ran away – got caught – spent a night in juvenile hall and ultimately were removed from our home as foster children and placed in a group home.  We could have taken them back immediately, but we felt that this situation was dramatic enough that it might get their attention.  So we worked with DHR to let them go through this process, with the hopes that they would choose to return to us.  If they chose to return, we knew we had overcome a major obstacle that exists when we take in teenage foster children who really don’t want to be in care. 

The two children took dramatically different courses.  One child realized how much freedom she had with us and how much we loved her.  She was gone for 6 weeks and finally decided to return to our family.  We adopted her – and although the trying times didn’t end and we had many more dramatic moments with her – she is now responsible, married and has a beautiful daughter of her own, whom she adores.   But most importantly, Jesus is the center of her life.  Although at the time it looked as if our strategy failed – after all, she ran away – in reality it was her turning point. 

The other child didn’t do as well.  She eventually ran away from the group facility where she was placed and was gone for five months before she came back pregnant.  We had been searching all over the world for her and had never given up hope that she would return.  As promised, she was able to choose to return to our home.  She lived with us during her pregnancy and we helped her raised her daughter until she was two. 

Before we thought she was ready, she left our home with her daughter and tried to live on her own. That didn’t work out as she had planned and we are now raising her daughter and her two sons.  But she is a believer.  She has a strong foundation.  She can choose what she wants for herself because she knows both worlds. But, like Heather, she’s struggling to overcome her past and make a different future for herself. 

I say this not to condemn her, but to remember that sometimes, as parents, we do what we think is best and it still doesn’t produce the results we hope for.  But that doesn’t mean we can stop pursuing.  Stop trying.  Or simply give up.  Although our current strategy is to stop all help and do nothing but pray for this child, that is not because we have given up, but because we have done all that we can do and the rest is up to her and God.  We will assist her again when she wants our help. 

Other childrens’ reactions have not been so dramatic.  Like Heather.   I now know that she took the time to start to think and make peace with God.  She used the busyness in her life to hide from her problems.  Taking everything away left her exposed and vulnerable.  She didn’t like it.  But she clearly needed it.

I knew that we had given Heather a strong biblical foundation – not because we read and studied the bible every day together, but because we tried to live out our beliefs everyday – not just on Sundays.  The Truth was the basis for all our decisions as a family.  We intertwined God’s Word into our everyday language – but not in an obvious way – in part because we were also parenting four new teen-age girls and we tried not to sound too preachy with them, so as not to push them away from God before they really knew Him. 

A few months before she died, Heather tried to tell me that she didn’t know the difference between right and wrong.  That we had somehow failed to teach her that. At the time, I just laughed and said something like, “That’s a sorry excuse and a new one.  But I’m not buying it.  I’m pretty sure that over your lifetime, we’ve pretty much covered most things you need to know about right and wrong.  We have never made you memorize verses, but we give them to you daily.  Let’s start with the basics. Don’t kill.  Don’t lie.  Don’t Cheat.  Don’t be jealous.  Don’t put anyone or anything else above God.  Love others as yourself.  Not to say the 10 Commandments are all the instruction God gives on right and wrong – but they pretty much cover most choices…” 

Of course, she was in trouble and pulling the “I’m too stupid to know what I did was wrong because you didn’t teach me well enough” card.  Needless to say, that card didn’t work with me.  But she was desperate and looking for a way out of whatever situation she was in at that moment.  

I knew that she knew the Truth.  Her problem was a lack of trust. And without trust, nothing would really change.  And Heather didn’t trust completely.  Anyone.  Ever.  Not even God.  And many times, not even herself.  (She learned to have various levels of trust over time – but never complete.)

My motives for pushing her toward God were partly selfish I guess.  Years of living had shown me what I didn’t understand when I was a younger adult – I can’t fix every problem. And, at some level, it seemed easier to make her go to God and deal with Him directly – leaving me out of the loop!  But it made Heather feel like I was giving up on her.  That she was too much trouble.  That she had, in her words, “used up all of me by the age of 7.” At first that troubled me and she threw those kind of words back at me all of the time – as if to guilt me in to giving her the secrets to life that she seemingly thought I was keeping from her! 

What I didn’t know until just a few days after she died was that about the same time I began to tell her that I didn’t have all the answers and that I couldn’t fix her problems, she began keeping a very personal, very private journal.  On loose-leaf paper, in order by date, were over 250 letters addressed to herself and to God. Some were simply the journal entries of a wise young woman who struggled with life. Some were passionate love letters to Jesus. Raw and unedited, she wrote from her heart.  She shared with that loose-leaf paper and God what she refused to share with almost anyone else. 

A few days after finding and reading some of the journal entries, thoughts creeped into my head … What if?  What if I had not repeatedly told her that I didn’t have the answers?  What if I had not said, I’m all out of ideas – except for God.  I know He’s got the solution?”  What if I didn’t push her away from me and toward God?  What would have happened if I had continued to try to “help” Heather by giving her the “answers,” as if I could even if I wanted to?

Would she have turned so passionately to God - the only one who could offer her real help?  Honestly, I will never know that answer.  But as a mother, it teaches me an important lesson about my role as mom.  As much as I’m expected to be able to fix anything.  As much as I would like to be able to remove all the hurt and pain from my children.  It simply isn’t in my job description.  At some point, I must walk beside my child and guide her toward the real answers, but I would be a fool to think that I was the answer. I can only hope that I remember that lesson for my other 19 children. 

Part 8 continues with the story of some of our other children's arrival into our family.

Quantity versus Quality

No question about it.  We have a butt load of kids.  Sorry.  We use the word butt a lot in our house.  And a few other words that aren’t polite or allowed in public school.  Like SHUT UP. And sometimes SHUT THE *%$#)# UP NOW! But that is reserved for special occasions. I’m not proud of this.  Just honest.

Anyway, when I went to bed last night, we not only had the usual 16, but we still had company.  At least 4 extras were still hanging around.  Mostly unannounced.  At 10:30 p.m., my husband asks when everyone should leave.  I tell him that no one is here that should prevent us from going to sleep.  Sometimes, that isn’t the case.  We turn out the lights with the sound of people awake all around us. Most are over the age of 13.

When I awake.  I sleepily turn on Jake and the Never land Pirates for a few minutes while we are trying to get everything ready.  Change or help change 4 diapers/pull-ups.  Check.  Remind each preschooler to throw dirty bottom wear in the back porch trash – not on the porch itself.  Check.  5 sippy cups of milk.  Check. 2 bottles of formula. Check.  Bacon, Eggs and Pancakes for my husband and whoever shows up to eat.  Check. Star Bucks Bold coffee for my husband. Check. Diet Dr. Pepper for me.  Check.

Everywhere I turn, there are people. My husband gets up earlier than me to clean out the sink and sweep and mop the floor so I can make breakfast.  He knows I can’t cook a new meal when the old one is still around and he wants me to cook. Food is critical to his manhood.

Our newborn is in a bouncy seat with a zipper cover to prevent the little ones from touching him.  My 4-month old grandson, who was prematurely booted from the bouncy seat because the newborn arrived, has moved up to the swirly seat with toys all around it.  His legs are too short and don’t touch the ground.  The one, three and four-year olds are all hovering - waiting for my lap. One per leg and one tucked in the middle against my chest.  When they were smaller I could fit four.  Our 6-year-old is lying across the couch.  The other 4-year-old is playing something on the computer.  And the 2-year-old is wandering from place to place silently creating havoc. 

The 8-year-old is on the other computer trying to create new recipes for a smoothie and taco dip.  The 12 and 13- year-olds are still in bed.  Three of the semi-adult kids have already left for work. The last one is packing her lunch, eating and talking to me while I cook and she prepares to leave for work.  The teen mamma and daddy of the newborn baby are sleeping (separately for those of you who are wondering).  The baby schedule is still upside down.  They have been staying up all night with the newborn because they are afraid to sleep when he is awake.  They sleep in when one of the big kids or me takes over for a few hours in the morning.  So far, they have been doing a good job with their son.   

My married daughter texts me about choosing paint colors for her new house.

And it is only 8 something a.m.

Within a few minutes, one of the semi-adult kids comes back home with the two she is babysitting.  They planned to go to the pool but it was too cold so they came over.  There are still a few places on the main level not fully saturated with people so they stay to hang with the crowd.  Figures.

There are two 3-foot-tall piles of laundry to be put away on the coffee table. There is no dirty laundry, but I HATE putting the clean stuff away.  Since last night, I’ve sorted through buckets of newborn clothes and washed them for the newbie.  The kitchen is now a mess again from breakfast.

A friend calls to ask for advice about a psychiatrist.  The 1-½ year-old starts crying while I’m on the phone.  He has dumped all the syrup onto the counter and himself and is crying because he is literally stuck to his seat and he has diaper rash from his antibiotic! I have had to resort to one of the babies holding his own bottle in the bouncy seat at my feet.  Not ideal.  I know.  But it’s either that or he must wait even longer! 

So, in the middle of all of this I keep thinking.  By our definition this is not chaos.  Just very busy and full.  Sometimes, all hell breaks loose and it takes me shouting at the top of my lungs – louder than all the rest – to break the cycle and get their attention.  I find that acting like a crazed lunatic is an effective tool for getting them to listen.  

I’m wondering if the quantity of kids affects my performance.  Wait.  That is a ridiculous question.  Of course it affects my performance.  Often, I don’t have the time or energy to meet every individual need.  Someone usually fills the gap, but not always.  We can’t afford to allow each child to pursue every activity he can dream up.  We have limited funds for college tuition and depend on scholarships, grants and work.  All of our children can’t be enrolled in private school at the same time.  We don’t buy new clothes or the latest fashions unless it positively affects the emotional or mental health of a particular child or they purchase it with their own money. Allowance is a thing of the past.   

We used to have individual dates with each child each week.  We are far too outnumbered for that now and dates tend to be with whoever is most in need of attention. Again, the older kids step up for some quality time with the little ones and they support each other quite well.  Up to about 10 children, we took the family out to dinner on each birthday.  With 21 birthdays between Mother’s Day and August 9, we would now have to spend our annual salary to accomplish that. 

My semi-adult and adult children still need my time and attention, but I’m often so busy with a young child that I can’t give them my undivided self.  Often, I’m having a serious conversation with an adult child about their marriage or some serious major life issue. Or one of my college students needs mommy during final exam stress.  Or a teenager runs away and I’m on the phone with the sheriff.  Again. And while we are talking, I interrupt the conversation with shouts, “Jennifer, you can’t ride the bike down the steps.” 

“Shawn, stop screaming.  It doesn’t hurt that bad.” 

When I'm on the phone I close my eyes so I can concentrate.  It's a dangerous habit.  A little boy places his cupped hands directly in front of my face. My eyes fly open.  “Sam!   UGGGHHH.  What is that?"  I jump out of my seat. "Sweetie. I told you no more frogs in the house.  Take him outside.  Now go!  ... I said go! ... NOW! Are you deaf? ...  Catch the dang frog and get it outside.  Then wash your hands.  We don't need salmonella in the house!”

The older child must pause in mid-sentence or mid-cry and wait for me to finish. They have learned a great deal of patience  - though I doubt they like it.

I could go on with illustrations, but I think I’ve made my point. Perhaps I could have avoided all this discussion because the answer seems obvious.  But I can’t stop there. It occurs to me that the real question is not whether the quantity of kids affects my performance.  Rather, I must question whether we are a better option than the alternative.  Or like the standard in the physician’s Hippocratic oath, I ask if we are “doing no harm.” 

Ultimately, all we really have to offer is a commitment to endure through thick and thin.  A willingness to allow other seriously imperfect people to join the multitude of imperfect people who are already members of our family – including my husband, our birth kids, and myself.  That’s it.  We offer a permanent place to call home.  And a large group of people who will call you a family member – even when you aren’t very likable. 

It’s not the best.  Best would be for each family unit to stay together as God intended. 

It’s not ideal. Ideal would be for another biological family member to be able and willing to take the responsibility so the children can still be part of the extended family.

But it is good.  It does offer hope and a future.  And by definition, we are only an option when we are the best choice among the possibilities. Of course I wish I could be more to more people.  I wish I could meet every need.  But ultimately, that isn’t my responsibility.  Or my husband’s.  It is for God.  And I trust he will make it all good.  

A Big Fat Zero in Parenting 101!

Today is a day when I get a big fat ZERO for my parenting skills.  Today is the kind of day when I need Nanny 911 or SuperNanny or CrazyLady# 346 to come to my rescue instead of other people asking me for parenting advice.  Today is the kind of day I wish didn’t exist.

I’m tired.  It has been an eventful week and one of my babies has been sick on and off for months with a staph infection.  Last night he woke up at 12:55 a.m. and he spent the rest of the night kicking, screaming, hitting and throwing fits by dropping to the floor while simultaneously reaching out for me. Talk about irony.  As he reached up over the side of the bed for me to pick him up – AGAIN - because he voluntarily squirmed down only moments before – a new fit begins and he hits his mouth on the bottom of the bed rail and it starts bleeding – not once - but twice.  He screams “owie” when I sit him on the counter to make his milk cup.  He screams bloody murder when I try to change his poopy diaper.  He falls to the ground if his feet hit the floor.

But even with 6 prior events and lots of practice, I can’t find any early signs of a new infection and the frustration in my voice is evident.  I’m part exhausted.  Part frustrated at the thought that he might be sick again – when he hasn’t even finished this round of antibiotics.  Part unemotional – even when he hurts himself – because I usually ignore fits and tantrums.  Part trying to keep him quiet enough so that he won’t wake up every other person in the house. 

Finally, at 5:30 a.m., after I tried everything and I know that I am too tired and frustrated to cope any more, I put him back to his bed in the room next to mine and let him scream loud enough to wake the dead from the safety of his bed.  He and I finally fell asleep about 6:30.  Everyone else in the house began waking up about 7:30. 

Waking up after a night like that.  After a week like this.  After a lifetime of dealing with never ending problems, I sympathize with those who have found themselves in similar positions and don’t have the support system or coping skills or knowledge to push through the pain and get through a problem without hurting their child.  It seems odd that I would feel that way about the people who hurt the children I take care of – but I empathize because I can see how it easy it would be for me to go completely over the edge and hurt another person.  There, but for the grace of God, go I.  Those words play over and over in my head. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not condoning hurting your children or anyone else. And I’m not excusing it. I’m simply stating what other people might recognize but not admit.  We all have that innate capacity for evil and we are all selfish to some degree and those qualities, left unchecked and without God, can yield some horrific results. 

So, my child listened to a frustrated mom rather than the sweet voice of his caretaker soothing his apparent pain.  My child, who I’m pretty sure wasn’t intentionally trying to make me mad or hurt me, had to experience distance from me rather than a reassuring hug even when he was pushing me away.  My child, who deserves better, got me.  I'm still just a human.  I’m sorry.  I will try to do better tomorrow.

Big Decisions. Huge Decisions. Super-size Decisions.

I’m standing in the shower semi- alone parenting from afar. I am diligently trying to organize my thoughts.  I know.  TMI.  But it’s one of the few places I can block out some of the distractions and try to think clearly.  I stand under the warm water a long time – between shouts to my 2-year-old asking him what he is doing – and reminders to my 3, 4 and 6- year-old that I just told them “No balls in the living room!”  (It’s amazing how much you can tell from the vibrations on the shower wall.) 

Anyway, I’m praying and trying to ask for clarity for a very important decision our family must make.  Do we grow again from super-size to unfathomable?  Are we willing to take the risks associated with taking in yet another older teen and her baby – knowing that her child’s father will also need to be integrated into the home at some level.  Knowing what I know.  Doing this as many times as I already have.  Recognizing that it takes many years of a committed relationship with both mom and child to transform lives.  Experiencing - first hand - that success (at least in worldly terms) is not guaranteed.

So, the questions remain:

Am I prepared to guide yet another young woman into her role as mother to her child – acting as part mom to the teen and part mom to the baby – instructing, teaching, leading and sometimes yelling, demanding and ordering?

Can I offer enough to everyone?   In the past three days I have driven 3 hours each direction to bring 3 of our kids to the wedding celebration of their biological aunt – so that they can continue their relationship with the members of their biological family who want and deserve to know these children.  Arriving home at midnight, I am awakened at 6:30 a.m. by a phone call from the biological sibling of two of our adopted children, asking me to rush to the hospital for her delivery.  This could have been exciting, BUT this day had been set-aside for the graduation party of my current high school senior.  The phone call disrupted the well-made plans and meant that everyone had to pitch in to clean and cook and get ready for the party so that I could stay at the hospital.  I left the hospital when she was 7 cm -- just in time to help my mother and older daughters find the necessary dishes, sweep the floors and clean up the children.  I never changed out of the clothes I threw on in a rush at 6:30 a.m.  I never got to put on make-up so that I wouldn’t look like a freak of nature in pictures with my daughter.  I never got to brush my teeth.  I was sweaty from the last minute rushing around. But I tried to stay fully focused on her celebration – enjoying the company.   I didn’t want to short-change the graduate by focusing on the baby that was likely being delivered while I was at the party.

As the last guests left the party, I grabbed a toothbrush and a clean shirt and raced out the door to return to the hospital – hoping I would make it in time for the baby.  I missed it by about 15 minutes.  I was okay with that, but I didn’t want to short-change my child in labor either.  I didn’t want her to feel less important than the graduating child.  All I could do was tell her that her baby “broke in line and he and I needed to have a long talk. “ He was due the next day and my plans depended on him coming on schedule.  He didn’t.  Which is the story of my life.

And then there is the question of the rest of the family.  How did they feel?  Many times.  In fact, most times, the question is really what “I” can handle as mom.  Unless my husband has a very strong indicator otherwise, he always defers to my saturation level.  If I can’t handle one more, then he certainly can’t do it.  Sometimes I tell him that I can’t do it without his help so I have to know that he fully agrees – even if he doesn’t always want to make the sacrifice.  But, in a few situations, circumstances demand that we involve the entire family in decision-making.  This is one of those times.  Because it is clear I am already overwhelmed.  It is clear I already have too much on my plate.  It is clear that I am only one person and that I can’t do this alone.  So I need to know whether they are willing to make the sacrifices necessary to make this work.  We hold a family meeting.

Two hours later, we have hashed out many of the issues.  We talked about the importance of the biological links to this child and her new baby.  We talked about the positives and negatives. We prayed together.  Tried to determine our likelihood of success.  Discussed balancing our mission as a family verses the needs of our kids to find their own path and do whatever it is God is calling them to individually.  We talked about how hard these choices are.  About how we need God to be direct and tell us what to do. 

And while these thoughts swirl in my head, I think about how I would persuade a judge that our family deserves a chance to offer this young mother and her new baby a chance to make up for past mistakes.  Lots of past mistakes.  How would I convince the welfare agency or the family court judge that in spite of our super-size nature, that we have nothing worldly to gain from this endeavor except the gratification of knowing that we were willing to try -- knowing that success is not inevitable.  How could I explain that we understand that this teen mom has the potential to disrupt the entire family – but that she isn’t the first person with that potential and we have survived thus far.

And then our 2011 Christmas picture came to mind.  It contains 20 people – which is most of our kids, some of their spouses, and most of the grandkids.  But when I start counting I realize that 10 people are still missing!  One was in Japan working Tsunami relief.  Two were on their honeymoon.  Two were in New Orleans. Three were at another family gathering. One can’t be seen because he wasn’t born yet and the last one passed away last year in a car accident.

And this image made me think about a few weeks ago when my husband and me took our three biological children to a wedding.  At about the same time, we all realized that it was one of the few times we had been in this particular combination in years.  We have been raising other people’s children for so long that it is rare for the original five of us to be separate from ALL the other kids.  It was remarkable enough that it lead to a “what if” conversation about how our lives would have been so different if we hadn’t accepted our mission.  Although we enjoyed that night together immensely, none of us wished that our lives had turned out differently.  We laughed at the possibilities.

And in the shower, under the warm water, while shouting to one of the big kids to check on all the little ones so I could think for just a few more minutes – I realized that our super-size family Christmas picture represented not just numbers, but lives that were different because we had been willing to take risks and sacrifices.  Because we had been willing to make a lifetime commitment, in spite of less than stellar conduct.  That if we had taken the easier road, we would have been able to fit our charming little family on a single greeting card – but we wouldn’t have had the honor of joining others through this journey called life. 

I still don’t have a clear answer.  But I know that it is worth it.  Even when I feel like a failure.

Post Script 1.

It keeps occurring to me that we can’t make any promises of success. And that isn’t very reassuring. Especially to lawyers and judges. And we have problems and issues much like the rest of the world – just condensed in time and space.  And while I can’t ensure that this teen mom will overcome all of her obstacles and successfully parent her child, I can say that we traditionally work through the issues in the context of our family and our community – not through the state welfare agency.  The state exists for those that cannot manage through their own support networks.  Our children are safe.  Our children are loved.  All of our children face many difficulties and challenges – even my biological children and the ones who came as newborns – but we are working together.  Helping each other.  Learning from each other.  Supporting each other. In the context of family.  And that is the way it should be.

Post Script 2.

We made our decision as a family.  It will be hard.  Very hard.  It will require sacrifices – including changing rooms – again.  It will require team work.  But we are willing to try to do it.  We are willing to take mother and baby.  Now lets see if we can convince the attorneys, social worker and the judge. Praying as I sit in court.

Post Script 3.

Mom and baby are home.  They are ours.  

Live It. Don't Preach It. A tribute to my mom (and dad).

I adore my mom.  She is my hero.  She is my role model.  She is my friend.  My mom is all of the things that I want to be.  She birthed four children, fostered about 19 and adopted a special needs child when she was 50 years old. 

My mom is frugal, yet sophisticated.  She is simple and classic, yet modern and forward-thinking. She is patient beyond belief.  She is quiet and submissive, but opinionated and strong.  My mom is giving and dedicated and hardworking.

She is intelligent and knowledgeable and wise, yet she listens far more than she speaks.  She feels no need to express her own opinion unless it is requested or helpful. She can disappear into her role serving others and expect no reward.

She has cared for many medically fragile children – some of whom are now adults - giving a whole new meaning to the words “patient advocate.” She is a mama bear when her children are threatened or overlooked – and if you are part of a medical staff where she or anyone she knows is being treated – beware.  She will challenge your routines and thoughts and attitudes and you will be better because of it.

My mom is the least “religious” Proverbs 31 wife and mother I know.  She grew up a devout Catholic and went to Catholic schools through college, but she no longer attends church or participates in organized religion.  Yet, she is a strong woman of faith and a role model for countless people.  Including me - her oldest child.

Although I have actually managed to acquire many of her impressive qualities over the years, hers is packaged so much better than mine. I still have so far to go to reach her level.  Especially when it comes to keeping my mouth shut and my opinions to myself.  Apparently, I got more of my dad’s qualities in that category. 

But she raised me to be independent.  She nurtured my strengths – even when they weren’t her strengths.  She encouraged me not to be like her, but to be like me.  She provided opportunities, even when we had little money.  She didn’t push me to be anything in particular.  In fact, she didn’t push me at all.  She just lived and served and trained and disciplined and listened to me.  And she waited.

Not surprisingly, she raised 5 totally different children.  Our interests are different.  Our strengths and weaknesses are different.  Our personalities are miles apart. But we have a common thread and that connection is our passion. My mom raised children with an enduring passion to pursue whatever it is that motivates or interests them and to perform at a level higher than most. 

I became a lawyer.  Then a wife.  A mother.  A teacher.  A foster mom.  An adoptive mom.  And finally, a full-time mom to 19 children. In that order.

My younger sister became a nurse, birthed 8 children of her own and serves countless people as one of the most Godly women I know.  Her home is open to hundreds of people each week who seek her advice and counsel and friendship and food.  She endlessly serves others well into the night - every night - and is passionate about sharing whatever she has. Her personality is much more like my mom and I admire that in her.

As his protective oldest sister, my next younger brother was a nightmare for me while we were growing up.  He wasn’t so easy on my parents either.  But in spite of his poor grades and daring antics throughout most of his younger years, he pursued and attended the best universities.  Obtained a broad expanse of education – much of it self-taught – and traveled the world. After school, although he could have gone to work for our father in the business he started, in his early 20’s my brother started his own design business to gain a broader perspective before working for and then taking over the architectural firm my father started over 40 years ago. He serves the community and the world through his forward thinking ideas and he is as giving as my parents when it comes to the wealth he has acquired as a result of his ventures. He is hard and stern, yet giving and loving and willing. He has four incredible children and a super gorgeous and equally intelligent wife. 

My baby brother is one of the most honest, humble, giving, passionate men I know.  Like me, he had to work hard for all that he has accomplished and that has made him a better man as a result.  He too is passionate – about many many things.  But his passion extends beyond words to action.  He, like my parents and my other siblings, are the kind of people you want on your team whether things are going well or you are at rock bottom.  He has more friends and has built more relationships with all kinds of people than one can likely imagine.  He uses those relationships not to benefit himself, but to help others.  That is an amazing quality in a person.

And my baby sister - who was adopted when she was about 2-years-old and has significant special needs - is a confident, loving, brilliant, engaging, social butterfly who has garnered the attention and affection of thousands of people around the world.  She has been by my parents’ side almost non-stop for 24 years and in spite of what many might think of as her intellectual, emotional and physical limitations, my parents have ensured that she has had every opportunity available or imagined (usually by them) so that she, too, can develop her individual strengths and passions.

When I began this post, I hadn't quite nailed down the precise formula my parents used to raise such fiercely unique and independent children.  But ultimately, I think it is not what they said to us – because like many kids we probably would have ignored it. It is how they lived their lives.  They worked hard.  Served many.  Gave much.  Always thought outside the box.  Weren’t afraid to be different.  Weren’t afraid to ruffle feathers.  Weren’t afraid to be criticized.  They simply lived their passions and made sure that we had an opportunity to live ours.  When all is said and done, I think that is a fairly good formula for raising children.  Live it.  Don’t preach it.  And when they are old, they will not depart from it.

Thanks mom (and dad).  I love you.