Finding What You Look For

Armed with a list of ten words that reminded us of one another, Audrey and I set out several nights ago to capture one photograph representing each of those words. My list for Audrey was the following: wise, beautiful, thoughtful, creative, funny, introspective, stylish, evolving, honest and explorative. Ambling through the grass of a park in an often unvisited part of town it struck me that seeking out a single word to encapsulate in a photograph affects how I walk and what I see. Looking for an image of “beautiful” causes me to see beauty everywhere. I asked Audrey if she noticed the same and she agreed. I mulled over how this applies to the rest of my life.

There’s a phrase bandied about in foster care, “the honeymoon phase.” The honeymoon phase is supposed to be a magical time in the beginning of a new placement during which children behave angelically because they don’t yet trust you and are afraid of showing their true colors. We were reminded throughout our first month as a family about “the honeymoon phase” by other foster parents - a slap in the smiling face of our early success - and warned to prepare for the inevitable disaster which was surely just around the corner. 

Why do we need a honeymoon phase? And do they exist because we look for them?

Honestly, we never left the “honeymoon phase," which isn't to say our family never faces challenges, but when that first test arose I didn't conclude, “Well, the honeymoon phase is over.” Instead I chalked it up to life. My children, like me, have both good and bad days. The goal of our family is to get through them together, celebrations and sorrows alike.

Do we find manipulation because that’s what we are looking for? Do we find deception in everything our child says out of our own fear of and hypersensitivity to it? Why in the midst of a great morning do we anticipate and prepare for the meltdown that has not yet come? And when it arrives, is that because we were intent on finding a meltdown? Not to wax philosophical or anything, because ultimately I conclude with more questions than answers, but yesterdays exercise with Audrey left me wondering how much my “looking for and preparing for” a bad day with my kids changes my behavior or attitude toward them to the point that it initiates a bad day? What if I take every moment for what it is...a moment, whether good or bad, and accept it rather than use it as a barometer for the rest of the day?

I am going to experiment with this. Join me, and report back with results in the comments.

This is the photo I took for "creative" to describe Audrey

Let’s Get This Straight, I Am Deeply Flawed, Just Like Everyone Else

Parenting a child who has experienced trauma using Love to Nurture, or any trauma informed parenting model, is highly counter-intuitive. In moments of less than desirable behavior ranging from meltdowns to the silent treatment, you are asked to remain calm and look at behavior as a symptom of a problem rather than the problem itself. I attempt to communicate what this feels like to new foster parents constantly, giving as many personal examples from parenting our own children as possible. I love story-telling and believe it can be the best teacher. Yet somehow, in doing so, I have inadvertently portrayed that “Living Love to Nurture” is easy and comes naturally to me...something another foster parent shared. I want to clear that up.

There are times that I, like every parent on planet earth, want to pull my hair out, scream, cry, or both simultaneously. Sometimes I fear that if I don’t make the exact right parenting decision in a moment of crisis, my child’s life will be ruined forever. I ask Matthew, “Are we the worst parents ever?”

In my unregulated, frazzled state as a parent, I want to do crazy strict things. Here’s an example:

Last week I wasn't sure I could trust one of my kids (hereafter referred to as “said child” because really, who wants their mom blogging about stuff like this) and my fear left me tempted to spy on them. I imagined catching said child in their lie, springing out from behind a bush with a declarative, “A-HA!” A look of guilt and shame would come across said child’s face; bursting into tears convicted of the wrong they had committed by lying to their mother, our bond never to be broken again… 

But back in the real world, I had to pause, take a few deep breaths, and think: Do I really want to be the “spying mom” and if so, what will that accomplish?  When my child finds out (which they most definitely will) will our relationship be stronger or weaker? If I don’t spy, how can I address my lack of trust with said child? Have I created a situation in which deception is easier than honesty?

I called my husband.

“Why don’t you just ask said child if they are lying to you?”

He’s a genius.

I began the conversation with said child by confessing my fears and temptation to spy on them. I shared my desire for a relationship based on openness and trust. Said child shared that they were telling the truth, not with defensiveness or anger, but a look-you-in-the-eye honest way. We discussed strategies for moving forward and began a dialogue on how to strengthen my trust in a particular area of said child’s life. One of the worst feelings is knowing when someone doesn't trust you but not having a way out. What a hopeless place. My children have experienced too much hopelessness in this life for me to inflict any more. I need to be part of their path out.

I share this story to illustrate that we all suffer from “bad mommy” moments no matter the age or how our children came into our lives. Love to Nurture parenting does not come naturally for me, and I screw it up all the time. My secret, the reason perhaps it can look effortless is that I have committed to practice every day. I have committed to breathe before I act or speak, to question myself and my own motivations, and to always begin tense conversations with questions or as St. Francis of Assisi puts it “seeking to understand rather than be understood”. None of these commitments are easy, but I have learned that practice and consistency pay off.

Be encouraged, you can do this.

Space Enough For Everyone

My entire adult life I have been proud of the fact I was a renter. Fortunately Matthew wasn't overly concerned with home ownership either. The upsides of renting deserve mention. Leaky roofs don’t require shelling out thousands of dollars for replacement. Water heater gone kaput? Call the landlord. Honestly, I wore it like a badge of honor: a rebel under lifelong lease. (Insert listless sounding music here.)  The only condition under which I imagined myself purchasing a home would require me to live in Minnesota - my home, certainly not Colorado Springs.

Then one random Sunday our pastor gave a sermon on putting down roots, on “blooming where you are planted.” Matthew leaned over to me in the middle of the sermon and said something along the lines of, “I think I needed to hear this, there’s something I have been thinking we should change.” My response? A whisper along the lines of, "&%$@$," you want to buy a house don't you?" Yes, I uttered profanity in church, in the middle of a sermon. (It was only a whisper in the ear of my spouse so I am pretty sure Jesus didn't hear.)

Over the next several days as I pondered, none of the heart-thumping-heaviness that occurs when a particular path is not meant for me arose. Instead, I recognized our children need a permanent place; a place with roots, a home they can be assured mom and dad will always be, a place they can daydream about bringing their children to. As much as it pained me, I understood Minnesota was no longer in the cards. It was time to make a new home.

Quickly we chose a Realtor and house hunting began. It’s nothing like they portray on HGTV, so after only two times out we made a decision and an offer. I had pictured us living in a cozy bungalow downtown, but after a day of cruising zillow.com concluded that the day we went from zero to four children overnight we also unknowingly decided against a cozy bungalow downtown. Our house was bigger and in an area of town I couldn't have foreseen, but for our family it’s perfect, with space enough for everyone.

We Fryes are each so unique with varied interests and temperaments which need room to breathe and be acknowledged. Love to Nurture planted in our hearts the idea of focusing on those strengths and celebrating them. Sometimes growth necessitates space.

We needed to meet Gabriel where he flourishes, his virtual worlds where he triumphs and leads. A family computer lab lets us join him there. Matthew needed a movie viewing space to share the films he so dearly loves with his children. Des needed her own spacious bedroom for an introverts retreat. Izzy needed a yard to play in and access to bike paths - outlets for all her energy. Audrey needed a cozy living room to curl up with a good book in. And me? I needed a spacious kitchen with a vantage point to watch everyone come and go, smiling as I listen to their conversations. And with this house, we were able to accommodate all those things. 

Different than I had thought, but perfect.

There Are a Million Reasons Not to Dance in the Rain…

Colorado’s monsoon season has arrived, and each evening we look forward to a short lived deluge of rain and the cool air it brings. Several nights ago I decided to sit in a lawn chair under the cover of my garage, open up the door and listen to the rain. I wasn't sitting long before my youngest daughter, Isabel joined me.

Izzy is the most like me of all my children- she helps God refine me. Gregarious and active, Izzy only stood for a few minutes before she noticed the small, quick moving streams of water running down the center of our cul-de-sac. “Can I go play in those puddles over there?” she asked. “I’m worried about the lightning.” I replied. Always the negotiator, Izzy asked if she could play in the driveway, out of the cover of the awning.

My gut reaction was to say no. I tried calculating the probability of her getting hit by lightning, checking out the nearby trees. I imagined her soaking wet and traipsing through the house afterward, getting water everywhere in a space I struggle desperately with to keep clutter free and sane-feeling- an ongoing war. I feared she would get chilled and catch a cold, it wasn't that warm anymore. I dreaded her siblings joining her, and multiplied the potential mess by four. I envisioned what our neighbors across the street would think of me as a parent- careless. I shuddered at the thought of the extra laundry, and her bare feet getting filthy on the pavement. In the flash of a second I thought of all these things.

Then I realized that there are a million reasons to say no to your child playing in a rainstorm, there always will be. But there’s really only one reason to say yes.

I said yes. And she danced. And she played. And I watched- smiling.