September 2008

We are a family of five with a stay-at-home Mom (luxury) and a Dad who works full-time for a reasonable paycheque (but not a HUGE paycheque). We do not have ‘benefits’ for dental stuff or Rxs.

We live in a house that has a mortgage for about half the value at this point in time. We have a small line of credit, two credit cards (on which the balances are normally paid in full or near-to-it each month) and a small value RRSP.

We have two cars – one of which is paid for (and older) and the other which is financed (and newer).

We are neither poor nor particularly affluent.

Our kids have a mix of new, used, and hand-me-down clothes, toys, furniture and books. We have a Wii, a Playstation2, lots of Lego and a computer that’s “just” for the kids to use. Some of the luxuries we have in our house are from pre-kid days, pre-marriage days (when we were both single) and some are gifts from friends.

Neither of us, the parents, have relatives living nearby to assist us. There is no option to borrow money from our own parents for anything, nor do we have grandparents popping by to spoil the kids with gifts or free babysitting.

We do have very generous friends who have given us heaps of toys, clothes and other cool things for the kids. These same friends offer a great deal of support emotionally.

We do not go out often – the cost of five people to see a movie, for example, means we tend to rent ‘em instead. Coffee and I do have the occasional “date” when we save up some cash for a babysitter and the cost of whatever we decide to do on our date.

Our kids belong to Scouts/Cubs/Beavers. At the moment, those are the only non-school (and structured) activities they participate in.

The kids all get an allowance equal in dollars to their age in years. Each kid has chores to do on a daily basis (ranging from “brush your teeth” to “clean the bathroom”) and if the chores are not done, the kids are not paid for it.

The parents pay for the necessities of life and a bit of the luxury. Clothes, books, school supplies, food (of course), educational toys, crafts and family activities are all deemed “needs” around here.

The kids are expected to save their allowances to pay for the “wants” in life. A new game for the Wii or an MP3 player are things for which allowances need to be saved. (This is part of why they get a fairly generous allowance.)

The kids complain that we don’t buy them “enough stuff”. From scooters to video games, they’d like MORE. One child specifically equates “things” with “love” and can become quite anxious if he feels we’re not “loving” him enough. We are working on this and it’s easing.

Our four year old is getting the hang of saving his money for big stuff. He is so proud of himself when he accumulates the money to buy a new DS game or when he has enough money to buy new toys at the store.

Our oldest kid was adamant that he’d never wear or buy used clothes from Value Village. No hand-me-downs. By setting an example ourselves, he now sees the coolness in buying something that’s gently used and significantly cheaper than new. It doesn’t hurt that he’s received some incredible clothes as ‘hand me downs’ and his friends are envious.

We don’t loan money to our kids. Ever. We’re teaching them to live within their means, to save for things they want, and to not use credit. They still ask us to loan them money but they know it won’t happen and the requests are fewer.

We’re teaching the kids to value the things they have, to take good care of them, and to fix things instead of tossing them for something new.

They’re learning that saving money on X means more money for Y when you live within a budget.

They’re learning, actually, what a budget IS and how it works.

There are moments when I want to give in – and usually those are emotional moments. The same sort of moment when I’d be likely to indulge my own wishes to spend/acquire rather than save up.

Like when Middle One tells us he reaaaaaaaaally wants a scooter and could we please buy him one because, oh, ALL the other kids have one!

Like when one of the kids’ friends informs me that he has a TV and dvd player in his room and why doesn’t our kid have that too?

Like when Oldest One asks for an XBOX because his foster family had one and he has the games and why can’t we have one too?

There are moments when I want, more than anything, to give them anything and everything they request. When I think, “It’ll make them happy!” or when I think, “Maybe it will help him make friends if he has one like they do!”

Then I remind myself that it doesn’t do them any favours in the long run.

And I remind myself of all the times when I thought hard about buying them something and was THISCLOSE to doing it – only to have them come home and announce that they no longer want that thing because no one plays with that anymore.

Or when I look at the toys they DO have that they don’t play with but REALLY wanted.

We do buy them things. We do surprise them with toys or books or “stuff” on occasion. We reward excellent behaviour with tangible items (or a cash bonus for their savings toward a particular item). We do take them to see a movie or go to an event or let them get the more expensive markers for school.

They do get the kids “funky flavour” toothpaste. The shoes with Spiderman on them that light up. Their choice of breakfast cereal each week. Other little things that are indulgent but fun.

But balance is important. And learning, for life, that money is a tool? That’s pretty invaluable.

(And it’s a good exercise for me, too.)

I need your advice. I know you have it. I KNOW…

The funny thing about adopting older kids is that people treat you like you’re a crazy saint.

On the one hand, I hear a lot about how “great” and “wonderful” it is that we adopted older kids. That we “saved” them from some unknown fate and that we are “amazing people” for doing it. There’s a lot of “God Bless”ing going on around us, too.

I disagree with most of that. I am a big fan of adoption and I think more people should do it – so yeah, I do think we’re kind of cool for it. But we didn’t save the kids and we’re no more amazing than anyone else and really, adoption isn’t THAT big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. It’s just a means to an end: making a family.

On the other hand, it often feels like people think we’re crazy to take on the challenge of three boys, older, adopted, and with a “shady” past due to being in foster care and with the whole termination of (birth) parental rights.

It sometimes seems like people are waiting for the boys to murder us in our sleep or set fire to the dog so they can nod solemnly and say, “I knew it was crazy to adopt three older BOYS.”

I don’t think we’re crazy for adopting boys, older kids, or three at a time. No, it’s not the usual way of doing things, but it works for us and it’s within our capabilities. We didn’t get suckered into it or coerced. It’s the decision we made for ourselves. It was what “fit”.

For the most part, parenting our boys is the same as parenting any other kids. We try to make the right decisions for each kid, based on their personality and history, strengths and weaknesses, and we try to set limits and boundaries that are age-and-stage appropriate. We are relaxed about the things that don’t concern us and we’re tight about the things that we feel are important… like every other parent.

We make mistakes. We have stunning successes. And half the time we don’t know why one thing worked and another thing failed. One foot in front of the other, every day, works nicely.

I remind myself, regularly, that we parent our kids a bit differently than other parents do – firstly due to our personalities and beliefs, and secondly due to the way they became a part of our family. It works out well, for the most part.

But that doesn’t mean I have the slightest idea what I’m doing over here.

Today Maymo attempted to kick another kid on the playground while waiting for school to start. The other kid’s mom saw him winding up, called him on it (not meanly, not loudly, but firmly asserted that it wasn’t appropriate) and Maymo lost his shit. He was MAD.

He was mad enough, in fact, that he refused to talk to me. He refused to turn away from the wall where he positioned himself. He didn’t want to follow the other kids into the classroom. He sobbed and he yelled, “I DON’T KNOW WHY I DID IT” when I asked what his motivation was for the kicking.

And he didn’t wave goodbye when he was lead into the classroom.

I talked to the other mother, afterward, and she assured me that it wasn’t anything dramatic and that, if Maymo hadn’t been so upset about the whole thing, she wouldn’t even have mentioned it to me. One of those “kids will be kids” things.

I told her that I really appreciated her NOT letting him get away with it and that it was a-okay that he was upset because, after all, he actually ISN’T allowed to bully the other kids in any way, shape or form. He needs to know that other people, beyond me and his Dad, will call him on bad behaviour, too.

But…. ewww.

I felt bad about the whole thing. First, because he’s acting out physically after many, many discussions about why we don’t hurt other people. Second, because he was mad enough that he didn’t say goodbye, didn’t give me a hug, and started his school day badly. My stomach felt upset.

Then she revealed that her daughter is in Middle One’s class. She knows him quite well thanks to a volunteer gig in his classroom last year, and thought he was quite the fun little character. She was surprised when her daughter came home this week and said Middle One was teasing her along with a bunch of other kids.

This, after Middle One was teased and tormented last year. Now he’s doing it to other kids?

Jumped-up Jesus on a Cracker.

I felt like one of those Bad Parents – the youngest is a bully and the middle is a bully, too. I just need to hear that Oldest One is shakin’ kids down for lunch money and I’ll get a Gold Star, no?

The other mom was very kind. I mean, she was reassuring me as I told her that I’d definitely be talking to Middle One about why teasing is wrong and why you don’t have to ‘go with the crowd’ when others are being mean to someone.

But holy shit, REALLY?

And so here I am, feeling kind of sick and weepy and like I’m failing as a parent.

I know, I KNOW, that no one is dead and no one has been beaten up and, ultimately, they’re kids and they’re learning the ways of the world and how to handle themselves and complex social situations.

But the idea of my kids being mean to another kid, for any reason, just makes me feel sick.

Yes, it was “just today” that Maymo was being miserable to another kid. But at home he has taken up biting and punching and kicking when he doesn’t get his way or he’s remotely frustrated. And we’re not tolerating it and he’s been dealing with consequences that are pretty stiff and I thought it was resolving itself and then.. not so much.

And Middle One spent last year in a weird sort of friendship limbo where kids were kinda’ mean and his ‘best friend’ turned out to be an asshole and he was quite isolated all summer. Now he’s got a fresh start and has been doing better in the social realm so.. he’s picking on other kids?

I empathize with the kids, by the way.

I know that when you really want to fit in and you don’t, you’ll latch on to the first opportunity you’ve got to make friends and it can totally lead you to do stupid things like pick on someone else. Because, phew, it’s not YOU for once.

I get it.

And I know that when you’re getting used to a new school and new routines and you’re frustrated with things, and four years old with some speech issues, it can be hard to control your impulses.

I get it.

But what I don’t get is how to turn this around or, at least, not let it get worse.

How do I get them back into line, somewhat, so that this doesn’t escalate? How do I teach them to be compassionate, kind, loving people? How do I NOT overreact to this stuff? (That last one is probably the most important question, particularly if you know me well.. )

Ugh and more ugh and double-ugh.

Arriving home from Scouts last night, Oldest One asked if we could make his bedtime 30 minutes later.

We have a very strict policy of not discussing this sort of thing “in the moment” (i.e., the time to negotiate a later bedtime is not while we’re telling you to get your teeth brushed and hop into bed) so we told him we’d discuss it and get back to him in the morning.

But since he had a few minutes ’til bed, we did spend 15 minutes discussing it – why he wanted it, what he was willing to do in order to get the later bedtime, etc – and, in the end, Coffee and I decided that we’d let him try the later bedtime starting on Monday.

In the meantime, for the next 5 days, he needs to prove to us that he’ll be ready (teeth brushed, water glass filled) by his original bedtime. No argument. No prodding from us every 2 minutes to “shut down the computer and brush your teeth” “brush your teeth!” “it’s now PAST your bedtime.”

This is what he wanted, right? A later bedtime?

Instead of being happy about this, he threw a hissy. Sulking and pouting and getting weepy – - because we weren’t putting the new bedtime in place NOW. Immediately. THIS MINUTE.

Turns out, this was his attempt to get some more World of Warcraft time before bed tonight. It took all of my self-control to not roll my eyes right the hell out of my head.

I reiterated that we would let him have a later bedtime if he proved he was able to handle it.

Since we weren’t giving it to him NOW, he decided to be an asshole. Sulking and muttering and pouting and being downright miserable. He skulked off to get his glass of water. He got weepy. He got MAD.

(Gee, Mom and Dad, doesn’t this inspire confidence in my ability to handle a later bedtime?)

We have often talked about how accepting more responsibility – personal and otherwise – leads to getting more freedoms. If we can trust you, we can give you more leeway.

So this whole sulking thing wasn’t doing much for his case.

I commented that his reaction wasn’t really all that great for someone whose parents just told him he has 5 days in which to prove he’s responsible and mature enough to handle a later bedtime in the near future. I totally understand the concept of disappointment and I get the idea of instant gratification, but, um, really? Sulking and weeping?

His reply? “WELL, I’M TIRED. I JUST RAN AROUND AT SCOUTS ALL NIGHT AND I HAD A LONG DAY.”

Something tells me we need to work on the concept of “selling the point”.

The highlight? He’s STILL mad this morning.

The scene: we’re eating dinner (tuna-noodle-casserole in case you wondered) and we’re talking about Cubs and Beavers and camping and hiking and stuff. I note that the cool thing about the whole Scouting movement is that you learn things that other kids don’t learn and it’s seriously good stuff, too.

Oldest One makes an off-the-cuff remark about how, if he were in Scouts, he’d get to do COOLER things than his brothers. Because he’s OLDER.

I casually point out that he could still join Scouts, if he wanted, and that the first meeting is tonight at 6:45.

At 6:30 we left the house to take him for registration.

And it turns out, as I predicted, that he already knew a bunch of the kids in the group. And they went for a hike tonight. AND it was fun. AND he’s glad he signed up.

Much like interacting with wild animals, it pays to move sloooowly and avoid eye contact and loud noises when you’re dealing with eleven year olds.

It’s one of my favourite magazines of all time – no joke – and it needs your help.. Subscribe, donate, whatever you can!

It’s a magazine that doesn’t tell you to lose 40 pounds by next week, doesn’t care if you look chubby in your bikini, has seriously good articles AND always cheers me up when it arrives in my mailbox.

Help!

Everyone warns me – and, if you’re a parent, they likely warn you too – that kids grow up “so fast” and that you should always treasure each moment you have with them because, after all, it will soon pass.

They’ll grow up and they’ll leave home and they’ll have new lives and you’ll only see a tiny bit of it whenever they feel like sharing.

I’m sure it’s true. I mean, I see how much the kids have grown and changed in the past months. It’s noticeable and it’s only been nine months since we first met.

But I like the idea of them growing up and moving on and experiencing the world on their own terms.

As much as I joke about them making me crazy, it’s not that I want them out of my life. It’s not that I feel adopting was a mistake or that I want to reclaim my space or anything like that. (Although, sure, there are definitely days when that’s true!)

It’s that I’m anxious to see what kind of people they will become as they get older. I’m anxious to see what paths they choose.

I want to meet their boy/girlfriends. I want to see what jobs they choose for themselves or what level of education they decide to pursue.

I want to see how their personalities develop and what kind of friends they make and how they overcome some of their past issues.

Will Oldest One always be shy and obsessed with tiny details? Will Middle One always be quirky and kind of crazy? Will Maymo always be the world’s most social person?

Will they continue to be loving and caring? Will they make a difference in the world? Will they always be funny and loveable?

It’s my curiosity that keeps me from being melodramatic about them leaving the nest someday. Parenting is all about growing children into adults and helping them find their own path without adding too much of our own influences. We guide instead of direct. We encourage rather than lead.

Indeed, it goes fast. But that’s how it should be and that’s exactly how I want it to be.

On Monday night I dragged my zombified, miserable, totally sick self out of bed to take Maymo to his first Beavers meeting.

He gleefully wore his vest and his little hat and was So! Excited! Mom! the whole way there. He could hardly contain himself.

We checked in and he was already running around the gym, screaming, with the other kids.

When I picked him up an hour later he was still over the moon with glee and talking a mile-a-minute about how much fun he had. There were other kids there and running around and shouting and singing and playing with the “parrot-shoe” (which I know, now, means ‘parachute’) and, did he mention the other kids that were there? FUN! FUN! MOM! FUN!

That kid is a TOTAL social butterfly. He loves EVERYONE.

It’s unbelievably awesome to watch him.

–

When Middle One came home from school yesterday, around 3:30, he immediately asked if he could change into his Cub uniform. I told him to wait until after we ate dinner (so he wouldn’t get coated in goo before the meeting) and he twitched and fidgeted through the entire meal as if it were Christmas and I was withholding the gifts.

As soon as the last plate was cleared he ran upstairs to put on his uniform and get himself ready. In the past 9 months that he’s lived here, it has taken a minimum of three reminders for ANY task, but for this he needed no prompting whatsoever. He brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, buttoned his uniform and.. LET’S GO, MOM!

We got to the church hall where Cubs is held and he discovered FOUR of his classmates are in the Cub pack too. And it’s their first year, like it is for him, so they were all a little nervous and clinging to each other.

I checked in with his leader, confirmed pick up time, and when I turned to say goodbye Middle One was already ensconced in a little group of boys with a huge grin on his face.

He came home with a schedule for the next few months that includes camping and a fishing trip and badge-earning nights and crafts and.. zow! All the things I had hoped he’d experience and then some.

To say HE is excited would be a major understatement, too.

To say I’m happy about his excitement would be even more of an understatement.

–

Oldest One declined to sign up for Scouts (or anything else, thus far) but is already showing some signs of being jealous of Middle One’s future activities. He wasn’t pleased to learn that Coffee and I will be volunteering with both Beaver and Cub packs on occasion and that no, he cannot volunteer along with us. (You have to be 18 or a Scout to help with the younger kids.)

It’ll be interesting to see how it goes when registration happens next year.

–

It was really important to me that the kids get involved in Scouting, or something similar, for really simple reasons: it’s fun and educational in a way that school really isn’t.

They’re learning how to take care of themselves, the community and the environment. They’re learning skills like knot-tying, fire starting, camping, canoeing, (etc) that aren’t taught anywhere else and which, honestly, I don’t get many opportunities to teach them myself.

No, those aren’t skills that will necessarily get them into college and they won’t use them every day either. But they’re life skills nonetheless and they’re fun.

The uniforms may seem dorky. The apple/cookie/whatever sales may be a pain. But I think Scouting will be really, really healthy for my kids and I think they’re going to really enjoy themselves and learn to take a lot of pride in themselves, too.

.. a migraine!

Holy crap, why haven’t you come here to kill me yet?

Children are walking cooties.

Someone, please, shoot me?

When I was born, the only grandchild on my father’s side of the family, I would scream like a lunatic any time my grandfather tried to hold me. Scream and scream like someone was trying to murder me. I was easy-going, generally, for everyone else.

My grandfather, I imagine, was at least a little bit hurt by my (loud) rejection. How could he not be?

It was somehow identified, though, that if he wore a white shirt I’d be a-okay with him. No tears, no screaming, and perfectly content to snuggle up in his arms for a bottle or a nap.

Sitting here, just now, I realized that for my entire life, my grandfather wore white shirts almost exclusively. T-shirts, sweatshirts, button-shirts – all white. The only exception was when he was working in his shop, getting dirty, when he’d wear some sort of work clothing in olive green.

THAT is love.