Promises
Promise #1 on August 18, 2005 in UkraineBe a parent and take care of my children
Promise #2 sometime in 2006Read a book with Misha any night he's in bed by 8:30 pm
Promise #3 on December 14, 2007 at 6:30 pmAllow Misha to stay up until 9:00 pm because he behaved well at the Ukrainian Christmas program
Promise #4 on December 14, 2007 at 7:00 pmEscort Misha straight to bed if he continued to "play" instead of cleaning the living room
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For the last several months, Misha has resisted the authority of adults in his life. He's marginally better with Jonathan, me, and his 2nd-grade teacher, but with other adults such as teachers at Sunday School and Ukrainian school, it's been an extremely challenging semester.
To him, it must make perfect sense. One day in Ukraine, some strangers came to his home and made him leave his parents, his extended family, his house, his toys, his pets, etc., etc. So to him, it's very threatening to obey adults, especially ones he doesn't know very well. He can't understand that they (usually) have his best interests in mind. He just knows that his world fell apart when he lost control to the "crazy men."
Misha's not alone in these feelings. Our other four children also struggle with control issues of one kind or another. I suppose that all kids face this struggle to some extent, but I'm only familiar with our five. One of our worst meltdowns exploded right before their first Halloween in the U.S. The children love to decorate, and Jonathan had promised they could put "lamps" (outdoor Christmas-type lights) in our front tree. Unfortunately, the word for lamp in Ukrainian is very broad; when he came home, they had rigged up a living room lamp in the tree, complete with yards and yards of extension cords. He told them to dismantle it all, and before he could offer the proper lights, one of the children fell apart into a major meltdown: Papa had promised something and then taken it back. Of course, the depth of the child's anger, grief, and disappointment was not appropriate to the current situation; instead, old feelings of loss and betrayal were emerging. The child stayed in the tree for a long, long time, absolutely refusing to remove the lamp, and that was just round #1 of that meltdown.
Last Saturday, our younger three children participated in the annual Christmas program at their Ukrainian school. Misha took part willingly, which for him has been unusual lately. He has sometimes spent the entire four hours of school coloring instead of doing his lessons. But Jonathan recently explained to him that he needs to keep up his Ukrainian language so he can help Kola, who will not know English. That makes sense to Misha, and he's beginning to try harder.
On Saturday night at suppertime, I rewarded the children for their good behavior at the Christmas program by promising them an extra 30 minutes before bedtime. But in our job after supper, Misha kept messing around instead of cleaning up the living room. It's an old pattern: repeated requests for a certain behavior with warnings of consequences. Finally I had had enough, and told him clearly: "Misha, if I see you messing around one more time, you will go straight to bed."
In only thirty seconds, he tossed a sweater five feet into the air. "Misha, it's time for bed." Result: a major meltdown. I was still sore the next day from restraining him on my lap: an enraged child is pretty strong. "Mom, you broke your promise!! You said I could stay up late tonight!!" "Misha, I promised you bedtime if you kept messing around." "That doesn't matter," he screamed. "You broke your promise!!!!" By this time, I was rueing my choice of discipline, but it was too late to back down. Misha needs to learn that I mean what I say.
(The next day, Jonathan explained it to him much better than I had. My very first promise to him was to be his mother and take care of him. He needs to learn to trust and obey us.)
After about thirty minutes, he was finally sitting quietly on my lap staring at the wall, and still refusing to go to bed. I'm very good at waiting, so I settled in, quietly watching him squirm. He lasted a long time for an eight-year-old, but after ten minutes it was just too much. "If I go to bed, I bet you won't read to me!"
The adoption literature has also told me that children need to save face. Here was my golden opportunity! "Misha, it isn't 8:30 yet, so of course we can read a book together. That's something I've promised you many times." He thought about it briefly, and then sprinted up the stairs to find a good book!
Mikola's Adoption
Several people have asked me about the status of Mikola's adoption. Here's an update on the current situation.
Mikola entered the baby orphanage in Kilovohrad in the spring of 2004 at the approximate age of 1 year. His orphanage is located about three blocks away from the orphanage for older children where our five kids lived. Jonathan and I visited the front offices of Kola's orphanage to meet the director and tell her of our keen interest in adopting Mikola. We left a letter for his file stating our desire and mentioning that we are the parents of his older siblings. The baby orphanage was immaculate and brightly painted, and the orphanage director was very kind. We didn't see any children that day--they must have been away on a field trip. It was impossible to meet Mikola or see a photo of him because his privacy is protected by Ukrainian law, and we do not yet have any rights to visit him or receive information about him. We do know his birthday, however, and he is now 4-1/2 years old.
Last September we sent another letter to Ukraine reiterating our desire to adopt Mikola. Masha translated our letter and sent it to the orphanage and to the SDAPRC (State Department for Adoptions and Protection of the Rights of the Child), which is the Ukrainian government's national office for adoption. Mikola's paperwork had reached them in Kyiv last August, which marked the beginning of the year-long period when he is available for Ukrainian citizens to adopt. So the earliest we could travel to adopt him is August 2008.
The adoption dossier that we assembled for Mikola in Fall 2007 contains documents that mostly expire after one year and therefore must be redone before we travel next summer. Luckily, the most expensive one (U.S. State Department clearance, costing about $800) is valid for eighteen months instead of one year. Also, our case worker in Chicago can update the home study without starting over from scratch.
The funds for Kola's adoption are waiting in an account managed by our church, Trinity Lutheran. The generosity of many, many people has meant that the fund now contains almost 90% of the money needed for his adoption. We are very grateful for this assistance, as well as by the many in-kind gifts that people have sent or given us. We are truly blessed by the vast "village" that is helping us raise our children and reunite them with their little brother.
Gaining Their Respect
When I was in high school, my family often went boating, skiing, and tubing. My siblings and I can clearly remember the time my fortyish mother first went tubing with us. We couldn't believe she would do it, but there she was--bouncing along on the gigantic inner tube and hanging on for dear life. My brother drove the boat over an especially large wave, and she flew off the tube, rolling over and over across the surface of the lake. Luckily, she was not hurt, but I have an enduring image in my mind of her spunk and willingness to try something new.
Now, as a fortyish mother, I don't often feel very adventuresome. It gets sucked out of me by the noise, the schedule, the constant "Mom, look at this . . . ." When I get a spare minute, it feels good to curl up in a warm bed and sleep for a while. So, when Jonathan asked me last Friday to take the kids sledding, my first thought was not very affirmative. But he needed to grade papers, since his semester is screeching to a halt, and the kids have been begging to go sledding.
Having grown up in Houston, Texas, my experience with sledding is pretty minimal. The few times I went as a child, however, were pretty exciting, so I knew how much the kids would enjoy it. For the parent, however, just thinking about standing outside for a couple hours in a Chicago winter makes my whole back tense up!
Yesterday, we drove a few miles to a local park, which has a hill specifically built for sledding. The kids jumped out and ran full-speed to get started. I debated whether I should just stay in the warm car, but decided that I needed to get out and at least watch. The kids were having such a good time that it didn't take very long for me to chide myself for being a stick-in-the-mud and try a run down the hill myself.
The center of the sledding hill was very icy and slick, and the sleds were flying down at unbelievable speeds. Luckily, the sides of the hill still had some snow, which looked a little more manageable. I sat down in one of our sleds and started down the hill. The sled picked up speed very quickly and seemed to move itself toward the center of the hill. My hat flew off, and I heard myself screaming as the sled turned and I was heading down backwards. As I wiped out, my nose scraped the ice, my left hand bent back, and my feet got tangled in the rope. Bogdan ran over to see if I was ok. Fortunately, there were no major injuries that extra Aleve couldn't fix the next morning when I tried to play organ. And Jonathan told me
after the fact that the sledding hill is built to funnel the sledders to the middle!
After my sledding crash, I had no qualms about sitting in the warm car for the next 1-1/2 hours. I had paid my dues!
Another "Candy" Holiday
Dear Paul, Adam, Rachel, Sarah, and David,
I hope you received the goodies I left in your shoes last night. And you were kind to place a shoe for your Mom and another for your Dad by the front door, as well.
But Paul and Adam, you made it difficult for me to be fair in the amount of treats I left for each of you. Those high wading boots have about four times the space of the other children's shoes! Luckily, I was able to find lots of your socks in the basement to stuff into your boots before adding the food.
I know you think that Mom and Dad filled your shoes rather than me. So you think the small grape tomatoes were something they, and not I, would give? Well, remember, I know your likes and dislikes, too, and I know you really love tomatoes! I also know to minimize the amount of chocolate candy and maximize the number of hard candies and pieces of gum.
It's ok with me that your Mom and Dad are making you wait until after school to eat most of your candy. Last year, one of your teachers complained that you couldn't concentrate in school very well on Dec. 6. Your Mom had to apologize for letting you eat too much of my candy in the morning. So be good today, and you can have it for snack this afternoon--that is, if you behave well!
It was good to visit your home last night. I'll be back again next year at this time!
Love, St. Nicholas
A Cure for the December Blues
It was a Dunkin Donuts morning. Chicago had its first major snowfall (five inches) starting last night and continuing until noon today. That meant that Jonathan and the older boys spent 45 minutes this morning shoveling sidewalks and digging out our two cars. Jonathan's absence meant that I did his work inside (setting the table and supervising the children) as well as my usual tasks of making lunches and cooking breakfast. "Supervising the children" was extra challenging due to their excitement about the snow, which made them CRAZY!
As I dropped them off at school, the enormity of the day started to hit me. (I won't bore you by enumerating it all--everybody has too much to do this time of year.) It was easy to decide that another cup of coffee and two doughnuts sounded pretty good. After my required meeting at church, I still felt pretty down, and decided to go home, escape the world for awhile, and sleep. Now I'm still way, way behind, but at least rested.
The other thing that helped me was meeting the kids after school. Their joy and revelry in the snow reminds me to lighten up and not let the December blizzard of my life weigh me down so much. The snow is indeed beautiful and worthy of rejoicing, as are the precious children God has given me.
From the Mouths of Babes
In second grade, our eight-year-old Misha is learning how to count money. To assist in this goal, we were asked to send a collection of coins to school so the children could practice. His teacher also asked him to write a short essay about money, which I include for you here:
Money is in portant.
by: David Stahlke
Money is inportant.
I use money to buy toysand
food. Money is not for toys only
becaues you will not have moneyto
buy food. You need to buy good things
with money. Money is incredible.
Acculturation
Fall 2005--I made sandwiches with either ketchup or no condiments at all.
Today--All of today's sandwiches except one have condiments.
In Ukraine, Jonathan and I noticed immediately that bread is usually served without butter. The bread is quite delicious, which helps.
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Fall 2005--Mornings were often derailed when the children saw sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly, or cheese, or salami, or tuna. It was hard to find anything they liked.
Today--They calmly check to see what I'm making, and I no longer have to finish lunches before they're out of bed.
In Ukraine at the orphanage, a typical lunch for school was a bun and cold hot dog. The children still love hot dogs.
___________________Fall 2005--A wonderful dessert once a week as a gift from our friend Susan. She made "adult" desserts (e.g., chocolate, cheesecake, etc.) for Jonathan and me to enjoy every afternoon at snack/coffee time. The kids didn't like them, which meant more for us! I often gave the children fruit, cookies, or something light like poundcake.
Today--Susan is still sending her fantastic weekly desserts, but they only last a day or two since almost every child now eats them. Today there are two pieces of cake left for this afternoon, so I'll make jello for the kids and save Susan's dessert for Jonathan and me.
___________________
Fall 2005--Our girls were willing to wear only pastels and light colors.
Today--Olena is proudly wearing black jeans to school, and last Saturday Luda dressed in all black and white for a band contest.
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Fall 2005--In the morning, Jonathan would dress the children, tieing their shoes and buttoning their shirts. All five were quite capable of doing this, since they had been so independent in Ukraine, but he wanted them to have this special attention that they had missed for so long.
Today--Jonathan and I overslept (we just couldn't get out of bed), and while the kids dressed themselves, he took a shower and I made breakfast and lunches.
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Fall 2005--Jonathan and I both walked with all five kids to school so we wouldn't have to face the "seatbelt" fight in the car. Once at Garfield, we both circulated on the playground either to comfort a child or keep them from leaving the premises.
Today--We each drive, one to Grace and the other to Garfield. Some of the children race each other to see who can get their seatbelt buckled first. We drop the kids off from the car!
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Fall 2005--The kids love vegetables, but only raw ones.
Today--The kids love vegetables, but only raw ones.
Some things have not yet changed.
Perspective
All of the following "now" entries really do feel welcome when I can get them!
sleeping late on Saturdaybefore--8:00 or 9:00 am
now--7:00 a.m. (after which I make breakfast, and then lunches for Ukrainian school)
alone timebefore--a long walk or a visit to Borders
now--an hour of laundry work in the basement (it
is comparatively quiet)
a date with Jonathan in Decemberbefore--a Christmas concert in the Loop
now--Lessons and Carols at Concordia, sitting with Jonathan in one row, and the kids with our adult friends in the next row
