Fairytales and Gumdrops

Some of you may know, in January I became a stay at home mom. I never in a million years thought I would journey down this road. I enjoy working, I always thought being at home would be boring.

It has been filled with the sweet sounds of children waking up in the morning politely requesting their breakfasts and then overjoyed when I give them their first meal of the day.

It has been filled with hugs and snuggles and kisses.

It has been filled with two children, napping at the same time all afternoon, leaving mom with some beautiful time by herself.

It has been filled with glorious play dates, with kids playing so well together and their mammas enjoying adult conversation.

It has been filled with this mamma sipping hot coffee, spending lots of time in God's word and making her time with the God the highest priority.

It has been filled with lots of extra time to work out. This mamma doesn't do much all day, so it has been time to get her booty into gear and shed those pounds that have been sticking on.

It has been amazing how clean and organized my house is. I can get so much done when I am at home all day.

Or, maybe not. 

Some of those above sentences are true, but I will let you decide.

My time at home as been more like this:

Screaming kids. Kids who protest sleep.

Washing machine flooding our laundry room, leaving moldy worn out floors that needed to be replaced. 

Learning that my 4 year old has some very hard stuff he is dealing with. Who know we would be going through an identity crisis at 4?

Exhaustion. These kids run me ragged.

And this house.....will it EVER be clean? 

Spilled drinks. Spilled meals. Actually the spills I can take. It's when my 4 year old gets in one of his fits, and ends up throwing everything that is in front of him, that requires me to have extra grace and patience. 

 My days have been filled with foster care visits,
 case worker visits,
play dates,
cleaning up the same mess 100 times,
looking at my phone every single minute to see if any time has passed,
and filled with random laundry....EVERYWHERE.

 I have learned more about superheros than I ever thought possible.

My relationship with my son is closer than ever before.

I have been on the front lines and have experienced the brunt of his anger, aggression, tantrums, and fits.

I have sat with him and talked about ethnicity, adoption, foster care, and what a family means.

I make an hour drive with my boy to go see a childhood counselor once a week. 

I have found household objects in the most random of places.

I have been spending my days cherishing the moments we have with Chick. We don't know how much longer she will be with us. I am trying to build a relationship with her parents. It has been a very very slow process.

 We have been dealing with sleep issues. Chick doesn't nap. Caleb is either off or on. He could sleep all night and all day, or he could be awake for two days straight. (Again part of what we are trying to figure out what we are dealing with emotionally and physically with our boy).

 This crazy girl....well, she loves that I am home, and is found, far too often under my feet.

When the Lord first led me to stay at home, I was surprised at how quickly the decision was made and why. I loved my job. I loved working. I loved being in ministry. Why stay at home?? It has been made crystal clear over the last few months.

Never have we had a harder season of parenting. I am sure there will be several posts on that, but I know for this season, it is absolutely necessary for me to be home with Caleb, to give him extra attention, to attend counseling sessions with him, to love on him, and give him the extra care he needs right now.

I never thought I would be here, but I am so glad I am. 

Because it matters {A rant by a tired mamma}

Over the 4 years that Caleb has been in our lives, one of the constant comments I hear when we talk about racial identity is "God doesn't see color."

Really? Do you know when you say that, you are undermining God's creative work in creating cultures and ethnicities, different types of people that all reflect the image and glory of God? Do you know that when you say that, you are telling me that black and white are the same? And do you know you are telling my brown son, that they are the same?

I know what you mean. You mean, "God loves us, regardless of skin color. God loves each of us as His image bearers." I am so glad that we are not bound by culture and ethnicity, but that instead we are blessed by the differences, because they give us a glimpse of God's character and a glimpse of what Heaven will be like.

Perhaps what is so hard about statements like these, is holding my hurting 4 year old last night, until midnight. He was begging me to pray to God and to ask God to turn his skin white.  Or maybe it was the day that he didn't want to go to school because there weren't enough brown kids at his school. Or maybe it was the time he told me that he wanted a brown mommy and daddy. Or maybe it's just the fact that there are differences. I have to take care of his  skin and hair in ways that I don't have to take care of mine, and even in a different way than we take care of Chick's (our bi-racial foster daughter).

As we continue on this journey of raising our son, journey with us as we teach him to value his ethnic identity. The Lord made him black. This is who he is. My hope and prayer is that he would fully embrace his blackness, and whiteness (by being in a white family), and fully glorify the Lord in all that he does. May Caleb walk in purpose and one day understand why a black newborn, born in Detroit was adopted by a white family.

Speaking of the journey....we are starting counseling today. I am not entirely sure how a 4 year old goes through counseling. This is the first step of many. The first step of putting some pieces back together in our very broken home. {Parenting is hard. Especially in adoption and foster care}.

Do you know of any children's books that would help us in this area?

It matters friends. Ethnic identity matters. God created it. Next time you tell me that God doesn't see color, watch out for my mamma claws.

Do you even remember me?

Sometimes, I forget to blog. But I really want to blog, because in this craziness of life, it is so good for me to look back and remember the pictures, remember the funny things my kids did, remember what was on my heart, and to see how things have changed. So here I am...back at it.