Part of the November series “30 Things I Know About Adoption.”

This isn’t the post I planned to write.

But it’s the post I need to write.

I am drinking a glass of wine while I write it. That might give you an idea why.

In truth they day wasn’t too bad, but about 5 o’clock it all went down the crapper.

And just like that, you remember that this parenting thing is HARD! And raising kids with trauma and other special needs (whether adopted or bio) makes it even HARDER.

If you think that somehow your adoption will escape any issues of trauma because _______ (fill in the blank), FORGET ABOUT IT!

There were many contributing factors to tonight’s particular issue – late night because of a sleepover, forgotten meds, etc. Sometimes you will be able to explain it. It doesn’t necessarily make it easy to deal with, but it’s nice to have something to blame it on.

Either way, when those hard times come, you have a choice.

• Lose it (which we all do on occasion).
• Take a deep breath….realize your child is probably in one of the 3 modes (fight, flight or freeze) and cannot get unstuck…react appropriately

Every kid is different and every parent is different. But I know for us this means I have to:

1. Take my voice WAY down in volume and tone. Like my “library voice.”
2. Go to my child (don’t yell across the room), make eye contact.
3. Slow EVERYTHING down.
4. Get the child to take a deep breath (have them mimic your deep breathing).
5. Let them know they will be heard as soon as we can get to a calm place.
6. Sometimes, even when we’re calm, we need to take a break, get a bite to eat and some water and then come back and discuss the issue.

It’s hard. It’s hard to remember to do these things. It’s much easier to get upset and frustrated and annoyed.

But the goal is connection. When we’re through the episode the child/parent relationship should be intact.

There are tons of great resources aren’t there and I recommend that you take advantage of them.

I think EVERY adoptive parent should not only read The Connected Child (affiliate link) but also attend one of the Empowered To Connect Conferences. (Or buy the DVDs.) This stuff is amazing.

Though not specific to adoption, The Whole Brained Child is another great book that helps explain brain function in children. (I love the downstairs/upstairs brain illustration.)

I know I’ve also learned a lot by reading the blog of Lisa Qualls over at One Thankful Mom. Christine Moer also has a great blog and a TON of great videos on her YouTube channel.

What are some of your favorite parenting resources?

Part of the November series “30 Things I Know About Adoption.”

It took me years to learn to love roller coasters. As a child at Disneyland I preferred the teacups. It went round the big circle and I, depending on how hard I turned the wheel at the center, controlled how fast we spun

Roller coasters represented the unknown – twists, turns and giant hills followed by stomach-dropping plunges I was sure would catapult me out of the car.

I am a control-freak.

Or, as the Esurance commercials put it, a “control enthusiast.”

Nothing is more frustrating for a control enthusiast than adoption. I don’t think. At least I have not encountered anything yet.

Of course the ride begins with paperwork – tons of paperwork. But at least paperwork was something I could control with my color-coded folders and checklists. Make appointments for physicals – check. Fingerprints – check. Homestudy visits – check. Authenticate dossier – check.

The day I was putting our dossier on a FedEx truck, we got a call. The organization we found the children through was changing partner adoption agencies. It was up to us, but they advised us to switch.

This was NOT in my flow chart.

And thus began MONTHS of riding the roller coaster.

Do we switch agencies or do we not? (God answered that one with a closed door.) We sent in our paperwork.

Then we waited, and waited.

We hoped to pass court before the rainy season government shutdown that lasts from August to October. We should have been ready.

Someone totally dropped the ball and we missed the deadline. Commence emotional meltdown.

I had dreamed of having the kids home by summer. Instead, we were a family of four traveling to California that August for vacation.

Courts reopened but there were more issues with our paperwork. I felt so helpless – all I could do was make endless phone calls. Some of which I may have been close to screaming at people. I’m not saying it was pretty.

TIA. “This is Africa.” It runs on its own time schedule – or not.

We finally got a court date, the day after Thanksgiving. That should have made me feel better. It was a step. But, in the weeks before there had been an unusual amount of delays from the courts requesting more paperwork. The fate of my children rested in the hands of a judge in Ethiopia and God. (This was back before parents had to be in Ethiopia for court.)

A part of me felt confident that God had our back and we would pass on the first try. The other part of me knew that might not be God’s plan. I was literally sick to my stomach in the days before court. That’s the least amount of food I’ve ever eaten at Thanksgiving.

Wherever you are in the adoption process, if you can find a way to be okay without any control, you’ll do awesome.

I just kept repeating to myself and others, “It is, what it is.”

I can’t change it. (Well the screaming phone calls actually did get something done that needed to be done, but that was a bit unique.)

How do you deal with feeling helpless during the process?

Part of the November series “30 Things I Know About Adoption.”

Trust. Control.

Those two words are peppered through any adoption book you read. And trust me, I read plenty before we brought the kids home.

Adopted kids have trust issues. Duh.

Adopted kids have control issues. Makes sense.

These can play out in a ton of different ways and granted, we have been extremely blessed. Nobody peed where they shouldn’t. No one has stolen stuff or hid stuff under their mattress.

What I do have is a child who needs to know EVERYTHING.

Within minutes of school pickup she wants to know what’s for dinner. On Friday afternoon she’s asking what we’re doing that weekend. She’s already asking what our summer plans are.

A child who still, 4.5 years after coming home, doesn’t seem to trust me to remember to turn the field trip permission slip in on time. She’ll remind me every evening, even though the permission slip clearly says I have two weeks left to turn it in.

It defies logic. I asked her, “Have you ever missed a field trip because I didn’t turn in a permission slip.”

“I guess not.”

Guess? She’s gone on 15 field trips and missed only one due to illness. Yet that doesn’t instill confidence.

Last year she  fretted about having a costume for their Living Wax Museum. I promised her I’d have something, I just hadn’t gotten to it until a couple days before when I went to thrift store and came up with what I needed to rig a cost-effective costume. I’ve been doing this Wax Museum for 4 years now and never once have I sent a kid without the appropriate costume.

But she was still worried. Still felt like things were out of control.

If you want to get under my skin quick, all you need do is accuse me of not doing my job or not knowing what I’m doing (when I do). It’s my trigger button. I know it. Mark knows it.

I once had an employer try to blame me for a series of technical issues with our website, calling it “a perfect storm of failure”. I think steam actually came out of my ears like a cartoon character.

When she says “Mom, I still need my permission slip signed” I hear “Mom, you’re not doing your job.”

And my defenses go up. I gently (usually) remind her that I will, indeed, have it turned in on time but it’s hard not to be irritated. I’m working on that one too.

She and I had a lengthy conversation once about trust.

“But how do I trust you?” she asked.

There’s not an easy answer to that. I explained that hopefully her experiences would help her to trust us. On a basic level we’ve always made sure she’s fed, has a place to sleep, and has clothes. Beyond that we’ve made sure she had what she needed for school, we go to all their concerts, sports games etc. Simply put, we are there, always there.

But what I’m learning is that there is no magic time. You can’t say “Well it’s been almost 5 years, she should trust us.”

We have to continue to prove it every day. Will there be a day when suddenly that fear is gone? I don’t know. I hope so, I pray for that for her.

In the meantime I’m doing my best to remember that it’s not about me – at least not in the sense that I seem to take it. This is about continuing to show her that she is safe, she is loved, she is cherished.

How do you see your kids trust issues play out?