Jacob and Highland Football

Jacob was interviewed by the Yakima Herald for his role in helping bring back football to Highland High School, and frankly, I'm so impressed with his spirit. His seminary teacher said that when she saw this picture of Jacob, she thought, "That is not my Jacob!" But when I saw this picture, I thought with a smile, "There is my Jacob." Klamath Falls peeps will back me up. They knew Jacob from the age of 2-7 years old, what I call the "Destructo-Boy Years." From the time he could scoot across the floor, Jacob has been pushing mightily through life with a determination and passion--and a grin--that made me second guess my parenting skills and had me drawing the conclusion that Jacob's soul must be HUGE and crammed into that tiny little body, so he's just busting to make a place in this world and see what he can do. He's not so tiny anymore and he doesn't break all my stuff anymore, and I don't have to grip his hand so he doesn't run headlong into the heavy traffic of life, but he's still pushing mightily, and his grin is still as big as it was when he was three. I have loved watching this kid tackle what has come at him with grace and ingenuity, determination, humor, and his feet pushing him forward. Often leaving the ground to slam into the ball-carrier.

Read the article here:
http://www.yakimaherald.com/sports/prep_sports/kickoff_2015/the-comeback-trail-highland-scotties/article_107ef654-51bb-11e5-bc1c-cfc5330ca34b.html

The Scotties have a long road ahead of them, and it's still a struggle watching their games. The road blocks? Lack of knowledge and experience, language barrier, and trepidation. How often do you feel a touch of victory when the half-time score is 0-40? And an even greater victory when the final score is 0-47? That was a great second half, by the way. So yeah, it's rough. But man, I get to watch my boy all over that field. "Tackle by Jensen." "Tackle by Jacob Jensen." "Tackle by number 51, Jacob Jensen." "The ball stopped by Jensen." "Number 51 with the tackle." How many ways can they say that? He scrambles over and under and through. He torpedoes from out of nowhere and takes the runner down. He comes from the other side of the field and stops forward motion. He blocks kicks with his chest. He. Never. Lets. The score. Slow. Him. Down. Seriously. Fun to watch. And you know what? It's contagious. During second half, different numbers, different names with the tackles. You can feel it. The team is watching. The team is getting brave.

When Jacob was in 2nd grade, I got a call from the principal. Jacob had been in a fight. A classmate was being bullied, and Jacob had had enough and launched himself at the bully. I was told it was a full-out rolling on the floor, punching fight. On top of that, I was told that Jacob was lying about his part in the fight. The principal asked me to come in and get my son.
I was full of mixed emotions: proud of Jacob for defending a bullied child, worried about finding him bloodied or bruised, confused about discipline, and embarrassed that he would lie. He was my most honest child.
I arrived to find Jacob with a swollen lip and scratched neck. The principal (who was the most disengaged principal I've ever known at a school) briefed me on what happened, expressed his understanding that Jacob was defending against bullies, but made a very big deal over the lying. "I asked him if he had punched the other boy, and Jacob said no. It was very plain that they were throwing punches. We have witnesses. He's lying, and so he's expelled for the day."
The lying was the thing. I just thanked him and we left.
On the way home (we were walking), I gave Jacob a hug for defending  someone who was being bullied, and asked him what happened. He got to the fight part and said, "So we started hitting."
I stopped. I asked, "So, you were punching?"
"No," he said. "Hitting. But he hit me first. I just tackled him away from (the smaller kid)."
I said, "Show me what punching is."
He closed his fist, and acted out hitting himself in the face and head.
I said, "Show me hitting."
He closed his fist and acted out hitting his body all over. Just his body.
I said, "So you were hitting."
He nodded.
"But not punching?"
He shook his head no. "I wasn't punching."
He wasn't lying. His definitions were just different than ours. And he stood by them. And I gave him a big hug. I taught him about the words. We talked about what to do about bullies and friends, and frustration and anger. I wanted to go back into that office and tell the principal my son wasn't a liar. I wanted to tell that principal that I wish somebody would have done for his brother Braeden what Jacob did for that little boy, when Braeden was being bullied. In HIS school, on HIS watch.

But from that point on, I knew I didn't have to worry about Jacob getting picked on, or Jacob worrying about what other people think, or Jacob fearing much of anything. He'll have trials, he'll have obstacles, he'll make mistakes and have heartache like the rest of us. But he's one of my heroes.

He won't sit back and let things fall apart. I can just picture his response to that suggestion.

"Why would I do that?" And then he'd grin.

2000

Update on Will the Brave

We've been home six weeks from China and I've been so busy with Will, back-to-school, appointments, and a few projects, that I haven't conjured up the time to post an update. Well, abra kadabra, here you go.

ADORABLENESS: HE IS FULL OF IT. His personality is big and his enthusiasm and determination makes for pretty fun antics. He's entertaining and he knows it. His "toddlerness" is pretty spot on and we laugh, grimace, cushion, and encourage. Lots of laughing, though. And face-palming.

Mowing the lawn like Dad.

ALL

BY

HIS

OWN

LITTLE

SELF.

COPING SKILLS: Will is continuing to absorb this new life and leave the old one behind. He is gaining new coping skills and uses them. He learned "soft" ("dahh") and he has attached to his teddy bear. This was huge, as he had zero interest in any stuffed animal from the beginning, and honestly, we only kept three in the crib to use as soft barriers between his head and the crib railings. But one morning he woke up and played the name game (he points to his chest and says "Will," then points to something else and I tell him its name, then repeat), but this time he pointed to each of his stuffed animals. I was surprised, because I didn't know he even noticed them.
"Will?" He points.
"Bear."
"Will?" He points.
"Racoon."
"Will?" He points.
"Llama llama."
Repeat the next couple of days.
Then one morning he woke up and held up one of the animals in triumph. "BEH!" And he noted Beh was soft. "Dahh." And he wanted Beh to come with us to breakfast. And to read books. And in the car. And pretty soon Will would make Beh dance and he'd sing, "Doo dee doo dee doo." And if Will fell or got frustrated and was angry or too deregulated to want or see me, I could give him Beh and we would say "Dahh. Dahh. Dahh." and pet Beh's soft fur, and Will would calm down and see me again. If Beh wasn't around, we used our dog Brodie. "Dahh. Dahh. Dahh." Soft. "It's okay. Soft. Soft. It's okay." And Will would calm down. And sometimes, if Beh or Brodie were not available, and a meltdown was beginning, I would take Will's hand and we'd rub his own arm or cheek and say, "Soft. Soft." And Will would take a breath and say, "Dahh. Dahh." Last night as I was putting him to bed, he was a bit wound up and refusing his bottle and just being a toot. But it was 9:30 and we both needed sleep. I was frustrated about the bottle and was moving him to a different position, and he started to kick. But as I settled him into the crook of my arm, his hand went to his cheek and he said, "Dahh. Dahh. Dahh," stroking his own cheek. This was a choice he made, at a point where, weeks before, he would have been hurting himself as his coping mechanism and losing control. It was a small little thing and he only did it the little bit before settling down and letting me rock him, but I was moved by the magnitude of this switch in his thought process. "Will is soft, and Will can calm down, and be soft to Will. Just like Beh." It's not every time, and it's not always enough, but baby steps. Awesome little huge baby steps.

Will and Beh just before bedtime. Sleepy-face.

COMMUNICATION: As I mentioned, Will plays a name game. He asks for the name of lots of things. Sometimes he attempts to repeat, sometimes he just listens. Then a few days later he starts using the word. So, new words: ha-lo (hello), peeez? (please--he's caught on that I melt when he says this so of course it's one of his manipulation tactics), qua (crib), phhinn (fan--he's a little obsessed with our ceiling fans and struggles with words that begin with F, so he practices this a lot), nigh (good night), Beh (bear), oo-foo (shoes), buh-bo (button), fow-feh (flower), cuck (truck), tsi-tsi (sit), nah (done), on..mmm...eee...GO! (one, two, three, GO!), ummeee (yummy), buh (book), luh-ow-loo (I love you). We finally Skyped with his niece, Carly (ha that sounds so weird), and they were pretty cute. They stared at each other for awhile with little smiles on their faces, then they both pointed and called each other "baby." Then Carly waved her big hand wave and Will returned it with his little finger wave and Chelsea and I were pretty much wishing we weren't four states away.

SLEEP: We've made big strides in sleep. Every once in a while he'll fight going to sleep, or wake up at night once or twice, but it's becoming more normal for him to go to sleep and sleep through the night. He's starting to refuse his bottle or just drink two ounces, or he'll drink eight. So I don't know. I'm switching him gradually from formula to milk so maybe that has something to do with it. Oh well. But I'm definitely grateful for more regular sleep. He hasn't had any night terrors lately. Most of the time when he wakes up I'm greeted with an enthusiastic "HI!" hands thrown up in the air, big grin, and a quick grab of Beh before he leaves the crib. Pretty fantastic. If he wakes up grumpy, we're in for a long day, ha.

SOCIALIZING: We've had a visit from my sister and her family, a day trip to my parents' house, we took Will to Jacob's football scrimmage and a staff BBQ, I take Will walking in the mornings with my friends Sara and Laura, and we've ventured to Maren's dental appointments, junior high orientation, Costco, the grocery store, JoAnn Fabric, and even Hobby Lobby really quickly. He's doing pretty well as long as the trips aren't too long (he did NOT like the trip to Kennewick; however, he LOVED my parents) and we have snacks. The school orientation was too much. But he does love being in the car and seems to enjoy the car seat as long as it's not more than thirty minutes. And he is social, saying "Hi!" and "Car!" to anyone he thinks might be interested. So we practice. We were going to take him to church today, but he's been fighting a cough and cold, and yesterday the same thing hit Brandon hard, so they stayed home together and I GOT TO GO TO CHURCH. Yay! The cute thing is, Will totally loves Brandon. They play together really well, and we can see Will kind of showing off for him when he gets home from work, like, "See what I learned to do today? Watch me do it even louder and stronger!" I think Brandon likes that extra cause to smile after a long day at work. Pretty sweet.

So, we've been up and down and all around, but hopefully moving forward. In trying to describe to friends the changes we see in Will compared to those first weeks, I told them it was like we are seeing him filling up with water and coming alive. Before, he was surviving. But he's beginning to live.

Two Weeks Home

This last Thursday marked two weeks home with Will, and tomorrow marks four weeks since Gotcha Day. Here are the things we are seeing:

SLEEP: Will seems to have transitioned from his fear (terror) of falling asleep, to fearing that we will leave the room. This is GOOD. He has moved from using the end of his bottle as a jump off point to a thrashing, kicking, clawing fight to stay awake, to allowing himself to relax into my arms, be rocked, and then laid in his crib. Sometimes I need to hover near the crib, sometimes I try to sneak out and then have to come back in and just be present a few more minutes, but sometimes I can put him down and he'll settle into his blanket and I can leave. I attribute this change to gas drops after he finishes his bottle (YAY GAS DROPS), keeping the music low but on repeat (Kenny Loggins' Return to Pooh Corner and the Chinese Children's Angelic Choir Lullabies cds, rotated every few days all night or all nap), and Will's progressing attachment. He is clearly no longer afraid to go to sleep, and he likes his room. He says "bye-bye" to everyone, blows a kiss, and gives them  each a soft headbutt before bedtime. The fact that he doesn't want me to leave the room means that he finds my presence a comfort, a reassurance. And that's SO GOOD. I will take it. And it only takes an extra five-ten minutes of comforting and sneaking out. Better than the full 1-2 hours it used to take after his bottle was finished.

BUT...last Sunday night Will had a major meltdown. It happened about two hours after he fell asleep. Jacob and I took turns trying to comfort him. Maren peeked in to see if she could help. Will was a detached, unreachable, enraged wild animal and it was heartbreaking. It brought back the pain of the airplane trip, but I was thankful I could be on the carpet with him and keep him safe, at least. And for the first time, as he thrashed and tore and screamed, I considered night terrors. Is this what we had been dealing with all along? He completely exhausted himself. The kids worried. I cried as he was so spent he could no longer even lift his arms, and all that he could utter were despairing moans, still not giving in to sleep and keeping his eyes wide open, staring at nothing. I gently lifted him and put him in his crib. He kept his eyes open for 10 more minutes as he calmed, and then he dropped. I went and sat out in the hall and sobbed. Then I looked up "post-adoption night terrors" on my phone. The description fit.
The next morning I called my sister, whose son had night terrors from the age of two to four years. Knowledge is good, and so is knowing you're not alone. It was actually a relief. With night terrors, you shouldn't wake the child. Let them ride it out. They won't remember it. It's harder on the parents than the child. Just keep him safe. I can do that. The kids can handle that. And sure enough, the next morning, Will woke up bright-eyed and cheerful, shouting "HI!" when he saw me and reaching for me with both hands and a huge grin, and probably wondering why mommy looked like she'd wrestled a wolverine all night.

That was last Sunday, and it hasn't happened again. He has woken up during the night and I've assessed what was happening, and the night terror hasn't returned yet. A bottle and rocking, or just a reassurance that someone has come and he's okay, seems to be working. Will is sleeping through the night about every 3 nights and last night was a gift of two-nights-in-a-row! But if the night terror does return, I'm better prepared to handle it. We all are.

ROUTINE: We've finally been able to re-establish a sort-of routine, now that jet-lag is finally being shown the door. Will is a creature of habit. Not surprising given the structured routine of an institution. I'm fine with this. He's still sleeping in longer than he should (and I am, too), but school starting will remedy that. Breakfast, playtime, bottle, nap, snack, playtime, dinner, walk, bath, bottle, bedtime. Routine. He loves it. I appreciate it. He takes good naps. I have to wake him after 2 1/2 hours. But I'm starting to see that naptime will be my designated writing time. Yes, I can finally begin to believe that I will write again. And soon.

COMMUNICATION: I heard Will walking around the house the other day repeating a sound. "Ooo-kheee. Ooo-kheee. Ooo-kheee." Cute. A little later he lost his balance and landed on his bum. I asked, "Uh-oh, are you okay?" Getting up, he said, "Ooo-kheee." Okay. Okay. OKAY. He's saying okay. And nobody taught him. Yesterday he started calling cars "car" instead of "chu-chu." He's just picking things up. It's awesome.

COPING SKILLS: As Will's institutional behaviors diminish, it's become clear that his coping skills are poo. We are starting from scratch in teaching him how to handle disappointments, because he's been left to himself to try to cope with the TREMENDOUS disappointments life has shown him already, and no offense Will, but your baby brain filled in the blanks with awful things. This, above all, is why I hesitate to take him out, to attempt even an hour of church, to take him grocery shopping or visiting teaching. His temper is HOT. He gets frustrated easily. If he hurts himself he loses it. If he's tired or out of the "routine" it's clear a meltdown could be looming, waiting for any trigger to set it off. But even in the four weeks that we've been working on this we've made definite progress. He's a different child than when we first got him. It's like he was a seed in dry soil and now he's beginning to sprout. We are blessed to be part of it. The growth will continue, I'm sure. He is doing such a great job already. I wonder who he'll be a year from now? I'm excited for him. "Keep trying, Will! Get up! Dust yourself off. Let me kiss it better. You're okay. Get up. Up! Good job! You can do it!" The other day I was thinking about something I'd felt--I KNEW--from my Dad, from the earliest of the earlies: "You can do it, Kris." Always. It was ingrained in me that my Dad knew I could do anything. It was my fact.
I want Will to feel that from us. I want him to KNOW it. Like it's part of him. "You can do it."
"I knew you could do it."

It's the most powerful thing.

THE FAMILY: Last Thursday we arranged for Brandon to keep Will for the afternoon while Maren and I went back-to-school shopping. Maren and I counted down the days, and Brandon took a deep breath, and shooed us out the door while Will wasn't looking. And they did great! Will realized I was gone, of course, but Brandon distracted him with play. They read "the same three books a hundred times," Will knocked the kitchen garbage over twice, emptied the tupperware drawer three times, they played outside, ate spaghetti for dinner, went on a 40 minute walk, and when we came in the front door towing our shopping bags, Brandon was coming down the stairs holding a freshly-bathed Will, who wore pajamas and a huge grin. YESSSSSSS. Also, my eyes popped out of my head because I couldn't even remember Brandon ever bathing our other kids. I'm sure it happened. Probably? He even used lotion! O_O

Brandon was dog-tired, but agreed that the evening was a success,and I was very grateful.


Speaking of dogs, Brodie and Will have come to a truce of sorts. Brodie realized that after nap, Will sometimes gets to carry around a toddler snack-cup full of goldfish crackers, and sometimes, Will sticks his whole hand into the cup and pulls it out with such force that, to Brodie's delight, a dozen crackers go flying with it. Likewise, Will discovered that Brodie likes to eat goldfish crackers, and that's fun. So, they are in a "mutual appreciation" phase of their relationship. But I have noted that bringing Will home is the event that made our 6 1/2 year-old "puppy" grow up and act his age. Kind of bitter-sweet. He may bark his head off at the "murderers outside our door," but he's my affectionate, sweet dog. I hope he grows to be a good friend to Will. And protects him from those murderers. *eyeroll*

Jacob was at Scout Encampment up near Spokane all week and Will recognized his absence. He pointed out pics of "Eckub" anytime he was near them, and he clapped and smiled when Jacob came home. Cool.

I'm excited that the kids get to go back to school, but honestly, I've loved having them close. I've leaned on them and they've lifted me up. They've encouraged me and thanked me and witnessed all the things. They've put their arms around me when I felt like collapsing in tears. They've changed diapers and babysat and let me nap. They've been awesome. I couldn't ask for better kids. But I'm stronger and routine will be good for all of us. They need their friends and activities. And they'll have an excited little brother to come home to.

Loving Will is improving all of us.

I hate imagining this strong, smart, silly, affectionate boy growing up anywhere else.

One Week Home

It's time for an update. One week home, three weeks from Gotcha Day. I'd like to start by saying that besides raising 4 of my own kids, all very different types of toddlers, I also worked in a large inner-city daycare center in the infant/toddler room while Brandon was in college, and continued to babysit privately in my home until just a few years ago. With all of this experience, and all the studying of international adoption I did for XinQin and Will, this has been one of the most emotional, fascinating, draining, frustrating, heart-breaking, joyful, rewarding things I've ever encountered. We are in a constant state of considering where Will came from, where his head is, his loss, his grieving, his genetics and his personality, along with his firsts, his joys, his comforts. I knew that stuff with my bio kids. With Will, it's like working through a labyrinth, hoping we're making the right turns.
We've been home from China a week now. Here's a list of things we are seeing:

1. Will's meltdowns have diminished to more manageable tantrums, and they are fewer. His negative (and scary) institutional behaviors are fading. We are in awe at the speed in which he is learning and choosing to regulate himself instead of giving himself over to what is more familiar. This is such a blessing. We are still cocooning so we're keeping him out of social situations. Right now I fear he might fall back on old habits if he's overwhelmed or over-stimulated. Still, seeing the rate at which he's letting it go is so encouraging, and we wonder at the idea of him still being in an orphanage, and at the other little ones still there, and these horrible behaviors continuing and strengthening, when it takes so little time for their minds to begin accepting that there is something better for them, if it's offered. He is soaking in real love and constant family.

2. I'm not concerned about language at all. He's a little mimic. He jabbers a lot and reminds us of our granddaughter, Carly. Getting these two together, I smile at the conversations of jibberish they would have. No, he's not speaking Chinese. We asked our China guide. She laughed. Nope, just baby talk. He does say Thank you (xie xie) and car (chu chu) in Chinese, but that's it. He is picking up new English words every day. He says hi (his favorite greeting repeated over and over), bye-bye, Mama and Dada, Cub (Jacob), Meh (Maren), baby, apple, bow wow or woof, nana (banana), cheese ("say cheese" for the camera), pee-bee-bee (peekaboo), and I see (I see you). Yesterday we started the name game, pointing to ourselves and saying our name, then pointing to Will and saying his name. He caught on and wanted to play again today, starting with "Will."

3. Sleep makes a HUGE difference, especially for Mommy. I've been running on 3 hours of sleep a night, with only 2-3 full nights of sleep thrown in there. Will was cranky, I was cranky, and honestly, I was crying at the drop of a hat. A body and mind can't function on exhaustion. Add to the mix that I've been sick since day 2 in China. I lost 10 pounds in two weeks because of a stomach thing. Not an energizing weight loss program, but a draining illness. And I was putting Will first. So the stomach bug and no sleep, on top of jet lag and being there for all of this transition has been absolutely draining, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Will seems to have sleep anxiety--not being asleep, but going to sleep, as if it's a loss of control he can't give in to. After learning of the conditions in which they're put to bed in the orphanage, I can't blame him. We somehow have to make that transition a safe place for him, and I think we're figuring it out. But yesterday, after another 3-hour night, I was a mess. Brandon mentioned something at dinner and I just started crying. Blah. BUT, we tried fresh ideas with the bedtime thing and kept Will up until 10 pm, Brandon bought me a new comfy rocking chair, and somehow the mix worked and Will slept through the night. That was so needed. Both of us slept until 9:30 am. So today, at least, I'm thinking clearer and Will was definitely happier. We'll see how tonight goes. Also, I've been on probiotics for a few days and I think they're making a difference. I hope. I need to be healthy and strong.

4. Going backward to move forward. In all of my studying I read a lot about regressive behavior in institution kids. I'm so grateful. On paper, Will is 25 months old. In life, he is more like 14 months old, in some ways, a lot younger. He has 16 teeth, but doesn't know how to chew, because he was only fed soft foods. He still pushes food to the roof of his mouth. He's making up for lost time with that one as we introduce finger foods. He loves apples and they're great chewing practice. He still takes a bottle. The nanny told us he takes one night bottle of regular cold milk. But he didn't want that. We give him a bottle of warm formula before nap time and one before bed. I don't care. He loves it. He needs it. When we first started with a bottle, he'd turn away from me, and not make eye contact, not letting me touch the bottle, and barely him. Then, he would turn toward me. Then, he began to make solid eye contact, and study me. Then the matching began. I'd read about that, so it was exciting to see happen. He'd lift his brows. I'd lift mine. He'd blink long. I'd blink long. He'd grin. I'd grin. He'd lift his brows again. I'd copy. Then one night, he reached up and rested his hand on my face. That was emotional. I moved his palm to my mouth and kissed it. Now, when he greets me after nap, or in the morning, or during bottle, or when he likes a book I've read, he lifts his palm to my mouth and I kiss it. So yeah, bottle time. All the things I did naturally as I nursed my bio babies...Will didn't get any of that. He's getting it now. We do a lot of rocking in the rocking chair. Lots.

He loves steamed broccoli.

5. Physically, Will is growing. He's sturdier, and I'm pretty sure he's heavier. He's still a comfy 18 months in clothes, but he feels strong and healthy in our arms (especially when he's fighting sleep with all of his might, ugh). When we first got him he toddled unsteadily, holding a hand. Now he walks very independently and practically runs. His first doctor appointment will be in a couple of weeks. He hated the medical exams in China. I'm not looking forward to it, but I have questions that need answers, and we need to make sure he's on the right track.

Chasing bubbles.

He loves the little pool. He hopped and splashed and spent lots of energy with me and Maren.

6. Will loves to read books. I could not be happier with this. All day, interspersed with his other play, he brings us books to read to him. He wants a book when he first wakes up (Little Blue Truck Leads the Way), repeated (All the Ways I Love You, the little photo book I made him, and others), and before he goes to bed (On the Night You Were Born). We read to him as much as he wants. Are you kidding me? We're a book family.



7. Just now, at 11:15 pm, Will woke up. I braced myself and went up to his room. When I picked him up out of his crib, I noticed he had a wet diaper. So I changed him there in the dark as he calmed. With dry diaper on, I lifted him to my shoulder and he relaxed. I swayed with him until his breathing deepened, with Kenny Loggins singing softly in the background, and then laid him in his crib, and snuck out. It worked. No institutional rocking. Totally normal. And I was blown away by the normalcy of it, taking time to say a little prayer of thanks and do a little victory dance in the hall. I'm not naive enough to think it will be sweet sailing nighttime bliss from here on out. No way. But tonight, I'm grateful.

And I'm going to bed.