Unless you only read this blog sporatically, you know that we have been struggling in this house lately. Sometimes it is overwhelming. The latest struggle is trying to get Miles help at the earliest stage possible to help him overcome his severe aggression. We are trying desperately to get him into our state's early intervention progam. Our main issue is that the child's birth certificate says that he is 10 months old when we suspect that he is older than 2. This is no one's fault. A year ago, based on his size, I would have made the assumption that he was a whole lot younger, too. But that malnutrition is a tricky thing and the things it does to developement and growth are shocking. So every month, as Miles grows, he ages exponentially. Every trip to the doctor ages him by months and months. When he first got home, we thought that maybe he was a year old. Then when we got some food in him and he wasn't listless all the time, we thought maybe 18 months old. Then he got in 18 months worth of teeth in a 2 1/2 month time span and we thought he was around 2. Then he started being able to stand on one leg and jump and do all sorts of other crazy stuff and now we think he's older than two. Seriously- malnutrition is a bitch. If he is older than 2, then there is a ton of his life that is unaccounted for before he arrived at the orphanage. Whatever the reason, he is acting it out in some crazy ways. The state likes hard numbers. His documentation says 10 months and that is standing in our way of getting him properly evaluated for pyschological help. Lucky for us, we have lots of advocates and friends that are connected with the system that are fighting for him. And I think we may be able to pull it off and start getting Miles some services to start helping him heal. I told my dear friend yesterday that you know your world has been flipped upside down when you are frantic to find psychological help for your child before they are even verbal. But we are on the right path and I see light at the end of the tunnel.
Our family was desperate for a shake up from the routine this weekend. Saturday we tried to keep the kids separated all day to keep the pressure from building up. I took Miles out for some one on one time all morning. (which included getting his stitches out) and then in the afternoon, my mom came and took the big kids to a movie. Just keeping everyone away from each other and giving the kids a break from Miles, seemed to work wonders. I know that it is not possible to keep em' separated (anybody else just bust out the Offspring song?) all the time, but for a day, it sure was nice! And then on Sunday it was time for some family down time after church. And what better place to have down time than Papaw Johnny's farm?!
The farm is my kid's very favorite place in the world to be. They are free to get dirty, run off some steam and just explore until their heart's are content. Just seeing them have so much fun was refreshing to me. We left all the stress behind and just had fun. And seriously- it was way better for my soul than the $100 I dropped on therapy. The day reminded me of how awesome this adventure of parenting 3 children is. We stopped for a photo and at that moment I actually felt like maybe this was all going to turn out okay...eventually.
Somehow our little jaunt to the creek to get some water for the chickens, turned into all the kids stripping down nekkid and having the time of their lives in the creek with their Papaw.
(Yes, we do feed Noah- aka "BOB" for Bag of Bones!)
The kids jumped off the little bridge into the water so many times, I thought that my poor dad's arms would break from catching them so many times. And each time there were giggles and joy and utter happiness.
Seeing my children this happy was like a lifeline for me. I always wonder what kind of images I'll see on my deathbed when I am reflecting over my life. I hope it's these images and the sound of all that laughter. It was just so much perfection.
You can't buy that kind of happy. Even if it only lasts for an afternoon...