I'm told this a lot. Like, a lot, a lot.
Yep, we're happy. Yep, the kids are doing great. They are doing amazingly well considering they've spent less than two months with us.
On the flipside, we have some pretty tough moments. Some really bad days. Fine, let's be real, we've even had some all-around crappy weeks.
|Why am I awake?|
And Joel? He's been in a funk. Acting out. Not eating. Clinging. Crying. Regressing. Behaviors we expected, behaviors we "understand", but behaviors that are definitely hard to work through.
We finally broke down a wall yesterday and he told me he felt scared. Scared that we were going to leave him. (Thank you Lord for Google Translate) Then crumpled in my lap and let me rock him to sleep.
And you know what sucks? I can't fix it. Not right away. I can do nothing more than assure him we'll always be a family, that we're going to be together, and prove that to him day after day after day. Has he heard that before? Maybe. And that sucks, too. I know we'll earn his trust. But I want to fix his hurt. Now.
This week has required extreme patience. I have pulled every tip and advice from my bag of tricks. I was beginning to feel pretty pissed at how my sucky bag of tricks was not the least bit helpful.
I needed out of the house. Out of Funkville.
So we went to the park.
And there it was. A glimmer of hope. A peek of sunshine through the clouds that he and I both needed (and apparently Jay, too).
He met a boy.
And made a friend.
|(The boy's face was not disfigured, I just didn't feel it appropriate to put some stranger's kid on our blog)|
And I cried. I sent Jay the picture and he cried, too. (Sorry for ousting you, Jay.)
We needed a win this week. All of us. And it came in the unexpected package of a boy at the park.
So we're gonna take this friend thing and run with it. Maybe set up a playdate or two with a neighbor. I can't fix his hurt, but I can help him find some new happiness.
We're gonna be okay, buddy. We're gonna be okay.