Chapter 3 Ken and Dale move in

two new boys move in

Why would two such adorable boys be anything but a wonderful experience for your family?  Bringing 2 new babies into the family would cause turmoil, but two older children brought into a family already swinging in  the breeze like a swaying mobile is sheer recklessness.

colorful art mobiles

 Our family was not yet recovered from its last experience with a boy and girl that had left after almost a year of constant conflict and misbehaviors.  There was Jim and I, the older sister, a brother and sister adopted at ages 4 and 6, another brother adopted at age 7.  Current ages would be 17, 15, 13, 11, and the new boys would be 6 and 7 years old. Yet I was compelled to bring them home,   determination and a hunger within  that was compelling me.  What was I thinking? 
From childhood I yearned for a large family,  playing with dolls, and wishing for a dozen children.  I wanted Mother to stay home, and a "real stay at home Father"   (see blog about A Father A bit different).   Born in Germany and immigrated to America with my Mother and brother when I was but 4 years old, and now I felt the need to help other children learn to live in new homes, just as we had done. I really knew how it felt to make a life altering  transition.  I knew how a child with unusual experiences had to be treated sometimes like a baby, sometimes like an adult at the age of 4 or 8.  I could empathize.  In another way I was helpful, because I was able to speak three languages.  My children sometimes could not speak one.  Someone had to figure out why, and a language specialist that teaches a foreign language, could teach the first language as effectively as the second.  Dale was one of those..  When he came to our house at age seven, he only understood about one hundred words. The therapist noted, "When I talked to him he could not hear one word I said, and I told that foster mom she had to stop calling him Fred Flintstone immediately. "
 He used phrases, such as "I want some more of that," or "Can I have a drink?" but he did not name items, or know  what colors or vegetables were called.  After we started speech therapy he began using words for the first time, naming the door, the window, the shoe, the book, instead of calling everything "that thing".
We are eating supper, and Dale wants some more green stuff.  I get some beans, and he says , "No, the other green stuff."
I get out the lettuce, and he frowns, getting a little angry at me, "NO, I mean the green thing."
I look in the fridge for what might be green, and get Kool-Aid out, which he rejects, and starts to cry.  His frustration mounts, and he is so mad, that I cannot understand him.  He is starting to tantrum, and I involve Jim and Ken in my search for GREEN STUFF.  I bring out an apple, no.  We search for fruit, vegetables, drink, that he might want as he cries louder, and falls onto the floor.  Ken finally spends a few minutes talking to Dale and comes over to us, looking through the fridge, and says, "He wants some watermelon that we had last night."  These tantrums caused by frustration ended as he learned more language.
At the doctor's office we learn that he also has hearing loss in one ear due to constant ear infections.  Dale is not aware of  half of what is happening around him.  We need to make him look at you when  teachers and family speak to him, and from an angle that he hears.   I found out  he has trouble waking up in the morning, and getting dressed is hard, when you are not quite awake.  He does not tie his shoes, which is why he has only worn shoes with Velcro straps.  Once we tried to learn to tie shoes, he could never tie them in the morning.  I finally stopped trying to get him to tie them in the morning, and did it myself.

When the boys move in this is how our family looked:

Older sister was in high school and headed for college, oldest brother had learning problems and needed lots of support.  He had been seriously abused as a child, but was working hard in high school.  He struggled, and we hoped he would be able to graduate in his special classes.  His sister was struggling with issues of growing up, but we hoped she would go to college.  She could be anything she wanted, and with her verbal abilities we kidded her about being a lawyer.   A younger  son also had serious abuse and neglect as a child, and was struggling in grade school.  He seemed really quick in math and computers, so we hoped he would go into those fields in his future.  We had just experienced a disastrous placement with a brother and sister  that had disrupted, and both had moved to separate foster homes.  The children were all angry about this.  They were angry at Mom  for bringing a new brother and sister home to the family, having them live there for almost a year, and then taking them away.  They could not understand why I would do something so cruel.  I also was devastated. This story in another blog(An adoption not finalized).  Hearing I wanted to adopt two more boys, they were more angry.  "How do we know you are not going to make them move like the last two?  If the other two did not stay, why are you getting more?"

 Ken and Dale were placed at risk,  meaning that there were still  legal issues, since the father was filing suit with the judge  for custody of the boys that  proper procedure was not  taken.  If the judge agreed, we would have to give up the boys.  We had faith that they would stay with us  after 3 years in foster care, so we took the risk.  After a year's wait, we finally got the word we were allowed to adopt, and did.
Kindergarten did not work out well for Ken.  He was too smart, and when I came  to pick him up, he frowned and said, "I want to stay with the big kids!"
He saw his brothers and classmates were still in school, and me, still a stranger, wanted to take him home.  I explained it was called half-day kindergarten.  He was furious.  Day after day I brought him home to a healthy snack, a book to read, games to play, and he would stand at the top of the steps yelling at me, "Take me back to school!  I want to stay at school with the other kids!"

One day a field trip was planned, and I volunteered to parent, but when the teacher had a group of 5 go with me, he would not take my hand to go to or from the bus, he jumped away from me, going by himself, and looking at me like I was crazy, trying to hold his hand, a "big boy".  Every other child had a parent or buddy by the hand.  NOT KEN. 
He was independent, he was smart, he was strong willed, and he was not attached to any one or anything.  No toy, no blanket, no clothes, no hat, no person.  Oh yes, there was one person the boys talked about constantly, brother Rick.  He could run the fastest, shoot the most hoops, fight everyone, you name it he was best.  Brother Rick.  I thought he had gone to live with birth-mom, but I found out after a year,  he was in  foster care again.  I would make an effort to visit for the benefit of the boys that idolized him, and for the one person to whom they were attached:  Rick.