Get Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable

(Thanks for yoga with Jillian Michaels for my inspiring title.)

Did you ever find yourself doing something that you never imagined ever in your life you would be doing?  Not in a million years?  And then it becomes kind of this strange out-of-body experience, but still you're doing it?  

Welp, that pretty much sums up our adoption of older children.  The end.

Just kidding.

Really, though, it's happened to us several times through this journey.  

It happened during our last night in the guesthouse in Ethiopia when we woke up to BD having his first known seizure.  Jude said, "Eleanor!  He's having a seizure!", and I was stuck in a strange slow-motion dream-like reaction.

It happened one day at the park in the early weeks when I had to drag both boys back to the truck.  BD was having a serious meltdown because I wouldn't let him play with a discarded sucker stick, and LD may or may not have tried to run down the street.

It happened after BD's birthday in October when all four of us sat crying on the basement floor surrounded by a sea of Legos.

And it's happening now.

You see, if you had asked me two years ago if I would ever homeschool my children, I would've laughed in your face.  Probably rudely.  I'm a public educator for goodness sake.  I believe in public education.  If it's good enough for my students, then it's good enough for my children.

Fast forward a couple of years and a couple of children.

Today I met with BD's classroom teacher, guidance counselor, and principal.  Tears were shed on both sides as we all mutually agreed that being home right now is the best choice for him.  We need to work on sensory processing issues, attachment, emotional health.  We need to get back to the foundation of trust and safety.

And it's not because the school isn't good enough.  They have done a tremendous job of meeting many of BD's needs.  But the needs are many.

So tonight after school I explained the new changes.  I was nervous about his response.  I thought he might think this choice confirmed his "bad boy" shame.  

But no, it was sweet relief.  He asked me two questions:

1.  What will you teach me?
2.  I can stay home tomorrow?

When I said yes, his gorgeous smile spread across his face.

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered and went back to reading about eagles.

So sometimes you find yourself in a strange out-of-body, out-of-character experience.  And you're okay with it (and scared shitless at the same time.)

The end.