Toby is 6!

A lot has changed in the last 6 years. We went from zero kids to 4 kids. We’re in a different house. I’m at a different job. We’re 6 years deeper into this bizarre institution called marriage. It’s amazing to look at this big 6-year-old kid and try to remember what it was like before him. It’s all such a blur, I really am unable to remember.

When Toby was first born, one of our first conversations was about how Carson Palmer would be our QB for a long, long time. Welp, this was the year Toby fell in love with sports, and has a whole lot more to do with AJ Green than it did the Great Golden Boy Interceptor. Between a spring of playing T-Ball and a summer of rooting for the Reds and an autumn of playing soccer and a winter of rooting for the Bengals, The Tobe has become quite the sports fan. (Go ahead, ask him about the final MLB standings or the current NFL standings. He knows which team is in which place in which division.)

He has continued to grow into his role as the big brother. He and Aimee have been really great friends for a while… it’s fun to hear their conversations as they play together! Such grown up little people! This year, he became “The Baby Whisperer” because of his impeccable ability to sooth Katie when it seemed an impossible task. And he’s learning to love Lucy, though that is admittedly a harder task for a big boy. (Aimee is old enough and advanced enough to hang with him in all of his games and adventures. Lucy typically ruins his fun.)

He graduated from pre-school and is now the big Kindergartener. His brain continues to impress. Kid can read anything we put in front of him, and it’s getting harder and harder for Robyn & I to spell things out in “secret” conversation with him around. He even had his first “big boy” birthday party the other day. Scallywag Tag. A laser tag party. For my little boy. Gulp.

Who knows what is to come for this young man? We’ve already thrown a lot at him… and we’ll probably continue to do so. One of my biggest problems as his daddy is that I forget how young he still is. He’s such an impressive little dude, I need to remember that he’s still a little boy and shouldn’t always be expected to act above his age. I NEED TO PLAY MORE so that he can play more.

And as always, there’s a lot more, and I surely could find more perfect pictures, but these little girls are pretty tired of me ignoring them for a blog post, so… [/out]

And Then There Were (Legally) Six

We went to court and finalized the adoption of Lucy and Katie. The magistrate said it was final, we were given all sorts of papers stating that we were the legal parents of these girls, and we had a big party. Robyn got presents for being a new mom (again), the girls got presents for joining our family, and Toby & Aimee got presents for being big siblings.

It was a big day… and yet it feels like nothing really changed. Everything changed, and nothing changed, all at the same time. The best way I can say it is that the process of adoption, on a timeline, has a vague beginning but no end…

The girls have been with us since January, so it seems silly to say that the adoption just began. And we’re going to be parenting them forever — we all know parenting doesn’t end at age 18, just ask these girls’ grandparents about how much Robyn & I continue to lean on our parents. In the grand scheme of things, the day of the legal adoption is merely a point in time on an eternal timeline.

And yet, it seems equally silly to undervalue the day of the legal adoption, because without it they’d still be legally orphans. I have much more to say. I have no idea how to say any of it. And I’m very tired, so I won’t be able to figure it all out today. It’s been a long year. And it’s been a good year. It’s been a CRAZY year.

Finalization

It’s coming soon — We have our court date.

We know what we’re going to wear to court, presents for the girls, Toby, Aimee, and Robyn have been procured and/or fashioned, the after-party is mostly planned… pretty much all that’s left to do is show up at court and party afterwards.

It’s simultaneously exciting and anti-climactic — in that moment in the courtroom, everything changes, but nothing is really going to change. They will get new names, new birth certificates, and social workers will forever be removed from their lives. But they don’t know their old names, they don’t remember their old families, and they’ve been with us for as long as they can remember. They are currently legal orphans, but in that moment will become our legal daughters, no different than Toby is my legal son and Aimee is my legal daughter.

But don’t tell the girls that. They don’t know they are orphans. Last week, Aimee said something about how “Lucy and Katie are going to be adopted.” Lucy looked to me and said, non-chalantly and certainly without a full understanding, “No, Daddy, I’m already adopted.” Legal status be damned, these girls have been home since the day they moved in.

Matched

I wish my memory was better.  I wish I remembered things the way so many others can.  My sister seemingly remembers every detail of our childhood.  I seemingly remember almost none of it.  What I’m trying to say here is that I’m foggy about some of what I’m about to say, because it happened almost a year ago. (Of course, I’d be foggy about it even had it occurred last week, but whatever.)

When we were going through all the pre-certification stuff for fostering, we had a social worker at our house to do a home study.  She went through our house to make sure it met whatever official physical standards there are for a foster home.  She interviewed Robyn and me to make sure we weren’t overly creepy, and kinda-sorta interviewed Toby and Aimee as well.

Toby was some combination of shy and a superhero.  Aimee was just some combination of shy and obsessed with her babydolls.  Our social worker asked “You like babies?”  Aimee nodded affirmatively.  “Well, I’m gonna bring you a real baby, ok?  Would that be ok with you?”  Aimee lit up.  And sure enough, the call came, and that little real baby was in our care.
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It’s been 8 months already.

We didn’t really want to foster, you know.  We wanted permanence for our family.  We didn’t want Toby and Aimee to fall in love with and become attached to their foster siblings and then have them go back home.  We just wanted to adopt.  We wanted to take kids without families and give them a family.  We wanted less orphans.  And then, our hearts were changed, and we decided we thought it was worth the risk of all the heartache of watching the kids go home…

…and then that phone call came.  And they told us they couldn’t promise us anything, but that they thought this could very likely be an adoptive placement.  They were pretty certain Mom and Dad weren’t going to be in the picture.  They were pretty sure there weren’t any other family members that would want and be able to care for them.  It was a foster placement, for sure, but it was what we were hoping for, back before we decided to foster.

Long story a little shorter, we are now officially “matched” with the girls.  This means the adoption process has begun.  The birth parents are legally out of the picture, and there are no other families being considered as a permanent landing spot for them.  The case has been transferred to an adoption caseworker, and it is highly likely that they will be legally adopted into our family in approximately 4 months, hopefully sooner.

Two more little Duebbers.  A mommy, a daddy, and 4 kids currently age 5, 3, 2, and 8 months.  I can’t wait to be allowed to post pictures of my family.  And soon enough, we’ll be allowed to, because our names will be on their birth certificates.

Friday Night Lights (Or Not, As The Case May Be)

Toby is now playing soccer, and he’s impressing me*.  Again, just like when watching baseball and football, I can tell that he understands what is supposed to happen.  Not that he is able to actually make the right things happen, but he knows the objectives.  When the opposing team gets a breakaway, instead of chasing the kid who has the ball, he runs back as fast as possible to defend his goal.  That’s smart.  I didn’t teach him that.  He’s just a very cerebral kid, and it’s a lot of fun to watch him go.

*I am kinda-sorta his coach — I say ‘kinda-sorta’ because I did not sign up to coach, but the person who did didn’t show up Week 1, which forced my hand.  I was very frustrated as I took the field to help, but it has been really really fun.

This past Friday, it was chilly on the field.  I knew the Yellow Gators were in trouble when only 5 kids showed up out of the usual 8.  1 of them was a little girl who quickly informed me that she was already cold and wanted to go drink the hot chocolate that her Grandma brought in a thermos for her.  And we play 40 minute “games”, 5 on 5, subbing regularly so that all 8 kids get to both play a lot and rest a lot.  5 minutes into the game, it started pouring down rain.

Toby was awesome.  He never slowed down.  He just kept running.  He got a few assists on offense, and he saved no less than 5 sure-thing goals by hustling back to protect goal. (Ok, so there’s no such thing as a sure-thing goal when it comes to 5-year-olds and soccer, but you get my point.)  Because of our lack of personnel and the cold wetness, we called the game a little early and packed up.

“Toby, if you want, we can go to a football game tonight.  Soccer is over early, so we have time.”  Yes, I want to go.  “Great.  The closest game is at Oak Hills High School.”  I don’t even know what that is!  “Or, we could drive down to Taylor High School where Mommy and Daddy went to high school.”  Orrrrrrrrrrr…. “Haha.  Or, we could drive a little farther and go watch the Elder Panthers play at Saint Xavier High School.”  What is Saint Xavier’s mascot?  “The Bombers.”  That.  Let’s go see the Panthers play the Bombers.

So we took North Bend Road.  He talked all the way there about football and about how this was going to be his first football game.  I thought about how fun it would be for him, and of course for me, too.  The lights, the crowd noise, the banging of helmets, the autumn concession food, the marching bands.  We got to St X right at 7:30, but there was no reasonable place to park.  It was 7:45 before I parked in somebody’s front yard, and another 10 minutes before we made it to the gate…

…to find out that it was sold out.  No tickets available.  Ugh.  Daddy fail.  Sad Toby.

But the beautiful thing about it all is this didn’t ruin our night.  No doubt, he was bummed.  “But just because we couldn’t get in the stadium doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time!  There are more games next week, and we’ll go to one!  And since we aren’t at the game, we have time to go get dessert somewhere!”  He was still bummed, but he came around.  He’s cool like that.

Toby’s first football game will be this Friday at The Pit.  Elder V Moeller.  I assure you, I am more excited to watch Toby experience it than he could ever be.

Toby and Sports

Toby has fallen in love with sports.  He is obsessed.  At every waking moment, he is wondering who won the game.  The Reds game, the (fill in the blank name of any MLB team) game, the Bengals game, the Bearcats game, the Elder Panthers game, the playoff game.

And it isn’t just some generic obsession, wanting to know who won and who lost — no, it’s an obsession backed up with a basic knowledge of how these sports work.  He knows that the pitcher and players in the field are trying to record outs and that the hitter and the runners are trying to score runs and not make outs.  He knows that the quarterback is trying to advance the ball to the end zone and that the defensive players are trying to stop the offense and get the ball in their own hands so that they can score.  He reminds me a whole lot of a 5-year-old me.

He understands the basic concept of a box score and what it represents. (He understands that the box score tells a story of how players and teams performed, but also that the box score cannot tell the whole story.)  And I haven’t drilled this stuff into his head — he’s picked it up mostly just by hanging out with me.

We went to a bunch of Reds games this summer.  Sometimes, he wanted to walk around the ballpark and do normal attention-deficit-disorder kid stuff.  But there were a surprising number of innings in which he was content to just watch the game.  And those innings were heavenly for this baseball-loving dad.

Of course, now it’s on to football season.  Daddy, when are you going to take me to a Bengals game?  Oh, right, our family isn’t going to give any money to that bad man who owns the Bengals.  What about a Bearcats game or an Elder Panthers game?  We’ll go to a football game this year, bud, I promise.  Ok, and a Cyclones hockey game, too, right?  Remember, you said you would take me to a hockey game, too.  Right, Tobe, I did say that.  We’ll do that, too.

We read the Bible and prayed in his bed, just like we do every night.  He gave me a hug and a kiss and said goodnight, just like every night.  And then, before I left the room, Daddy, one last time, can you tell me the score of the playoff games?  Just like every night.

It’s fine, it’s fun.  But sometimes, it’s a little much — like on Sunday morning at 9:15am, as we’re eating breakfast… Daddy, what’s the score of the Bengals versus Buffalo Bills game?  Toby, it’s morning.  They don’t play in the morning.  Oh, yeah.  Right.  I forgot.  Well, Daddy, don’t forget to tell me when it starts and who is winning.

Non-Birthday Update

So… other than Aimee is 3… what else is going on ’round these parts?

Well, for starters, since it’s fresh in my mind, it is VERY DIFFICULT to find pictures that I’m allowed to post. The girls who don’t legally belong to me aren’t allowed to be put online in any sort of identifiable way — no Facebook, no blogs, no emails. I get it, I wouldn’t want someone else putting pictures of my kids online, and that’s what the girls are right now — someone else’s girls. Of course, we’re hoping they’ll become little Duebbers someday, but we’re still a little ways up the road.

In light of the foster image regulation, here’s a family pic that we actually did post to Facebook a couple weeks ago.

Grandpa Bob and I built a pergola in the back/side yard.  That meant I got to haul big stuff in my truck.  That means it was a good day.
We went to Coney Island on Price Hill Day for the 3rd consecutive year.  It. Was. Hot.  What a fun place for kids… plenty of rides that they can go on without waiting an eternity, a lake with boats/canoes, and a big swimming pool.  PH Day at Coney has become a tradition.
Anytime I say “Toby, look here, I want to take your picture,” he does this face.

Baseball season is over.  Toby’s first year as a ballplayer was successful.  He learned how to throw and catch and hit.  Of course, I probably had more fun than he did… there is definitely something very cool about a father playing ball with his son.

In light of the NASCAR prayer guy, I agree with his honesty, thanking the Man upstairs for things that he loves. God, thank you for ice cream in the summer, my kids, and my smokin’ hot wife.

Aimee is 3

When we were preparing for this new season of life, we had to fill out a questionnaire to indicate what characteristics we would consider accepting in a foster child. Ages, sexes, behavioral issues, health histories, etc. Robyn and I were in full agreement that we would take boys or girls with a variety of potential issues, but we would not consider taking in any children older than Toby. He is first in the birth order, and he’s our big boy, and he must remain that way.

We didn’t feel the same way about Aimee. She was our baby, and we figured she’d be ok regardless of whether her foster siblings were older or younger than her. After 6 months as a big sister and the oldest daughter in our family, our stance has changed. She is thriving in her new role as the big girl. She’s a fantastic big sister, and we will no longer consider taking in a girl older than our Aimee.

She plays well with Toby, she plays well with C (who is 7 months younger), and she is great with the baby. I had no idea what to expect when we took in the girls… but I sure am thankful that Aimee has adapted to the changes so well. She has grown up so much!

Happy birthday baby girl. As I try to tell you every day, I’m so glad God let you be my girl and am so thankful that I get to be your Daddy.

Bedtime With Toby

Kids’ Application Bible: What kinds of rules are hard for you to obey?
Me: Tobe, you’re a great kid, but you don’t always obey.  What’s hardest for you to do?
Toby: Well, sometimes it’s hard for me to not hit my sisters.
Me: Hmmm, but you don’t want to hit them, do you?
Toby: (shaking his head side-to-side) No, I don’t.
Me: So why do you sometimes hit them?
Toby: (dead serious) Well because there’s just so many of them.

Every night for bedtime, we: go upstairs, bathe, brush teeth, get in our PJs, read non-Bible books, read a Bible story, sing, pray, and hopefully go to sleep.  It’s a routine that has become very predictable for the kids over the years, which is the goal.  Each step of the routine gets the kids closer to bedtime.

Of course, adding kids makes it a little more complex.  When it was just Toby and Aimee, in hindsight, it was quite simple.  Throw in a baby and an additional 2-yr-old, and it fast becomes evident that the adults are outnumbered.  It takes a whole adult to put the baby to sleep.  It takes a whole adult to bathe multiple 2-yr-olds.  Toby gets the short end of the stick. (Or, I suppose, since he becomes a superhero while all this happens, maybe he gets the sweet part of the deal with his lack of supervision.)

Usually, I put the baby to sleep while Robyn bathes the girls, then I tackle the Toby portion after the baby is zzzzing.  He still thinks it’s pretty cool that he gets to stay up and read books after all his sisters are in bed.  And he’s right, it is pretty cool.  When the girls are awake, I don’t get to wrestle with him as much, or read him as many books, or play Legos with him… so we can take our time with his evening routine.

Sometimes the Bible discussion is entirely uneventful.  Sometimes it’s really good.  And sometimes it is just hilarious, as it was last night.

And also, he’s a good lookin’ fella, if I may say so myself, and I may, because he’s my boy.

Why I Cut The Grass In The Dark

PAST: I pride myself on keeping a pretty decent looking yard.  Always have.  I’d be the guy who cut the diagonal lines in the lawn.  Always liked ‘em. I’d be the guy with the nicely trimmed sidewalk edges.  Thought they looked nice and clean.

PRESENT: I’ve only used my string trimmer once this year.  The sidewalks and fencelines are embarrassing.  Just horrible.  Every time I pull up to the house, I’m ashamed of how rotten they look.

PAST: This blog has quite a few posts with the “Rehabbing Olive” tag/category. Going on 4 years ago, we bought this house and have poured our hearts and souls and dollars and friends’ labor hours into it. We desire for The Happiness Hotel to be a safe and warm place to be, regardless of whether you come for a 10-minute visit or move in for a few years. Plus, this place is so architecturally interesting, we want her to look as good as she can, inside and out.

PRESENT: I’m perpetually bothered that there is still so much boring white paint on the exterior of this place. The box gutters and other exterior wood trim pieces were meant to show some color! This is a big ol’ Victorian home! It’s driving me CRAZY!!!

Thing is, there really isn’t time to do much more than survive. I need to maintain a job, but most of you work as much as or more than I do. Toby takes a martial arts class once a week and hypothetically plays T-ball if the fields are dry, but most of you have kids’ activities, too. We participate in a house church on Wednesday nights, but most of you have religious/social commitments, too.

I stepped down from the church in February.  By stepping down, my schedule was opened up on Wednesday evenings, Saturday afternoons/evenings, and Sunday mornings.  You’d think it would be easier to get things done now, wouldn’t you?

I last cut the grass one day leading up to my birthday grillout. (Oh yeah, by the way, I turned 30, so happy birthday to me.) The grillout was 19 days ago, and I know I didn’t cut on that day, so let’s just say it’s been 3 weeks. I swore I was going to cut it before we went on vacation, because it had been 2 weeks at that point, and it was getting pretty tall… but I didn’t get around to it. Then, I swore I was going to cut it as soon as we got back, but something came up and I wasn’t able to do it…

It looked really bad, you guys.

Tonight, the baby went to sleep really easily. I read Toby a chapter of Winnie The Pooh and a bible story. Robyn was putting the 2-year-olds to bed, and I had already kissed them goodnight. And the wheels started spinning in my head “maybe, just maybe, there might be enough daylight for me to get the front cut, just so it doesn’t look so horrible from the street…”

Did I mention it was really tall? Did I mention that I’ve always taken a lot of pride in keeping a tidy lawn?

Everything visible from the street was cut, and it was getting pretty dark. But I kept going. Who knows when I’d do it if not RIGHT NOW? So I kept cutting, uncertain exactly where I was going. The lightning bugs lit my path. Eventually Robyn turned on the exterior lights.

It was after 10pm before I finished. Facebook post = “much like the way i feel after giving myself a midnight haircut, i think the best thing to do after finishing cutting the grass in the dark is to take a cold shower and hope Robyn Duebber is kind when telling me tomorrow which spots i missed.”

So where am I going with all of this? I’m not really sure. All I know is… 4 kids require exponentially more time/attention/energy than 2 kids. And that’s why, after 3 weeks of lamenting my lawn, I cut the grass in the dark tonight.