The last two weeks have brought big changes and milestones to the household, what with me going back to work and Ian starting Kindergarten, so as a family we have been working on shoring up the new routine for the school year. We have our morning schedule for getting ready and eating, pick-up and drop-off routines for daycare, and the nightly activities of packing lunches and ending the day. All of four of us thrive in this system of known rituals which will soon become well-oiled.
There is comfort in these knowns. There is sanity when exhaustion might otherwise rule, and for my children, who carry the scars of the traumatic unknowns from their early lives, there is the consistency of family.
This is especially so for our youngest, who often uses the routine to work through his anxieties. For Suki, he still needs daily reassurance that he is safe, loved, and home. The first sign that Suki is feeling anxious or upset are the questions. Are we putting on socks today? Brushing teeth? Having breakfast? Who is dropping him off? Picking him up? Where will Ian be? If answering the questions isn't enough, next comes sensory seeking behavior like walking on tip toes or jumping up and down. After that might com the tears, over tiny changes to the process. If Ian gets his socks first or if Dad wakes him up instead of Mom, we can see anything from the sniffles to full blown tantrums. The anxiety overwhelms and takes over.
Having a routine allows John and I the time to attend to Suki needs in a manageable way. When we don't have to think about what comes next or make decisions about the minutia of daily living, we can focus on providing that attention he needs. Now, we are not saints. A constant barrage of questions from a child, often ones that have been answered several times over tests the nerves. But often times a quiet word of assurance, a pat on the back or quick hug, can keep things in check. It has become as much a part of the routine as using the potty before eating breakfast.
Sometimes I hear little comments about our routine, mostly from others who don't understand the complexities of adoptive families. That it is typical for children to respond well to routines, that every child gets crabby or out-of-sorts when there is change. Yeah, but most children don't question their place in their family or wonder if they will still have a family by the end of the day.
When I made Toriniku to Sayaendo no Itame, chicken and snow peas, I thought about the security of my own childhood. My mom used to make stir fry with snow peas, a favorite for our family. I don't have memories of overwhelming anxiety from my formative years. I carry the memories of being loved and secure and happy, always. Those sweet peas tasted of love, even all these years later.
After almost 16 months home, things are improving for our little guy. The questions are far fewer, the tears are more sporadic. But imagining my little boy torn up on the inside over small inconsistencies is heartbreaking. So for now, I sing the wake up song, John pours the milk, Suki uses the potty first, and Ian packs his snack and water bottle into his backpack. Simple, but necessary, security in a complex family.
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