(Oregon Right to Life) — The chaos of 2020 will forever be branded in our memories for many reasons. But in the Glaser house, there was the added plot twist of an emergency foster placement for two-and-a-half-year-old twin boys.
In May, we received a call asking whether we would open our home to two boys because the system did not have enough foster families to meet the current need.
The alternative was splitting them up.
Was fostering in our plans—not even a little bit. But suddenly we found ourselves putting in two more carseats, installing child locks, and dusting off the double stroller. We gave it our best effort to prepare our home and our family for the change, but what showed up in June was not two small chubby toddlers, but two destructive, traumatized tornadoes. To say these babies came from trauma would be understating things vastly. I soon found myself wondering whether I needed a mouth guard for diaper changes, just to make sure I didn’t get my teeth knocked out.
One area of our home that seemed to be particularly targeted was the kitchen. If I were silly enough to leave my post to use the bathroom, switch the laundry, or, heaven forbid, sit down somewhere for a minute, then that meant I left the kitchen unguarded. I would promptly return to the sound of ungraceful retreat and the sight of one bite out of every apple in the fruit bowl.
They were persistent, but not stealthy.
This daily game we played went from chaotic to dangerous when they suddenly grew tall enough to reach little hands up to the stove. Even though I would obviously be in the kitchen while cooking, I firmly believe there is no faster creature on land than a determined toddler.
With an open-concept farmhouse, we had to get creative about ways to protect them from themselves. It wasn’t an option just to baby gate the kitchen, even though building some sort of monstrosity did cross our minds. No, we couldn’t just block off the entire kitchen, and we couldn’t contain them to another room all day long.
We had to create safe boundaries.
And this is where the blue tape enters the story.
In a desperate attempt we placed blue painter’s tape on the floor across all thresholds the boys were not meant to cross and then proceeded to act as though the floor beyond was actual LAVA! Surprisingly, I found myself standing in the kitchen safely making dinner while the boys watched me from the other side of the blue tape. Any time an offending toe would touch the line, we would gasp and gently but firmly correct the mistake.
We did this every day.
Some days, the boys would just stand there and watch. Other days, they would sit in line. And sometimes they would even bring toys over and entertain themselves while I worked. But one thing became very clear—they saw the line as keeping them from everything they wanted.
Even though we were trying to protect the boys from burning themselves on the stovetop, reaching into the knife drawer, or even consuming something they shouldn’t, they interpreted it as an obstacle that needed to be defeated to reach their ultimate goal. Their joy would be found just on the other side of that blue line.
They believed that I wasn’t protecting them; I was withholding from them.
Boundaries
As parents, we are trained to baby-proof our homes with outlet plugs, baby gates, and doorknob covers, which makes us question our sanity and want to mumble words we shouldn’t. We install child-proof latches on our cupboards, drawers, and even our toilet seats. We set up baby monitors with cameras so we can even protect our children when they are sleeping.
Why?
Because children want what they want—regardless of the consequences.
They don’t know, and don’t care, that the outlet will shock them. They don’t care if that front door leads to the street. And they definitely don’t care about running their hand along the stovetop if it means they also might find a tasty snack.
The crazy part is that we grow up and we think we change.
Spoiler alert—we don’t.
Our desires may change, but our sin nature does not. We may get older, but we still question if our joy is to be found just on the other side of that boundary. When we grasp that we, just like our children, are all sinners sitting and waiting at the blue tape, things suddenly feel a bit different. I was not withholding from the twins, and God is not withholding from us. He is trying to protect His children, and we need to trust God and the boundaries He has placed in our lives. Although He is patient, He does want us to take those boundaries seriously.
The Floor is Lava
The story of Adam and Eve reminds us of this truth. We give Eve a pretty hard time for messing things up. But in reality, we are no different from her, even though we like to think we are. Just as we set up boundaries to protect our children, God has done the same for us.
And just like our children, we question them.
As foster and adoptive parents, we have a pretty good chance of raising children who love to push boundaries. And speaking from my personal experience, this can be incredibly challenging and, most days, exhausting. The good news is—although we may be imperfect parents raising imperfect children, it’s not really about us. Our goal as parents is not to point our children to our own strength, but rather to let them see us leaning hard on the Lord.
So take a deep breath—or maybe two.
Dig down deep and find that extra dose of patience for our little boundary pushers.
And keep playing the floor is lava like it’s the real deal—because it kind of is.
