Our Kids' First Trip Ch. 1: Arriving on Property

Welcome to this month's Blogorail Blue Loop. Today we are sharing tips to for taking toddlers to the Disney Parks.

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I have been going to Walt Disney World since I was two years old, going to the parks approximately every two years, sometimes more often than that. As a result, I've been to the resort 17 or 18 times. My wife has been to the parks five times since 2001, the last three trips with me since we've been married.


But the summer of 2015 was a very special trip for us, if not me especially: the first time we took our kids to the park.


As I explained in my last blog post (if you haven't read it yet, read my personal story here), my wife and I fostered our kids for a little over a year before finally adopting them this past May. However, we knew that the adoption would be going through once the birth parents' rights had been terminated during the summer of 2015. To celebrate our imminent establishment of officially being a family, we decided to take a trip to Walt Disney World, our first (and only at this point) as a family, as well as the first visit for any of our kids.


We didn't quite know how it was going to go. One of our boys is a very nervous kid. He doesn't like loud noises, frightening situations, or the dark (which can be a problem at Walt Disney World because many of the attractions feature loud noises, frightening situations, and the dark). Our daughter was also fifteen at the time (almost sixteen), and I wasn't sure if she would even be at all interested or enjoy the parks which can sometimes be seen as "kiddy" or "childish" for teenagers who sometimes see themselves as "too cool" for Disney magic. Our daughter had a touch of childlike faith in her, but at the point we traveled to the parks, she'd only been living with us for six months, so we still didn't know how she would respond to the theme parks and attractions.

How silly of me to think that...

The trip from North Carolina to Orlando by car takes about eleven hours. Somehow, I'd convinced my wife to leave the night before check-in and stay just over the Florida border in a hotel, leaving only a few hours' drive to property. Since we wouldn't be going into the parks on our "first day," it would give us an extra day to explore property, such as our resort and Disney Springs.


Because we couldn't check into our resort (Port Orleans: Riverside) until after lunch, and we had arrived on property mid-morning, we decided to drive over to Disney's Art of Animation Resort. As a big fan of Disney's Pop Century Resort, and because the Art of Animation Resort was fairly new (at that point), I had wanted to go check the new resort out. It was also a somewhat chill introduction to Disney World for the kids, who had never visited before. We explained to our daughter where we were going and why, but as four-year-olds, the boys didn't really have any concept of what we were going to see.

We pulled into the parking lot, and I explained to the security guard that we were just visiting to "check out the resort." He waved us on, and we pulled into the parking lot near the lobby. We unloaded from the van, having driven several hours from our motel, like clowns from a car. Picking out our wedgies and walking like cowboys, we waddled into the air conditioned rainbow lobby, making our first stop to...the restrooms.


After everyone finished their bidness, we wandered outside into the Big Blue Pool area. My wife immediately lit up, as one of her favorite Disney films is Finding Nemo. The boys climbed around the larger-than-life coral and anemone that served as the home for Marlin and Nemo. After a few minutes of their expending energy, we took them by the hands and began to wander down Route 66. They noticed pictures of Lightning McQueen and Mater on signs along the pathway.

However, as soon as they saw the life-size statues of the Sheriff and Doc Hudson, their energy spiked. They began to run down Route 66, until they spotted the statue of Mater in front of his junkyard sign. They immediately began climbing all over him, stepping on his wheels, peering into his mouth.

At this point, I lost it. This, I realized, is what made Walt Disney World so special, at least for me. My boys knew that Disney-Pixar's Cars franchise was a cartoon fiction. They knew the movies weren't real. They knew that these car-shaped figures were just statues. But it was the idea that they had been immersed in a universe that they loved, that these characters they watched and the toys that they played with were their size. They loved that they could pose next to Guido and Luigi (some pretty obscure characters from the film that, for some reason, my boys loved), that they could wander around the Cozy Cone Motel.


I was a wreck. I hung back the rest of the family as they wandered around, my boys posing next to Guido and Luigi (ironically wearing blue and yellow shirts), my daughter posing (appropriately) on the hood of Sally. I took a second, sniffed up my runny nose, and dried my eyes, composing myself after two minutes. I wandered up next to my wife, who had just finished taking pictures, who squeezed my hand, knowing full well what I was going through.


I later explained it to her more in detail: that this place that meant so much to me growing up, where some of my happiest and fondest memories lived as a child, was now being shared with my new family, where together, we can make wonderful memories of our own.


It wasn't Cinderella Castle that the magic lived in. Rather, the magic lived in this moment.

Read more about our family's first trip to Walt Disney World, by learning what it was like to experience Port Orleans: Riverside with a teenage daughter!


For more advice on taking toddlers to Disney, check out the other great posts from the Blogorail!

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Here is the map of our Magical Blogorail Blue | Traveling to Disney with Toddlers Loop:

• 1st Stop - Love Our Crazy Life | 5 Reasons Not To Go To Disney With Toddlers
• 2nd Stop - Trips with Tykes | Tips for Disney Cruise Line with Toddlers & Preschoolers
• 3rd Stop - Saving Up for Disney | Walt Disney World Guide for Toddlers at Magic Kingdom
• 4th Stop - Distalgic | Our Kids' First Trip: Arriving on Property
• 5th Stop - Disney Mamas | 3 Tips for Handling Your Toddlers Schedule Disruptions at Disney Parks

Gotcha Day: A Story of Adoption

The date was February 9, 2015. My wife and I sat in our car in front of the Department of Social Services building in our town. Gloved hands gripped together, our breath steaming in front of us.

We were terrified.

We looked at each other, said a quick prayer, and got out of our car. I quickly checked the two car seats in the back to make sure they were latched correctly, and hand in hand, we walked toward the imposing tan brick building. The walk across the parking lot seemed to take forever.

Entering through the glass doors, we found ourselves in a lobby. We moved into a cordoned-off line in front of a service desk, where we had to sign in and state why we were there. We received little stickers with our names on them. After signing in, we noticed that our social worker, Nancy, was standing nearby. Her face lit up as she gave each of us a hug.

"Are you excited?" she asked, obviously recognizing the look of pure terror on our faces. We smiled weakly and answered in the affirmative. She led us down a hallway, where a series of chairs were lined against the right wall. We sat down, my leg bouncing nervously.

A few minutes later, a tall lady with white hair and glasses came around the corner. Nancy stood up and introduced us to Sally, the kids' Guardian ad Litem (or their legal representative in the court system). We shook hands with her as a few more people came around the corner, which turned out to be the kids' social workers. They were accompanied by a middle aged couple that turned out to be the kids' current foster parents.

Since everyone had arrived, we were led around a corner and into a small conference room. Each of us were given name tents and a packet of papers. The meeting began, and the conversation turned to my wife and I and our decision to become foster parents to two little three-year-old twin boys. We were asked questions by the GAL and social workers about our disciplinary strategies and our beliefs on parenting. We were given a background on the kids, their situation, their medical history. After about ninety minutes, the meeting was adjourned, and the decision was made that we would meet up in an hour at the boys' daycare center.

As we walked out of the room with Sally and Nancy, Sally turned to us and asked us a question we'd been dying to hear:

"Would you like to see a picture of your new sons?" We both choked up and nodded. She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph of two little boys, smiling at the camera. While they both looked like they could be our biological children, one of the boys especially looked just like me. My wife squeezed my hand.

We got into our car and followed Nancy up to the boys' daycare center. At this point, the rain had begun. As we pulled into the driveway of the center, we realized the boys' previous foster parents had beaten us there and were waiting for us in their car. Together, the five of us walked into the center, where the boys were called into a room away from the other kids.

They stood there in front of us, very shy. We stood back as the other foster parents explained to the boys what was happening, that we were their new "Mommy and Daddy" and that they would be living with us now. One at a time, the previous fosters got on their knees and gave hugs to each of the boys, telling them to behave themselves, before they quietly excused themselves and gave us time to get to know the boys.

Looking back on it now, I realize how not-normal it was that the boys didn't scream or cry or throw a fit as the people they'd been living with for the past six months said their goodbyes and made their exit from their lives forever. They simply stood there quietly with big tears rolling down their cheeks. I got on my knees next to the nearest boy, the one that looked like me, and opened my arms. He shyly walked towards me and into my arms, and I held his shaking body, his tears wetting my shoulder. I pulled back from him and used my thumb to wipe the tears off his cheeks, telling him everything was going to be okay.

After an hour playing with them at the childcare center, we packed up the things their previous foster parents had left for them into our car, loaded the boys up, and clicked them into their car seats. We made the rainy drive to our house, the boys giggling the whole time in excitement. Upon arriving to our house, we got out the camcorder and video taped them walking into their new home for the first time. One of the boys was so nervous that he had severe stomach cramps and rushed into the bathroom (nothing like being thrown into parenthood, eh?).

The next few days were nerve-wracking for my wife and I. We spent a lot of time crying, a lot of time dry-heaving, a lot of time quietly contemplating. We'd always wanted children and had struggled with being able to do so for a few years. Now, we were thrust into the role of parents to three year old twin boys. We should be overjoyed, right? But the weight of the situation had settled on our shoulders.

Would this work out?

Would the boys like living with us?

What would we have to deal with regarding their past and previous placements?

The boys had a fifteen year old sister in another foster placement. Would she like us? Would she be okay with the boys living with us? (we later welcomed her into our home as our third child the following June).

It turns out that while the process hasn't been easy, things have definitely worked out. Two years later, here we are, an official family. We have since adopted the three children, who have taken our last name. And the kids are doing awesome.

The boys are in kindergarten and are already reading. One of the boys is in gymnastics and loves it. Our daughter is a senior in high school and has been accepted to her first choice in colleges next fall. She has participated on both the tennis team and the swim team this year and did great at both. We are very proud of her.

We were thrust into being instant parents. And while we'd always wanted to have kids and eventually adopt, we didn't choose to adopt. We aren't superheros or awesome people (read what I mean here). We just did it because we felt it was the right thing to do and because God asked us to.

So here's to today, kids. Here's to February 9. Here's to Nancy. Here's to Gotcha Day.

Here's to family.

Forever.

We Did Not Choose to Adopt

"What are your plans for having children?" Pastor Daniel Teerman asked us.


Andrea and I looked at each other. "We had planned on having four kids," she explained to the man who was to perform our wedding.


I "finished her sandwich" (Frozen humor): "We'd like to adopt two and have two of our own," I explained.


We didn't know what our future journey would hold...
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Five years later, 900 miles away, and after many failed attempts at trying to get pregnant, Andrea and I contacted a local adoption agency.


We went through the numerous papers, compulsory doctor's checkups, social worker visits, fire marshal assessment, and telephone calls from people recommending that we were "fit to be parents," we finally got the process started with...twenty-four hours of professional development and the creation of a home study.


We learned about how to give kids medication, how to log the medication we administered, how to deal with their separation anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder, what to do in case they threw poop at you or tried to burn your house down, and how to facilitate meetings with the birth parents.


At this point, we questioned whether foster care and adoption was for us.


We prayed about it and the doors continued to open. We finished our trainings and paperwork, and then the day came.


We were approved to be a foster home! Now we just had to...




Wait.


Over the course of the next several months, we would hear on occasion from our social workers and other social workers from the agency to be placements for various kids. They would call us up, give us a brief description of the child (age, gender, race, and whatever medical information was available), and we would have to give them a split second decision.


Because my wife and I are one and work in accordance to one another, I would hang up, calling her as quickly as possible to let her know.


By the time I was able to call the social worker back and give them the thumbs up for us, they would often tell us that the child had been given to another couple.


After several months of this, as well as the continued lack of success conceiving, we became very discouraged by the entire scenario. At one point I even spent forty-five minutes on the phone with the director of the adoption agency, who encouraged us that she would personally find us a child, but that it would just take time to find that perfect fit for our family.


Then one day, we finally got a phone call.


A mother had given birth to a baby girl named Darla. Mom was an immigrant here from India, coming to America to have the baby. The child was brand new, less than a week old, and needed placement as quickly as possible. She had seen our profile and had chosen us as the family for her daughter that she could not care for, as she had conceived out of wedlock, something that was a big no-no in her home country. The agency had chosen us to take the baby while they got their ducks in a row. In the meantime, we began to outfit one of our three empty bedrooms, purchasing clothes, diaper bags, crib blankets, and changing tables. A week later we got a devastating phone call: because the child was born out of wedlock, the agency had to get the father's approval back in India. This would be a long process, and rather than having to work diplomatically across national borders and fearing legal repercussions, they had to retract the offer for the baby.


This was a hard blow for us. It was, to us, an adoption miscarriage: we had been promised a baby, were over the moon, and a week later told that the infant that was within arms reach would be taken away. We were devastated and lost all hope for a completed family.


A week later, we met with our social worker and she encouraged us to broaden what we would accept. We had previously been "in the market" for one child from ages 0-3 with no disabilities or special needs. We sat and talked and realized that as educators, we deal with students with special needs all day. We adjusted our certification and resubmitted it to the state. However, after losing Darla, we still had no hope.


A month or two later, we received an email from our social worker. The state had two little boys who needed a new placement out of a previous foster home. They were twins, three years old. One boy had gone through testing for developmental delays, while the other had had eye surgery and had vision difficulties. After reading the five page document about their background and medical history, we gave the okay, and the ball again started rolling. We learned that as of February 9, 2015, we would be bringing these two little boys into our home.


Excited, we told our biological families back home in Michigan, as well as our surrogate family we had created for ourselves in North Carolina, and the response was the same on all fronts. While everyone supported us, we got multiple questions: "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Is this something you can feasibly handle?" "Man, that seems like a lot of work." "Twins? Wow. Good luck to you." All of these people had felt for us in our infertility, but when we excitedly shared the news of our adoption, we could see through the feigned excitement of our family and friends. Only one set of our friends had the semblance of excitement for us. "Well, we haven't known you long, but we'll be here for you. We don't know what this is going to look like, but we will get through this together," the husband once told me.


Things began moving at a quick pace. We outfitted two bedrooms, converting the crib we had purchased for Darla into a twin bed, and purchasing a second bed set. Purchasing a few consigned toys and sets of clothes from a local store. My wife's school even threw an "adoption baby shower" for her. And as promised, on February 9, 2015, we picked our boys up from their previous child care and brought them home to us.


Due to my great principal, as well as the rare North Carolina winter conditions, I was able to score two weeks off from school for Paternity Leave, getting to know my boys. However, we were so stressed out that my wife and I spent the majority of those two weeks physically ill. We had taken these boys into our home, and had fallen in love with them instantly, but were we really able to handle being instant parents to a pair of three-year-old twins???


A few months later, we learned that the boys' 15-year-old sister needed a place to live, as she had basically gotten kicked out of her previous foster placement, as well; this was not due to anything she had done, but because her foster parents were not receiving the help (financially or otherwise) from the state. Wanting to keep the kids together, Andrea and I enthusiastically invited the young lady into our home. At this point, though, I was wigging out. She was 15, and I was 25. This was, to me, the equivalent of having one of my students move in with me. Would she even see me as a parent, or more of a peer? Was I qualified to be a parent to a 15-year-old? I mean, even I still saw myself as a kid-at-heart. I was struggling as it was being an instant parent to two kids, let alone a third who probably had pre-conceived notions about adults, let alone one only ten years her senior. And once again, when we talked to our parents, friends, and even our social worker about this, everyone asked us if we were really sure if this is what we wanted. However, after praying about it, we felt like it was the right thing to do. Once again, we were met with "Good lucks" and "May the Force be with you's."

Now let me explain something: Its not that our families and friends weren't supportive. They would support us no matter what decision we made. They just had reservations based on what society says "foster kids" and adoption is like. They had our best interests at heart. However, since the kids have moved in with us, our parents have fallen in love with the kids. My dad always says, half-jokingly, that he and my mom have been grandparents since they were in their 30s, they just didn't know it then.

Nonetheless, during the first week of June, 2015, the boys' older sister move in with us. And once again, she could not have fit in better with how we were as a family, both pre-established before the boys, as well as what we had created in our family of four after February.


The past year and nine months has not been easy. We've encountered a serious medical emergency (mine), deaths in the family, therapy sessions (as a family, for the kids, and for myself), and even growing pains for our new family as a whole.


However, we've come out of the fire each time stronger and more bonded as a whole.


But what's my point? Why did I decide to throw this out there? Let me tell you, it's not because I want to discourage anyone from adopting or fostering.


It's actually quite the opposite.


Yes, we've been through high-stress times. We went through a period of about three months where we were convinced the children's biological parents would appeal the decision to terminate their rights and ultimately have to say goodbye to these three kids we'd falling head-over-heels for. We've had to experience various "anniversaries" that have brought memories back to the minds of our kids, such as the dates they entered into foster care, or the deaths of important family members, or even the movement from one foster home to another. The biggest anniversary we've had, though, as a family, was on May 4, 2016: the day the kids' adoption was finalized and they officially became Kistes.


Here's my point:


Every time it comes up to someone that we have adopted, we get the same responses.


"Well good for you."
"Wow. You are awesome people."
"Well bless your hearts."
"I could never do something like that..."




How the heck do you respond to that????


Here's the thing. Andrea and I aren't awesome. Yes the road has been difficult, but even the events we've experienced the past 21 months that have nothing to do with the kids (my stroke, my mom and grandfather's cancer scares, deaths in the family, etc) have been just as, if not more, difficult than the challenges adopting three kids have brought. If anything, the challenges of becoming an instant parent has made me a better parent, as well as a better person. It's forced me to work out all the crap that I've forced down inside the past 28 years so I can have a positive influence on my kids in a hope they don't end up making the same mistakes that I've made.


But we're not saints. We're not awesome. We're just folks. We're just normal people.


We didn't choose to adopt. The choice was made for us.


We were told to adopt. Jesus said we "need to take care of the orphans and the widows." We simply followed God's plan for our life.


And even though things have been tough, both on the child front and on the personal front, with the devil trying to thwart the following of God's design, I would never go back to change anything.


I don't think any of the members of our family of five would. Our kids are awesome, all three of them. The boys are incredibly loving, and our daughter is incredibly smart, driven, kind-hearted, and caring for others. They may have been born from a biological set of parents, but they could not be more our kids if we had given birth to them ourselves.


So the next time I tell you that we've adopted, and you say to us something along the lines of "Wow. You guys are awesome," don't be surprised if Andrea or I respond with "No, we're not. We just do what God asks us to do."