I was talking over my own criminal tendencies post with one of my older daughters, reiterating that I was still dumbfounded to have to consider that all of my children came from backgrounds in which their birth parents participated in criminal activities.

My daughter reminded me of what I already knew but didn’t usually dwell on, the fact that my children were usually asked, forced or coerced into participating as well. Her sibling group came out of a particularly notorious background including drug dealing and gang activity. All three kids shoplifted for the mom, were fed groceries as they walked through the store, stuffing the empty packages in the shelves.

That’s interesting to me as that particular behavior, the empty food wrappers that I find stuffed under beds, in the shrubs, in pockets, book bags and under furniture, is a behavior that drives all of us adoptive parents nuts. It’s the hoarding that comes from a background of lack, driven by fear, and fueled by the larceny that they’ve been taught.

My daughter told me of going out to sell drugs when she was in primary school, if the police noticed them; the drugs were stuffed in the kid’s pockets. These stories were later corroborated by an older birth sister who found us years later. She told me many more hair-raising stories of the three youngest kids dressed in gang colors and head rags, holding drugs in their hands, going out late at night in the worst barrio in that city, meeting up with even more dangerous people.

And then I adopted the three emotionally shattered children, straight out of the projects and moved them 2000 miles east to a quiet, peaceful farm down a dirt road far from their former lifestyle.

Oddly enough they adapted quickly. One son, then six, immediately hanging out with high achievers and Little League team members, built himself an excellent life here after he got over his sticky finger tendencies. He’s now in college and in the Georgia Army National Guard.

Their sister loves Georgia, made friends, married well and earned a Master’s Degree in Social Work. She’s spent years pouring out her anger at the injustice of her former life, her rage at the way she and her siblings were mistreated, and she ended up being an adoption professional.

Their middle brother was a different story. I’ve often written of my problems with him over the years, long since resolved but I simply could not, did not understand the whys back then. I didn’t comprehend the damage done to them in their formative years. I couldn’t fathom why he didn’t just choose to behave, to enjoy positive rewards rather than negative consequences. The depth of his pain was hidden by his anger and we all suffered for years through his many arrests and his failures to comply with minimal expectations and society’s laws.

He has long since improved and gotten his life together. He hit a slump when the birth family found us but he worked through that as well.

I’m the one that needs to remember my experiences with him as I continue to struggle to raise law abiding kids. I’m the one who needs to think about what my kids were taught back when they were young and impressionable; that was all they knew.

And I need to remain patient, firm and consistent knowing that these criminal tendencies can be overcome.