Posts from — March 2009

I swear, if my neighbors can hear whats going on in our house sometimes, they must think I’m some sort of monster.  Case in point…

Last week, L had an hour long meltdown.  The kind that involves screaming, throwing, kicking – the works.  So there I am in the hallway, preventing him from coming out of his room, when he lobs what HE thinks is his ultimate weapon – “I GOTTA GO PEE BAD”.

We’ve learned the hard way that L uses this when he wants to find a way to get out of his room.  For a long time, we fell for it, and then he’d play around in the hallway, play around in the bathroom, oddly enough, not actually going to the bathroom.

Then we thought – okay, you can go to the bathroom when you calm down.  But how do you quantify that?  Its really the absence of behavior.  And he learned to calm down just enough to get us to open the door, then he’d play around in the hallway, play around in the bathroom, oddly enough, not actually going to the bathroom, eventually melting down again.

So back to the most recent meltdown. This time, I told him if he had to go to the bathroom, all he had to do was say “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

He couldn’t do it.  Oh, he could scream “I’VE GOT TO GO BAAAAAAAAAAD!!!”.  He could try to negotiate getting me to open the door first.  He could demand I do a “repeat after me”.  But he couldn’t simply say “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

I must have sounded like a monster to my neighbors.  I mean to them, if a kid’s gotta go, he’s gotta go, right?

Wrong.  It was just one more way for L to try and be in control.  For him to try and engage us in his anger.  To try and frustrate us to the point where we might respond in anger.

Not this time.  We weren’t going to let that happen.

Finally, after an hour of this, I heard a meek little voice “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”  And so I opened the door, and off he went. I have to say, at that moment, I felt no victory.  I was just too exhausted to feel it.

But the next day, he was THIS  CLOSE to melting down because he wanted more Mac and Cheese, when out of the blue, I heard “Mommy, can I have some more Mac and Cheese?”.  And THEN I felt victorious.  That maybe, just maybe, L was choosing problem-solving over anger.

Maybe sometimes, in order to be the good guy, you have to be the monster first.

My husband rocks.  He is exactly the kind of man you want raising a little girl.  He’s masculine, yet sensitive.  He’s the leader of our family, but loves him a strong, intelligent woman.  Most important, he’s emotionally healthy, and sensitive to the needs of others.

And he adores his little girl.  She is truly his little princess.  But M… well, M has issues with men.  Justifiably.  No need to go into details, its just the reality of her past.

So its no real surprise that its taken her a long time to warm up to daddy.  And that she doesn’t let him kiss her cheek.

J, being the smart daddy that he is, doesn’t push it too hard.  And, he’s intuitive enough to know when to push just a little.  Hence, the conversation he and M had the other night.

J:  “So, when I try to kiss your cheek, does it make you think of your first Papa?”

M: “Yes, and when I think of him, I get mad at you.”

(pause)

M: “But daddy, you’re the greatest!”

That little conversation has so much packed into it.  Daddy’s attempt to reach out to his little girl.  M’s ability to realize how she was feeling.  And M’s recognition of her awesome daddy.

Little moments like these mean so much to our family.

Lets face it – nothing is ever going to be “routine” again in a household that’s done fost-adopt, or older-child adoption.  Ain’t gonna happen.

But… you’ve got to have a system for getting everyone out of the house in the morning, and for doing all that stuff that needs doing after school.  Otherwise, you’ll lose your mind.  Well, you may lose your mind anyway, but that’s another story…

In our routine, my husband and I have been splitting the morning and evening duties.  But by a happy accident, we discovered a better way.  Now, he OWNS the morning, from the moment the first kid tries to get up too early, till dropping them off at school.  I get to do my own thing, and head off to work without any stress.  Conversely, I OWN the evening routine, till bedtime, and my husband is free to work without having to worry about rushing home.

I have to say, I’m loving this new routine.  Morning were so stressful because I was so focused on getting the kids ready so I could get to work on time.  Even the easy mornings were stressful.  But for some reason, my husband doesn’t share the same stress – he’s much more easygoing about schedules, and doesn’t get bothered when the kids don’t cooperate in the morning.

And I’m okay with the evening routine, because there’s no real time constraints, so I’m not so focused on “making” the schedule.

So for now, we have a system that seems to get everything taken care of, fits each parent’s strengths, and provides a little relief to each parent as well.  And who knows, may even be good for the kids!

I’m really torn on this.  I like L’s psych, I really do.  He’s been managing the hubby’s meds for several years, got him to a really stable place, and I assumed he’d be able to do the same for L.

However, its a small office with unreliable voice mail, and getting prescription refills (which you have to get every month for these meds, grrrr) has become a major headache.  More important, when I describe concerns, patterns, etc., his answer is always to increase one of the two meds he’s on, instead of looking at alternatives, which is what my gut is telling me we should do.

Now, my gut instinct can’t compare to a psychiatrists many years of medical training and professional experience.  But it is my gut, and this is my kid.  At the very least, I should feel as though I’m being heard, and I don’t.

The hubs and I discussed this, and agreed that it would be worth it to look at other options. So we have an appointment set up for Monday with a new psychiatrist.  I’ll determine after that meeting if this is a good fit for us or not.  In the meantime, I’m feeling a little bit guilty because I do like this guy, and really appreciate what he’s done for my husband.  But I can’t let that guilt stand in the way of doing what’s best for my kid.

I just hope this IS the best.

It was a simple thing, really.  Dad, L, N and M were at Subway.  L turned to dad and said “Dad, can we go?  Its too noisy and bright in here for me.”

One of the main issues he’s working on in therapy is being able to “hear” what his body is “telling” him.  To understand when he’s feeling bad, and whats making him feel bad.  And then to act on it appropriately.

That night at Subway, his body was feeling overwhelmed.  And he was able to realize that, and act on it by telling his dad how he felt.

Fortunately, dad recognized the significance of L’s request and acted on it immediately, praising L the entire time.  It must have registered with L, because he came home to me and told me what happened.

13 words = one huge breakthrough for L.

The last two days have been an experiment with being nice to my kids. Let me explain.

I’m not naturally a nice person.  I mean, people like me and all, but people tend to describe me with words like “efficient”, “organized”, “strong” loooong before they get to the word nice.

I love my kids, deeply.  But I tend to be more focused on getting things done, getting them out the door, etc.  So, when they start to whine or melt down, I tend to bypass being sympathetic, and go into survival mode (you know, push them to get ready for school, tell them to stay into their room till they calm down, that kind of thing).

Last night and this morning, I tried an experiment.  I was nice.  When L whined that he couldn’t do his homework, I simply reminded him how he’d done it before and he could come out of his room when he was done. He managed to do his homework.  When M didn’t want to take her bath, I told her (nicely) that I understood, but she needed to do this now, then just stood there.  She willingly took her bath.  This morning, when M started melting down before school, I spent what seemed like an eternity with her getting her to tell me what was wrong.  She fessed up, I helped her do what she needed to school, and she got to school with a smile on her face.

This is such hard work.  It means really getting outside of who I am, becoming what my kids need.  Its exhausting, and I’m not sure how long I can keep it up.

And, part of me is wondering if my being nice is actually affecting anything, or if the increased sanity around the house is just luck.

But either way, whether its “working” or not, it can’t hurt to be nice, right?

Honestly, you think you’re doing something simple, and it blows up in your face…

This weekend, we decided to take a chance and take away the alarm we have at the end of the kid’s hallway – its been preventing them from wandering around at night, and getting into the pantry/fridge.  Just as a trial.

Sure enough, L got hold of a bunch of food.

Then, we thought, “hey, lets use this as a teaching opportunity!”.  We told L that if he didn’t steal that night, he’d get 4 nickels (big bucks in our home) – and if he didn’t steal the whole week, the whole family could go out for ice cream (now getting the whole family invested in L’s success).

The next morning – hurrah!  No stealing!  Woo hoo!  4 nickels!  Happy dancing all around!

Until 11pm at night when we found him with 4 ice cream sandwiches and a diet coke.

So… went to my favorite forum asked for some advice.  The advice that I got back is that really, this isn’t stealing.  Its just kids getting into food.  Take the bad food out of the fridge, let ‘em do whatever they want.

Seemed reasonable to me.  Told the kids they could have whatever they want out of the fridge, whenever they want it.  Just can’t use the microwave or toaster.

First night – they could not sleep, because they figured they had to wait till we went to bed to go to the fridge.  Set them straight, they made a beeline for the fridge, got mac and cheese and an orange.  They were delighted.

Not bad, I thought.  This just might work!

But the next day, M was exhausted, because of the whole “not sleeping” thing.

Second night, they go to bed just fine.  But at 4:30am, I smell toast.  There’s toast, butter, jelly all over the place.  At 4:30 AM.  At that moment, I realized this was a bad idea.  But now, the kids can’t go back to sleep.  And they made darn well sure that we couldn’t either.  Did I mention this was happening at 4:30 AM?

So now the kids are crazed with exhaustion (as are my husband and I – somehow, N slept through it all), the plan is a total failure, and the alarm’s going back on tonight.

I tell you, this morning, it seemed like all hell had broken loose. But when we dissected what happened, it was just the result of a chain of small events that built on each other.  Sometimes, you have to step back and look at what happened in order to realize that really, hell did not break loose.  Sometimes, small things build into bigger things, but will still only require a small change to reset things back to normal.

Whatever that is!

Early in our training, and then shortly after M and L moved in, we were told that kids who have experienced trauma will try their darndest to recreate that trauma in their new home.  Much like a jackpot, they will pull your lever over and over again until you’re yelling, getting angry, shoving – and they’ve hit their jackpot.

You hear that in training, and you’re like, “oh yea, that makes sense, I’ll never allow MYself to be used as a jackpot.”

Hah!

Take Tuesday night.  L was out of control, and needed to go to his room. He refused (lever pulled). I got angry and firmly ordered him into his room (ooo, one 7 popped up…).  Then, I walked right up to him, using my body to walk him into his room (another 7!).  Finally, because he tried to block me from closing his door, I tried to move him away from the door, and he ended up falling, and of course sobbing (another 7!  Jackpot!  DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!).

Our new plan – very new, starting last night – is to simply ignore him when he’s challenging us.  Which is totally counter-intuitive to everything else I know about parenting – that kids need firm limits and boundaries, and can’t be allowed to “get away with it”.  But the reality is, he either “gets away” with the initial challenge, or he gets away with a huge jackpot if we force it.

So last night, when he came out of his room after bedtime, we asked him to return.  He said “no!” (lever pulled).  We shrugged, and proceeded to ignore him.  He gradually came down the hall (lever pulled every time he moved), but we didn’t respond (still no jackpot). After standing at the end of the hall for a few minutes, staring at us, dancing, trying desperately to get us to go after him (lever, lever, lever, nothing, nothing, nothing), he started working his way back down the hall.  Eventually, we heard his door closed.

And there was no jackpot at all.  After a half hour of pulling the lever, he walked away with nothing.  Except maybe a little rewiring of his brain.

I have a hard time imagining how this is going to work in all situations.  What if he refuses to take his meds?  What if he hits N or M?  How do we respond then?  Obviously, we’ll give a consequence, but what if he refuses to accept it?  Are we really going to just ignore him until he does?

Its hard to imagine.  But once again, I’m having to turn standard theories of parenting on their head, and do what works for MY kids.  In fact, I have to do something different for EACH kid.  And hopefully, they’ll respond and heal.

And THAT’s a worthy jackpot.

… to relieve the tension in my neck today.

We found out yesterday that L has been flat out lying to us about whether or not he had homework.  He’d get homework from his special-ed class, take it to his regular class, and conveniently leave it there when he left school.  Then tell me he had no homework.

The little turd.

I was ticked.  Irrationally ticked.  Because there’s nothing that sets me off more than being played.  Especially by a 7 year old.  So last night, I had to work SO hard to respond to his actions, but not react.  Because inside, I wanted to kick his butt.  But on the outside, I needed to be calm, confident and loving, even as I was handing out consequences.

Both teachers are now on alert, making sure he knows that THEY know what he’s been up to.  And last night, he had doggy “dooty” as a consequence – and yes, it was raining (hey, that’s what raincoats are for, right?).

But even with all my work, I lost it at one point.  It was just for a second, but still, I lost control of myself.  So then, I spent the rest of the night stressing out over my failure.

Because you know, as a parent of a fost-adopt kid, I feel this sense of responsibility to not screw them up any more than they were when they came to us.  Oh, and to help them heal besides.  That’s a lot of pressure.  And instead of feeling that pressure less and less, I feel it more and more as my love grows for them.

Somehow, I’ve got to relax in my role as a parent – both in the good times and the bad.  I just haven’t figured out how to do that yet.

Yep, that’s how the day started.  Almost immediately upon getting up, L starts screaming.  Sometimes, just to hear the sound of his own voice.  Sometimes because he’s not happy about something.  Sometimes because you said “good morning”.

Today went to a whole new level though.  Today, he started experimenting with a high pitched squeal that was ear-piercing, and could be heard from one end of the house to the other.  Probably was even audible to the neighbors (I’m not exaggerating).

I honestly don’t know how to handle this.  There’s no rhyme or reason to it.  Its probably related to his ADHD, but then again, maybe not.  Because, as I just realized today, those few mornings when we’ve forgotten to enable the alarm at the end of the hallway, he’s managed to be very quiet as he sneaks into the pantry, fridge, N’s room, etc.

So he IS capable of controlling it.  And he ONLY does it if he has an audience.  But then stops as soon as the meds kick in.

I know, I know, we’ve got him on the wrong meds, and I’ll be working on that with the psych.  But in the meantime – what on earth is this about?  Is there ANY way to control it?  We could try rewards, but he’s not always responsive to rewards and consequences – they tend to just make my husband and I feel better!  We could try giving him the meds while he’s still groggy – but that time frame simply doesn’t exist.  As soon as he’s awake – he’s completely awake.

There’s got to be an answer.  Right?