We had a good morning. I got to work on time.
I had a formal observation, and none of my students were disruptive or rude. I didn't even have to bribe them. 😆 In fact, I didn't give them advance notice at all. The lesson went well and as planned.
I feel exhausted and have a thousand things to do, but I'm counting the good wherever good can be counted.
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
working on a new stripe.
He is testing for the yellow stripe on his white belt today.
It's odd sometimes how tests come up without warning. Life does that though. Just when you think you haven't made any progress, you're suddenly at the point of moving to the next level.
Hopefully all will go well... he is determined enough for certain. The determination and perseverance he shows here are the best of his survival skills.
He has learned so much. I know that I am impatient. I want to treat him like a nine year old, because in body he is nine. I forget that despite his formal training in addition, subtraction - even multiplication - he has not had training in the kindergarten side of things. When his kindergarten classmates were learning sharing, respect for personal space, taking turns speaking, obedience to directions, he was jumping through multiple schools and trying to figure out if anyone was going to bother to feed him when he got home. That's when he showed up at school at all... most of that year he was truant because no one could be bothered to get him ready and out the door.
I expect him to know how to do those things, and he hasn't had the practice applying them in a safe place. He has heard the words, but he has not learned to apply them; being kind, quiet, and obedient did not get his needs met. He would likely be dead or more damaged if he had been those things. I know that, and yet when he looks me in my eyes and says no, it is so difficult for me to not see red.It takes every bit of energy I have to not react to him, and often not reacting feels like allowing him to get away with it.
... and that's the issue. I feel like less of a parent if I let him get away with it. I should see him as a preschooler in that moment, throwing a tantrum, and react accordingly. I would not yell at a toddler or preschooler - it creates fear rather than respect. He's had enough of that already. I see a nine year-old standing in front of me, though. I don't see a toddler... and I have to force myself past the you-defiant-little-twerp moment that rises up in an instant. The contradiction between IQ and EQ is maddening. He is learning and increasing the EQ little by little each day, but my wife has to remind me daily to be patient with him while he catches up.
If you're unfamiliar with the term EQ, you can check out the basics of Emotional Quotient here:
https://www.todaysparent.com/kids/kids-health/eq-vs-iq-why-emotional-intelligence-will-take-kids-farther-in-life/
He will keep trying, and so will I.
The absence of these skills is destroying our time together.
I just want to be able to enjoy my kid.
Soon, right?
I have to keep telling myself - soon.
It's odd sometimes how tests come up without warning. Life does that though. Just when you think you haven't made any progress, you're suddenly at the point of moving to the next level.
Hopefully all will go well... he is determined enough for certain. The determination and perseverance he shows here are the best of his survival skills.
He has learned so much. I know that I am impatient. I want to treat him like a nine year old, because in body he is nine. I forget that despite his formal training in addition, subtraction - even multiplication - he has not had training in the kindergarten side of things. When his kindergarten classmates were learning sharing, respect for personal space, taking turns speaking, obedience to directions, he was jumping through multiple schools and trying to figure out if anyone was going to bother to feed him when he got home. That's when he showed up at school at all... most of that year he was truant because no one could be bothered to get him ready and out the door.
I expect him to know how to do those things, and he hasn't had the practice applying them in a safe place. He has heard the words, but he has not learned to apply them; being kind, quiet, and obedient did not get his needs met. He would likely be dead or more damaged if he had been those things. I know that, and yet when he looks me in my eyes and says no, it is so difficult for me to not see red.It takes every bit of energy I have to not react to him, and often not reacting feels like allowing him to get away with it.
... and that's the issue. I feel like less of a parent if I let him get away with it. I should see him as a preschooler in that moment, throwing a tantrum, and react accordingly. I would not yell at a toddler or preschooler - it creates fear rather than respect. He's had enough of that already. I see a nine year-old standing in front of me, though. I don't see a toddler... and I have to force myself past the you-defiant-little-twerp moment that rises up in an instant. The contradiction between IQ and EQ is maddening. He is learning and increasing the EQ little by little each day, but my wife has to remind me daily to be patient with him while he catches up.
If you're unfamiliar with the term EQ, you can check out the basics of Emotional Quotient here:
https://www.todaysparent.com/kids/kids-health/eq-vs-iq-why-emotional-intelligence-will-take-kids-farther-in-life/
He will keep trying, and so will I.
The absence of these skills is destroying our time together.
I just want to be able to enjoy my kid.
Soon, right?
I have to keep telling myself - soon.
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Breakfast drama.
Child: I can't wait to have pop tarts for breakfast.
Adult: [remembers that pop tarts are not a full meal gig in this house; quietly texts wife to confirm that nothing has changed in this respect. Wife replies that this is still so.]
Adult: Sorry, dude - pop tarts are for a snack or something to go with your lunch. They're never a full breakfast in our house. That hasn't changed.
Child: [whining] What? What do you mean? Why do you buy them if I can't eat them? This is so stupid! [flops down on sofa]
Adult: do you want a bagel with cream cheese?
Child: No! I'm not eating!
[Adult texts wife, who replies that she should just send him with oatmeal to daycare. Adult takes out oatmeal and begins to prepare it in a tupperware container]
Child: What are you doing?
Adult: I'm making oatmeal for you to take with you.
Child: I'm not eating it. It's going to go to waste.
[wife asks to speak to child on the phone. Child whines unintelligibly from the other room]
Child: Fine. I'll eat a bagel.
Adult: I've already made the oatmeal at this point. You kind of missed your chance.
[Child rants all over again. Ample use of the word "stupid']
Adult: I'm not debating with you. I need to get ready. It's on the table.
[Adult retreats to the bathroom for makeup/hair routine. Five minutes pass.]
Child, calling from kitchen: Ugh! I wish I didn't change my mind so much all the time!
Child, after getting no reply: UGH! I WISH I DIDN'T CHANGE MY MIND SO MUCH ALL THE TIME!
Adult, returning to kitchen: Please don't shout through the house. What do you need?
Child: I wish I didn't change my mind so much all the time. [looks pointedly at the container of oatmeal]
Adult: Just eat it if you want to eat it. It will taste better warm anyway.
[child sits down at table, grabs plastic spoon from the top of the container, and plows through the oatmeal like he has not eaten in a week]
[Adult shakes head and returns to the bathroom]
FIN.
Monday, April 23, 2018
and
One of his molars has an abscess requiring extraction. The dentist says it's a cyclical, chronic infection. The extraction is scheduled in two weeks, after a round of antibiotics.
when we actually get to the dentist...
... oh wait. You meant that insurance? The medical assistance insurance? No, sorry, we didn't know that isn't the same as the state-assistance Chip insurance. We don't participate.
You took off from work to take him? You asked us this a month ago when you made the appointment? Yes, we're sorry. These things can be so confusing.
I really want to destroy someone right now.
This dentist is reputed to be very kind to children, particularly those who have had trauma in the dental office. I told my wife to just pay for the damn thing out of pocket.
You want to know what's hard about fostering? THIS. This bullshit is hard. Trying to tell a kid that he is worth more than being treated like a leftover, unwanted sock only to find that society continues to tell him that's exactly what he is.
This system is such a freaking joke.
You took off from work to take him? You asked us this a month ago when you made the appointment? Yes, we're sorry. These things can be so confusing.
I really want to destroy someone right now.
This dentist is reputed to be very kind to children, particularly those who have had trauma in the dental office. I told my wife to just pay for the damn thing out of pocket.
You want to know what's hard about fostering? THIS. This bullshit is hard. Trying to tell a kid that he is worth more than being treated like a leftover, unwanted sock only to find that society continues to tell him that's exactly what he is.
This system is such a freaking joke.
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Sometimes, it IS about me.
Sometimes I do not like myself very much.
He has ten years' worth of a gaping black hole that should have been filled with nurturing, security, innocence, and joy. It was filled with fear, abuse, more fear, insecurity about food, insecurity about housing, insecurity about truth and its purpose, more fear, more abuse, and more fear.
Slowly, we've been scooping out the muck. The fear and insecurity are at least partly gone... but the current good doesn't fill the void. It's not proportional. It's three months of good and ten years of bad, and I don't see how I'm ever going to catch up. It's unreasonable to expect a core shift, but I think I had expected him to be at least as cooperative as he was in his first and second week here. Recognizing that he feels safe enough to test me is of little consolation.
I try to stretch myself to fill the gaps and make up the difference, and then I get so damned tired and frustrated when he is incapable of recognizing the gargantuan effort (there again is the whole "don't take it personally"thing).
I don't know how to get him past this.
My wife has taken both kids for most of the weekend. I am stuck between grateful that I had some time to finish some school work and beating my head against the wall because I can't seem to release the anxiety and tension enough to actually accomplish anything with the time that I've been given (which has led me to writing this entry in a flickering hope that I might be able to reset my brain and be productive so that I, too, can avoid acting like an ungrateful cur who is never happy about anything).
I cannot let go of the anxiety and the stress. I try to self soothe - epsom salt bath, time away from the house, food (that's a bucket of funk in itself), music... none of the things I usually do are working.
I know it's trauma, and that on some level he and I are the same. A huge burden was just lifted from my shoulders after nearly twenty years, and I am approaching full closure on something that has all but tortured me. I should be ecstatic, and was for the first hours after receiving the news... but it didn't stay. I have a weight lifted knowing that person is safe now, but that's where it ends. I still have an anger that colors the way I see the world. I have tried for seven years to get rid of it, but it persists. I don't actively think about it, but that doesn't seem to matter at this point. I don't trust people. I look for hidden agendas. I stand guard over my children like a wounded bear stands over a cub, ready to make one desperate last stand. I see the bad first and then allow flickers of reflected light to point out little bits of good. I don't want to be this way. I hate being this way. Yet, here I am, and there he is, and the only thing I have learned more than he has is that it is possible to exist, push through, and be successful in spite of it.
For now, I am trying to create good. It works for a time but has a letdown afterward.
I'm going to keep reading and work on sorting myself so that I can continue to help him do the same. If you have any books that might be of assistance, please leave the title and author in the comments. Right now I'm wrapping up The Four Agreements and moving into The Untethered Soul. Both are about adjusting your worldview. I have a few trauma-specific books like The Body Keeps the Score that I may return to as well now that I'm in a different mindset than I was when I first read them.
When I see him, I see a traumatized kid. When I see myself, I see a rotten-attitude adult who should know better. Maybe this relentless flagellant attitude is where I need to start. Beating myself isn't getting the desired result.
He has ten years' worth of a gaping black hole that should have been filled with nurturing, security, innocence, and joy. It was filled with fear, abuse, more fear, insecurity about food, insecurity about housing, insecurity about truth and its purpose, more fear, more abuse, and more fear.
Slowly, we've been scooping out the muck. The fear and insecurity are at least partly gone... but the current good doesn't fill the void. It's not proportional. It's three months of good and ten years of bad, and I don't see how I'm ever going to catch up. It's unreasonable to expect a core shift, but I think I had expected him to be at least as cooperative as he was in his first and second week here. Recognizing that he feels safe enough to test me is of little consolation.
I try to stretch myself to fill the gaps and make up the difference, and then I get so damned tired and frustrated when he is incapable of recognizing the gargantuan effort (there again is the whole "don't take it personally"thing).
I don't know how to get him past this.
My wife has taken both kids for most of the weekend. I am stuck between grateful that I had some time to finish some school work and beating my head against the wall because I can't seem to release the anxiety and tension enough to actually accomplish anything with the time that I've been given (which has led me to writing this entry in a flickering hope that I might be able to reset my brain and be productive so that I, too, can avoid acting like an ungrateful cur who is never happy about anything).
I cannot let go of the anxiety and the stress. I try to self soothe - epsom salt bath, time away from the house, food (that's a bucket of funk in itself), music... none of the things I usually do are working.
I know it's trauma, and that on some level he and I are the same. A huge burden was just lifted from my shoulders after nearly twenty years, and I am approaching full closure on something that has all but tortured me. I should be ecstatic, and was for the first hours after receiving the news... but it didn't stay. I have a weight lifted knowing that person is safe now, but that's where it ends. I still have an anger that colors the way I see the world. I have tried for seven years to get rid of it, but it persists. I don't actively think about it, but that doesn't seem to matter at this point. I don't trust people. I look for hidden agendas. I stand guard over my children like a wounded bear stands over a cub, ready to make one desperate last stand. I see the bad first and then allow flickers of reflected light to point out little bits of good. I don't want to be this way. I hate being this way. Yet, here I am, and there he is, and the only thing I have learned more than he has is that it is possible to exist, push through, and be successful in spite of it.
For now, I am trying to create good. It works for a time but has a letdown afterward.
I'm going to keep reading and work on sorting myself so that I can continue to help him do the same. If you have any books that might be of assistance, please leave the title and author in the comments. Right now I'm wrapping up The Four Agreements and moving into The Untethered Soul. Both are about adjusting your worldview. I have a few trauma-specific books like The Body Keeps the Score that I may return to as well now that I'm in a different mindset than I was when I first read them.
When I see him, I see a traumatized kid. When I see myself, I see a rotten-attitude adult who should know better. Maybe this relentless flagellant attitude is where I need to start. Beating myself isn't getting the desired result.
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
There's work to do.
Sometimes, when you foster, you'll feel like you want to rip your hair right out.
We are out of the honeymoon and full into the constant testing, prove-you-are-what-you-say-you-are stage.
Prove to me you'll still want me when I act like a total jerk.
Prove to me you'll still love me when I argue about anything and everything just for the sake of arguing.
Prove to me that you won't physically abuse me when I push you to the absolute brink of your patience and to the end of your sanity.
Prove to me that you're not like the others.
Prove to me that this really is my house, and that you won't ever get so pissed off that you make me leave it.
I dropped him off at daycare, biting it all back, refusing to engage or argue... pulled out of the parking lot and sobbed for the entire 45 minute commute to work.
I'm reading The Four Agreements, and one of the agreements is to not take things personally - that the thoughts, words, and actions of a person are a reflection of the physical and emotional place that the person is in. I have mastered this concept at work, and 97% of the time I do not react personally to my students when they act up. At home, with him... I'm not yet there. I struggle with the fact that he makes me late for work and has no regard for the position it puts me in. I struggle with the fact that I spend money I can't afford to waste on food that he asks for and then abjectly refuses to eat. I struggle with the way he responds only if I am a complete hardass with immovable boundaries. It becomes, "Be downstairs dressed and with your teeth brushed in three minutes if you want to keep your screen time." I hate it.
In the moment, it's difficult to see the core reality of what's happening - that he is trying to follow old familiar patterns and push me into familiar roles. More difficult is his lack of conscious awareness that he is following that path. In his head, there is nothing but, "I'm tired and it's cold and I'm not getting out of this bed." The fact that it is not a conscious thing makes it even more difficult to actually confront the problem and pull it out at the root.
I don't yet have a resolution on this. It will no doubt be a process, and it will take work on both his part and on my own to make the change. I just do not want to put only the warm fuzzy moments here. They exist, but they are highlights. Sometimes the best I can claim is that he went back upstairs to take care of dirty clothes without getting mouthy or that he apologized when I ask him to take care of something that he forgot. I even got an unsolicited "yes, ma'am" yesterday.
On days like today, the best I can claim is that I did not allow him to push me into becoming what he fears I already am... because he as never known an adult to be anything different.
There's work to do.
We are out of the honeymoon and full into the constant testing, prove-you-are-what-you-say-you-are stage.
Prove to me you'll still want me when I act like a total jerk.
Prove to me you'll still love me when I argue about anything and everything just for the sake of arguing.
Prove to me that you won't physically abuse me when I push you to the absolute brink of your patience and to the end of your sanity.
Prove to me that you're not like the others.
Prove to me that this really is my house, and that you won't ever get so pissed off that you make me leave it.
I dropped him off at daycare, biting it all back, refusing to engage or argue... pulled out of the parking lot and sobbed for the entire 45 minute commute to work.
I'm reading The Four Agreements, and one of the agreements is to not take things personally - that the thoughts, words, and actions of a person are a reflection of the physical and emotional place that the person is in. I have mastered this concept at work, and 97% of the time I do not react personally to my students when they act up. At home, with him... I'm not yet there. I struggle with the fact that he makes me late for work and has no regard for the position it puts me in. I struggle with the fact that I spend money I can't afford to waste on food that he asks for and then abjectly refuses to eat. I struggle with the way he responds only if I am a complete hardass with immovable boundaries. It becomes, "Be downstairs dressed and with your teeth brushed in three minutes if you want to keep your screen time." I hate it.
In the moment, it's difficult to see the core reality of what's happening - that he is trying to follow old familiar patterns and push me into familiar roles. More difficult is his lack of conscious awareness that he is following that path. In his head, there is nothing but, "I'm tired and it's cold and I'm not getting out of this bed." The fact that it is not a conscious thing makes it even more difficult to actually confront the problem and pull it out at the root.
I don't yet have a resolution on this. It will no doubt be a process, and it will take work on both his part and on my own to make the change. I just do not want to put only the warm fuzzy moments here. They exist, but they are highlights. Sometimes the best I can claim is that he went back upstairs to take care of dirty clothes without getting mouthy or that he apologized when I ask him to take care of something that he forgot. I even got an unsolicited "yes, ma'am" yesterday.
On days like today, the best I can claim is that I did not allow him to push me into becoming what he fears I already am... because he as never known an adult to be anything different.
There's work to do.
Friday, April 13, 2018
Decapitated Poultry.
I haven't even had time to breathe this week. Visits, meetings, tae kwon do, horseback riding lessons, doctor appointments... I'm sure we ate and slept somewhere in the interim. A few moments from the week:
~~~~
We had another song moment this week. He really does see himself in music. I wasn't paying attention to the song he was singing along to, and from the back seat I heard him say, "This song is me too, Mom! Listen to it!"
This was what had just played:
~~~~
We had another song moment this week. He really does see himself in music. I wasn't paying attention to the song he was singing along to, and from the back seat I heard him say, "This song is me too, Mom! Listen to it!"
This was what had just played:
Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand
But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man
These nights never seem to go to plan
I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand
But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man
These nights never seem to go to plan
I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand
Oh, won't you stay with me
'Cause you're all I need
This ain't love, it's clear to see
But, darling, stay with me
'Cause you're all I need
This ain't love, it's clear to see
But, darling, stay with me
He forever changes the way I hear these songs.
~~~~~~~~~
He has been going to tae kwon do twice a week. Today he asked me when he's going to learn to blend. I thought I heard him wrong.
"When you're going to what?"
"Blend. You know, blend."
"No dude, I don't. What do you mean?"
"You know, like when you blend into walls and stuff and nobody can see you. When are we going to do that?"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Working with agencies is so hard. There are fifteen different adults - caseworkers, visitation workers, adoption agency workers, therapists. Everyone wants a piece and has to meet with him and with us. He gets so frustrated with the parade of people who want a piece of his time to check in. He gets home so late already, and there is no way to have these visits and still be able to do his activities. The surliness that comes as a result makes me have to navigate the rocky road between forcing manners that he has been taught to observe in our house and being allowed to have a healthy expression of his anger about being in this situation. He gets furious with me when he feels like I am not defending him against this invasion into our home. The whole thing is just so messy.
~~~~~~~~
He does pick up on the manners, though. I am relieved to see him so respectful of his tkd master - he never complains at having to do a specfic exercise or repetition of his forms, and every response has a "Sir" tacked on to the end. When he got himself turned around trying to learn the rest of form 1 tonight, I watched him take a deep breath and collect himself before starting over. Two times. Four times. I see him learning to manage it.
The bigger challenge has been how to get him to hit the release valve. He does not deal with his emotions - the anger, the grief, the confusion. He shoves them all down, and they leak out. We are trying to teach him that he can face these emotions without them sweeping him into oblivion. They just feel so big to him, and I am sure that he feels that he will be crushed under their weight. They make him feel out of control. I do not think that he has ever been encouraged to find the middle ground between shoving it all down and completely surrendering control to the rage and grief.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
From earlier this week...
I was away from my computer when this happened and forgot to put it down.
Tuesday was his first day of school in his new program. I packed a lunch and put into it a little three line note - "I love you! I'll see you soon! Love, Mom."
That evening, as he changed into his pajamas, I grabbed his pants from the floor and found the note in his pocket.
"Buddy, what do you want me to do with this piece of paper in your pocket? Do you want to keep it?"
"Put that in my treasure box. That's one of my treasures."
I managed a, "Sounds good," without crying and put the note, still folded, in the miniature Lane cedar chest "treasure box" on his dresser.
My god, what power there is in such small things.
Tuesday was his first day of school in his new program. I packed a lunch and put into it a little three line note - "I love you! I'll see you soon! Love, Mom."
That evening, as he changed into his pajamas, I grabbed his pants from the floor and found the note in his pocket.
"Buddy, what do you want me to do with this piece of paper in your pocket? Do you want to keep it?"
"Put that in my treasure box. That's one of my treasures."
I managed a, "Sounds good," without crying and put the note, still folded, in the miniature Lane cedar chest "treasure box" on his dresser.
My god, what power there is in such small things.
Just. So. Tired.
I didn't anticipate how exhausting this would be.
Don't get me wrong. I love it. I just didn't anticipate infant-level needs combined with nine year-old level needs. That's what trauma does, though. In some ways, his development is on an even keel with his age-level peers. In others, he has had seriously arrested development.
In the infant and toddler years, there's a trust that is supposed to exist between a child and a caretaker. That trust is a foundation for everything because it allows for the risk-taking that accompanies learning. When that trust doesn't exist - when parental responses are inconsistent due to moods, intoxication from drugs or alchohol (and the skewed judgment that comes with both), parental anger issues, emotional abuse, and simple neglect, that foundation doesn't exist. It can't be built upon, and any attempts to do so result in disasters ranging from misunderstanding to tantrums.
He has to learn that not all adults lie and fail to do what they say.
He has to be taught how he will be treated, and what's fair to expect. He has to be actively taught that he can make mistakes without getting beaten or locked somewhere, and then he has to complete that lesson by seeing for himself that we follow through and tell the truth.
He has to be taught about sharing - not because he wants to have everything to himself, but because he has never had anything, and traditionally what little he had has always been snatched away at some point. He has almost been coddled in this way, with people making excuses for him once he had his own things rather than teach him how to share. No one has taught him that there can be a handful of things that you never have to share, but those things aren't stuff you bring around other people because you can hurt people's feelings that way.
He has to be taught table manners from scratch... that he doesn't have to take huge bites and eat lightning fast because no one is going to snatch the food from his plate. He has to be taught how to sit at a table and eat a meal with a family - wait till everyone is at the table to eat, don't put your knees up, ask to be excused, ask for someone to pass something to you rather than reach across their personal space. He has to be taught how to use a knife. He has to be taught to not put his face down to the plate and suck the food off of it when he cannot get his food to make the leap onto his fork or spoon.
He has to be taught that other people have feelings, and that just because he is in a sour mood does not make it okay for him to treat the people around him like garbage. This is a HUGE one for us. He has never before had anyone to model this for him. If someone else was in a rotten mood, he was expected to bear the brunt of it without complaint. We are working on teaching him that not only was it awful that anyone did that to him, it is also awful if he does it to anyone else. Some days he remembers and uses some words rather than acting out. Some days, the feelings are too much and he struggles.
He has to be taught that being educated and intelligent is not a bad thing. He is slowly coming around to this. We read at least a chapter of Percy Jackson every night (we've just begun book three), and he is deciding that he no longer despises school with every fiber of his being (I'll take it after the emotional wrestling match we had the first few days of school). I'm working on getting him to understand that education and intelligence are his key to being able to provide for himself instead of always and forever depending on someone to provide for him. It's going to take a while, but it will happen.
He has to be taught balance. He wants to be entertained and paid attention to every waking second of the day after having been pushed aside and ignored every waking second. He doesn't know how to deal with quiet moments when his own head rears up and gets the best of him. He wants constant interaction to chase all of that away. Hopefully with counseling and some structure at home, he will be able to work through that. It's a difficult road... at 42, I still struggle with being quiet in my own head occasionally.
So I'm tired. It's a productive tired - we are making progress, and so is he - but holy wow, I'm exhausted.
Don't get me wrong. I love it. I just didn't anticipate infant-level needs combined with nine year-old level needs. That's what trauma does, though. In some ways, his development is on an even keel with his age-level peers. In others, he has had seriously arrested development.
In the infant and toddler years, there's a trust that is supposed to exist between a child and a caretaker. That trust is a foundation for everything because it allows for the risk-taking that accompanies learning. When that trust doesn't exist - when parental responses are inconsistent due to moods, intoxication from drugs or alchohol (and the skewed judgment that comes with both), parental anger issues, emotional abuse, and simple neglect, that foundation doesn't exist. It can't be built upon, and any attempts to do so result in disasters ranging from misunderstanding to tantrums.
He has to learn that not all adults lie and fail to do what they say.
He has to be taught how he will be treated, and what's fair to expect. He has to be actively taught that he can make mistakes without getting beaten or locked somewhere, and then he has to complete that lesson by seeing for himself that we follow through and tell the truth.
He has to be taught about sharing - not because he wants to have everything to himself, but because he has never had anything, and traditionally what little he had has always been snatched away at some point. He has almost been coddled in this way, with people making excuses for him once he had his own things rather than teach him how to share. No one has taught him that there can be a handful of things that you never have to share, but those things aren't stuff you bring around other people because you can hurt people's feelings that way.
He has to be taught table manners from scratch... that he doesn't have to take huge bites and eat lightning fast because no one is going to snatch the food from his plate. He has to be taught how to sit at a table and eat a meal with a family - wait till everyone is at the table to eat, don't put your knees up, ask to be excused, ask for someone to pass something to you rather than reach across their personal space. He has to be taught how to use a knife. He has to be taught to not put his face down to the plate and suck the food off of it when he cannot get his food to make the leap onto his fork or spoon.
He has to be taught that other people have feelings, and that just because he is in a sour mood does not make it okay for him to treat the people around him like garbage. This is a HUGE one for us. He has never before had anyone to model this for him. If someone else was in a rotten mood, he was expected to bear the brunt of it without complaint. We are working on teaching him that not only was it awful that anyone did that to him, it is also awful if he does it to anyone else. Some days he remembers and uses some words rather than acting out. Some days, the feelings are too much and he struggles.
He has to be taught that being educated and intelligent is not a bad thing. He is slowly coming around to this. We read at least a chapter of Percy Jackson every night (we've just begun book three), and he is deciding that he no longer despises school with every fiber of his being (I'll take it after the emotional wrestling match we had the first few days of school). I'm working on getting him to understand that education and intelligence are his key to being able to provide for himself instead of always and forever depending on someone to provide for him. It's going to take a while, but it will happen.
He has to be taught balance. He wants to be entertained and paid attention to every waking second of the day after having been pushed aside and ignored every waking second. He doesn't know how to deal with quiet moments when his own head rears up and gets the best of him. He wants constant interaction to chase all of that away. Hopefully with counseling and some structure at home, he will be able to work through that. It's a difficult road... at 42, I still struggle with being quiet in my own head occasionally.
So I'm tired. It's a productive tired - we are making progress, and so is he - but holy wow, I'm exhausted.
Friday, April 6, 2018
Comments are finally fixed (I hope)
I think the comments feature is finally fixed. I did a test comment, and it worked. If you do not have a blogger account (I expect most of you won't), please leave your fb name or some other identifier so I know who posted the comment. Thanks :)
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Worth More.
We have been wrestling with dental care.
Once we can adopt him, he'll be on both of our insurance plans. For now, as a foster child, he is on the state insurance plan.
No one participates with the state insurance plan.
This is a child who has serious dental decay and damage due to neglect and malnutrition. His molars are more silver than enamel, with rows of crowns top and bottom. They hurt, and he tends to avoid extremely cold food because of the sensitivity. He needs a palate expander to make room for his adult teeth (which will have some level of damage when they come in because they formed at a time when he was not well fed).
We want to fix all of these things for him.
I lost count of how many dentists we called. The amount of snark I encountered was staggering, and frankly disgusting. I was told by one office that they do not accept this insurance because they "cater to a certain clientele" and that we should take him to a free clinic in Philadelphia, but "be in line by 7am because it fills up fast." Another told us that for a kid like this, a palate expander would be useless and they'd likely just pull the affected teeth instead - after all, there would never be follow through, and a palate expander isn't a single visit fix.
The disdain and disrespect I encountered was positively vile.
He is a child. He didn't ask to be half starved. He didn't ask to not have a toothbrush or toothpaste in the house, and he didn't ask to never know how to use them if they had been there. He is nine.
The records say that he "screamed through" the procedures at the last dentist visit, and that they had to lay across him to force compliance. He is completely and utterly terrified of the dentist at this point. I have no idea what those bumbling idiots were thinking. You're going to take a kid who has been abused, hold him down, and shove painful things in his mouth? Sweet baby Jesus, it makes me want to beat the living crap out of someone.
This child may come in with decay and baggage, but he is no less worthy of humane treatment and kindness than the kids of the executives who come in from an afternoon at the country club. It makes me irate.
My mama bear claws are long, people, and I know how to use them.
We have found a dentist who participates and who has said all of the right things when it comes to treating a child who has had traumatic experiences both in and out of the chair. They have said that they will not only allow one of us back with him, but will also allow us to put him on our lap to be examined in a regular reclining chair while they build trust with him. This is what empathy looks like. This is what dignity and potential recovery for a child looks like.
If we have to come back ten times in order to get him to a place of being still, we'll do it. No one will ever pin him down again. Not while I am breathing.
Once we can adopt him, he'll be on both of our insurance plans. For now, as a foster child, he is on the state insurance plan.
No one participates with the state insurance plan.
This is a child who has serious dental decay and damage due to neglect and malnutrition. His molars are more silver than enamel, with rows of crowns top and bottom. They hurt, and he tends to avoid extremely cold food because of the sensitivity. He needs a palate expander to make room for his adult teeth (which will have some level of damage when they come in because they formed at a time when he was not well fed).
We want to fix all of these things for him.
I lost count of how many dentists we called. The amount of snark I encountered was staggering, and frankly disgusting. I was told by one office that they do not accept this insurance because they "cater to a certain clientele" and that we should take him to a free clinic in Philadelphia, but "be in line by 7am because it fills up fast." Another told us that for a kid like this, a palate expander would be useless and they'd likely just pull the affected teeth instead - after all, there would never be follow through, and a palate expander isn't a single visit fix.
The disdain and disrespect I encountered was positively vile.
He is a child. He didn't ask to be half starved. He didn't ask to not have a toothbrush or toothpaste in the house, and he didn't ask to never know how to use them if they had been there. He is nine.
The records say that he "screamed through" the procedures at the last dentist visit, and that they had to lay across him to force compliance. He is completely and utterly terrified of the dentist at this point. I have no idea what those bumbling idiots were thinking. You're going to take a kid who has been abused, hold him down, and shove painful things in his mouth? Sweet baby Jesus, it makes me want to beat the living crap out of someone.
This child may come in with decay and baggage, but he is no less worthy of humane treatment and kindness than the kids of the executives who come in from an afternoon at the country club. It makes me irate.
My mama bear claws are long, people, and I know how to use them.
We have found a dentist who participates and who has said all of the right things when it comes to treating a child who has had traumatic experiences both in and out of the chair. They have said that they will not only allow one of us back with him, but will also allow us to put him on our lap to be examined in a regular reclining chair while they build trust with him. This is what empathy looks like. This is what dignity and potential recovery for a child looks like.
If we have to come back ten times in order to get him to a place of being still, we'll do it. No one will ever pin him down again. Not while I am breathing.
He, too, speaks in music.
Today's to and fro travels:
in the car...
Lucas: [singing] I said you're holding back... she said shut up and dance with me!
Me: [smirk] You just like this song because you can say, "shut up," and get away with it.
Lucas: [through giggles] You're totally right. I can say "shut up," in this song all day long!
Later, as we are pulling out of a parking space....
Lucas: [singing along to the radio] I like me better when I'm with you... I like me better when I'm with you...
Mom, does this song remind you of anyone?
Me: Should it?
Lucas: Yes, this is totally me. This song is totally, totally me.
Me: Do you like yourself better when you're with us?
Lucas: [grins] Totally. I feel like a whole different person when I'm with you.
He wished on a shooting star tonight. I don't dare ask - it wouldn't come true - but I'd love to know what he wished for.
in the car...
Lucas: [singing] I said you're holding back... she said shut up and dance with me!
Me: [smirk] You just like this song because you can say, "shut up," and get away with it.
Lucas: [through giggles] You're totally right. I can say "shut up," in this song all day long!
Later, as we are pulling out of a parking space....
Lucas: [singing along to the radio] I like me better when I'm with you... I like me better when I'm with you...
Mom, does this song remind you of anyone?
Me: Should it?
Lucas: Yes, this is totally me. This song is totally, totally me.
Me: Do you like yourself better when you're with us?
Lucas: [grins] Totally. I feel like a whole different person when I'm with you.
He wished on a shooting star tonight. I don't dare ask - it wouldn't come true - but I'd love to know what he wished for.
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
"Today I was a hero."
Today was his first day of before-school care. I must be at work by 7:15 and live 50 minutes from work, so he has to get there early. He whined and complained - so early, so boring, all babies, on and on and on. I was bracing myself for complaints when he got off the bus. Instead, he came to the door and announced his homework was already done. We sat down for an early dinner.
"I was a hero today."
"Really? How?"
"I was at that daycare place this morning, and there was a little kid [toddler] rocking on a chair. The teacher kept telling the kid to stop rocking, stop rocking, but he didn't. I saw the chair going over backwards, and I just dove across for it. If it was a big kid like me I wouldn't care, but I wasn't letting that tiny little kid's head hit that hard floor! I caught his little head in one hand and my other arm got cut up on the chair foot thing when it fell. The teacher told me I'm a hero!"
He pulled up his right sleeve, and sure enough, the front of his forearm is bruised and scraped like something metal had been dragged across it.
I love that his instinct in that situation was to immediately jump in and protect someone smaller. Under all of the anxiety, grief, and anger is a heart of gold. I am determined to help him pull back the layers and uncover it.
"I was a hero today."
"Really? How?"
"I was at that daycare place this morning, and there was a little kid [toddler] rocking on a chair. The teacher kept telling the kid to stop rocking, stop rocking, but he didn't. I saw the chair going over backwards, and I just dove across for it. If it was a big kid like me I wouldn't care, but I wasn't letting that tiny little kid's head hit that hard floor! I caught his little head in one hand and my other arm got cut up on the chair foot thing when it fell. The teacher told me I'm a hero!"
He pulled up his right sleeve, and sure enough, the front of his forearm is bruised and scraped like something metal had been dragged across it.
I love that his instinct in that situation was to immediately jump in and protect someone smaller. Under all of the anxiety, grief, and anger is a heart of gold. I am determined to help him pull back the layers and uncover it.
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