I Get It

Through my parenting experience I have gained glimpses of the Character of God the Father. I hope to share them in these posts titled “I Get It”

These revelations have been both enlightening and humbling. I have seen Him in a more real way than ever before but I have also seen my own sin and need for Him reflected back at me.



When normally developed and nurtured children are small they learn to love and listen to their parent. They trust them and become reciprocal with affections. For children with attachment disorder it all looks and feels different. A normally developed child might pick flowers and give them to mommy expecting only her approval and rejoicing in her smile. Mommy is happy so the child feels accepted and is happy and will find joy in giving again. A child who is not attached might give their mommy flowers (or rocks as Middle used to do) and they were just imitating the behavior they had seen/learned in society. They then might have an expected response (mirroring the example they are following) and any other response, like an approving smile or a joyful hug might throw them off creating more mistrust leading to a fear and anger response (we call it rage) and then to chaos.

The first time this happens it might feel confusing to both child and parent. The child believes their gift will bring about an expected response (a smile and hug might not be enough or correct). When that doesn’t happen they might try to control the response by telling the parent what they were supposed to do or just informing them that they aren’t supposed to do…whatever they did. When they don’t get their expected response they are angry. After this happens a few times the parent begins to react. The gift doesn’t bring good feelings, it begins to trigger fear and anxiety. The parent knows where this is headed and doesn’t know the expected responses to prevent it.

How often do we do the same thing? We know what we want exactly and when we pray it’s not just to please God or find his approval, it is to control and get what we want.

As that attachment disordered child grows, assuming they don’t learn to trust and engage in reciprocal affection, they might continue giving gifts. That is what our society does. However their gifts might be more about them than about the giver.

Ebear gave great gifts as a teen. He sought to be the best gift giver. He would try so hard though that the gifts were uncomfortable and outrageous. He would expect us to be pleased because any less would be a rejection (set up?). He would live day after day with us and push us away, not talking to us or behaving as a member of our family and then on a holiday he wanted his gift to be the favorite. Works without love?

But don’t I do the same? Day after day passes and I don’t talk to my Father, I don’t open up or let him in. It’s not like he isn’t aware of my life. He can see it clearly, just as a parent who lives with a child can see clearly… but I go on about my business unconnected. Then when it’s a special day and society or the culture of the Church dictates that we stop and recognize Him, I do as expected. And don’t I want my offering to be the favored one? But He doesn’t want my vain offerings. The Father, wants a relationship with us. He wants our heart. As parents, created in His image, that is all we really desire from our children too. As parents of attachment challenged children we know that is the simplest and most frightening thing a child can give.

Mother's Day Cometh

The day…for me anyway… has never been as much about feeling honored as a mom as it has been about feeling accepted into that private club of motherhood.


My first 9 years of marriage were marked with an increasing struggle of infertility that prevented me from being a mom. The 16 years since have been a fight to be recognized by my own children as a mom.

During those first years I somehow just knew that if and when I could become a mom something magical would happen *cue magic wand sound effect* and I would be happy!!!

Hmmmmmm….

So all of those Mother’s Day church services that left me out of the loop were spent longing to be among those who got to stand/come to the front/raise their hands and receive a gift etc. It just wasn’t fair that I be excluded just because my body refused to conceive & carry. But I had hope that one day I would be among the select chosen.

And, one day I was.

We brought home our first child in April. One month before Mothers day… Oh RAPTURE!!!! I would be one of those who was honored and blessed. Joy Joy!!!!!

The morning arrived and somehow fell so short of what I had envisioned… The three year old dimpled cherub who called me mommy was not at all interested in either gifting me or honoring me…in fact he wasn’t the least bit interested in even being nice to me. Truth be known, he seemed to be focused on making this day that belonged to mom a BAD day. But that couldn’t be….surely I was imagining it. It’s not like he would actually do that, would he?

We have a photo of me standing in the kitchen while Mr. T tries to convince Ebear to hand over the goods. It just wasn’t happening. I was in tears. Ebear was mad because he didn’t want to give this mommy anything and didn’t want to be forced to either. And in retrospect, who could blame him. Poor little guy, just a month before he had a different mommy and probably wished he was still with her. And that was the birth of a tradition in our house. Mother’s day has been difficult since… for both of us.

The years since then have been filled with memories; good and bad and in-between. Some good attempts at being nice to mom have been marked by Mr. T and the boys cooking breakfast or dinner for me and giving me great gifts that they gave great thought to…But some have left me wanting to either stay home alone or leave home. In fact I do remember one where I asked Mr. T if I could please just go away and we discussed me doing just that. For some reason it didn’t happen but the idea carried me through.

This year I find that my little dimpled cherub is gone. He’s 19 now. Last we heard he was living on the streets trying to hold down a job. I can’t say I feel overly successful as a mother knowing that I have a child who is homeless. But he chose this. And while I know he has attachment issues and needs to push away I wonder if I could have been just a little more “attachable” and made him want to stay. No amount of reassurance removes that doubt.

So this year, I don’t even know that I will see E. I will see the other boys. We will have a special family dinner. There will be a Mother’s Day celebration…because that’s how we roll. But I will still not quite feel that I have arrived. That special club eludes me.

Am I a mom? Yep, made it. Am I the mom I thought I would be? No. Am I the mom my kids wanted me to be? Absolutely not! I was a replacement, a substitute, a stand-in at best. Am I their mom? Yes. I have the paperwork and the scars to prove it. But do I have their hearts?… well the song says “2 out of 3 ain’t bad”, but following that early pattern of never being happy, I want the full Monty. So I’ll hold out. Maybe next year.

So how is E?

The question we dread.

We can answer “Fine”, but he isn’t. We can say he is; rebelling, struggling, troubled….whatever descriptor we choose it doesn’t speak the truth or convey the loss and tragedy that is Ebear’s life.

There is no right answer. Most don’t really want to know and those that are interested don’t understand.

The attractive and charming teen boy who was reckless on the football field and won a scholarship to a private Christian college, is homeless, For the third time in 4 months.

So many are quick to judge… “Why don’t you just bring him home?” Well you assume he would willingly come home. Just because he tells you he wants to be home doesn’t make it true. He just wants you to believe that. How else can he convince you he has been abandoned? If you knew the truth…that he wants to be homeless and refuses to come home… you wouldn’t believe it. It defies logic. Why would a 19 year old boy who has no place to lay his head, refuse a roof and three hots and a cot… Why indeed?

“He is such a sweet respectful young man” Really? How nice for you. I’m glad you don’t see the other side of him. You can feel safer thinking that we are just too harsh and strict and unyielding. Go ahead, hold that thought. One day you’ll know the truth.

One thing we learned through the years as our therapist’s clients is that all behavior is for a reason. Figure out what someone is getting from their behavior and you will know what drives them.

E wants….What? …Sympathy? Pity? To throw his parents under the bus? …All of the above?

He certainly is getting a lot of help and attention from those who believe him. So we feel pretty certain he won’t starve. And that is comforting because irrationally, we love him. But he also won’t seek us out and turn to us for help. He won’t trust us or allow us to nurture him and guide him through these difficult years of finding his identity. He has successfully cut us off. Maybe that’s what wanted. Isn’t that what he spent so many years trying to do?

And maybe the answer to that question; “How is E?” is “Alone”.

It's. Not. My. Problem.

It’s. Not. My. Problem (but it is my blog so this is a totally gratuitous post)


Ok, yes, it is my son who has enticed and fascinated your daughter. It is him who has used her and taken advantage of her… yes he encouraged her to lie and deceive you. It was him who; convinced her to let him live in her car and go with her on her spring break trip and loiter outside her school and place of employment. He has joined with her in sneaking around, getting high and yes they are sexually active.

Yes my son has done all of that.

But I’m sorry, I can’t fix this for you. My son is 19. He is a legal adult. He can do what he wants to do. I can’t stop him. I have no power. No authority.

So quit telling me to bring my son home as if it will fix everything!!!

This is YOUR problem.

Your child is not over 18. Your child lives in your home. Your child is dependent on you for food, shelter, clothing, her phone….and the air she breaths!!!… You. Have. The. Power.

Say “NO”

Take away her car

Ground her?

Make her stay at home.

Neither of you will die.

Parenting is a verb. Take action… NOW!!!!! … before you find yourself in my shoes praying desperately for your child to survive long enough to turn (back?) to God and family.

Coming Up For Air

It's been two years.

Two years since I wrote here. Two years since Bright-Eyes wanted to die. Two years since the court turned our lives inside out by placing Middle in the cursed foster home. Two years since Ebear was "healthy".

It's all different now.

Bright-Eyes lives and loves and grows more health daily. He is off all meds and making all As as he finishes his 7th grade year.

Middle lives at a ranch now. He is ....ready?.... FUN and better and we enjoy our visits with him.

Ebear... well.... he is gone, physically and emotionally. He lives... somewhere...anywhere. He makes his choices and lives his life as he wishes.

Mr. T and I wake up every day and move through to the next one. Along the way Mr. T found a great job (after 2 years of physical rehabilitation) and I managed to acquire my bachelors degree and find myself halfway through my masters.

Tomorrow is a new day.... maybe I'll write

They are more

A song for all of our kids... Because they are more.

The scars of the storms

As you all know, on Wednesday April 27, Alabama was raped and ravaged, chewed up and spit out, by storms that would challenge a Hollywood special effects department. This isn’t just high winds and thunder storms folks…this is houses, neighborhoods, communities that have been put through a blender and chopped to bits and spewed out again. It is horrific and those who lived through it and are living in it still will never forget or erase the scars it will leave on their memories and souls.

Less than a week later this historical event has begun to fall from the headlines and other events and daily life has seeped in to replace it, but in Alabama the destroyed communities are still in search and rescue mode. They are still tallying the dead and retrieving personal property and seeking a place to stay until they have a home again. In time more of life will push this tragedy farther and farther away from the thoughts of those who are not affected. They will forget. Not so for the victims. The survivors will never forget.

It is the same for families of children with severe emotional disturbances. Especially for those families who suffer violence, and loss at the hands of their children. To have to call the police on your child, or see a child arrested or place a child in a hospital or a residential facility, or lose a child to the system… it crushes your heart and saps your soul of life. It rips apart your dreams and hopes. As a parent you realize how short and precious a childhood is and your heart screams at the child…at God… to please stop! Just trust…please just listen… please believe that I love you and will never leave. Relax and enjoy these few years that you have. Heal and rebuild your foundation so that you can step out into the world and be a happy, responsible and functional adult.

The day after the storms Bright-Eyes ran away. It was the third time within a couple weeks. We have had to call the police on him. He says he wants to die. He claims he does not want to be here with us. We are broken and shattered beyond comprehension. His psychiatrist and therapist are seeing him with new eyes and asking if there is some attachment issue that has been hidden.

My soul screams “NO!” Not this child…not the one adopted as a newborn. I set out to build bonds with this one. I carried him, not in my belly but in a sling throughout his infancy. I made eye contact and built trust; I played with him and bounced him laughing and singing. He was attached… I know it…I want to believe it. He hugged us and cuddled, he sought us out when he was afraid…didn’t he? I am having trouble remembering now.

As a toddler he always ran away. He was never bothered by our absence. He would race off in stores and playgrounds while other children clung to their parents and stayed close. As a preschooler however, he became clingy…very clingy. Was he too clingy? Throughout his childhood he had to live in the trauma-filled warzone that was created by his brothers’ struggles with their own demons. I tried to protect him, but standing in the way of flying chairs, Tonka trucks and legos is a war zone still. Either the child is the target of their mother is.

So much anger at the older boys for harming their brother… so much guilt for even adopting him. So many questions about why God allowed this when HE knew what would happen.

How much of this is the fault of my choice?

Would he have been ok in another home?

Will he be ok now?

Will he grow up and have a life, or will he bounce in and out of hospitals trying to find help and stability?

Like the storm victims (and forgive me for the comparison) many don’t see our loss. Most don’t acknowledge it…a few say they are sorry and offer help, but as time goes by daily life fills their thoughts and they forget.

For a few, they don't even understand why we would be in pain and our saddness disturbs them. They find it dramatic and irritating.

For us, this is our life. The pain is in our faces from the moment we wake up. The empty rooms and empty beds are tombstones in the graveyard of our hopes. The empty chairs at the table make us retreat to the living room to eat our meals in front of a TV that can distract us from our pain.

We cannot forget. The tornado victims cannot forget. Loss brands the soul and marks each person as altered and different than they were. It’s a secret scar that others cannot see unless they choose to open the eyes of their hearts.

To help the Alabama storm victims go here http://alabamapossible.org/2011/04/tornado-relief-how-you-can-help/

On Display

Last Wednesday I was reminded of an episode of the Twighlight Zone...it was the one where two astronauts (weren't like 97.5% of shows written about aliens and space travel...Obsessive!) crashed onto an alien planet. One of them was unconscious but the other one was "helped" by the natives. He was given a custom built home that was designed according to the images in him mind... then he discovered that it wasn't a home. It was a cage...with bars...and an observation window. He was in a zoo and on display for all to watch.

So on Wednesday, we had a visit with middle. We were meeting at the local McDonalds because we have supervised visits again...due to his aggression supposedly. This week his regular SW was sending a volunteer.

They arrived late (no visit has ever begun on time) and middle obviously did not want to be there. The volunteer introduced herself and then kept talking... so I let middle-one go get a snack and chatted with her. She was nice and working on her degree also (so she isn't a SW yet). Then middle came back and sat down and the volunteer sat in the table across from us, turned toward us, leaned out and began actively watching, listening and taking notes on our visit. UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The regular SW sits in another part of the dining area and makes phone calls. He doesn't even listen or watch.

I began trying to engage middle but he wouldn't talk and wouldn't make eye contact, was being rude and kept saying he was bored. I kept trying to be upbeat and encouraging.... this woman interrupted and asked

"Would you like it if we went to the park?"

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmm.......No!"

I was so shocked!! He is 15 y/o and it was just him and me. Going to the park would mean he could further ignore me and not interact at all.

But, then he was even more bored and mom was the bad guy!!!! Thanks a lot!!!

So middle decided to end the visit early. He didn't want to just sit and talk with me (surprise!!)...and without his brothers there he said he didn't want to visit. He wouldn't talk to me about anything and I found it VERY difficult to try to make conversation when I felt like I was a lab specimen... it was humiliating too.

I hadn't seen middle in two weeks. I may not see him next week because if Bright-Eyes decides not to go then I will need to stay home with him and Mr. T will go... Ebear refuses to see middle at all anymore.

*sigh*

4 months later...

Well, life is hard, filled with loss and grief.

Middle is gone. He lives in a foster home now and (the plan is) will until he is aged out of the system. We figure he will be on our doorstep then.

The foster home is in direct opposition to the recommendations of two therapist. Middle's long term AT and the abuse counselor the court ordered to do the Domestic Violence Assessment. On both recommendations, in BIG BOLD letters it states that this child should only be in a long term residential facility with consistent structure and ongoing treatment.

So... he is in a regular foster home with younger children (he even shares his room with younger children!!) He walks to and from school. He is allowed to be unsupervised and has less structure than he did at home and he isn't even going to therapy yet (arrested November 1, placed in foster home on January 6)

How did this happen, you ask... it was a DHR bait & switch. We went to court and the judge didn't want to keep Middle in juvenile any longer so released him into the clutches...err... custody of DHR, with the understanding that it was to find him an appropriate placement. They placed him in his old foster home "temporarily" until they could find a placement... silly us!! We believed them!!!

They never even looked. We had a placement in line. There was an opening and all they needed was a DHR referral. They didn't even call. As soon as Middle was placed they declared that he was doing well in this placement and at that point he could not be moved to a moderate of intensive placement because he was functioning in a basic level placement.

So, as long as Middle is reported to (and remember, this is very different than what might actually be happening) be doing well he will remain there.

So... the charges have been dropped, the case was dismissed and my knife wielding child resides in a suburb surrounded by children.

Yep...somewhere in that darkness is light. My quest is to find it......

I am so stressed

The holiday is over. The weekend is ending. December 1 is approaching. Wednesday is Court.

I can barely breath.

We still don't know what to do or what will happen.

We were given the past month to find a place for him to go. But without funding there was no place. The Multi-Needs team won't even talk to us because with charges pending they won't fund.

We can let DHR take custody again, but the GAL wants to return him to the previous facility and that is NOT a good thing.

We spent the past year and a half fighting to regain custody after refusing to bring him home because he was dangerous.

I do not want to bring him back home (How can we even consider doing that to the other kids!?!?!). But I do not want to lose custody of him either.

I'm his mother. I understand him. I know he is afraid and whether he admits it or not, he needs us.

It shouldn't be this way.

The collapse of the coaster

Roller coasters are precarious creations. They require careful engineering, balance must be exact. The speed calculated to the millisecond. The materials chosen for durability and function. Even the design must be executed scientifically. If anything is off, even a hair-breath off, it could lead to certain death.

A month ago today we were cresting the first of a smaller hill. Three days straight of Middle-one following his goals. Good behavior! Peace!! Hope!!!

Then we dropped into a dip... it was a short dip but a 90 degree drop. Middle went over the edge and tried to get physical with Mr. T. However, the only casualty were Mr. T's glasses and we began to ascend a new and higher crest. Eight straight days of goal following goodness!!!! Heaven in our house! My heart sored. Had we broken through I wondered... hoped...believed. Our AT cautioned not to get too excited as she wasn't seeing the necessary cause & effect thinking yet.

Then there was a move forward in therapy. He cooperated! Middle-One opened up. He looked me in the eye and talked about his birth mom!!!!!!... now it was just for a second, but it was a move... maybe it was the beginning of healing....maybe

Then it all began to come apart... maybe a bolt slipped... maybe the speed was too much... maybe there was a crack in the rail. I don't know, but it all began to crumble.

His behavior began to worsen... just a little more each day. We tried to regain the balance and speed, but we couldn't get a hold on it. The ride was out of control and all we could do was watch and wait for it to come to a stop.

It crashed on Monday evening. Middle was to do extra chores when he got home from school. It was his idea for making restitution to his brothers for some disruptive behavior on Saturday. But when he couldn't convince me he had done the chores and avoid doing them, he got angry and decided that nothing mattered anymore anyway so why try.

After five hours of holding us hostage by doing oppositional, destructive and dangerous things (requiring that we chase him and stop him) while Bright-Eyes hid out behind my locked bedroom door, he got physical and then included knives in his antics... when he pointed a knife at Ebear I called the Sheriff's Department.

He was arrested. We went to court on Wednesday morning. It was decided that he is too dangerous to be here and we were given the arduous task of finding a placement for him in 30 days. We return to court on December 1, hopefully with a plan.

The roller coaster is in pieces now. It lies scattered and piled like the bone pile in a dragon's lair. Our hope twisted in the ragged railing.

Yzma, put your hands in the air!

The ride has left the station... ascended to the first pinnacle and spilled over into that first breath-sucking plunge... but tonight it leveled out around a soft curve and we could see the beautiful scenery and hear the birds...

Tonight, Middle talked to me... No, I meant REALLY talked to me!!!!! He had been horrible. Life here with him had been unbearable. He seemed to be feeding off of our misery and we were ready for him to just be gone again.

Then, without warning, he stepped out of the RAD skin and appeared to me in his true original form. That of a boy. He began to tell me that he was afraid and it was hard not to be. He admitted to not trusting us and that it was hard to trust. He confessed that he wanted to trust us but didn't always know how.

He talked about how he didn't want to make us feel afraid. Especially Bright-Eyes. He cried while he spoke about how he didn't want to hit any of us and how he tried and worked to keep from doing that. He said he wanted to be with us and didn't like to be separated in his room because it reminded him of the time-out room at facilities. He said that sometimes when we got mad at him that it reminded him of staff at facilities and he didn't like that, but he knew he did things to make us mad.

He also took responsibility for the behavior he had demonstrated as of late. He talked about his feelings during the behavior but was quick to say that he was still responsible for acting like he did.

He assured me that he does really love us and he wants to have a good life, but sometimes he acts up and gets mad and gets "lost" in the mad. He said he feels like his day is ruined then so why change.

He said he doesn't want to be a criminal and end up in juvenile detention. He wants to trust us.

He had burned his finger tonight on a hot pan that I had warned him about... he had to touch it when I said it was hot. He told me that if he had only trusted me he would not have burned his finger.

So... the roller coaster took the gentle turn and began another climb... I can't see around the next bend but a friend of mine reminded me tonight that the ride isn't over. While we catch our breath on the slow curves, RADs find them the most frightening part of the ride... so throw your hands in the air and prepare... to... SCREEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAMMMMMMMM!!!!!

The lowest lows and the highest highs

Talk about roller coasters (and yes, we were talking about roller coasters.... RAD *is* a roller coaster!) It has been a non-stop one here, for the past week.

Middle-One had been climbing, dropping, flipping and spiralling out of control for a while now. His behavior had escalated to an extreme state of all-the-time deregulation. Last Tuesday he spent four hours controlling the house while Bright-Eyes holed up in my room behind a locked door and I stood guard. Four... hours........... he watched TV, he played video games, he went through drawers (pulled out a long screwdriver) and ate the ice cream. It was a free for all. Until Wednesday...

On Wednesday Middle came home from school to find that all of the TV and video game stuff had been taken out of the living room and all of his possessions had been removed from his room. No stuff, except what is essential... a blanket, one pillow, deodorant, toothpaste & brush. We told him we would give him clothes daily. We also explained that with each day that he followed his goals, he would get one item back.

"can I pick the one item?"

"No"

The next three days were heavenly. It defies explanation. We had a polite, respectful, attentive, caring, remorseful child. I don't know how... but we saw it with out own eyes. He did his chores. He did extra chores. He was given little bits of privileges (10 minutes of outside time, some quiet reading time) no TV, no playing with friends or his brother. He didn't seem to mind. He actually sat and talked to us... astounding!!!!! Our AT just told us to enjoy it while it lasts.

Today was the fourth day. The end of heaven. The day the music died.......

Today he got bored. Oh whoa is meeeeeeeeeee...... there is nothing to do... well there is reading... well he did get to go outside for longer. But, it's not enough. He got bored. It was out fault (isn't everything really?).

We could see things going south and we tried to talk to him and help him stay on track but there was no preventing this train from derailing.

When he exploded he really exploded.

He banged on a Plexiglas window until he pushed out the window frame and bent the pane. He tried to hit Mr. T (Mr. T blocked it)and grabbed Mr. T's reading glasses off his face and crumbled them (yes Really!!!) in his fist.



Mr. T ended up restraining Middle until I came arrived on the scene.


I wonder if we will climb back up now, or go into a spin... I HATE roller coasters!!!!

Today in Attachment Therapy

Middle-One decided he was done. At the end of his rope. Had gone as far as he could go. He came to a hurdle that is too high.

Therapy (for him) is over.

He can not face the emotional darkness that is his birthmother.

Like magic, when she is discussed, he shuts down. Today AT wanted to try again to get him to talk about her and his feelings. He wouldn't. He simply said he couldn't do it.

She explained to him that this means he doesn't want to join his family and get better. He shrugged and reiterated that he couldn't.

You can take a horse to water... you can pour it on him, sprinkle him with it, even submerge him in it...but you can not make him drink.

AT and i discussed ways of keeping the refreshment of the water ever present and available. Waiting for a break in his shield or a chink in his armour. We will hope that one day he will drink.

Until then, therapy (for him) is over. He will go to session and AT will ask him if he is ready yet to work. If he says no, it's no.

We will pray for the day that he say "yes", and hope we make it to that day.

Court and custody

We went to court again yesterday, we had full custody reinstated to us.

No, no, no... congratulatory gifts are not necessary.....really! Just donate something in our names to the Get-Rid-of-RAD foundation...What??? No such foundation exists????????

hmmmmmmmmmm

Random RADness

Middle-one needed note cards for school. His teacher told them that they would need to get some for Science class. Middle was so concerned about this that he asked Ms. Teacher to email me to let me know. She did. I confirmed that they were just your average, standard, white, 3x5 index cards. She said, they were.

That was Friday...

All weekend we heard...

"I need note cards for school"
"don't forget to get my note cards for school"
"My teacher said that I had to have note card Monday"
"Can we go get my note cards now?"
"If you go to the store, don't forget to get my note cards"

:o)

Trouble trusting son?

So, being awesome parents and all, on Sunday, Mr. T got Middle his note cards. I put them in his backpack.

Sunday night was filled with...

"Did you put my note card in my backpack?"
"Where are my note cards?"
"I have to check to see if my note cards are in my backpack"
"I can't forget to take my note cards to school"

ummmmmmm.......yeah.

After school on Monday, I'm checking Middle's backpack and low&behold.....there is a lovely, multi-colored, spiral note card book in his backpack...right next to his new, unopened pack of cards that we provided...I take the bait and ask...

"Middle, where did these note cards come from?"

"My teacher bought some in case someone forgot to bring theirs and I asked if I could have one and she said I could"

"Oh"

And the colors do match the large, 5 subject, spiral notebook he conned out of her, so nicely too.

Heather Forbes Mom's (online) Conference

Well there ya go! A conference I can get to!!

http://www.beyondconsequences.com/momsconference/

An eye for an eye, a cone for a cone

Restitution is a great tool for parenting RAD kids (well any kids actually). But after a while having a kid work and work ...and work............and woooooooorkkkkk, to earn money to pay for -fill in the blank-, loses it's power a bit.

Sometimes you just need to cut to the punch.

So this week we learned that Middle-One had been using his lunch account (which is actually the money the school district paid back to us when his free-lunch forms were finally approved) to buy rounds of ice cream in the lunch room...yeah, we're pretty proud of those social skills ;o) Now he has LOTS of friends.

We got the printout from the cafeteria and had the proof and the amount. We could have added it to his work log and given him more chores... but ya know, we just didn't want to.

We talked to our AT and came up with this plan... We calculated the total that he spent. We added in ice cream and cones (to equal the total spent) into the grocery shopping and brought them home.

When it was time for ice cream, Middle said

"I'm going to finish my chore and then have my ice cream"

I replied with...

"Oh I'm sorry sugar, the ice cream is for your brothers"

"What?!?!?"

"Yes, since you have been eating ice cream at school... a LOT of ice cream too, we felt that it was only fair for them to have ice cream too"

"WHAT?!?!?!"

"You have been very concerned lately about things being fair. This is only fair after all"

"WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?"

"And sweetie, if you would like a dessert, we have bananas and fruit cups"

*smile*

He left his chore undone and stomped to his room with the announcement that he was going to bed.

Sweet dreams

Random RADness

Most of these are humorous. This one is not.

This morning, Middle-One woke up with a stuffy head and a scratchy throat. Normally he doesn't even let on that he doesn't feel good. So when he came in and told me while I was making breakfast I guessed that he REALLY didn't feel well. It was fairly obvious that he was feeling pretty miserable.

We decided he would stay home from church and later, after breakfast, he just broke down in tears saying

"I don't like not feeling good, I don't want to be sick"

Mr. T and Ebear both looked at me and asked what was up with the tears.

My guess.... Being sick makes you vulnerable. You lose control. If you really don't feel well you have to depend on others to take care of you. You have to trust. For a kid who can't trust it can be a pretty scary thing.

Fortunately Middle has a good caring mom who took good care of him while everyone else went to church. ;o)

Inconsistent Consistency

In traditional parenting it is so crucially important to be consistent. Always! Follow through with immediate consequences every time it’s needed. Developmentally normal children will eventually catch on and develop the cause and effect that is part of the natural social and emotional development that God created.

I have memories of whole days trying to be the consistent parent while my boys would just go through the behavior chart and do everything they weren’t supposed then come and tell me what I was supposed to do because of their behavior. I was their puppet. I was a confused puppet because all I had learned about parenting was that if we were consistent in our responses to behavior then they would learn eventually.

Guess what… they NEVER learned!! I wore myself out being consistent.

With RAD kids, the 100% consistent and immediate response just provides another avenue of control so we have to flip that to effectively parent.

RAD kids need consistency but they don’t need to always have predictable consequences. It helps them to think and develop cause & effect if we can keep them guessing. So RAD parents sometimes practice consistency, inconstantly.

Simply put that means we will always do *something* but they won’t always know what we are going to do. Our therapist has said we really can do anything. We are the parents and whatever we decide on for a consequence (remaining within the legal and moral realms) is good.

In the times that I have been on top of my game I have provided crazy and humorous consequences. “Stop, or I will tap dance!!” … That almost always elicits a laugh and it does provide cause & effect. And nurturing consequence; “You obviously need to be tickled/hugged/filled with sweetness (given something sweet to eat). During times of extreme frustration (mine) or complete deregulation (theirs) I have just reached into their room and taken something. Even a pencil lost, is a consequence. It doesn’t have to be something of value, it just has to be something that I, the mom, decided to do. The more it leaves them wondering what in the world we are doing, the better. So break the pattern, be inconsistent and make them think.

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