0 comment Thursday, July 3, 2014 | admin
I talked once about a shark attacking our family and my hope that CAMHS would be the bigger boat that came along to blast sharky to smithereens.
Turns out that CAMHS are someone coming through on the radio criticising my efforts to save my family from the shark whilst blaming us for being out in the sea in the first place.
So, fuck them.
I could carry on panicking and making emergency calls, but I think we'll all get eaten alive whilst we wait for help to arrive.
So I've decided to tackle this fucker my way. Let battle commence.
Turns out that CAMHS are someone coming through on the radio criticising my efforts to save my family from the shark whilst blaming us for being out in the sea in the first place.
So, fuck them.
I could carry on panicking and making emergency calls, but I think we'll all get eaten alive whilst we wait for help to arrive.
So I've decided to tackle this fucker my way. Let battle commence.
Labels: Adoption, CAMHS, Motherhood
0 comment Tuesday, June 24, 2014 | admin
I was a good mother over the summer holidays, I think, bar one or two incidents, but I got myself into a bit of a fix. The last two to three weeks were really hard; I was running out of steam and the kids were missing school and friends and routine, getting really irritable and being annoying. And those just happened to be the weeks when Husband wasn't coming home until 7pm and my in-laws (first port-of-call for babysitting) had gone on holiday.
By 6pm I'd be spent, but still had 3 hours to go until bedtime. I'd be feeling headachy and tired. Most people feeling that way and needing a boost would drink coffee I guess, but I can't drink coffee as it brings on a tension headache. So, I'd pop a Syndol. The combination of endorphin inducing opoiod and sedation stopped me feeling grotty and got me through the last hours on a floaty cloud of calmness .
But opoiods, if you didn't know, are addictive. So addictive, it turns out, that if you pop one a day for three weeks, when you stop you will get withdrawal symptoms! Who knew!
Well, I do now.
So last week was a bit screwed-up by a body that was going cold turkey! Insomnia, chills, sweats, nightmares, stomach cramps. Not my finest achievement.
I am not the first mother of course to need a drug to get me through the day. Diazepam (Mother's Little Helper) was prescribed on a massive scale to housewives in the 60's and 70's. I think it's the combination of being so intensely needed, the drudgery of most tasks, and the lack of age-appropriate stimulation that leaves a full-time mother in need of a little pick-me-up of pharmaceutical proportions.
I am a little alarmed, however, to think I needed drugs to get me through the summer holidays.
So I've been pondering what I could do to make it through next summer without having to rely on drugs and have come up with the following list.
ONE: Go out in the evening with friends. I think I went out one evening all summer, and even then I made sure I was back for bedtime. Spending the whole evening with the kids after spending the whole day with them is not necessary, and the sky will not fall down if Husband does the bedtime routine on his own every now and again.
TWO: Go out more with my husband. I like being a wife and on a good day, with the wind in the right direction, I like my Husband. I don't like getting babysitters in over the summer because the kids are out of normal routine and I worry that if someone else comes in to look after them then the space-time continuum will collapse. However, thinking about it, That's unlikely and so perhaps Husband and I can go out together once and a while and be a couple for a little while rather than parents.
THREE: Use more clubs. I feel guilty using clubs, given that my role is to take care of the kids and be there for them when they are not at school. I only used clubs this year on the justification that the kids needed the stimulation and to mix with other kids. But, the last three weeks were so hard because on the one day they were in club, I went over and helped my mum out. Gold Star for being a good daughter but Thumbs Down for not taking time out for me. Next year, club two days a week, even if I have to sell my gold fillings. I think a day of not having to fulfill the needs of someone or other will do me the world of good.
FOUR: Ask grandparents to babysit. I had to ask my mum and dad if they would babysit for us so that Husband and I could go out and celebrate our wedding anniversary. It took a lot for me to do that because I oh-so-hate imposing myself on other people, and it would have been much easier for me if they had offered. However, I asked, they did it, and Husband and I had a super night out. We were smashing parents the next day for having had the break.
FIVE: Leave them in the house. Next summer they will be old enough to be left alone together in the house if I need to pop out somewhere. I can actually go to the gym or something! Wow!
So, there we are! My Five Point Plan for a drug free summer!
Now let's see if I can get through the winter and Christmas without turning to crack cocaine.
By 6pm I'd be spent, but still had 3 hours to go until bedtime. I'd be feeling headachy and tired. Most people feeling that way and needing a boost would drink coffee I guess, but I can't drink coffee as it brings on a tension headache. So, I'd pop a Syndol. The combination of endorphin inducing opoiod and sedation stopped me feeling grotty and got me through the last hours on a floaty cloud of calmness .
But opoiods, if you didn't know, are addictive. So addictive, it turns out, that if you pop one a day for three weeks, when you stop you will get withdrawal symptoms! Who knew!
Well, I do now.
So last week was a bit screwed-up by a body that was going cold turkey! Insomnia, chills, sweats, nightmares, stomach cramps. Not my finest achievement.
I am not the first mother of course to need a drug to get me through the day. Diazepam (Mother's Little Helper) was prescribed on a massive scale to housewives in the 60's and 70's. I think it's the combination of being so intensely needed, the drudgery of most tasks, and the lack of age-appropriate stimulation that leaves a full-time mother in need of a little pick-me-up of pharmaceutical proportions.
I am a little alarmed, however, to think I needed drugs to get me through the summer holidays.
So I've been pondering what I could do to make it through next summer without having to rely on drugs and have come up with the following list.
ONE: Go out in the evening with friends. I think I went out one evening all summer, and even then I made sure I was back for bedtime. Spending the whole evening with the kids after spending the whole day with them is not necessary, and the sky will not fall down if Husband does the bedtime routine on his own every now and again.
TWO: Go out more with my husband. I like being a wife and on a good day, with the wind in the right direction, I like my Husband. I don't like getting babysitters in over the summer because the kids are out of normal routine and I worry that if someone else comes in to look after them then the space-time continuum will collapse. However, thinking about it, That's unlikely and so perhaps Husband and I can go out together once and a while and be a couple for a little while rather than parents.
THREE: Use more clubs. I feel guilty using clubs, given that my role is to take care of the kids and be there for them when they are not at school. I only used clubs this year on the justification that the kids needed the stimulation and to mix with other kids. But, the last three weeks were so hard because on the one day they were in club, I went over and helped my mum out. Gold Star for being a good daughter but Thumbs Down for not taking time out for me. Next year, club two days a week, even if I have to sell my gold fillings. I think a day of not having to fulfill the needs of someone or other will do me the world of good.
FOUR: Ask grandparents to babysit. I had to ask my mum and dad if they would babysit for us so that Husband and I could go out and celebrate our wedding anniversary. It took a lot for me to do that because I oh-so-hate imposing myself on other people, and it would have been much easier for me if they had offered. However, I asked, they did it, and Husband and I had a super night out. We were smashing parents the next day for having had the break.
FIVE: Leave them in the house. Next summer they will be old enough to be left alone together in the house if I need to pop out somewhere. I can actually go to the gym or something! Wow!
So, there we are! My Five Point Plan for a drug free summer!
Now let's see if I can get through the winter and Christmas without turning to crack cocaine.
Labels: Adoption, Children, Motherhood
0 comment Monday, June 9, 2014 | admin
It struck me today that since October I have been carrying extra duties, beginning with Halloween activities and half-term, then onto Son's birthday and then straight into Christmas. I wish I had more space at this time of year to buy nicer decorations and make cakes and puddings, but despite my best intentions, I don't. I'd have to start Christmas preparations in October, but, as noted, I am already busy.
And this year I've had the added duty of my new business, but it's been nothing but a pleasure so far. I am really chuffed with how it is going and it brings me a lot of satisfaction. I have one job to attend to through until Boxing Day, but then nothing until my next customer in January. I hope I get really busy in 2012.
As Husband takes care of the food over Christmas, as of tonight my work for Christmas Day is now done. Cards, presents, wrapping, visits, laundry, housework. Done.
For me, all there is left to do is try and live in the moment and enjoy my family.
When I was child-free Christmas was a painful time. It was always maybe this time next year... maybe this time next year... maybe this time next year...
Christmas is not always easy for adoptive families, but at least that stressful and burdensome question of who my family will be is answered now and forever. For the children too.
Let it be.
Merry Christmas one and all x
And this year I've had the added duty of my new business, but it's been nothing but a pleasure so far. I am really chuffed with how it is going and it brings me a lot of satisfaction. I have one job to attend to through until Boxing Day, but then nothing until my next customer in January. I hope I get really busy in 2012.
As Husband takes care of the food over Christmas, as of tonight my work for Christmas Day is now done. Cards, presents, wrapping, visits, laundry, housework. Done.
For me, all there is left to do is try and live in the moment and enjoy my family.
When I was child-free Christmas was a painful time. It was always maybe this time next year... maybe this time next year... maybe this time next year...
Christmas is not always easy for adoptive families, but at least that stressful and burdensome question of who my family will be is answered now and forever. For the children too.
Let it be.
Merry Christmas one and all x
Labels: Adoption, Children, Motherhood, Thats Life
0 comment Thursday, May 22, 2014 | admin
My Daughter once told me that one of her 'friends' at school said I wasn't her 'real Mum'. So I pinched myself and said that I felt pretty real to me. I then said that as far as I could tell I really bathed her, I really cooked for her, I really did her laundry, I really loved her, and that I really did all the things that a mum does for her children, so that really made me her mum. I then pointed out to my Daughter that, actually, she had two Mums, her Birth Mum and me, and her 'friend' only had one Mum, so ha! Who's the loser?
Well, I didn't quite put it like that, but you know what I mean.
I used to have real difficulty with the fact that my children love their Birth Mum. I mean, after what she did and everything and all that. But that was when I was sort-of competing with her. I wanted to be the best Mum, the loved Mum, the one they wanted most. Otherwise I felt I'd failed them, lost the game. But it's not a game. It's real life. Christine Moer often reminds us that adoption is built on pain and loss. They grieve the loss of their Birth Mother, I grieve the loss of the children I never gave birth to. That's the way it is.
But something I've been thinking about lately is how I have two Mum's too. Technically speaking, she's one person, but she has two personas. The first persona, the one I like, came out a little over the last week, when she's caught me being vulnerable. Alright, she was a bit weird, referring to TV shows at odd moments, and still talking about her own crap when clearly I was in the middle of an emotional storm and in no place to deal with it. But the point is that despite all of that, I could tell that she genuinely cared and was shocked to see me so shaken, my confidence in pieces. Upset at the state I was in on Friday she phoned me on Sunday to see how I was, and I spoke to her and then to Dad for some time. For the first time in a long time I was the Child, receiving good counsel and care from my parents. I was allowed to be vulnerable and they comforted me. I can't tell you what unusual rest that was.
Then there is my other Mum. I felt more like myself as I went about the day. I was aware that I was keeping myself unnaturally busy, but I wasn't sitting on the sofa in my coat and boots sobbing, so that was OK with me. We had a phone conversation, my Mum and I, and I realised too late that I was now talking to my Other Mother. This was the Mother that felt very sorry for herself and very resentful that there should be any expectation at all that she should care for me. I got minutes and minutes of agonizingly dull detail about the cold she has. A blow by blow account of something Dad had done wrong. I handled those complaints as sympathetically as I could, but despite being in passive mode, I still managed to say something wrong on three occasions and got shouted at. Yes, my Mum shouts at me. She gets so paranoid that any deviation from 'yes Mum' makes her Attack Attack Attack. It's unpleasant at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.
She also messed with my head. I told her that Husband had been golden this weekend and given me a rest, and that it made me realise just how hard I work, that I am always doing stuff for this family. She could have applauded me taking care of myself, and said something complimentary about her Son-in-Law. Instead she replied by saying how hard men work and it's nice for them to have time off at weekends, but sometimes things couldn't be helped. She wanted to make me feel lazy. I know she did that because she's jealous as she doesn't think dad ever helped her enough, but That's not my fucking fault.
There is always payback with Mum. I knew it was going to come. As much as I enjoyed the warm maternal comfort she afforded me for a few days, I knew there would be a cold blowback. There always is. That's why I don't bother going to her with anything, and haven't for decades.
Because I am fragile at the moment, that one phone call tore down the delicate membranes of healing I'd been carefully covering my emotions with and left me exposed again. I was back to sobbing and smoking fags. Thanks Mum.
If I can take anything from this it's that I must be careful that I am not making my emotional problems my Children's responsibility. Care has to be one way, from parent to child, it should not be the other way, or even mutual. A parent should be there for their child. I need to grow up.
Well, I didn't quite put it like that, but you know what I mean.
I used to have real difficulty with the fact that my children love their Birth Mum. I mean, after what she did and everything and all that. But that was when I was sort-of competing with her. I wanted to be the best Mum, the loved Mum, the one they wanted most. Otherwise I felt I'd failed them, lost the game. But it's not a game. It's real life. Christine Moer often reminds us that adoption is built on pain and loss. They grieve the loss of their Birth Mother, I grieve the loss of the children I never gave birth to. That's the way it is.
But something I've been thinking about lately is how I have two Mum's too. Technically speaking, she's one person, but she has two personas. The first persona, the one I like, came out a little over the last week, when she's caught me being vulnerable. Alright, she was a bit weird, referring to TV shows at odd moments, and still talking about her own crap when clearly I was in the middle of an emotional storm and in no place to deal with it. But the point is that despite all of that, I could tell that she genuinely cared and was shocked to see me so shaken, my confidence in pieces. Upset at the state I was in on Friday she phoned me on Sunday to see how I was, and I spoke to her and then to Dad for some time. For the first time in a long time I was the Child, receiving good counsel and care from my parents. I was allowed to be vulnerable and they comforted me. I can't tell you what unusual rest that was.
Then there is my other Mum. I felt more like myself as I went about the day. I was aware that I was keeping myself unnaturally busy, but I wasn't sitting on the sofa in my coat and boots sobbing, so that was OK with me. We had a phone conversation, my Mum and I, and I realised too late that I was now talking to my Other Mother. This was the Mother that felt very sorry for herself and very resentful that there should be any expectation at all that she should care for me. I got minutes and minutes of agonizingly dull detail about the cold she has. A blow by blow account of something Dad had done wrong. I handled those complaints as sympathetically as I could, but despite being in passive mode, I still managed to say something wrong on three occasions and got shouted at. Yes, my Mum shouts at me. She gets so paranoid that any deviation from 'yes Mum' makes her Attack Attack Attack. It's unpleasant at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.
She also messed with my head. I told her that Husband had been golden this weekend and given me a rest, and that it made me realise just how hard I work, that I am always doing stuff for this family. She could have applauded me taking care of myself, and said something complimentary about her Son-in-Law. Instead she replied by saying how hard men work and it's nice for them to have time off at weekends, but sometimes things couldn't be helped. She wanted to make me feel lazy. I know she did that because she's jealous as she doesn't think dad ever helped her enough, but That's not my fucking fault.
There is always payback with Mum. I knew it was going to come. As much as I enjoyed the warm maternal comfort she afforded me for a few days, I knew there would be a cold blowback. There always is. That's why I don't bother going to her with anything, and haven't for decades.
Because I am fragile at the moment, that one phone call tore down the delicate membranes of healing I'd been carefully covering my emotions with and left me exposed again. I was back to sobbing and smoking fags. Thanks Mum.
If I can take anything from this it's that I must be careful that I am not making my emotional problems my Children's responsibility. Care has to be one way, from parent to child, it should not be the other way, or even mutual. A parent should be there for their child. I need to grow up.
Labels: Adoption, Children, Friends And Family, Motherhood
0 comment Thursday, May 15, 2014 | admin
We are nearly a month on from the last time my Son swore at me, and nearly two months on since his last abusive episode.
This is the longest period of anger-free time we have had from our Son in the two and a half years he has been with us. There is still moodiness, and there have been minor tantrums and problems with his Sister, but all That's been manageable so far.
So what's happened?
Well, there was the worst night (detailed in previous post), where I really feel we may have bottomed out his fear of rejection. His worst nightmare happened - he finally behaved badly enough to be cast out from this family, as he always feared he would. He doesn't feel he deserves this family because he's rubbish. He also doesn't want to be part of this family because it will hurt more when he gets taken away again. But he experienced losing us, being banished from us, and found there was a way back. He'd spat at me, told Husband and I he was going to kill us, made me cruel with anger, and yet... when he apologised he was back in with us. Forgiven. Not taken away. Not sent away. Forgiven, tucked into bed, in his home and loved.
There is also the rewards system we've set up. It's taken a few tweakings here and there, but there are five behaviours which we have made clear are absolutely unacceptable. If he doesn't do any of the five, then he earns something good for the next day. If he hasn't done any of the five during a week, he earns something else as well. And if he keeps it up for four weeks, he gets a nice big fat reward. He kicked against the system at first, but after the night that was, he has fallen in line and seems to get a lot from 'earning' his rewards*.
There is also the alternative reward system, where we have given him four ways to express bad feelings, and he can earn rewards for expressing his feelings in those safe ways too.
Another thing we've noticed is how the pair of them, Son and Daughter, drag each other back into patterns of old ways of behaving. They do each other no good a fair amount of the time and so instead of spending time as a family of four we've been splitting them a lot, one of us doing something with one, the other one with the other one. Most significantly on Saturday morning Husband now does Karate with Son, which I think is just brilliant, and Daughter and I go off to do the supermarket shop together. Sundays, we often find time to do one-on-one with them too, and this is working much better with both of them.
And I have been perked up by the antidepressants and have found that little bit of extra acceptance and understanding that he really needed.
Husband and I are being kind, consistent and strong with him.
I have learnt so much over the last year, that I feel a different person. I've had to toughen up to handle the crap these children need to project out. I am finding good ways of dealing with the shame and disappointment that can be the daily lot of mothering damaged children. I'm less screwed up worrying about what I think I should be doing and am finding my way to just doing what needs to be done.
I don't know what the future holds, or how bad things might get, but I feel a solid confidence has grown inside of me, that yes. I can do this. I can be what these children need. Just wish they didn't keep asking me to prove it.
*rewards include Wii time, Bin Weevel magazines, Moshi Monster cards and pocket money!
This is the longest period of anger-free time we have had from our Son in the two and a half years he has been with us. There is still moodiness, and there have been minor tantrums and problems with his Sister, but all That's been manageable so far.
So what's happened?
Well, there was the worst night (detailed in previous post), where I really feel we may have bottomed out his fear of rejection. His worst nightmare happened - he finally behaved badly enough to be cast out from this family, as he always feared he would. He doesn't feel he deserves this family because he's rubbish. He also doesn't want to be part of this family because it will hurt more when he gets taken away again. But he experienced losing us, being banished from us, and found there was a way back. He'd spat at me, told Husband and I he was going to kill us, made me cruel with anger, and yet... when he apologised he was back in with us. Forgiven. Not taken away. Not sent away. Forgiven, tucked into bed, in his home and loved.
There is also the rewards system we've set up. It's taken a few tweakings here and there, but there are five behaviours which we have made clear are absolutely unacceptable. If he doesn't do any of the five, then he earns something good for the next day. If he hasn't done any of the five during a week, he earns something else as well. And if he keeps it up for four weeks, he gets a nice big fat reward. He kicked against the system at first, but after the night that was, he has fallen in line and seems to get a lot from 'earning' his rewards*.
There is also the alternative reward system, where we have given him four ways to express bad feelings, and he can earn rewards for expressing his feelings in those safe ways too.
Another thing we've noticed is how the pair of them, Son and Daughter, drag each other back into patterns of old ways of behaving. They do each other no good a fair amount of the time and so instead of spending time as a family of four we've been splitting them a lot, one of us doing something with one, the other one with the other one. Most significantly on Saturday morning Husband now does Karate with Son, which I think is just brilliant, and Daughter and I go off to do the supermarket shop together. Sundays, we often find time to do one-on-one with them too, and this is working much better with both of them.
And I have been perked up by the antidepressants and have found that little bit of extra acceptance and understanding that he really needed.
Husband and I are being kind, consistent and strong with him.
I have learnt so much over the last year, that I feel a different person. I've had to toughen up to handle the crap these children need to project out. I am finding good ways of dealing with the shame and disappointment that can be the daily lot of mothering damaged children. I'm less screwed up worrying about what I think I should be doing and am finding my way to just doing what needs to be done.
I don't know what the future holds, or how bad things might get, but I feel a solid confidence has grown inside of me, that yes. I can do this. I can be what these children need. Just wish they didn't keep asking me to prove it.
*rewards include Wii time, Bin Weevel magazines, Moshi Monster cards and pocket money!
Labels: Adoption, Motherhood
0 comment Monday, May 5, 2014 | admin
So, everything on here has been about our Son for a while. At home, Husband and I have been trying to make sure that it's as much about Daughter.
Because for most of our Daughter's life, things have been about her Brother.
We understand from our children's older Half-Sister, whom we have met, that Daughter was 'put in charge' of her younger Brother. She is not even one and a half years older than him. When they went into Foster Care, Daughter said everything for Son and Son didn't speak to anyone but Daughter. Can you imagine how much strain that was for a little six year old girl? The Foster Carers said that at first she didn't have much identity outside of being responsible for her Brother. Apparently, it was also remarked upon often by the staff at the contact centre (when Son and Daughter were still seeing their birth mum) that Son got all the smiles and cuddles. Daughter was mostly ignored.
I'll admit, Daughter has not always been easy to like. In truth, she's been easier to pity, but that hasn't stopped her from also being very irritating. She didn't know how to be mothered, because she never really had been, but she did know how to be in charge, how to make manipulate, and how to get in people's faces. She needed attention as much as air and fought, fought, fought for it, even when she was getting it. Trying to make herself visible was so much a part of who she was, that she didn't recognise for a long time that in this new home, attention was just given.
Then there was the wailing, lying, hoarding, stealing and fussy eating. Traumatised? Not much!
None of that was loveable, sadly. And on top of that, she wasn't letting anyone in. Not because she was frightened of being hurt, I don't think, just because she had never had a close emotional relationship and so didn't know it existed. How, therefore, could she then want it?
But we plodded on together, doing our best. And I include the kids in that. They have been trying to make this family work too, despite it all going pearshaped sometimes. Husband and I could only hope that if we gave them our time, that if we showed them love, thoughtfulness, respect, fun, happiness, routine, boundaries and our strength as parents, that they would start to come through. Just like other Adopters. We've read all the books, we've been on the courses, we know all the trauma healing parental theories, we've got the strategies. All we needed was time.
And, lo and behold, I do believe that Daughter has started to come through. She's 11 years old in the summer, and sometime after turning 9 (after being with us about a year) she started to drop a lot of her crap. and there was a lot to drop. Every now and again we would get glimpses of the girl she really was, under all of the dysfunctional rubbish that had served her well when she lived in a dysfunctional family. She got some friends, she started taking an interest in how she looked, got some taste in music, got some hobbies. She really started to flourish.
But. She was still learning about affection and love and she was trying to learn by copying her brother, rather than allowing her feeling to come through. Her Brother was used to cuddling up to Mum on a sofa and having his hair ruffled, but Daughter wasn't. She saw Son doing that and she wanted in too! There was nothing genuinely affectionate about her hugs. Sometimes she would just sit on my lap, like she had seen her brother do, but it would feel icky. Like she was just taking from me what she had seen her brother have or something. I'm not sure. Most things, to her, touch, smile, hugs and affection was about control.
Then this happened. Remember when I put Son in after-school club because I didn't want Daughter and I to be in the house alone with him for a while? And with him out of our faces she seemed able to breathe, and cry, and talk, and I got my first genuine, spontaneous hug from her?
Since then... magic!
Now we can sit and cuddle together, and it's genuinely lovely. Now when she gives me hugs it's because we've just had some nice exchange between us that feels pleasant, and she's happy, not because she wants to control me. And same from my end. I can kiss her and hold her now and it's not forced from me, it's becoming natural.
Spending time together without Son is really benefiting our relationship too. I enjoy doing the supermarket shop with her, for instance! She's generally pleasant to be around. Sometimes we pop out clothes shopping together, or for a walk down the shops or something.
She's still not a great conservationist though! Tending to still just say whatever is on top of her head or say what her eyeballs happen to be staring at at any one particular time, but hey! She's only 10!
She's a gentle soul who sometimes likes to cause mischief. A small, impish child, who likes animals, always supports 'the girl' in whatever TV show contest we happen to be watching, and has a fondness for yorkshire puddings. Kind and clever, stroppy and awkward. Fun.
She is healing. She is loved. My Daughter is great.
To paraphrase the great Aung San Suu Kyi, we've still got a long way to go, but I think we'll get there.
Because for most of our Daughter's life, things have been about her Brother.
We understand from our children's older Half-Sister, whom we have met, that Daughter was 'put in charge' of her younger Brother. She is not even one and a half years older than him. When they went into Foster Care, Daughter said everything for Son and Son didn't speak to anyone but Daughter. Can you imagine how much strain that was for a little six year old girl? The Foster Carers said that at first she didn't have much identity outside of being responsible for her Brother. Apparently, it was also remarked upon often by the staff at the contact centre (when Son and Daughter were still seeing their birth mum) that Son got all the smiles and cuddles. Daughter was mostly ignored.
I'll admit, Daughter has not always been easy to like. In truth, she's been easier to pity, but that hasn't stopped her from also being very irritating. She didn't know how to be mothered, because she never really had been, but she did know how to be in charge, how to make manipulate, and how to get in people's faces. She needed attention as much as air and fought, fought, fought for it, even when she was getting it. Trying to make herself visible was so much a part of who she was, that she didn't recognise for a long time that in this new home, attention was just given.
Then there was the wailing, lying, hoarding, stealing and fussy eating. Traumatised? Not much!
None of that was loveable, sadly. And on top of that, she wasn't letting anyone in. Not because she was frightened of being hurt, I don't think, just because she had never had a close emotional relationship and so didn't know it existed. How, therefore, could she then want it?
But we plodded on together, doing our best. And I include the kids in that. They have been trying to make this family work too, despite it all going pearshaped sometimes. Husband and I could only hope that if we gave them our time, that if we showed them love, thoughtfulness, respect, fun, happiness, routine, boundaries and our strength as parents, that they would start to come through. Just like other Adopters. We've read all the books, we've been on the courses, we know all the trauma healing parental theories, we've got the strategies. All we needed was time.
And, lo and behold, I do believe that Daughter has started to come through. She's 11 years old in the summer, and sometime after turning 9 (after being with us about a year) she started to drop a lot of her crap. and there was a lot to drop. Every now and again we would get glimpses of the girl she really was, under all of the dysfunctional rubbish that had served her well when she lived in a dysfunctional family. She got some friends, she started taking an interest in how she looked, got some taste in music, got some hobbies. She really started to flourish.
But. She was still learning about affection and love and she was trying to learn by copying her brother, rather than allowing her feeling to come through. Her Brother was used to cuddling up to Mum on a sofa and having his hair ruffled, but Daughter wasn't. She saw Son doing that and she wanted in too! There was nothing genuinely affectionate about her hugs. Sometimes she would just sit on my lap, like she had seen her brother do, but it would feel icky. Like she was just taking from me what she had seen her brother have or something. I'm not sure. Most things, to her, touch, smile, hugs and affection was about control.
Then this happened. Remember when I put Son in after-school club because I didn't want Daughter and I to be in the house alone with him for a while? And with him out of our faces she seemed able to breathe, and cry, and talk, and I got my first genuine, spontaneous hug from her?
Since then... magic!
Now we can sit and cuddle together, and it's genuinely lovely. Now when she gives me hugs it's because we've just had some nice exchange between us that feels pleasant, and she's happy, not because she wants to control me. And same from my end. I can kiss her and hold her now and it's not forced from me, it's becoming natural.
Spending time together without Son is really benefiting our relationship too. I enjoy doing the supermarket shop with her, for instance! She's generally pleasant to be around. Sometimes we pop out clothes shopping together, or for a walk down the shops or something.
She's still not a great conservationist though! Tending to still just say whatever is on top of her head or say what her eyeballs happen to be staring at at any one particular time, but hey! She's only 10!
She's a gentle soul who sometimes likes to cause mischief. A small, impish child, who likes animals, always supports 'the girl' in whatever TV show contest we happen to be watching, and has a fondness for yorkshire puddings. Kind and clever, stroppy and awkward. Fun.
She is healing. She is loved. My Daughter is great.
To paraphrase the great Aung San Suu Kyi, we've still got a long way to go, but I think we'll get there.
Labels: Adoption, Children, Motherhood
0 comment Saturday, April 26, 2014 | admin
And lo! The day came when Mother's were worshipped and their holy perfectness and self-sacrifice celebrated, and many did rejoice in the street.
Hate it.
Firstly, because not all Mothers are good. Secondly, because my kids have another Mum. Thirdly because my relationship with my own Mum has sometimes been difficult. Fourthly because I know some women will be hurting because they can't have children and want them. Fifthly, because my FB timeline gets filled up with sad Daughters who have lost their Mum. One of my friend's lost her Mum on Friday, two days before Mother's Day.
With the passing years it has become such a highly charged emotional day.
Our first Mother's Day with the kids was awful. We were only five months in and the kids were still traumatised, tantrum prone and oppositional. We took them to the park for an ice cream and Husband tried to get a nice photo of me and the kids, but they would only scowl or look away.
Our second Mother's Day, the kids were fine, I wasn't. Husband had done his back in and it made him immobile. Therefore me and the kids went alone to my brother's for a buffet lunch, along with Mum and Dad and my other brother. My Mum made it quite clear that there was only ONE Mother to be celebrated that day, and it wasn't me. Despite the lunch being at my Brother's house, my Mum did all the food. She said she did it because 'there were so many people going', which instinctively took to mean that me and the kids were an added burden. So, my fault she had to do the food, not the fault of my lazy brother and her unhealthy need to still baby him, then. My brother was in a foul mood too and made me feel very uncomfortable by trying to goad the kids into doing things he knew I wouldn't approve of.
So, this year, I decided we were stopping in and seeing no one. I phoned Mum and told her in the week and she seemed a little put out that I wouldn't be worshipping at her alter this year. But then I had a lovely emotional phone call from her when she received the hamper I sent her and she was genuinely lovely to me.
As for the kids, they woke me up at 9am on Sunday morning with cards they had made for me and had actually kept secret! There were snuggles and laughs and breakfast in bed. I lay in bed, listened to The Archers, then had a nice hot shower before coming down to Husband making the lunch. In the afternoon we just hung out, on the laptop, the wii, doing art stuff. Son cried at bedtime, but he just sometimes needs to let stuff out. Husband and I didn't mention Mother's Day. The enthusiasm for celebrating it came from the kids, and it felt very lovely. They must think of their birth Mum on Mother's Day, but I could see that this year, they were also thinking of me.
Hate it.
Firstly, because not all Mothers are good. Secondly, because my kids have another Mum. Thirdly because my relationship with my own Mum has sometimes been difficult. Fourthly because I know some women will be hurting because they can't have children and want them. Fifthly, because my FB timeline gets filled up with sad Daughters who have lost their Mum. One of my friend's lost her Mum on Friday, two days before Mother's Day.
With the passing years it has become such a highly charged emotional day.
Our first Mother's Day with the kids was awful. We were only five months in and the kids were still traumatised, tantrum prone and oppositional. We took them to the park for an ice cream and Husband tried to get a nice photo of me and the kids, but they would only scowl or look away.
Our second Mother's Day, the kids were fine, I wasn't. Husband had done his back in and it made him immobile. Therefore me and the kids went alone to my brother's for a buffet lunch, along with Mum and Dad and my other brother. My Mum made it quite clear that there was only ONE Mother to be celebrated that day, and it wasn't me. Despite the lunch being at my Brother's house, my Mum did all the food. She said she did it because 'there were so many people going', which instinctively took to mean that me and the kids were an added burden. So, my fault she had to do the food, not the fault of my lazy brother and her unhealthy need to still baby him, then. My brother was in a foul mood too and made me feel very uncomfortable by trying to goad the kids into doing things he knew I wouldn't approve of.
So, this year, I decided we were stopping in and seeing no one. I phoned Mum and told her in the week and she seemed a little put out that I wouldn't be worshipping at her alter this year. But then I had a lovely emotional phone call from her when she received the hamper I sent her and she was genuinely lovely to me.
As for the kids, they woke me up at 9am on Sunday morning with cards they had made for me and had actually kept secret! There were snuggles and laughs and breakfast in bed. I lay in bed, listened to The Archers, then had a nice hot shower before coming down to Husband making the lunch. In the afternoon we just hung out, on the laptop, the wii, doing art stuff. Son cried at bedtime, but he just sometimes needs to let stuff out. Husband and I didn't mention Mother's Day. The enthusiasm for celebrating it came from the kids, and it felt very lovely. They must think of their birth Mum on Mother's Day, but I could see that this year, they were also thinking of me.
Labels: Adoption, Friends And Family, Motherhood
0 comment Monday, April 14, 2014 | admin
I had this idea that if adopted children experienced therapeutic, attachment-focused parenting, in the context of a loving and stable home, from a Mother who was always present, then the children would flourish and begin to heal as time went by.
No matter how tough things were, I always had the luxury of thinking they will get better and would imagine using babysitters more, having the odd weekend away just me and the Husband, and a time when I could leave them unsupervised giving me more freedom. It won't always be as intense as this, I would comfort myself. Whilst my children will always have special needs, I could console myself that their needs would become less over time.
So, my thinking has been in need of a reboot. When Son first came to us we learned too slowly that he could barely cope with life. My ideas of fun, action packed weekends doing stuff with the kids had to be revised into plenty of downtime, plenty of rest, plenty of calming jigsaws and boring fucking board games. I wanted their lives to be full of Beavers and acting classes and parks and daytrips. But when it became clear that Son couldn't even cope with the pressure of having to brush his teeth at night, all that had to be revised.
I thought it would get better over time, that he'd settle and want to do more stuff. I thought this because that was what I wanted to happen and because that was what the professionals - who at the time knew my Son and Daughter better than I did - said would happen.
I realised too slowly that that wasn't happening. I see now that he blatantly wasn't coping with a life beyond jigsaws and boardgames at home. All his oppositional behaviour and his infuriating ingratitude was all pointing towards the fact that he couldn't cope with the life we were giving him, but I didn't get it. I even once threatened him with taking away all the treats in his life if he didn't stop being such a little shit (didn't quite put it like that to him, but that was the gist of it), so that he could learn to appreciate just what he had. Little did I realise then that in effect that was what he was asking me to do.
Son's life is once again just about calming little games at home. I have thrown away two plastic bags full of rubbish, containing all the broken crap he had destroyed and had cluttering up his room. I have taken the posters he hadn't yet destroyed down from his walls for safe keeping. I have moved all his books and some toys downstairs. The Memory Box, full of special things, which he threatened to destroy, has been taken away. I am restricting the TV and there is no wii or ds. I have built in times which he and his sister spend apart, sometimes with me or dad, sometimes alone. At weekends he is staying home, and either me or Husband will take Daughter out. I am not asking him to do homework. He can keep his Friday Sports club, but I will stop that if it appears that even with support he can't handle it. We are not inviting people over and we are not visiting others. I am not buying him the treats he used to get and reject. His life has stopped, for now.
For neuro-typical well-attached children, this would be cruel punishment. For my Son it appears a blessed relief. He is calmer.
I find myself grieving for the life I thought we were all going to have. I am depressed. This is not how it was supposed to be more than two years in. He's supposed to be doing Scouts by now, and learning to swim and karate, and we're supposed to be looking forward to do foreign holidays and camping and walks in the country. He can't even handle a trip to Tescos.
So, another great lesson on the adoption journey. Prepare to make your life boring forever for the sake of your children's mental health. They don't teach you that on the preparation course.
No matter how tough things were, I always had the luxury of thinking they will get better and would imagine using babysitters more, having the odd weekend away just me and the Husband, and a time when I could leave them unsupervised giving me more freedom. It won't always be as intense as this, I would comfort myself. Whilst my children will always have special needs, I could console myself that their needs would become less over time.
So, my thinking has been in need of a reboot. When Son first came to us we learned too slowly that he could barely cope with life. My ideas of fun, action packed weekends doing stuff with the kids had to be revised into plenty of downtime, plenty of rest, plenty of calming jigsaws and boring fucking board games. I wanted their lives to be full of Beavers and acting classes and parks and daytrips. But when it became clear that Son couldn't even cope with the pressure of having to brush his teeth at night, all that had to be revised.
I thought it would get better over time, that he'd settle and want to do more stuff. I thought this because that was what I wanted to happen and because that was what the professionals - who at the time knew my Son and Daughter better than I did - said would happen.
I realised too slowly that that wasn't happening. I see now that he blatantly wasn't coping with a life beyond jigsaws and boardgames at home. All his oppositional behaviour and his infuriating ingratitude was all pointing towards the fact that he couldn't cope with the life we were giving him, but I didn't get it. I even once threatened him with taking away all the treats in his life if he didn't stop being such a little shit (didn't quite put it like that to him, but that was the gist of it), so that he could learn to appreciate just what he had. Little did I realise then that in effect that was what he was asking me to do.
Son's life is once again just about calming little games at home. I have thrown away two plastic bags full of rubbish, containing all the broken crap he had destroyed and had cluttering up his room. I have taken the posters he hadn't yet destroyed down from his walls for safe keeping. I have moved all his books and some toys downstairs. The Memory Box, full of special things, which he threatened to destroy, has been taken away. I am restricting the TV and there is no wii or ds. I have built in times which he and his sister spend apart, sometimes with me or dad, sometimes alone. At weekends he is staying home, and either me or Husband will take Daughter out. I am not asking him to do homework. He can keep his Friday Sports club, but I will stop that if it appears that even with support he can't handle it. We are not inviting people over and we are not visiting others. I am not buying him the treats he used to get and reject. His life has stopped, for now.
For neuro-typical well-attached children, this would be cruel punishment. For my Son it appears a blessed relief. He is calmer.
I find myself grieving for the life I thought we were all going to have. I am depressed. This is not how it was supposed to be more than two years in. He's supposed to be doing Scouts by now, and learning to swim and karate, and we're supposed to be looking forward to do foreign holidays and camping and walks in the country. He can't even handle a trip to Tescos.
So, another great lesson on the adoption journey. Prepare to make your life boring forever for the sake of your children's mental health. They don't teach you that on the preparation course.
Labels: Adoption, Motherhood