0 comment Sunday, July 6, 2014 | admin
Naturally, in the aftermath of the recent disturbances which saw school children on BMX bikes shut down cities, terrorise the MET and make the Government recall parliament, there is much talk of why parents were letting their children go out and do this.
I wanted to just comment on this article from Amelia Gentleman in the Guardian entitled 'Being liberal is fine, but we need to be given back the right to parent'.
Throughout this article runs the common myth that there are only two ways of parenting; authoritarian and liberal. Implicit is the idea that authoritarian parenting is out of fashion, but keeps kids on the right track, whereas liberal parenting is nicer for the kids but means they go off the rails. 'parents have become afraid to discipline their own children,' a youth worker is quoted as saying, the suggestion being that children have gone feral because their parents have been too easy on them.
Actually there are lots of types of parenting and authoritarian and liberal parenting are just opposite ends of one particular spectrum, both of them actually damaging to children. Instead of either of those then, how about good parenting instead?
Yes, good parenting. Not parenting where the child is controlled through fear and humiliation. Not parenting where the child is given no boundaries nor rules and so cannot ever learn to function in society. Good parenting, where the child is given plenty of positive attention every day, natural consequences to their actions, encouragement to make good choices, and good discipline to learn right from wrong.
I don't get why any parent would be 'afraid to discipline' their children unless of course you equate discipline with physical punishment and shouting. A mother interviewed in Gentleman's article says, 'People here will call Social Services if they hear you disciplining your children.'
I find it hard to get my head around that.
Discipline in my house is making a child sit and watch you do an hour's worth of ironing instead of being allowed on the DS, because they deliberately scrumpled up the newly ironed clothes in their drawer. Discipline is making a child practice being quiet in their room instead of being allowed to watch TV because they woke the whole household up at 6am. Discipline is confiscating toys and games that are not being looked after properly, until the child has actively demonstrated that they can take care of their things.
Would Social Services be interested in any of that? I am pretty confidant that they would not.
And yet all that is discipline. It's not smacking and shouting. It is me taking the time and effort to try and teach my children that actions have consequences, for them and the people around them.
And it does take a lot of time and effort. I cannot tell you how many times I have wished that smacking and shouting really helped a child, because it would be so easy to do. So quick and simple and also so gloriously discharging of my own rage.
But I know it doesn't help. I know because I have read the books, I understand the science, I've attended the courses. And I know because my adopted children were smacked and shouted at by their birth parents and That's a big part of the reason they're so screwed up. It still turns my stomach when my kids flinch when I make an unexpected move near them.
I'm hearing on the news that a lot of the kids caught up in these riots are now turning up at Court alone, no parent with them. That's your problem right there. Not that these teenagers have parents who go easy on them. But that they have parents who don't give a shit.
I wanted to just comment on this article from Amelia Gentleman in the Guardian entitled 'Being liberal is fine, but we need to be given back the right to parent'.
Throughout this article runs the common myth that there are only two ways of parenting; authoritarian and liberal. Implicit is the idea that authoritarian parenting is out of fashion, but keeps kids on the right track, whereas liberal parenting is nicer for the kids but means they go off the rails. 'parents have become afraid to discipline their own children,' a youth worker is quoted as saying, the suggestion being that children have gone feral because their parents have been too easy on them.
Actually there are lots of types of parenting and authoritarian and liberal parenting are just opposite ends of one particular spectrum, both of them actually damaging to children. Instead of either of those then, how about good parenting instead?
Yes, good parenting. Not parenting where the child is controlled through fear and humiliation. Not parenting where the child is given no boundaries nor rules and so cannot ever learn to function in society. Good parenting, where the child is given plenty of positive attention every day, natural consequences to their actions, encouragement to make good choices, and good discipline to learn right from wrong.
I don't get why any parent would be 'afraid to discipline' their children unless of course you equate discipline with physical punishment and shouting. A mother interviewed in Gentleman's article says, 'People here will call Social Services if they hear you disciplining your children.'
I find it hard to get my head around that.
Discipline in my house is making a child sit and watch you do an hour's worth of ironing instead of being allowed on the DS, because they deliberately scrumpled up the newly ironed clothes in their drawer. Discipline is making a child practice being quiet in their room instead of being allowed to watch TV because they woke the whole household up at 6am. Discipline is confiscating toys and games that are not being looked after properly, until the child has actively demonstrated that they can take care of their things.
Would Social Services be interested in any of that? I am pretty confidant that they would not.
And yet all that is discipline. It's not smacking and shouting. It is me taking the time and effort to try and teach my children that actions have consequences, for them and the people around them.
And it does take a lot of time and effort. I cannot tell you how many times I have wished that smacking and shouting really helped a child, because it would be so easy to do. So quick and simple and also so gloriously discharging of my own rage.
But I know it doesn't help. I know because I have read the books, I understand the science, I've attended the courses. And I know because my adopted children were smacked and shouted at by their birth parents and That's a big part of the reason they're so screwed up. It still turns my stomach when my kids flinch when I make an unexpected move near them.
I'm hearing on the news that a lot of the kids caught up in these riots are now turning up at Court alone, no parent with them. That's your problem right there. Not that these teenagers have parents who go easy on them. But that they have parents who don't give a shit.
Labels: In The News
0 comment Saturday, July 5, 2014 | admin
After a less than ideal weekend last week with Son, the beginning of the school week went well. For three days I got to be a parent to two happy, funny clever kids. It felt good to be a Mum and that was quite lovely.
Then when I picked them up from school on Thursday, I knew something had changed with Son. Quick to take offence and oppositional, I felt my anxiety levels shoot up and knew I had to keep things calm and get food into him asap when we got home.
Cooking tea, I went to check on the kids as they were unusually quiet, to find only Son in the living room. He told me he had hurt his Sister and she had gone upstairs to her room. I felt that familiar surge of frustration with him. He said he didn't know why he'd done it when I asked him why. I told him that I knew something had happened at school and asked him again what had happened. He told me that he and his best mate had "broken up" again. I told him I was really sorry about that, but he knew that he shouldn't take it out on his Sister. Because he couldn't be trusted not to hurt his Sister, I said I would have to keep him away from her, and that as she was upstairs in her room now, he could be the one to go upstairs and be in his room after tea.
I did reflect afterwards that what I could have done at that point, instead of telling him that after tea he would go to his room, was to get close to him and give him sympathy over his distress. Trouble is, I am not in a place to do that with him. All I feel when he hurts his Sister is anxiety and frustration. That's probably why I need some serious support, to get myself to a place that I can override those feelings and parent him sympathetically.
Anyway, I then got a torrent of abuse screamed at me. He pushed past me, stood on the stairs and screamed at me things like stupid fat fucking bitch. This time I did not take the bait and did what I had been practicing in my head, which was to stay out of sight. He went upstairs and I heard him banging and screaming in his room. I went upstairs too and asked Daughter to come downstairs with me. I told her that whilst I was cooking tea, I wanted her to watch telly in the living room and not to go upstairs for any reason. Then I texted Husband and asked him to get home from work asap.
Whilst I cooked the tea the most almighty banging was going on in his room above me. I turned the radio up, closed the kitchen door and carried on cooking the tea. It later transpired that he was dismantling part of his bed, which he was to throw down the stairs. He also pulled off his curtains and they got thrown down the stairs too, all the while keeping up a torrent of obscenities.
My Son is 9 years of age.
When things started smashing onto the hallway floor, I phoned Husband in tears asking him to get home as soon as possible. He got a taxi, but it still took him nearly half an hour. I had to constantly pull myself back from a place of panic, because I knew I had to be strong for Daughter.
Things had gone quiet when Husband and I went upstairs together to see him. He was playing with his cars on the floor and seemed quite normal. I asked him if he felt better now he had done that, and he replied that he did, and said added that he had 'needed to get it all out'. Husband wanted to lecture him, but I stopped him, told Son that it was bedtime for him, and ushered Husband out.
He stayed in his room for the rest of the evening and put himself to bed. Daughter acted like nothing was wrong throughout.
Then when I picked them up from school on Thursday, I knew something had changed with Son. Quick to take offence and oppositional, I felt my anxiety levels shoot up and knew I had to keep things calm and get food into him asap when we got home.
Cooking tea, I went to check on the kids as they were unusually quiet, to find only Son in the living room. He told me he had hurt his Sister and she had gone upstairs to her room. I felt that familiar surge of frustration with him. He said he didn't know why he'd done it when I asked him why. I told him that I knew something had happened at school and asked him again what had happened. He told me that he and his best mate had "broken up" again. I told him I was really sorry about that, but he knew that he shouldn't take it out on his Sister. Because he couldn't be trusted not to hurt his Sister, I said I would have to keep him away from her, and that as she was upstairs in her room now, he could be the one to go upstairs and be in his room after tea.
I did reflect afterwards that what I could have done at that point, instead of telling him that after tea he would go to his room, was to get close to him and give him sympathy over his distress. Trouble is, I am not in a place to do that with him. All I feel when he hurts his Sister is anxiety and frustration. That's probably why I need some serious support, to get myself to a place that I can override those feelings and parent him sympathetically.
Anyway, I then got a torrent of abuse screamed at me. He pushed past me, stood on the stairs and screamed at me things like stupid fat fucking bitch. This time I did not take the bait and did what I had been practicing in my head, which was to stay out of sight. He went upstairs and I heard him banging and screaming in his room. I went upstairs too and asked Daughter to come downstairs with me. I told her that whilst I was cooking tea, I wanted her to watch telly in the living room and not to go upstairs for any reason. Then I texted Husband and asked him to get home from work asap.
Whilst I cooked the tea the most almighty banging was going on in his room above me. I turned the radio up, closed the kitchen door and carried on cooking the tea. It later transpired that he was dismantling part of his bed, which he was to throw down the stairs. He also pulled off his curtains and they got thrown down the stairs too, all the while keeping up a torrent of obscenities.
My Son is 9 years of age.
When things started smashing onto the hallway floor, I phoned Husband in tears asking him to get home as soon as possible. He got a taxi, but it still took him nearly half an hour. I had to constantly pull myself back from a place of panic, because I knew I had to be strong for Daughter.
Things had gone quiet when Husband and I went upstairs together to see him. He was playing with his cars on the floor and seemed quite normal. I asked him if he felt better now he had done that, and he replied that he did, and said added that he had 'needed to get it all out'. Husband wanted to lecture him, but I stopped him, told Son that it was bedtime for him, and ushered Husband out.
He stayed in his room for the rest of the evening and put himself to bed. Daughter acted like nothing was wrong throughout.
Labels: Adoption
0 comment Friday, July 4, 2014 | admin
There's a famous scene in one of my favourite films, Jaws, where Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss are on Quint's fishing boat trying to catch the Great White shark that has been plaguing the waters of their island and eating people. In this scene Roy Scheider is nonchalantly throwing meat and blood into the sea to attract the shark, when the Great White with his enormous mouth and hellish rows of razor-sharp teeth looms quietly out of the water right in front of him. Shocked by the almost supernaturally large size of the shark, Roy Scheider backs slowly into the fishing boat's cabin and says to Quint, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."
Last Friday such a moment happened to me. Nothing to do with sharks, but to do with the size of the demons my son is battling. He did something that shocked the hell out of me and made me realise the enormity of the thing we are dealing with.
To keep all this metaphorical - because I don't think I can write about what actually happened - there we all were, my family, in this boat, and I knew there was a shark out there and that either sharky would leave us alone, or sharky might attack and we'd have to fight him one day, but I did not realise that the shark was a bloody gigantic Great White capable of capsizing our boat and eating us all. Not until it came out of the water and showed me its huge mouth and teeth, I didn't.
So, we're gonna need a bigger boat. Or, in other words, I've gone to my GP who has made us a referral to CAMHS.
I don't know that I have an unshakable faith in our Mental Health Services. I will be cautious until they have proven to me their shark handling abilities and I will remain prepared to intervene if it looks like they are putting my son in the way of the shark, rather than trying to pull the shark's teeth out or punching it in the nose to make it go away. Having seen the size of the thing however, I can't just sit around on my piddling little boat anymore waiting for us to be shark's lunch.
But let me say this: if it comes to it, I am prepared to go one-to-one with the Great White that is circling my family. If I have to, I will shove a scuba tank in its mouth, shoot the tank, and blow the monster to fecking kingdon come. I will do that because That's what mothers are for. It would, however, be preferable if a bigger boat could come and harpoon the thing to death for us. Please please please could a bigger boat come and harpoon the thing to death for us.
Last Friday such a moment happened to me. Nothing to do with sharks, but to do with the size of the demons my son is battling. He did something that shocked the hell out of me and made me realise the enormity of the thing we are dealing with.
To keep all this metaphorical - because I don't think I can write about what actually happened - there we all were, my family, in this boat, and I knew there was a shark out there and that either sharky would leave us alone, or sharky might attack and we'd have to fight him one day, but I did not realise that the shark was a bloody gigantic Great White capable of capsizing our boat and eating us all. Not until it came out of the water and showed me its huge mouth and teeth, I didn't.
So, we're gonna need a bigger boat. Or, in other words, I've gone to my GP who has made us a referral to CAMHS.
I don't know that I have an unshakable faith in our Mental Health Services. I will be cautious until they have proven to me their shark handling abilities and I will remain prepared to intervene if it looks like they are putting my son in the way of the shark, rather than trying to pull the shark's teeth out or punching it in the nose to make it go away. Having seen the size of the thing however, I can't just sit around on my piddling little boat anymore waiting for us to be shark's lunch.
But let me say this: if it comes to it, I am prepared to go one-to-one with the Great White that is circling my family. If I have to, I will shove a scuba tank in its mouth, shoot the tank, and blow the monster to fecking kingdon come. I will do that because That's what mothers are for. It would, however, be preferable if a bigger boat could come and harpoon the thing to death for us. Please please please could a bigger boat come and harpoon the thing to death for us.
Labels: Adoption
0 comment Thursday, July 3, 2014 | admin
You'll remember the avalanche of chocolate eggs my kids received for Easter?
Well, due to replacing their normal healthy yogurt puddings after tea with those eggs and contents, we finally finished them all yesterday! Hurrah!
Then I was at my mum's today and picked up two more! Courtesy of a friend of my dad's called Betty, whom I do not know and have never heard of.
I also picked up four more bags of Maltesers from my another friend of my dad's from his dog walking.
So, you know. Scream.
Well, due to replacing their normal healthy yogurt puddings after tea with those eggs and contents, we finally finished them all yesterday! Hurrah!
Then I was at my mum's today and picked up two more! Courtesy of a friend of my dad's called Betty, whom I do not know and have never heard of.
I also picked up four more bags of Maltesers from my another friend of my dad's from his dog walking.
So, you know. Scream.
Labels: Food, Friends And Family
0 comment | 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 Wednesday, July 2, 2014 | admin
This has been a terrible week. Husband and I were already struggling to deal emotionally with Son's deteriorating behaviour, trying to come to terms with the new level of aggression he is displaying. We were feeling out of our depth, useless parents, that we had failed him. And then CAMHS came along and said, yes, this is all your fault, you're crap, poor child having to put up with you two inadequates, you don't care for him at all.
In the depths of this most awful of weeks I reached out to a friend and she was there for me. She was there for me despite the fact that she has suffered worse than me, for longer than me, and is currently trying to protect the little bit of strength she has left, after the lack of adoption support her family has received has ripped her all to shreds.
I want to say to that friend that if I have ever cost her any of her own strength, then I am sorry, but that will never forget how she pulled me back from the brink this week. That I have never known anyone like her and that I give thanks everyday that I have found her. I cannot imagine my world now without my bestest friend in it.
You know who you are. Thank you.
In the depths of this most awful of weeks I reached out to a friend and she was there for me. She was there for me despite the fact that she has suffered worse than me, for longer than me, and is currently trying to protect the little bit of strength she has left, after the lack of adoption support her family has received has ripped her all to shreds.
I want to say to that friend that if I have ever cost her any of her own strength, then I am sorry, but that will never forget how she pulled me back from the brink this week. That I have never known anyone like her and that I give thanks everyday that I have found her. I cannot imagine my world now without my bestest friend in it.
You know who you are. Thank you.
Labels: Friends And Family
0 comment Tuesday, July 1, 2014 | admin
In recognition of my stress levels I dodged daughter duties on Friday and spent the morning with a friend who understands, and who is also good for a discussion of bunnies and guinea pigs and such. We've got three cats whom I love to bits and being an animal lover I'd like to add to our animal family so I'm thinking pets at the moment. I went home feeling emotionally supported with nothing more vexing than rabbit hutches on my mind!
Unfortunately I returned home to a letter from the children's ex-Social Worker. This was never a woman who brought sunshine into my life. I found her a jobsworth, bafflingly uninterested in the children she was placing with us, and scrupulously avoidant of inquiring after our welfare.
Her letter, which came out of the blue, explained that she had visited an older sibling of my two children, and enclosed was a letter from this sibling (an adult now) to my two children that they had worked on together. The letter from the older sibling was acceptable enough, but the letter from the Social Worker was infuriatingly insensitive.
You might remember, dear reader, that we have seen an explosion in distressing behaviours from my son since he read his Life Story book. It is my opinion that reading about his birth family has re-traumatised my son. This I fully related, with tears, to mine and my husband's own ex-Social Worker down the phone who agreed a referral to CAMHS would be appropriate.
The letter states that this ex-Social Worker was aware of the contents of the letter. Why then did these two women, who are close friends and always in touch, think it appropriate to write to us and state that this older sibling wants to meet with her younger brother and sister, wants regular Letter Box contact, and wants the children 'never to forget her'? When thoughts of his birth family have sparked in my son suicide ideation, bed wetting, screaming and tantrumming?
What half-brained human being would even begin to imagine that a letter from a birth family member right now, never mind a meeting, would be beneficial for my son?
I wouldn't have expected this woman, upon hearing of our son's distressing behaviour and our need to access therapy for him, to phone me and ask how we were. She was never interested before and I wouldn't expect her to care now she is (as I thought) retired. However, perhaps a courtesy call to let me know that she was meeting with this older sibling and that this older sibling wanted contact, would not have been beyond even her professional ability.
I can only hope that she has not given this poor woman - a poor wretch who was never rescued from the abusive family home for adoption like her brother and sister - any false hope with regards to Direct Contact. I feel deeply for the poor girl who suffered terribly, but I will not be emotionally blackmailed by begging letters from inept Social Workers to do anything that will put my two adopted children in potential danger.
I left controlled but forceful messages on the answerphones of both Social Workers, neither of which have been returned, and so from now on future communication will be in writing. In my own time, when I am ready.
It made for an uncomfortable weekend. I have been in a bad place, but am better today.
Unfortunately I returned home to a letter from the children's ex-Social Worker. This was never a woman who brought sunshine into my life. I found her a jobsworth, bafflingly uninterested in the children she was placing with us, and scrupulously avoidant of inquiring after our welfare.
Her letter, which came out of the blue, explained that she had visited an older sibling of my two children, and enclosed was a letter from this sibling (an adult now) to my two children that they had worked on together. The letter from the older sibling was acceptable enough, but the letter from the Social Worker was infuriatingly insensitive.
You might remember, dear reader, that we have seen an explosion in distressing behaviours from my son since he read his Life Story book. It is my opinion that reading about his birth family has re-traumatised my son. This I fully related, with tears, to mine and my husband's own ex-Social Worker down the phone who agreed a referral to CAMHS would be appropriate.
The letter states that this ex-Social Worker was aware of the contents of the letter. Why then did these two women, who are close friends and always in touch, think it appropriate to write to us and state that this older sibling wants to meet with her younger brother and sister, wants regular Letter Box contact, and wants the children 'never to forget her'? When thoughts of his birth family have sparked in my son suicide ideation, bed wetting, screaming and tantrumming?
What half-brained human being would even begin to imagine that a letter from a birth family member right now, never mind a meeting, would be beneficial for my son?
I wouldn't have expected this woman, upon hearing of our son's distressing behaviour and our need to access therapy for him, to phone me and ask how we were. She was never interested before and I wouldn't expect her to care now she is (as I thought) retired. However, perhaps a courtesy call to let me know that she was meeting with this older sibling and that this older sibling wanted contact, would not have been beyond even her professional ability.
I can only hope that she has not given this poor woman - a poor wretch who was never rescued from the abusive family home for adoption like her brother and sister - any false hope with regards to Direct Contact. I feel deeply for the poor girl who suffered terribly, but I will not be emotionally blackmailed by begging letters from inept Social Workers to do anything that will put my two adopted children in potential danger.
I left controlled but forceful messages on the answerphones of both Social Workers, neither of which have been returned, and so from now on future communication will be in writing. In my own time, when I am ready.
It made for an uncomfortable weekend. I have been in a bad place, but am better today.
Labels: Adoption