Last Sunday we were invited by an old friend to attend a special service at her church. I woke up a bit, church-wise, and was proud of my kids for behaving so well there, and during the long trip there and back. I was hopeful that I could soon make church a part of my life again. I sure do need it.
Yesterday, I had my last few dollars in my wallet, and my car was on empty. While agonizing over finances, I prayed -- no, I bargained -- "God, if my checks come in the mail today, I will be able to go to that church again, and won't that be amazing for me and my kids?"
Tacky, right?
Well, God did me one better.
My check didn't come. Then I knew, as one does when God plants an idea in a brain or a gift in a heart, that we were going to church anyway. We would try one of the 6 churches within two miles of our house. I picked the closest, researched it online, and told the kids. One refused to go (I bet you can't guess which one), one complained, and two got busy choosing pretty dresses to wear.
I was blown away by the message of the day. I had tears in my eyes. I can't wait to go back next Sunday.
Thank you, God, for NOT speeding my checks to me. Thank you for taking care of me in ways I didn't know I needed. Thank you for being there, even when I am not.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
summer
This doesn't feel like summer. It feels like ****. No, this is not a joke about Phoenix weather. Yes, I am angry and my filters are weak. It has been less than 24 hours since my oldest son was arrested. He wasn't dressed to go to the video store to rent a movie. We all went to the car to wait for him. On my way out the door, I asked him if he needed me to wait, and he refused to answer. I knew he was trying to hold me hostage again, to keep me from leaving. He was stuck in his head somewhere between 'I don't know how to get myself ready fast enough' and 'I don't really want to go, so no one should go'. Well, reasoning with him wasn't gonna happen, and I refuse to be held hostage. As he watched us go to the car to wait for him, his abandonment issues kicked in and he punched the window.
I was proud that he came straight outside and told me. He knew the police would need to be called, and stayed by my car until they arrived. My instinct was to keep the doors locked and the windows up; not to let him in the car. I was not shutting him out, I was just not feeling safe, and I didn't want the shards of glass from his hands and stomach to get in the car. I talked to him and kissed him before the officer took him to jail. I can not repeat here what I said or I will start crying. Again.
My little son was in tears. My little girls were silent and wide-eyed. We went to the corner store and got icees to numb the pain. It felt good to be able to swallow again.
I tried really hard to start fresh with B this morning, but my tone has been stern and not as forgiving as I would like. I explained my need to process this for a while. I have never been through this before! Of course I need time to think. We all do. B has at least a week to think ... he is stuck to me and his sibs with no friend or phone privileges. We'll spend alot of time together deep cleaning the office with the broken window. Top to bottom.
Other than that, I've read a book a day the last three days. They are teen fiction books, which only take a few hours. Clean, by Amy Reed, and Dead to You, by Lisa McMann, are excellent. Both are very well written, easy to read, and describe trauma as it affects teenagers and entire families. I am going to devour all the other books written by these two authors this summer.
I was proud that he came straight outside and told me. He knew the police would need to be called, and stayed by my car until they arrived. My instinct was to keep the doors locked and the windows up; not to let him in the car. I was not shutting him out, I was just not feeling safe, and I didn't want the shards of glass from his hands and stomach to get in the car. I talked to him and kissed him before the officer took him to jail. I can not repeat here what I said or I will start crying. Again.
My little son was in tears. My little girls were silent and wide-eyed. We went to the corner store and got icees to numb the pain. It felt good to be able to swallow again.
I tried really hard to start fresh with B this morning, but my tone has been stern and not as forgiving as I would like. I explained my need to process this for a while. I have never been through this before! Of course I need time to think. We all do. B has at least a week to think ... he is stuck to me and his sibs with no friend or phone privileges. We'll spend alot of time together deep cleaning the office with the broken window. Top to bottom.
Other than that, I've read a book a day the last three days. They are teen fiction books, which only take a few hours. Clean, by Amy Reed, and Dead to You, by Lisa McMann, are excellent. Both are very well written, easy to read, and describe trauma as it affects teenagers and entire families. I am going to devour all the other books written by these two authors this summer.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
expected
Brennan, a high school freshman, eats lunch with high school seniors. He feels much more comfortable hanging out with kids much older and much younger than he is. He does not have one single friend that is his age.
He wanted to have his birthday party in March so his senior friends could come before they graduate from school. His birthday is in July. Of course, March is too early to celebrate, so I set the date for May-ish. He threw a fit, but he knows I don't budge, and eventually accepted the new plans.
It's May-ish now. He invited 15 people to his party, scheduled for this afternoon. I bought enough food for 10, just in case. One senior showed up, for 20 minutes. He had already eaten. He texted other people the whole time. The usual neighborhood kids swarmed in and ate 1/4 of the food and 1/16 of the cake. Instead of being disappointed, Brennan seemed to be beaming at the attention from the neighborhood kids. He even thanked me twice for the party! In front of his friends! I kept waiting for the nastiness to come out of him.
At 7:30, the ending time of the party, I cleaned up the picnic table and loaded up the car. Here it was: He yelled "What the heck! I'm still waiting for some friends to show up!" The poor kid really hadn't come to accept that no one was coming, and of course, it would now be all my fault they didn't come since I was ending the party. That explosion was relatively mild, and to be expected from Brennan.
He broke curfew and stayed out well past dark. He gave me a calm, reasonable explanation, I explained to him some more logical, safe solutions to his problem, and he said "I really want to thank you again for the party." That was not to be expected from Brennan. I milked it and stole a bear hug. Of course his back arched and his arms tensed between us, but ... yeah, expected.
He is not mentioning the planned sleepover at his friends' house that apparently fell through. I am not bringing it up either. We are going to watch the movie Ali with his favorite actor, Will Smith. Then we'll go upstairs. If I direct him in any way to go to bed, though, he'll escalate and blame the cancellation of the sleepover on me. That's to be expected.
He wanted to have his birthday party in March so his senior friends could come before they graduate from school. His birthday is in July. Of course, March is too early to celebrate, so I set the date for May-ish. He threw a fit, but he knows I don't budge, and eventually accepted the new plans.
It's May-ish now. He invited 15 people to his party, scheduled for this afternoon. I bought enough food for 10, just in case. One senior showed up, for 20 minutes. He had already eaten. He texted other people the whole time. The usual neighborhood kids swarmed in and ate 1/4 of the food and 1/16 of the cake. Instead of being disappointed, Brennan seemed to be beaming at the attention from the neighborhood kids. He even thanked me twice for the party! In front of his friends! I kept waiting for the nastiness to come out of him.
At 7:30, the ending time of the party, I cleaned up the picnic table and loaded up the car. Here it was: He yelled "What the heck! I'm still waiting for some friends to show up!" The poor kid really hadn't come to accept that no one was coming, and of course, it would now be all my fault they didn't come since I was ending the party. That explosion was relatively mild, and to be expected from Brennan.
He broke curfew and stayed out well past dark. He gave me a calm, reasonable explanation, I explained to him some more logical, safe solutions to his problem, and he said "I really want to thank you again for the party." That was not to be expected from Brennan. I milked it and stole a bear hug. Of course his back arched and his arms tensed between us, but ... yeah, expected.
He is not mentioning the planned sleepover at his friends' house that apparently fell through. I am not bringing it up either. We are going to watch the movie Ali with his favorite actor, Will Smith. Then we'll go upstairs. If I direct him in any way to go to bed, though, he'll escalate and blame the cancellation of the sleepover on me. That's to be expected.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
lost
This morning was not a regular morning but I failed to see it. Our downstairs dog growled and barked at 5:30, waking me up. I could see nothing wrong in the yard so I went back to bed until the alarm rang. 6:30 came, and four dogs, three kids, and I went downstairs to start breakfast. The dogs went outside and kept barking. The downstairs dog had thrown up during the night, making a widespread mess, so I broke routine to clean the floor. Then we got back to the normal routine of feeding the dogs.
Sadie, Holly and Shekia did not come to their food bowls. I ran outside to see if the gate was open. I ran inside, told the kids to wake Brennan up, grabbed my keys and ran to the car. In my pajamas. With my hair sticking up all over my head. I found Shekia quickly and got her in the car. Sadie and Holly were just gone. For the next hour and a half, we drove around the neighborhood, stopping at home often to see if they found their way back. My heart was breaking. Imagine how my little ones felt, just joining a stable forever family last year? At 8:30 I took the kids home to eat breakfast. Everyone seemed to be holding it together. They were not acting out, which I was very thankful for. During my shower/cry I realized there was nothing else to do but pray and wait until the shelters opened. I prayed for Holly and Sadie. I prayed for our chihuahua who is severely attached to Holly. I prayed for my kids to not have to grieve the loss of those dogs. I prayed for guidance to show up at the right place at the right time today so I could bring Sadie and Holly home safely.
As I was drying off, the doorbell rang! Women who live 3-4 streets away had seen our dogs running and told me to follow them to where the dogs were last seen. Holly and Sadie were on the move, but they stopped in the middle of the road when they heard us calling them. I piled them in our small car on top of the children. The sight of the two women who had driven around our large neighborhood to find where we lived brought tears to my eyes. Okay, the truth is that I bawled like a baby. I was so relieved and grateful!
After getting Holly and Sadie home, we had a family celebration (hugs and dancing and some juice that I save for special occasions). Brennan hugged all of us again in the office of his high school. Wow, right?! On the way to the elementary school, the sun was shining through the clouds on the mountains. What a great opportunity to thank God again for keeping our dogs safe. We just wouldn't be the same without Holly and Sadie in our lives.
After I stop shaking and the adrenaline wears off, I am going to bake goodies for the dog-lovers who reunited us with our babies. We'll take cake and home-made thank you cards to them tonight.
Sadie, Holly and Shekia did not come to their food bowls. I ran outside to see if the gate was open. I ran inside, told the kids to wake Brennan up, grabbed my keys and ran to the car. In my pajamas. With my hair sticking up all over my head. I found Shekia quickly and got her in the car. Sadie and Holly were just gone. For the next hour and a half, we drove around the neighborhood, stopping at home often to see if they found their way back. My heart was breaking. Imagine how my little ones felt, just joining a stable forever family last year? At 8:30 I took the kids home to eat breakfast. Everyone seemed to be holding it together. They were not acting out, which I was very thankful for. During my shower/cry I realized there was nothing else to do but pray and wait until the shelters opened. I prayed for Holly and Sadie. I prayed for our chihuahua who is severely attached to Holly. I prayed for my kids to not have to grieve the loss of those dogs. I prayed for guidance to show up at the right place at the right time today so I could bring Sadie and Holly home safely.
As I was drying off, the doorbell rang! Women who live 3-4 streets away had seen our dogs running and told me to follow them to where the dogs were last seen. Holly and Sadie were on the move, but they stopped in the middle of the road when they heard us calling them. I piled them in our small car on top of the children. The sight of the two women who had driven around our large neighborhood to find where we lived brought tears to my eyes. Okay, the truth is that I bawled like a baby. I was so relieved and grateful!
After getting Holly and Sadie home, we had a family celebration (hugs and dancing and some juice that I save for special occasions). Brennan hugged all of us again in the office of his high school. Wow, right?! On the way to the elementary school, the sun was shining through the clouds on the mountains. What a great opportunity to thank God again for keeping our dogs safe. We just wouldn't be the same without Holly and Sadie in our lives.
After I stop shaking and the adrenaline wears off, I am going to bake goodies for the dog-lovers who reunited us with our babies. We'll take cake and home-made thank you cards to them tonight.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
support
I've been attending a parent support group at my children's behavioral health agency for two months now. The benefits have been surprising.
I got info about a very good developmental pediatrician in Phoenix, and the reading specialist in the practice will be tutoring two of my children during the summer. The nutritionist at the practice will hopefully be able to help my child with high cholesterol and poor eating habits.
I have met more parents who have adopted 4+ children, and need to network with them. Support is good.
Our parent group got neck and back massages (real, professional ones) and did art therapy projects last Thursday.
This quote from a meeting is worth posting here:
“Motherhood brings as much joy as ever, but it still brings boredom, exhaustion, and sorrow too. Nothing else ever will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own.”
― Marguerite Kelly
I got info about a very good developmental pediatrician in Phoenix, and the reading specialist in the practice will be tutoring two of my children during the summer. The nutritionist at the practice will hopefully be able to help my child with high cholesterol and poor eating habits.
I have met more parents who have adopted 4+ children, and need to network with them. Support is good.
Our parent group got neck and back massages (real, professional ones) and did art therapy projects last Thursday.
This quote from a meeting is worth posting here:
“Motherhood brings as much joy as ever, but it still brings boredom, exhaustion, and sorrow too. Nothing else ever will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own.”
― Marguerite Kelly
Friday, April 20, 2012
Dolly
Last Friday, my parents' dog of 14 years had to be put down due to kidney failure. All of you dog mamas know how painful that is. They decided they would wait a while until they got a new dog, and maybe enjoy not having someone waiting for them to come home every time they went out somewhere.
Until last night ... when my dad got on the Arizona Humane Society website. As soon as he saw her photo, he knew. He was planning to call the Humane Society this morning to ask about her, but I insisted that he needed to be there when they opened their doors this morning or someone else would get her. My sister and I went with my mom and dad to the Humane Society, hoping that she was still available for adoption. Thirty seconds after we stood at the locked front door, another couple got in line with us, saying they were excited about the little white poodle mix. My dad tried to suppress his "I won" smile. He's such a kid sometimes.
The dog, their new dog, is AWESOME. She is very delicate, playful, timid and sweet. She and I bonded immediately. I think she will be spunky and make lots of messes, but my parents are both home all day so she will have the supervision she needs. Her new name is Dolly, after my dad's favorite singer.
I need to learn how to post photos here. She is truly adorable.
I've had to change my clothes because my dogs are so interested and excited about the new dog smell. They must know I went to the shelter where I got all of them. They must be asking me, "I know you got a new dog today, so where is she??"
Pound puppies are the best kind of dogs. Thank God for Dolly, Shekia, Lucky, Sadie, and Holly. Tinkerbell ... I got that little rat-dog at a yard sale ;)
Until last night ... when my dad got on the Arizona Humane Society website. As soon as he saw her photo, he knew. He was planning to call the Humane Society this morning to ask about her, but I insisted that he needed to be there when they opened their doors this morning or someone else would get her. My sister and I went with my mom and dad to the Humane Society, hoping that she was still available for adoption. Thirty seconds after we stood at the locked front door, another couple got in line with us, saying they were excited about the little white poodle mix. My dad tried to suppress his "I won" smile. He's such a kid sometimes.
The dog, their new dog, is AWESOME. She is very delicate, playful, timid and sweet. She and I bonded immediately. I think she will be spunky and make lots of messes, but my parents are both home all day so she will have the supervision she needs. Her new name is Dolly, after my dad's favorite singer.
I need to learn how to post photos here. She is truly adorable.
I've had to change my clothes because my dogs are so interested and excited about the new dog smell. They must know I went to the shelter where I got all of them. They must be asking me, "I know you got a new dog today, so where is she??"
Pound puppies are the best kind of dogs. Thank God for Dolly, Shekia, Lucky, Sadie, and Holly. Tinkerbell ... I got that little rat-dog at a yard sale ;)
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
processing
After reading Cindy Bodie's post today about a mentally ill man who stabbed a police officer after telling his mother he needed to go to the hospital (for mental health issues), I commented the following in her blog:
Do you think the NY man's mom was in temporary shock and denial, or do you think she typically enables him by staying in denial of his issues? I know of a mom who blames the police and the stupid law for her son's repeated parole violations. Now he is in prison for accumulating those violations.
I try to keep my head above water in the traumatic situations my son gets himself, and me, into. I try to keep my head clear so I do not enable him. It is a bit of a struggle, as I blogged a few minutes ago, because I am terrified of him going to jail.
I keep thinking, well, my son isn't hurting anyone, just the house. Where will I draw the line? Where do you draw the line?
It's a very fine line between teaching my son a lesson by sending him to jail for breaking the ceiling, and causing trauma and pain for both of us that he may not learn his lesson from. I keep thinking "It's just drywall. He will lose privileges and work around the house for money until he can fix the hole." Am I protecting him from something I should protect him from? Or am I protecting him from something I shouldn't?
I HATE this part of my job.
Now I sound like a teenager.
I feel very far removed from the mother of the man in NY who gave a police officer a brain injury. I just don't feel like my son's issues are as severe as his. Maybe they aren't. Or maybe that mother had my very same thoughts of protecting her son when he was fourteen, and enabled him to grow into a man who committed several crimes and put a young dad in the hospital. Or maybe mental illness is something neither Brennan or I will have enough control over.
Again, I HATE this part of my job.
Do you think the NY man's mom was in temporary shock and denial, or do you think she typically enables him by staying in denial of his issues? I know of a mom who blames the police and the stupid law for her son's repeated parole violations. Now he is in prison for accumulating those violations.
I try to keep my head above water in the traumatic situations my son gets himself, and me, into. I try to keep my head clear so I do not enable him. It is a bit of a struggle, as I blogged a few minutes ago, because I am terrified of him going to jail.
I keep thinking, well, my son isn't hurting anyone, just the house. Where will I draw the line? Where do you draw the line?
It's a very fine line between teaching my son a lesson by sending him to jail for breaking the ceiling, and causing trauma and pain for both of us that he may not learn his lesson from. I keep thinking "It's just drywall. He will lose privileges and work around the house for money until he can fix the hole." Am I protecting him from something I should protect him from? Or am I protecting him from something I shouldn't?
I HATE this part of my job.
Now I sound like a teenager.
I feel very far removed from the mother of the man in NY who gave a police officer a brain injury. I just don't feel like my son's issues are as severe as his. Maybe they aren't. Or maybe that mother had my very same thoughts of protecting her son when he was fourteen, and enabled him to grow into a man who committed several crimes and put a young dad in the hospital. Or maybe mental illness is something neither Brennan or I will have enough control over.
Again, I HATE this part of my job.
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