arms

Says B: "You have old lady arms."

I'm speechless.

And I'm 41.

first letter

<Reading this letter will make much more sense if you have already read my previous post called "stories".>


Brennan,

I am writing this letter at 1:30 in the morning because I woke up with feelings of frustration and fear. I am worried about your heart. So I prayed, asking how to help you. Here are my thoughts:

I love you. Every day I have loved you, your whole life, with my whole heart, and with every action
--making you food
--teaching you to make your own food
--giving you hugs, kisses, kind words
--teaching you to give hugs, kisses, kind words
--giving you a safe home
--teaching you how to live safely at home
--giving you gifts
--teaching you the love of giving

This list could go on for twelve more pages. Just know that I have poured my heart into you. Many people who know you can see your kind, generous heart, which came partly from being loved and nurtured by me. I am so proud of that, and of you.

I also see your pain and your fear. You fear that the love will end -- at any moment. Sometimes you are so hurt because you think I don't love you. Like I said, I show you with every action, every day. Next time you feel angry or insecure and want to lash out, stop yourself and ask me, "Mom, do you love me?" Don't fear the answer. It will always be YES!!!

Now, about Christmas. One of the ways I love you is by giving you gifts for Christmas. You are right, my gifts to you are a symbol fo my love. They are NOT a measure of my love. You fear getting "less than" my other children, and you fear getting presents that are not good enough. Not good enough for what? I do not understand. You need new socks that fit. Why wouldn't a new pack of socks in your size that I spent a week looking for in six different stores until I found the style and color you like best -- why is that not a good enough gift? It most certainly shows my love and my determination to meet your needs. That's a pretty special package of socks, huh? And, that's just your most boring gift. I've carefully picked out many more, with my insightful brain and deeply loving heart. I have heard what you want, and what you need, and have chosen each gift VERY carefully. Your gifts are very speical because they come from my heart.

Your gifts for Christmas are a symbol of my love, but you can not look at the gifts and measure how much I love you. I give you gifts of love every single day that are way more valuable than the wrapped packages under the tree (or in my closet!). See the first page if you need examples again. I have carefully measured out Christmas gifts evenly between you four, because I am fair and I don't want anyone's feelings to be hurt. I don't measure my love out that way. I don't measure my love out at all. You get all of it. You get all my love! That's pretty special too, huh? You don't have to doubt my love, you don't have to earn my love, it's just there! Always! No matter what!

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Mom

stories

I am  TRYING to teach my children to have good work ethic. It is working for one of them. The others will sit at the breakfast table, waiting for food, hoping my one hard worker, Elisa, will just go feed the dogs already so that breakfast will start already. Yes, I feed them after they feed the dogs. Seems logical to me. The dogs can't fix their own bowls of food. They will starve without the love and care of their family. The kids can eat free breakfast at school if they choose not to work at home. Their choice. Soooo...Elisa has figured out that she doesn't want the dogs to starve, so she sacrifices her time and warmth to go outside and feed them. She feels good about helping them. Eva and JJ have figured out that if they sit quietly long enough, Elisa will jump up and do the job. Every. Single. Time.

So every day for a week, I have pointed that out to them. I have been giving Elisa extra praise and of course, the dog feeder always gets breakfast first, and a star. Five accumulated stars equals one dollar. They are very aware now of the pattern, but JJ and Eva have not shown any desire to change. OK, I can help with that.

The first step: "Oh, Elisa, the dogs are so thankful that you go out in the cold every morning and feed them. They can tell how much you love them. You know what? I can see in their eyes, that they want you to have an extra special treat today because you've been feeding them in the dark cold mornings for a week now. I'm going to make you some hot chocolate so you can warm up. Good job, Elisa!"

Eva's sulky, tearful head went down on the table. JJ started with his wailing "See? That's what I don't like about you! That's not fair!" and on and on, all the way up to his well-earned time-out in his room. Elisa beamed, looked deeply into the dogs' eyes to look for what I had seen, and enjoyed her hot chocolate with her breakfast. I encouraged Eva to eat her breakfast instead of crying as I went up to talk to JJ. He told me that I didn't give him hot cocoa because I didn't like him. Time for another story.

"Imagine that four adults live in this house with you kids. Every morning, all the people wake up at the same time, and go downstairs. You kids go sit at the breakfast table, as usual, telling the adults that you are hungry. Three adults go straight to the couch and watch TV. One adult goes straight to the kitchen and makes breakfast for you, every morning. When you draw a picture, or make something special at school, which adult will you want to give it to? The ones who watch TV or the one that makes you breakfast every day?"

JJ, and later Eva, both decided that the one who shows love and does special things for people will most likely be given special treats. Logical and true, at least in this house.

I've also been teaching them that it's fun to get gifts, and you need to also give gifts to show your love. (Gifts can be anything you give from your heart.) Elisa has been working for money to buy me a gift. JJ said he will draw pictures ... for Grandma and Grandpa. So today I teased them, as usual, saying "Don't be looking at the presents in my closet!" I added, "When you hide a gift for me in your closet, I promise I won't look." Do you think that's a BIG ENOUGH HINT? I crack myself up.

Brennan requires a whole different approach. He's still paying me restitution for the broken window back in March, I think. He's waited until the last six weeks to do $300 worth of jobs. His deadline is December 23, after which I show him love and grace: his balance due becomes zero. Nice, thoughtful, loving Christmas present, right? Well, of course, that gift takes the place of another gift. He can't be given a $95 window-money gift AND a new Ipod. He's still got plenty of gifts coming his way. Every thing he has told me he needs this year will be under the tree. I'll tell you the list after Christmas, because it is a surprise, but just know that he'll have plenty to unwrap and be thankful for. Instead of being relieved, thankful, or at least complacent, he has doubted my love for him in a panicky, angry voice every single day for the last two weeks. He is truly afraid that I only love my little ones and will only give them presents. Well, I have shown him the wrapped gifts with his name on them, I have told him he's got at least seven things to unwrap, I've done lots more to ease his fears. It's not working. His fear is borderline feral, and so is he sometimes. I've been patient and kind and loving. Until last night. I told him a story too. I said "OK, fine. I'll tell you what you want to hear. You want to hear your worst fears confirmed. You want to hear that I don't care about you and only got you socks and underwear for Christmas. You want to know that I got the underwear from Goodwill and that they have butt-stains on them. You want to know that I found an open package of socks somewhere, and they would fit a toddler, and they have pink polka-dots on them. You want to know that I don't care about your feelings this Christmas." And that's all I had to say about that.

Then my eyes popped open at 1:30 this morning, because I obviously wasn't done with my anguish. So I started to pray. The result of the prayers were three letters to Brennan, which I will type as the next three posts. I hope you read this post first, then the next three letters in order. The story will make much more sense.

shaken

http://thebluereview.org/i-am-adam-lanzas-mother/

Brave, honorable woman, full of integrity. She's doing EVERYTHING she can to raise her family as safely as possible, absorbing most of the abuse herself in the process. Does it sound like you?

It sounds like me.

The thought occurred to me that by publishing this article, she is not only educating people, calling people to action, but also documenting that she is doing her part, but is helpless to stop her son's outbursts. Just in case. I have done the same thing, many times.

My most mentally ill child does not want to hurt a mass of people. He wants to get his way without working for it. His rages are spontaneous and short-lived. He's more likely to "borrow" a car or get shot by someone trying to protect himself, than to stage a hostage or mass murder situation.

Changing the subject totally now.

My health has not been good. I have two internal benign masses that cause some pain but not enough for insurance to authorize excision. Do I lie to get approved for surgery? Do I get surgery and dump my needful children on other people to take care of until I come out of pain-medication-stupor? I lie awake at night willing these things to disappear. I am really creeped out by them. What if they get bigger? Ew. And it's kind of painful to bend over.

So I've been embracing diet changes to treat my whole body, in hopes that my health will return to normal. I'm moving towards being at least 50% vegan and 80% grain-free! Go me. I already LOVE an organic grocery store in town, so finding what I need is pretty easy. I bought a huge load of grass-fed organic meat for the kids, plus a ton of fruits, vegetables, bulk bin nuts, seeds and rice, quinoa, coconut oil, tofu (really) and GF condiments...all for $138. Remember, I've been gluten-free for about six years. The dairy needs to get back out of my diet. I'll worry more about sugar later. That's the hardest one.

New impromptu recipes:

Quinoa, slightly overcooked, lukewarm, with dried cranberries, slivered almonds, and the juice and zest of clementine oranges. Oh my gosh YUM! I accidentally overcooked it, but the oatmeal-like mushiness made it perfect for breakfast. Hmm, I can't remember if I put a little olive oil in it to loosen it up. Coconut oil would be perfect. I'm trying that next time.

Diced, steamed yams, lukewarm, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with a lot of pepitas and a few chocolate chips. YUM. I ate that for breakfast this morning. My kids helped me. Score! I'll be making this again for dessert.

I'm trying this next: I got these little baby eggplant for ten cents each. I think they were called Indian eggplant, and they are about the size of a plum. I am going to halve these and sautee with GF peanut sauce over some (ohmygoodness, really?) grilled tofu, or if I chicken out, grilled polenta. It'll be fun.

silly

Too silly not to blog:

B was attention-seeking and vengeful (not a good combo) and kicked Elisa's heel. She was fine, but he howled in pain. Then he yelled at her for hurting him. I could not convince him that she was innocent, but I didn't want to argue anyway. Arguing against an oppositional teenager is silly.


So we got in the restaurant, Panda Express. I sent B to wait in the line and sat my littles down at a table. I asked each of them if there's something extra yummy they remembered liking, besides orange chicken and lo mein. Eva stared blankly, Elisa said "rice". JJ looked at me excitedly and said, "So we're eating at Panda?" The rest of the meal went relatively well. The only issues were my two boys going into the bathroom together, and B stealing my fortune cookie.

Then we got back in the car without too much fussing. Behavior really can turn on a dime around here, so I was thankful for the continued smoothness. Eva has had alot of trouble buckling her seatbelt this week, yet has not taken initiative to pull the buckle out of the hole before trying, even when prompted alot. We've waited "patiently" for several minutes at the beginning of each car ride, letting her problem solve. It's not been working. New strategy: prompt Eva to ask her sister for help. After Elisa works on buckling Eva for what feels like forever, I say "Eva, she can't do it. You try again." And Eva buckles successfully within 3-5 seconds. Every. Single. Time.

Dinner and seatbelts taken care of, we headed to the Christmas concert at the Lutheran High School. I've been kind of excited about it all week. I thought it would help get us more jazzed up for Christmas and make new memories. Except there was no concert. It's NEXT Friday. B said "You wasted all that gas!" (We drove approximately 1.2 miles.) So we watched some of the soccer tournament. The man at the gate said I was welcome to come back next Friday for the concert, but I better show up early because they get really packed. I said "I did show up early. Early enough for front row seats!" Let's see where my silly mind ends up taking us next Friday.

ohhhh....

Sadie our black lab seems to have entered her teenage years. She is sneaking around, stealing food, and breaking whatever container/dish the food is in. She is refusing to follow directions like "come in the house".

Today I found a very inappropriate item in my teenager's bedroom. I confiscated it, and have rehearsed my side of the conversation that will happen tonight.

I have been housebound for days with feverish, coughing, puky children, who are each taking turns staying home for two days at a time. I am NOT going to get sick.

My washing machine will not fill with water. The hoses are not clogged. I think communication between the knob (or dial?) and the water valves and hoses is weak. So guess what? I have to carry buckets and buckets of water from the bathtub faucet to the washing machine and dump them in. 6-10 buckets per load to wash, and another 6-10 buckets to rinse.

I found some new information via google about a birthmother, including photos. He has never seen a picture of his birthmother because I have never had a photo. Should I now let him see his birthmother for the first time?

friend

I'm blogging alot today!

Email reply sent to Amanda Smotherman, an incredible person that I respect a great deal:

Well, I just jumped for joy. I thought I wouldn't get to hear 'the rest of the story'...or learn more about how an awesomely Christian mom deals with such hard kids. I don't blog much either. I get it. Some things just can't be written about. It's better to forget and move on. It's better to respect privacy, and most people wouldn't understand our experiences or decisions, anyway. People ae too quick to judge. It's hurtful. I've put some heavy things on my blog, which is why I thought you didn't respond to me. I thought my lack of reliance on Jesus in my hardest times was enough proof that ... well ... silly, right? But I keep trying, daily, to keep my head and heart in the right place by asking God for help.


I can't see myself being disappointed in your writings. If I see you falter, well, then I know you're human, and I see the humanity in myself, and I can forgive myself more readily for my own mistakes.


I don't think I blogged this: My teenager, Brennan, was trying to think of hurtful things to say to me. He was in the middle of a three hour long rage/mind-game/control battle against us, even though we weren't playing his game. He 'hurtfully' said, "You only adopted us for your own happiness. That's how selfish you are!" I could only frown tiredly and say "Do I look happy to you?" and explain, again, my unconditional love, and his mistrust of it, and lack of give-and-take (his is mostly take-and-take).

 
God bless Caleb and his love for you. Hurts my heart a little to see him needing to know that you are happy. He's a good boy. But, I know that he knows deep down that your happiness on earth isn't the issue, it's your eternal happiness that will be so awesome! So I am hoping he takes comfort in that, and doesn't worry about his mama as much?

 
I'm sorry to hear that he is still away. I'm looking forward to finding out how everyone has been...I'll start reading right after I clean this house!


So glad to have friends to walk with down Adoption Street,


Jen in Phoenix