Sometimes you have to read between the lines

My goal is to not allow Mar to escalate. She has not raged since Friday ... sort of.

Yesterday she decided she was going to pick a fight. She was determined. Basically, if I walked in the room and dared to clear my throat, I would be welcomed with a, "WHAT?"

"Honey, are you okay?"

"You already KNOW!"

Ya-da-ya-da-ya-da.

Third verse, same as the first.

And any other "Ground Hog Day"-ish analogies I can recall.

So, she's flopping and tossing her pencil yesterday. "I don't know how to do iiiiitttt." I let her know that was fine. Let's just put it away. She doesn't need to do it. "Come over here with me, babe. Let's just rock for a minute."

Her words were screaming, "I don't want to rock!" Yet she veeeery slowly made her way to the chair. She was as stiff as a board while she kept screaming.

Crying, crying, screaming, "LET GO OF ME! I DON'T WANT TO BE ROCKED! GET THAT BLANKET OFF! I DON'T WANT A BLAAAANKET! I DON'T WANT TO CUDDLE!"

For 45 minutes she did this.

45 minutes.

Sounds exhausting, right? Nope. Quite the oppposite. You see, that is what I was HEARING. Yet here is what I was seeing:

My daughter was not being held. In fact, for much of the time I just kept my arms on the arm rests or behind my head. I wasn't even touching her. She flipped and she flopped and she SCREAMED and she pouted. Yet, she never once EVER got out of my lap or out of that chair.

At one point she had her head buried right next to my arm. It was right after the wailing had begun. I think my prayer went something like this, "God, all she has to do to move this to a restraint is to take a big chunk out of my arm right now. You realize that, don't you? I'm crazy vulnerable. I can feel her breath on my arm. And if she does, am I going to restrain, or am I going to do Lamaze breathing while saying, 'Do it again, honey. I'm pretending it's kisses.' God?"

She never bit me. She never hit me. She would turn over and make sure her forearm was placed very firmly against my abdomen. Yet she had a line she never crossed.

She did not get out of my lap or out of that chair until I asked her to get up with me and go eat lunch.

And I let her go first, in front of all her brothers and sisters. She was shocked.

"Honey, you don't have to earn our love. Sometimes we do things to bless you just because you are our daughter. We want to. We love you."

NO that did not nip anything in the bud. YES she simply escalated again in the afternoon. OF COURSE, she tried to pitch a fit again this morning while we were doing some schoolwork.

Yet, my daughter was telling me so much with what she DIDN'T do yesterday. On her level ... in her knowledge of love ... she loves me and she needs me, even though it doesn't look like "normal" stuff if you happen to be hanging out in my living room.



reactive attachment disorder

Parenting Tip #501

Kids can get sassy. They can get downright mouthy. They forget to use their words and smart off. The emotions just fly out of the mouth.

That's when I go into Psycho Mom Mode.

"Oh ... my ... GOSH!! That is the SWEETEST thing I have EVER heard you say! I AM doing a good job as a Mom. COME HERE! COME HEEEEERRRRE!"

Lots of hugging and kissing while your child moans and gripes something like, "I love you, too" ... or maybe it's more like, "Get off me, you freak!"

Anywho - works great for tweens and teens who get embarrassed if you so much as breathe too heavily in their vicinity. Makes a MASSIVE impression when it happens at the grocery store ... or the ballpark.

(photo by Massimo Somma)
WFMW

Brings new meaning to "The Class of 2009"

Guess who is graduating from therapy in two weeks?



My only regret is NOT having a video camera to record his reaction when his therapist brought it up. It was the SWEETEST giggle ... ever. It is wonderful to not just see his love, but to experience it. He is truly, sincerely happy. God bless him, he's a middle school boy and it has been really tough to figure what part is THAT and what part is trauma-related. Yet, now that we've done more peeling back of the layers, we have met Rocky - the Rocky God created, not the protective shell that he has kept around himself. Now he receives consequences for just regular 'ole 12-year-old butthead stuff ... ya' know ... he's being a normal kid!

And he likes it.

Very cool.







**for you freaks who are always looking around in the picture at my weird and crappy-kept home, the ball hanging from the ceiling is for our Learning Breakthrough program. I know, I know - I haven't posted about it yet. It's coming ... eventually. And the pink thing under the TV is a ski bib my mom found in a garage sale and mailed to us with some other stuff ... received it at the beginning of the week ... I have yet to hang up said ski bib. Yeah ... shut up.

Magical Milk Pic-O-The-Week

"Quite a spectacular example of feminine multi-tasking as well as the incredible strength under hardship displayed by so many African women. I spotted this young mother harvesting cotton while simultaneously breastfeeding twins."

(photo and quote by Brooke)

When God's church bites itself in the butt

The following is a portion of an email response to Frank Viola, from Skye Jethani (author of "The Divine Commodity"). You can read the whole question and reply here. The basic premise is: how do we express Christ in creative and effective ways? Jethani takes our typical, traditional approach and ... ah heck, just read it!

Not: How do we grow the institution?
But: How do we grow people?

Not: How do we motivate people to serve in the church/institution?
But: How do we equip people and release them to serve outside the church/institution?

Not: How do we convince more people to come?
But: How do we inspire more people to go?

Not: How many programs can the church start?
But: How many programs have other churches/organizations started that we can help support?

Not: How many people have a committed relationship with our institution?
But: How many people have a committed relationship with another brother or sister in Christ?

Not: How do we make people dependent on the institution for their growth?
But: How do we equip people to grow independent of the institution?

Not: How much revenue can the institution generate?
But: How much revenue can the institution give away?

Not: How many buildings, pastors, and programs are necessary for the institution to have maximum exposure in the community?
But: How few buildings, pastors, and programs are necessary for God’s people to have time and energy to engage the community?

Not: How is God blessing our church?
But: How are we extending God’s blessing to our world?

(photo by Renaude Hatsedakis)

Quick, before something blows up!

My kids - all of them - are outside playing in the water. Yup. Even Mar. There have been arguments, but they are using their "steps" and solving their own problems. Even with water balloons involved! Going on almost on hour.

Shhhhhhh ... don't look directly at them or you might throw them off.

FYI: Mar has caught up on almost three weeks of school. She has fought it every second of the way, but I stay as playful as possible. If she still tries to work her way into a fit/rage, I go in for the hug or cuddle. Today I asked if I could sit behind her like we were in a bobsled, so I could hug her while she pretended to have a small stroke affecting her cognitive abilities did her schoolwork. I did some silly things, moving her hands and making her clap, etc.

Then I started doing some silly rubbing/tapping behind her, "Even though I don't want to do what my mom says, I can totally put these bulbs in parallel. Even though I don't want to do what my mom says, I am really great at mapping out a circuit board." It just got sillier and sillier. By my second time through, she finished it up and was done for the day.

God bless silliness. Some days I HATE it. It gets old, ya' know? But it's medicine for my Mar.

Babies! Babies! Everywhere, babies!

Summer had her baby this afternoon at home. YEA!! What a chunky monkey! Welcome to the outside, Saffron Sky! You look so much like your brothers, sweet girl.

ALSO, some of you have been following my favorite Horch. His wife just delivered their baby boy, Jack. YEA Horches! Welcome, Jack. I expect you to be a plethora of blog material for your father.

This is my United States of Whatever

United States of Whatever - Liam Lynch

Yesterday, I woke up Mar and let her know she would be doing normal kid stuff all day. She certainly didn't have to do it normally, but she and her Reactive Attachment Disorder would be leaving blanket world. Therapy was canceled this week (which, as you can imagine, has no effect whatsoever on the kids *cough**cough*), so I needed to go ahead and help her snap out of this rut.

We did school. She did stuff wrong on purpose.

Whatever.

She swore on her very beating heart that she had absolutely NO IDEA how to write a fraction.

Yeah, whatever.

I grabbed my guitar and wrote a new song about writing fractions. She was trying so hard not to like it, and I was like ...

whatever.

I wrote another song about how difficult life must be with a mom that loves you and does crazy wonderful things for you, and Mar was like ...

whatever.

She started raging and crying and screeeeaaaaaaaammmmmming, and I was like ...

Ah heck, I just screamed with her.

Cause this is my "United States of Whatever."

Side Notes: I highly suggest joining your child in the blood-curdling screams. First of all, they tend to stop because it takes all the fun out of it. Secondly, it feels REALLY GOOD! I totally get why they do it. I had no voice, but WOW! Such release. Felt like I was auditioning for a horror movie.

Today while she was crying that she could not look at her lightbulb with each experiment and determine if the light was getting brighter or dimmer (*insert lots of whining and tears and moaning here*) I just started playing "United States of Whatever." She thought it was hysterical, which snapped her out of control mode. She started doing her experiments and writing in answers correctly, through a very puffy tear-stained face.

And I was like, "Good work, honey."

And she was all, "Whatever!"

Magical Milk Pic-O-The-Week

(photo by Hilary)

QVC for creative minds

Here's a little nugget for sparking some creativity in your kids. It's free. It's easy. It's hilarious.

Fill a sack with items. The more bizarre the better (like a broken hanger, or a bulb syringe ... stuff that looks funky). Set up a little table at the front of the room. One at a time, each child selects something from the bag and heads to the table. They have one minute to "sell" that item QVC-style. The more creative, the better! The only rule is they cannot promote it for its normal use (for instance, the bulb syringe cannot be used for sucking boogers - gotta' come up with something else).

You may want to have your video camera handy. :)




WFMW

Parent of trauma - quote of the week

"Finally realized that I'm not the wrong mommy for him. That he's not willful. He's hurt. He would be hurt no matter who his mommy is. He needs a mommy who will do everything she can to battle for his heart."

- Jennifer of "To Africa and Home"

I only hang with cool missionaries

Amanda Brock has crashed our pad, and I am sooooo happy!



Who needs Peru when you have ME?



LOVE Amanda Brock!
(or, as Presh would say, "Amanda Barack Obama")

The pastor's wife has a mouth like a sailor!

Let me start with a little story ...

Several years ago we were working with a really great agency in Texas. They were a large organization that covered many facets of social issues. One particular building housed the domestic adoption and the foster care programs.

As you entered the bottom floor, there were pictures of teddy bears. The sofas were cushy. There was probably soft music playing, but I was too distracted by the many copies of parenting magazines with gorgeous, glossy photos. There were smiles and soft voices. It was lovely. This was domestic adoption.

But ...

Just one floor up were the offices for the foster care program. This was the land of restraint classes, learning how handle sexual acting out, properly documenting medications, and lots and lots and lots of chain smoking. No sugar coating here. No cushy sofas. No fancy snacks. It was its own dimension. It was rough and raw ... and vital.

For the past year, we are officially officing on the second floor around here. My kids have issues. They have been exposed to some crazy stuff. No rainbows and bunnies these days. Things are rough and raw ... and vital.

So, today - Gotcha' Day! - of course, Mar is going to be on high alert. It was a funny thing to watch. She has love for us, even though it is confusing for her. She needed to at least TRY to take it all up a notch today. I was so very, very careful to keep things settled, but she slipped right past me. I gave her an opening and she TOOK it! Stink-a-monkey!

Ended with a sit-down in her room. Her new thing is cussing. She has just thrown out one or two words, but it is obvious she's working her way up to the "really bad" stuff. As a good RAD (reactive attachment disorder) mom, I know I need to take the pressure off by taking away the thrill.

Sooooooo, when my husband came in from a Little League game, and said, "So, what's going on in here?" I smiled, and with the best combination of Mister Rogers and Andrew Dice Clay, I responded, "Well, I'm a piece of sh**. How was the game?"

She then took a shot at her dad, and he and I just took off on the most loving round of expletives this Southern Baptist parsonage has ever endured. Now, my girl is a smart one. She tried again, so we just kept on. Kept lovingly agreeing with her, that in fact, we are a bunch of *$!@#! who are always showing so much *$!@#! love for our *$!@#! children. Hell, I spent the whole *$!@#! afternoon baking cakes. Poor gal - having such a crappy mom.

Aaaaaaaaaand, then she was done.

Oh! Almost forgot. We've also had lots of spitting lately. Our super duper therapist gave me a little interesting approach to this one. Tonight, I asked her if she would lick or spit on my hand for me, or at least stick out her tongue so I could get some of her spit ... because our therapist was talking about how connected mothers are to their children, and they can know and taste their child whether birthed or adopted. Since I didn't think to do that the other day when she spit, I wanted her to do it tonight so I could taste it ... and know that, in fact, she is utterly and totally mine.

SHE ABSOLUTELY REFUSED. Kept those lips quite pursed for the following hour, afraid I'd sneak in a finger or something.

Reverse psychology of any kind rarely works with Mar. She is far beyond the average 9-yr-old level of intelligence in many areas. She picks up on, and uses my therapeutic parenting techniques all. the. time. Yet, the spit thing ... she knew that it would actually show a connection between us. She refused.

And yes, I was prepared to taste her spit. I really was.

Yet, again, soooooo determined to NOT give me the opportunity, she gave me a completely bone dry smooch on the cheek at bedtime. In one year, this has never occurred. She always leaves me sloppy wet.

Yup. We're on the second floor, friends. There is black coffee and a snack machine - it only accepts correct change. Grab a smoke and pull up a chair (pardon the duct tape over the big rip in the vinyl). Things around here are rough and raw ... yet oh, so very vital.


(photo by Ewa Jarosiewicz)
reactive attachment disorder

Who are the dead in Iraq?

"We don't do body counts."

- General Tommy Franks

There is a new report out titled "The Weapons That Kill Civilians, Deaths of Children and Noncombatants in Iraq." It has covered five years in Iraq - 60,481 deaths in 14,196 events.

The findings are crushing.

Of the US-led air raids, 46% of the dead were women ... 39% were children.

Fatalities by mortars (by American and Iraqi government and insurgents) came in with 44% women and 42% children.

It just goes on and on.

Painful to read. I cannot grasp it all.



(photo by Rob Howard)

Sporadic thoughts

Good Friday was not so good. Ended up restraining Mar (my sweetie with reactive attachment disorder). Lots of kicking, spitting and attempts to bite (I was on top of my game this time, though). We spent a good hour in the floor together. I was able to speak softly and calmly and give her some extra love. She growled and cursed. However, if I were to escalate or join her in raging, it would be like force-feeding a diabetic child sugar. The diabetic child may beg and plead for sweets, but you know how it can affect them. I know my child needs me to stay regulated, otherwise, I am actually increasing her illness.

Now, the goal has been to stay on top of her need to escalate each day. We've done it! It is exhausting. She is always looking for a way to reach that point. So far we have made it five days.

Signed the petition for adoption yesterday. Can't begin to explain how my heart felt as I read the names of my kids on that document ... with OUR last name. Hopefully we'll be able to finalize in about six weeks (give or take red tape and other annoying factors in the court system). The petition will be filed tomorrow - Gotcha' Day!

Speaking of Gotcha' Day ... we'll be baking two cakes. Mar and Rocky got to choose their own (Mar is a girl after my own heart - chocolate, chocolate and MORE chocolate!). We will be giving the kids their adoption rings (their Gotcha' date is engraved on the inside). It will be a very stressful day, so we'll celebrate in a low key way, but we'll celebrate none-the-less.

We do a four-day schoolweek (because the whole family travels for therapy once a week), so there are only 22 more days left for us! Okay, okay, MAR will have plenty of catching up to do once she is strong enough. However, she could easily skip a grade starting the fall if it were actually her idea. Once she is regulated and wants to do her work, she'll be caught up in a flash. That girl is brilliant.

Remember how I braided Presh' hair with the Fun Fur yarn? Well, FYI: it sheds quite a bit the first few days. There. You have my disclaimer. Still totally worth it. Just darn cute.

A sweet lady from church brought me a blueberry plant last night. I thought you might all want to start taking bets on how long it takes for me to kill it. I actually plucked some strawberries last year before killing my strawberry plants. We'll see if I can make it this far with blueberries.

It was sunny yesterday. I worked in the yard. There was sweat (not the typical "I sweat all the time" stuff, but actual "I'm sweating because it is hot out here" kinda sweat). I love the sun very, very much. It is like kryptonite for my depression.

I just finished painting on an old t-shirt: "I will love my kids forever. I will never hurt them or give them away." I'll wear it to church tonight. Will probably wear it all day tomorrow, too. Need to add "NO MATTER WHAT!" to the bottom.

The kids are doing really well with Learning Breakthrough. Oddly enough, my Twitchy Mac has the most difficult time with it. Neurological stuff is fascinating ... as well as a big pain in the rump.

Happy Hump Day. heh. heh. Hump Day.






reactive attachment disorder

Magical Milk Pic-O-The-Week

(photo by lollylums)

Secret Code between you and your kids

This is a great trick for RAD parents (Brenda was the one to remind me of it in a post), but it also works GREAT for all of my kids.

Here is the basic recipe:

Child disobeys.

Parent winks and says, "Ohhhh ... okay. I've got it. That was our secret code. You were letting me know you need a break from (whatever-they-were-doing-wrong/breaking/harassing/etc.)."

Depending on the age of the child and how many times they have spoken to you in code, determines how much explanation you have to give. For my older kids, I just wink and instill the correction or redirection.

Here is an example:

Yesterday one of my children asked if they could have their boiled eggs (Easter eggs) for snack time. I said, "We'll talk about it in just a minute." Two second later, they began asking again ... and again ... and again. I did not respond. My ears do not hear manipulation or bad manners (they are special-purchase ears). When it was snack time, I pulled out a few plain crackers for this child, winked and whispered, "Thanks for the code, and letting me know you did not want your eggs for snack."

There is no more talking from you. Just follow through and keep your yapper shut. Your child, however, will probably sound as though they are dying. I assure you, they are not. They are just very upset at the fact you have broken the code and have become an intent listener to their non-verbal communication.



(photo by Flávio Takemoto)
reactive attachment disorder

Super Cute Fun Fur Yarn Braids

I've been wondering what would happen if I did yarn extensions with some of this:




Well, here's what:




Cuh-YUTE!


(NOTE: that is sidewalk chalk on her face, not war paint) WFMW

I'll just out-crazy your crazy!

When your child has hit you, bit you, had to be restrained, was asked to stay outside then crawled back in a window, locked themselves in the bathroom, thrown something through one of the windows, ripped up some of your garden, etc., etc. ... what is a Mom to do?

No, I didn't ask "What does a Mom WANT to do?" While this question would bring much more interesting answers, it's not quite what I'm looking for.

Here is what I did. First, at the advice and aid of our therapist, we offered my child some melatonin to help calm them down. They were getting nowhere hurting me, and was probably about to self harm if things continued to escalate. Then, we joined my child in an activity outside to keep them moving and give them some fresh air.

Then, of course, I left my husband with all the kids and drove to Braum's just as quickly as possible. At this point, if you are smart, you order a giant cup of something very creamy and sweet and chase it down with your favorite beverage. You read a book or listen to the radio. You roll down the windows and enjoy the AMAZING night, and another gorgeous Oklahoma sunset.

Finish off with a long drive, listening to some encouraging CD's on all the things your child needs from you. You focus on the good, and the things you love about them (having to dig deep, I know, on those rough days of big feelings) and you beg God to help you see them through His eyes ... their hope and their future.

You come home to the child who hit you, bit you, needed restraint, was asked to stay outside then crawled back in a window, locked themselves in the bathroom, threw something through one of the windows, ripped up some of your garden, etc., etc.. You enter their room with a can of spray paint and a bag of candy. You step over the posters and notes you've made for them over the past year (now lying all over the floor torn to shreds), and you just spray paint your love notes directly on the walls.









You turn around periodically to watch your child quickly hide their expression of "WTH??" Then you plop down on their mattress and ask them to join you. You start popping candy into their mouth as you talk to them and sing to them. You tell them those positive thoughts you were thinking on the way home. You tell them what God sees in them and why they were created. You tell them a story. You sing to them. You cuddle and stroke their hair (even the puff sticking straight up because they took out one of their braids in anger during the day ... and you know they're now really regretting it).

Then, you kiss them goodnight. They actually ask you to lean back down so they can kiss your cheek. You tuck them in and turn out the light. You shut the door to set the alarm.

You out-shine the darkness. You out-love the fear and anger. You out-crazy the crazy.

Things are better

Hello Again, Bloggy Reader People,

Things are slightly better. She's calm and regulated. She's no longer hurting anyone me. Our therapist gave me a few tips to try, and one of them is already giving some results. YEA!

In the meantime, I have some window patching to do and screens to locate, some wounds need tending, and I need some major rest (restraining a 9-yr-old is a whoopin').

Love,

Christine

Things are bad

Dear Bloggy Reader People,

Things are bad.



Love,

Christine

Peel me some garlic

You know my mantra, right?

FEAR NO GARLIC!

If the recipe calls for 2 cloves, it is actually implying 4-5 cloves. You must love the garlic. Embrace the garlic. You should always, always have fresh garlic. Garlic powder can be kept on hand, but it is to be used only in case of natural disasters.

This means lots and lots and LOTS of garlic peeling. If you do it by hand, it is a massive pain in the rumpus. If you buy an actual "garlic peeler," you might spend a few bucks or be fool enough to pay Williams-Sonoma NINE DOLLARS for their little plastic tube thingy.

OR, you can just pull out whatever little, rubber grippy lid-opener thing you have in your kitchen and use THAT! I have several. Most of them come from conventions over the years. My favorite is for a Pregnancy Crisis Center, in the shape of a heart. Just wrap it around a clove of garlic. Press firmly with both hands while you roll it back and forth between your palms. You'll hear a "crunch" which means you have freed the garlicky goodness from its encasement.

Bah-dah-BING! Bah-dah-BOOM!

Come up with your own solution. Anything with a little grip will work. I'm guessing you could even stick some duct tape to itself for this little quandary. The point is: DO NOT WASTE YOUR MONEY.

More importantly: DO NOT EVER NOT USE GARLIC!

Magical Milk Pic-O-The-Week

(photo by jocelyndale)

From your belly to your brain

I'm not talking about food. I'm talking about belly crawling!

It is one of our latest little additions to schoolwork. We all know there are benefits to crawling for our babies. Did you know your older kids can reap some of the wealth, as well?

We have added activities now and then which have them army crawling around the house. It is a good way to wake up your brain. For kids who missed out on some of those developmental times, it helps reorganize them neurologically. The crawling process requires coordination. It's a fun way to get some exercise (and carpet burns). The list goes on!

One day I made a scavenger hunt, and taped all of the clues down on the baseboards, so they never had to get up. Another day they took turns retrieving puzzle pieces then worked together constructing the puzzle. Their favorite lately is just to do a few laps to the back of the house and back. We time them and they try to beat their record on another day. With older kids, competition makes EVERYTHING fun (or a small war, depending on how you look at it).



(photo by Richard Sweet)

Has Christine jumped off a cliff yet?

Nope.

Yesterday Mar (my super fab kid with reactive attachment disorder) decided to follow some directions quickly and correctly the first time. This was massive. It had been eight days since she could come even remotely close to this (heck, she'll bang into the wall just to walk to the bathroom incorrectly!). Well, this positive choice earned her a privilege.

She was quite fond of the privilege. Those smalls things seem so amazing when you've been pushing them away for awhile. She then decided she would be brave and attempt to accumulate some more of these wonderful privileges.

We kept up with the tapping and she has now had several nights of guided imagery on the mp3, as well as my love songs I recorded. Really cool to think her brain is being fed lots and lots of mommy love for a good eight hours (about how long the mp3 battery lasts). Yesterday I pulled up the website for the National Child Abuse Hotline. I let her copy down the number. I taught her how to dial the number. I had her practice using the phone (not something I ever let her do). I looked up the numbers for her grandparents. Let her copy them down straight from my searches, emphasizing they are accurate and I have no reason to keep her from these safe people. You could see this made a tremendous impact on her.

Today she was able to play with her siblings. She asked to do some schoolwork to make up for the five days she has missed. I think she spent a good two hours working really hard and non-stop. Got a TON of things accomplished.

There were little corrections, as always. She ignored Rocky at dinner last night, to try to hurt him for not joining her in the misbehaviors this past week. She became very angry when we stopped to talk about it. I think she was more angry her brother knew she was ignoring him, and we knew why. Had a little 30 minute pow-wow with some crying, some denying, some lying, then some laughing and smiling.

Day at a time ... day at a time ...

Hoping the running away does not occur again. However, we absolutely know there will be more nose dives in the next couple of months ... then, of course, the traditional nose dives at birthdays, other holidays and special occasions ...

:)

Mom ran away

I ran away today. It has been too long. I kinda' don't realize when a week has gone by and I haven't hit the ground running - staying far, far away from reactive attachment disorder my children - while treating myself to something I enjoy.

Needless to say, I've had plenty to remind me lately!

Today it involved a $7 cup of coffee (it was a REALLY big cup, and there was whipped cream involved). There was lots of browsing. I finally purchased one of those onion chopper-upper thingies. I am a big believer in NOT buying excessive kitchen items, but when you cook as much as I do, for as many people as I do, I have had to bite the bullet on a few things. I rarely just chop "an" onion. It's always many. Very, very happy about the onion chopper-upper thingy.

We're doing lots of tapping with Marah during the day. Michael refreshed himself on it so he could help out while I was M.I.A. She always smiles through tapping. We are very specific in our phrases, based on her hurting beliefs and fears, and the positive portions brighten her face and have obvious emotional effects on her.

I've also recorded several imagery exercises from "Invisible Heroes," and play those all night. I have taken a risk and put them onto my Zen Stone hooked up to some cheap speakers. This is the second full night. She did not damage or even mess with this little set-up today. I take the Zen Stone in the morning to recharge (just plays for about eight hours all night til it goes dead). She has not raged or done any of her ugliest behaviors since the big runaway-day. If she escalates again, I'll have to come up with another option.

I have also recorded myself singing a few love songs to her and popped those on there. She hears my voice all night long. This is something I gleaned from the mighty Lisa. LOVE me some Lisa!

Granted, we have baby monitors throughout the house. Do you know how annoying it is to hear yourself singing and speaking therapeutically at a snail's pace? Thankfully, we've taught Mar to use the monitor like a walkie-talkie. We can turn our end way down, and she just talks loudly and closely if she needs us during the night.

My sweet husband brought me home a little package of Reese's tonight. I know the wisest approach to those tiny packs of peanut butter cups is to eat slowly and savor every bite. Yet, I just can't. I inhale, then have to lick the paper holders clean because I recall eating them!

It was a good day. Wondering if that cup-o-java, the size of my head, is going to have me up all night ...

Allow me to shoot you with bullets

* Ponder the following: "This helps explain why 12-year-old schoolchildren develop thickening of their carotid arteries to the brain, and 80 percent of 20-year-old soldiers, dying in combat, are found to have coronary artery heart disease." You can check out the entire article here.

* Mar cannot yet believe things are not going to change once the adoption is final. Her last adoptive mom was super sweet and sappy during the adoption process while they waited in Haiti. The abuse started as soon as she became theirs "officially" - literally on her first day home. I can understand her fear. She wants to do whatever it takes to stop the adoption, wondering if we're just "acting nice" to make her "all ours" ... and then we may change. She has witnessed a woman being completely two-faced: one thing at home and another thing in front of school employees, church friends, and caseworkers. We are doing lots of tapping and jumps on the mini tramp. She is not doing school and she is not doing any chores. Her brothers and sisters are earning payment and privileges for picking up the slack. She'll just finish up the 3rd grade in a few months, when she is strong enough. (DOES NOT MEAN YOU SHOULD STOP PRAYING! IN FACT, I DEMAND YOU CONTINUE! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?)

* Presh is reading sentences. This is the first time I've used "Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons." As always, I waited til she was ready. She's enjoying it ... most days. I certainly don't do the writing. My kids all started reading well before they were ready for writing. I say phooey on that.

* Presh is also running around in a read shirt and red sweatpants (NOT the same shades of red) and a hot pink zipper hoodie. You cannot look directly at her or your eyes will explode.

* Rocky is reacting BIG time to all of Mar's behavior and regression/escalation. He's not really being ugly or hurtful all the time. He just can't put two words together coherently. He reminds me of ME when Twitchy Mac was in colic hell, and I was battling PPD without medication and hadn't slept in months. I feel his pain (or, more specifically, his brain farts).

* Our sweet Andy-Roon is such a funny duck. He is so very analytical. He assumes everyone wants to know every single solitary detail of the makings of everything he has seen each day. I really do think he'll be an engineer or something. He also will starve to death because it takes him four hours just to make up his mind and ORDER A SANDWICH!!!!!!! Not that I'm annoyed by this ...

* Twitchy Mac updated her blog this week.

* Someone asked me last night if this is worse than we expected, even though we researched our kids' issues and went in with our eyes as wide open as possible to parenting reactive attachment disorder. There is no way to answer something like that without living it. Training is training, but the gross stuff is much more gross when you're dealing with it directly. The behaviors are much more exhausting in real life than in a book or a lecture. Yet, to me, none of that is the hardest part. That's just "stuff." What really gets to me is the constant feelings of love and rejection and pain and sympathy and anger and selfishness ... and it all comes right back around to the love again ... you never stop loving, even when you really, really, really do not like very much the things that they do. They are your children. They are so severely damaged. They are not case studies or words on paper. Nowhere did anyone say, "Here's how you prepare your heart to be beat to a bloody pulp while simultaneously breaking and mourning for the trauma your children endured and continue to suffer through." Nobody tells you this because there is absolutely no way to prepare for such a thing. I expected the behaviors. I am not surprised by the running away and the screaming and the breaking and the icky-ick-ick. These emotions, however, are unlike anything I ever expected.

* I have my mother's hands. Apparently she is walking around without phalanges, because I am staring at HER HANDS. Love you, mom, but it does depress me a tiny bit. These days I am aging by the minute.

* We do four-day school weeks and spend the fifth day at therapy (two hours one-way). No therapy this week, so tomorrow is just "off." Can you smell my smile?

Works for Me - Backward Edition

Today we're supposed to flip it around and ask YOU guys a question.

This one is easy for me, though most of you won't have any advice.

Give me all your tips and tricks for runaways ... "runners," as we call them in the land of deeply hurt children.

We have our plans laid out and are working in conjunction with our therapist, but I know I am most successful when I have a WEALTH of ideas and approaches at my disposal.

You can also email me privately at christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com.



(photo by Armend)