Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Time Inc. Vietnamese refugee, December 1953)

Finding words for the pain

Saturday night was ... interesting.

One of my children was communicating, but without words. Their bedrooms are their space, and they can do what they want in there. So, they were throwing shoes and slamming things into the walls. We carried on with life for awhile.

They opened their door to set off the door alarm.

I hate that she lives with such fear. Hate it.

So, we politely let her know she could hang out on the porch until she could safely and respectfully rejoin the house. Then that became a stand off. She wanted a sleeping bag to stay out there. We finally insisted she come in when a terrible lightning storm started rolling through. The next morning we discovered the front bushes had been smashed to smithereens.

I love new days. I love a fresh start. I love sleep and what it can do for your body and perspective.

Grabbed my coffee. Walked into my child's room. Said good morning. Plopped myself on a milk crate (which is normally used to hold shoes, but all the shoes had been catapulted 24 hours previously). "Wow. You have got some big feelings going on. Let's break it down."

There was still LOTS of resistance. I hope many of you out there can be helped by this. My child has been able to verbalize much more, and has taught me something through these moments. You see, even when they know they love us, know we love them, know they can and do have some trust for us, know they're tired of the fight and really don't care anymore ... well, they still keep it up because ... well ... if they do the right thing then we are happy. We win.

Their brains are so trained in self-preservation. Even when healing starts to occur, and they ARE attaching, their default still tells them to take care of themselves first. They must "win." Life is a contest, and losing could be deadly.

We had a conversation we have had before. We will have it again. Probably a lot.

I'll be writing more on Bruce Perry's new book in the future (The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog), and yes, I will be driving you crazy talking about it. For now let me leave you with a quote:

"I also cannot emphasize enough how important routine and repetition are to recovery. The brain changes in response to patterned, repetitive experiences: the more you repeat something, the more ingrained it becomes. This means that, because it takes time to accumulate repetitions, recovery takes time and patience is called for as these repetitions continue. The longer the period of trauma, or the more extreme the trauma, the greater the number of repetitions required to regain balance."

Does it drive me insane when we have to rewind and replay these conversations and truths over and over and over again? Abso-friggin-lutely. If I had a nickel for every time I bang my head against the wall ...

Yet, I'll keep doing it. I'll pace myself. I'll share the load with my husband and family. I will model kindness and gentleness. I'll wake up every morning and pour myself another cup of coffee and I'll rewind and replay the same truth over and over and over again.

And I will buy extra band-aids for all the head banging.

My apologies to all Grease fans

A little highlight from my two weeks at my parents' house. When you have two children unable to play together unsupervised, you get to spend hours and hours exposed to things like this.

Oh Golly, Molly

Two weeks away from home.

In the middle of the two weeks, Dad left and was gone from the rest of us on Father's Day.

Oh, yeah, and there was Father's Day.

Big, giant desire to pay us back for being gone overnight, hoping we will never, ever do something like that again.

Tomorrow Dad and brother leave for Boy Scout camp.

Ohhhhh, and tomorrow is my birthday. Did I forget to mention that?

Things are trauma-dee-lish around here. We're rocking the old school behaviors, so I am cranking some old school, myself.




Yup. This night may very well last forever. That's cool. I've got my Eagles.




reactive attachment disorder

No more tattling

I remember an early Mommy Guilt experience quite vividly. I was with a group of Moms and young kids. One of the little ones was whining across the room, tattling on another kid. A mom asked, "Who is that?" (because there were a jillion kids and they all sounded the same). Another mom replied, "Well, it's not my kid. They KNOW not to tattle."

It was one of those moments where you go into a total daydream, evaluating how your kids DO tattle, and you know it's not a great habit, but at the same time you DO want to know if your preschooler is playing in the toilet. So, when is tattling okay and when is it not? And how do you teach and enforce this? And WAS it my kid doing the whining, meaning: which of us moms just totally got verbally slammed by "my kids KNOW not to tattle" mom?

I started a little process. I have no idea how it developed in my little brain. It just made sense and I tried it and it worked within the parameters of when to rat out someone and when to handle it yourself. We call it "The Steps." It goes for all of my children and also any child who is visiting our home. If you're new around here, we teach you "The Steps."

Here are ... "The Steps" (are you tired of me saying, "The Steps" yet?):

First, if someone is endangering themselves or someone else, run like the wind and TELL ON THEM! Note: touching your bug catcher without your permission does not qualify.

Typically it starts when one child does something offensive to another child (hits, takes away something, uses an ugly voice, or perhaps says a word your mom says all the time, but one of the neighborhood kids says, "Ummmmm, we're not supposed to say that!" ... not that this EVER happens at my house - just hypothetical, ya' know).

The offended child gives the other child a chance to change their behavior. We learn through practice. You say something very nice, like, "Could you please say that with a nice voice?" or "Would you please not hit me with the Barbie because I took the Barbie shoes you wanted?" or "Would you please not say, 'freakin,' because we don't say that at our house ... and isn't your dad a preacher?" *cough*

The other child has an opportunity to stop or change their behavior. Nine times out of 10, they will do this. Everyone likes a second chance. It also gives them the opportunity to say, "Okay. Oh, and could we SHARE the Barbies shoes instead of you hogging them?"

If the child does NOT stop or change their behavior (example: "Presh, would you please stop clapping at the table?" clap-clap "Presh, I said, please stop clapping at the table." claps again right in their face), then you find an adult and say, "I need some help."

If you don't use your steps or you forget how to use your steps with a nice voice ... well, you join get to jump on the consequences train together.

If someone comes running up to me tattling, I ask, "Did you use your steps?" If they walk up saying, "Mom I need some help in here," I automatically know they are working the process and staying in control.

In the beginning, you have to verbally walk them through it. "Whoops! You forgot the whole Steps thing. Here is how it works. Let's take a do-over and practice." It teaches wonderful lessons, and has done wonders with my attachment challenged children who live in a state of blame and fear and need for control. We can stop an evaluate when The Steps break down and they get themselves into a mess. Those are times we talk through how well The Steps would have worked for them!

The Steps.

They're a beautiful thing.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Emily at The Handmade Experiment. How cute are those boots?)

Patience sucks

Sometimes I can wait out the fear in the trauma, and I can totally see past the behaviors and I'm so very lah-dee-dah.

Not so much this week.

When you have some good days, even good weeks, you already know the next really bad patch is going to test your patience. I guess we get a little spoiled. We get a tiny sense of normalcy and we get in a groove and KA-POW!

This week has been a recipe for disaster. A trip away from home. Going to VBS every day at an unfamiliar church. Attending a wedding for the very first time (followed by a very loud and very crowded reception and lots and lots and LOTS of sugary treats and sweets). Watching your dad drive away to go back home to preach ... on Father's Day (nah, that doesn't screw with a traumatized brain). Oh, and did I mention that Mom and Dad are leaving the kids with Mamaw Tuesday night so they can shack up in a hotel ... for the first time since two of our kids joined their forever family?

I sang some love songs. We had some spitting (a favorite). I thanked them, scooped some up with my finger and rubbed it into my face. I asked them to spit again because it made me feel so close to them. They didn't.

More singing. Added some Dixie Chicks to my repertoire.

My child finally asked if we could sit up and talk (we were in more of a hug than a restraint, but I was sweating and it was terribly uncomfortable).

They talked a bit, but still didn't work through the craziness of the night before, and let me help them through the very obvious terror they were facing. I brought them some lunch. I made it quite yummy - even put some mini-marshmallows on there. It's good for me to do a little extra, especially when I'm WAY not wanting to be patient ... ya' know ... at all. When I came back in to collect their plate, the water had been dumped all over the carpet and peanut butter smeared in there, as well.

We went to pick up lunch for everyone else. When we were at Sonic, I gave them the option of walking around outside (there was a large field next to us). "Well, I know the way back to Mamaw's. I could just WALK!"

"Yes, sweetie, you certainly could. You're barefoot, and you're in the city and would not have me there to protect you. I'm not sure that's the best idea."

Sure enough, they started trucking across the field, back toward the grandparents' house. Would have easily been a 20-30 minute walk. It was 92 degrees with about 478% humidity. Wasn't surprised about ten minutes later when they came walking back (and YES - TEN MINUTES AT SONIC - WTH?). Was never out of my sight. Took advantage of the cooling off period, but stayed safe.

A few minutes on the porch to calm down after we got back, as things ramped up a little as soon as we walked in. EVERYTHING was a trigger. Then, we started talking. They were regulated. You could see it, hear it. That's when they got to the heart of it - the root of it all: Dad and I are leaving on Tuesday for a whole night away from the kids. We're leaving them with their grandmother. My kids loves this woman, but still ... what if she becomes violent when no one is around?

"I wondered if that was the biggie in all of this. You were trying to keep us from leaving."

My child concurred. Well, that, or was hoping we would take them with us! ha! No ... like ha! ha! ha! LOLOLOLOLOLOL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL

They apologized to the grandparents. Apologized to me. We had a talk about why I trust them to care for my children and reminded this child to watch their brothers and sisters ... who HAVE stayed with them before. Note their lack of concern.

Yet, we acknowledged a little visit at the kitchen table does NOT remove the fear. I wrote our cell numbers for us on lots of little pieces of paper. I let my child practice using their grandparents' phone to prove to them it really would ring our cells. They could stash those numbers in secret places so they are always available. In front of EVERYONE we talked about how we take care of each other. Gave them the freedom to sleep alone or with their older sibling while we're gone - whatever they decided they would need. Talked about what we would do to defend ourselves and one another if we ever were threatened by a dangerous person. I explained how I would throw down and destroy any person that ever tried to hurt one of my sweeties. :)

Yes, it was worth it to stay with my child today. I did not want to.

Come ooooooooon, Tuesday!

Happy Father's Day, Miguel

For Father's Day, my husband is five hours away from all of us, sitting in a quiet house (I'm guessing with ESPN on the TV, and some game going on the laptop). Yea for him! He's missing quite a day-in-hell party here. I'm glad he can have some quiet. He certainly deserves it.

I absolutely would not be the kind of mom I am without this man. He knows if he dies on me, I'll find a way to bring him back to life and then kill him. He wouldn't dare leave me ... cause he knows I'll just follow him. He's just too good to ever let go - ever.

I love you, honey. See you tomorrow.

Accepting pics for Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

I know I do not always let you know, but I LOVE using pics from actual blog readers for my Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week posts. If you have one you would like considered, just email it to me: christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

Make sure the subject line says something like "breastfeeding" or "Magical Milk," in case it lands in my junk mail folder.

If you have a blog or website, include the address and I will happily link to you!

In case you thought I wasn't human

Tonight I was letting one of my kids have a radio on in their room. They worked pretty hard today in their healing. We've been talking all day about how their siblings will arrive about midnight, where they will crash to sleep for the evening, how that will be wonderful AND stressful (having to share sleeping spaces when these three have been so spread out all week).

"Mom, why is this other bed set up in here? Should I sleep on it?"

"Honey," *heavy sigh from a very exhausting day of dragging the kids all over for all kinds of fun and swimming in 4 million degree weather* "what is your big feeling? How can I help you?"

Blank stares. A few exact quotations from things I said during the day. Some kids who have spent a lot of time in therapy do prefer to just regurgitate what they think you might want to hear.

"Okay, darlin'. I'm unbelievably tired. I can't wait this one out. Sorry. I was excited you were getting the radio back. I'll go ahead and unplug it and have [your sibling] crash with the other kids tonight. See you in the morning."

They totally snapped, "GET OUT OF HERE!"

I, in a complete and total (very human) huff totally copied her on the way out the door, "GET OUT OF HERE!" ... sounding JUST like a 4-year-old. It smelled very "I know you are but what am I?"

Didn't want any of you to worry. I can be a complete baby. They'll probably wet all over everything. I so don't care. Right now I just want to get my contacts out and read and count the minutes til my husband arrives.

Sometimes you do great. Sometimes you join them in the mess.

Yet, still other times you sound like a preschooler.

"I know you are, but what am I?"

The only thing harder than parenting them is BEING them

We have been talking one of our children through "rewinding" their feelings and finding the source of her behaviors. Yesterday evening they grabbed their bag of sidewalk chalk and headed out the back door (their siblings were using theirs, in the front, which they knew - back door was all locked up).

"Whatcha' doin', sugar lump?"

"Going outside to use my chalk."

"Come over here for a bit."

I just put my chin in my hands, smile and get comfortable. I wait out the "This is my bag! I'm just going outside! What? I just want to go outside! You said I could!!!" Hours, days and weeks pass ... "Okay, fine. I'm very stressed about going out to dinner tonight." My smile gets bigger. That's a bunch of hooey. And finally, they take a deep breath, pout out those lips and says, "I'm mad about earlier."

I don't say a word. I've been working on moving them forward where I think they can, and this child feels strong enough to use their words and be specific. Months ago I would say something funny like, "Oh, right, earlier today when I took a dump in the bathroom. I can see why that would make you want to go out the wrong door!" Now, I just wait. No talking. Just positive facial expressions, loving eyes and singing the Jeopardy "wait" music in my head.

"Earlier today at the restaurant when you knew I broke the crayons on purpose." We were five hours past the incident. They had broken a crayon, then asked their sister to borrow her's, then broke THAT crayon. I've got a year under my belt. I knew it was no accident. Just a way of communicating how they were feeling in the moment.

"Good job with those words. You are crazy brave. Now let's rewind even a bit further. You're going to hate it but I can hold your hand if you want." They rolled their eyes. "Why did you break the crayons?"

Repeat scenerio above. I have to move to a different soundtrack in my head to pass the time. Finally, "When we got in the car after VBS, Presh sat down in the seat I wanted to sit in."

So, they broke their own crayon on purpose so they could borrow their sister's and break that one, to pay her back. Then, we walked through how it was no accident, and they just held onto THAT anger and played dumb later with the bag of chalk (... that lived in the house that Jack built).

I had them draw a picture of the anger they had right then. Wad it up. Put it in the trash where it belongs, because it only hurts them. They acted it out, was smiling. We discussed "leaving it behind" in that trash can and moving forward, instead of carrying the anger with them and paying me back.

My child was so very articulate. They joined right in. They asked for a hug. Three seconds later their brother came in to ask me a question. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice them fiddling with something I had helped them with earlier in the day - messing it up royally.

"Do you need help with that? Come on over here." *quietly where only that child could hear* "Wow. The whole paper-in-the-trash-can really didn't help at all, did it? You still chose to hurt me and pay me back for catching the chalk thing."

Yeah, it's crazy. It does not make sense to most of us. I'll talk more later about this, and why their controlling is based in fear. Yet, my child talked through a day of anger. Yes, they manipulated and controlled. They lied to me ... a lot. To ask them to NOT hurt someone just because they hurt them or saw through the manipulation is like asking my child to poke out their own eyeballs.

But we have dialogue.

My child absolutely despises talking about the feelings behind their behaviors. Hates it. HATES IT. But they're doing it more and more.

Baby steps, friends. I so wish it would all just fix itself. Seriously, though, could I do that? Would I be strong enough? My kid is probably doing a WAY better job than I ever would.

The only thing harder than parenting our children is BEING our children. Remind yourself of this today.

Don't let the sun go down on your RAD

When you ask your 9-year-old to turn off the radio in their room, and they come back 15 minutes later and say, "I don't know how to turn it off," ... it's time to talk about it. Not the radio.

It's never about the radio. It's always a giant fear, and the thought of even talking about that fear brings MORE fear, and the thought of Mom seeing through it sends the fear through the roof ... which looks like anger.

So, we had the radio thing earlier in the day. Then last night my child left their medicine out on the counter on purpose (it's supposed to go in the back pack). It was painfully obvious, and when asked, "Did you forget something? What do we always do to get ready for bed?" they listed everything EXCEPT for taking meds.

Sometimes they talk about it, but they still have big feelings and just wait for an appropriate *cough* time to act on those feelings.

Last night my child got a little loopy. Very belligerent. Threw everything onto their bed. Started to escalate. Refused to talk. TOLD me to get out of their room. Then, when I turned around and caught their eyes, they quickly threw in, "PLEASE get out of my room - I SAID PLEASE!" :) It was a highly controlled escalation. I'll take that. ha!

I gave permission to come out of her room to talk about it before they went to sleep. But they never did. First thing this morning, though, they laid it all out for me.

One thing we are working on is helping my kids to grasp this is not a contest between me and them. Their pain from trauma tells them it is. Everything is about power and control, and others wanting to hurt them. That lie just makes them fight harder. Yet, I am trying to help them absorb the truth: this is for you! This is to help you become all you were born to be! YOU DESERVE TO HEAL! When you talk about your feelings and make positive choices, YOU win!

I'm also trying another little thing. When they make a choice to be controlling, and I question them about it ... and they hem and haw ... I look at them, smile in a very smirky way and say, "Come oooooon. OWN IT!" Then, when they choose to say it, we're already talking big and strong and loud and it makes them feel powerful ... powerful over talking about their feelings. Taking back power and control - not being controlled. YEA! We then do some fist bumps and I say something like, "Dang, you were so brave!"

When they refuse to state their behavior, that's when I say, "Alright. Not a problem. I'll make a guess." Although, the "owning it" approach has brought some success. They have spent their whole lives with zero control, so it gives them some strength and control over something good.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo taken in Nepal by ivo)

What came pouring out of your toilet today?

One of my kids is unable to attend children's camp with their dad and two siblings this week. They is not happy. There has had some very negative behaviors in the past two weeks where they have needed help to pull out of their anger. His dad is the camp director and just can't stop in the middle of the day and help them talk through these steps. Did I mention my child is way not happy?

This child has graduated from attachment therapy. I realize some may think that means they are on a "normal" level socially and emotionally, etc. Realize, though, that just means we no longer need a therapist to help guide us through their attachment to us. My kid still has many, many issues and very negative behaviors still rear their ugly heads.

Like this morning.

"Mom, the toilet is spilling all over the floor."

My interpretation: there are some big, turds full of anger spilling all over the floor.

Plunge. Plunge. Flush. Put down plunger.

"Wow. You must be very angry with me, to want me to have to clean your poo off the floor."

About three seconds of the huffing and puffing begin, then my child looks at me ... I'm smiling ... and they take a deep breath.

"Camp starts today and I can't go!"

A little therapeutic discussion ensues while I hand them towels and get them some Pine-Sol and explain how they will be cleaning up their own mess.

They will also sit down tonight and tell his grandparents what he did, and let them know he'll be happy to clean it again if they do not feel he did a good enough job.

We have the same conversation over and over and over again. This child is so very stuck at a very early level of conscience development. Make poor choices. Blames and punishes everyone else on the planet.

So, we lather, rinse and repeat. They'll get there.

For Pete's sake. Nine months ago they would have been raging just to avoid having the discussion about an overflowing toilet. Today, my kid didn't so much as raise their voice.

I like to give them permission to be mad at me.

"Say, 'Mom, that really pisses me off that you know that! I HATE IT!'" If they don't say it convincingly enough, I have them do it again, or I do it very loudly with a very mean face. It usually brings some laughter, but hey - might as well say it and get it out.

Hmmmmm ... wonder what tomorrow will bring ...

I wish she could just be a regular kid

Mar loves her grandparents ... all of them. Yet, we don't get to see them often.

Tonight we arrive. At dinner I look over and see something I have not witnessed in months. Full-on crazy table manners (putting her fingers into her mouth, up to her palm, just to get a chip in there, then licking them all the way out).

I used some humor to correct her. Then later asked her to help me dry dishes.

"You were working really hard to gross out your grandparents. You must feel very afraid."

"Well, I'm afraid they might do something."

SO good for her - using her words. YEA!

We had a long discussion about her trust in me and who I would and would not ever (over my dead body) allow to be around her, etc. We talked about how long we have stayed at this house before and how loving her grandparents were. Granted, that was before we filed for adoption ... in a RAD mind, one can't help but wonder, "Hmmmmm ... so my parents didn't change, but what about GRANDPARENTS?!? What if they decide to start hurting me??"

"I know talking about it helps, but the feelings don't just magically go away. So, what do you need from me?"

Benadryl to help her sleep, a radio in her room and the door open all night with permission to come crash next to my bed if necessary.

I would love so much if her biggest worry tonight could have been what she'll wear to VBS tomorrow.

A Typical 24-Hours in the Mind of RAD

7:30 am

"Mom, can I put my bedding in the wash? It has been awhile since I washed it."

"Sure."

Wait a minute ... walk down the hall. Get almost to the door and start to stumble backward form the smell of urine. Still wondering why I was such a moron to not immediately assume this, because seriously - my child ASKED to do an extra load of laundry. I know the drill. Just too early in the morning, I guess.

"Wow. You had some really big feelings that came right out of your urethra smack onto your bed. What happened, honey?"

She let me know how angry she was about bedtime. She was dragging (MUCHO RAD dragging) and I let her know she was done picking out a book to read. She didn't like it. I could see the anger in her eyes. We talked through steps to do something with her anger, which would not cause a consequence. She skipped off to bed, and I SWEAR she must have mentally absorbed pee from the other kids to produce the vast quantities she did. Why isn't some medical journal beating down our door??

Okay, so she didn't use her steps over the anger at bedtime ... but we backed up a bit. She was already in a mood. She came out from her shower and was soaking wet. She didn't dry her hair (this is an old school behavior for her - not drying off from her shower and dripping water all over everything). We talk for a minute. Lots of denial. I remain lovingly consistent.

"I was still mad about the bird feeder."

Around lunch time, she had gone outside to fill up the bird feeder. Her younger sister was already outside playing. All of the other kids went inside. Those two are not allowed to be alone together. Of course, she begins to argue the filling of the bird feeder is vital, so Presh should have to go inside. I hear it all, and remind Mar she was not the first one outside ... to come inside. Big pout fest ensued.

Of course, 24 hours earlier we had talked about the true stress behind this recent building of feelings. Take a trip to the grandparents, mix with with a hearty dose of Father's Day, stir and bake til it explodes. This is the point of origin. It then becomes a snowball, careening toward the bottom of the hill, growing with each rotation.

I'm trying to stand in front of it and slow it down ... with a blowdryer.

Thursday Ka-POW

* Was privileged to be a guest blogger for the Livesay's this week ... while they were off boinking or whatever it is missionaries do when they have four days away from their children (*insert every and all Missionary Position jokes here*). Of course, I chose a very passive and non-threatening topic for discussion. *cough*

* Some of you know I inhaled a bug a few days ago. Yup. Was exerting myself outside. Took in a deep breath. Like slow motion, saw a small black bug fly in and felt it enter my breathing passages. I proceeded to hack up a lung for approximately 36 hours. I think at least most of its anatomy may be dislodged at this point. Allow me to just say, "Ewwww."

* I have been on a de-crappifying de-cluttering kick. I honestly believe my children fart junk out of their butts all night long. Seriously. Where the hey-friggin-diddle did all this stuff come from? Sorry to all grammar whores. Let me try again ... from where the hey-friggin-diddle did all this stuff come?

* There is a good possibility I will have some mornings free next week. I plan to see my parents with three of my children in tow, but they (the kids, not my parents) will spend their mornings at VBS at our former church. I know it's coming, but I still feel like it may all just be a dream. Free time ... for many, many days ... in a row ...

* If you live in the Dallas area and you just thought, "You better come see me if you're in Dallas, you turd!" ... well, you got it half right. Get your butt to ME. I will have spent five hours alone with more than half my children in a car, and it will take all week of these morning breaks to recover. Come to me, and bring something yummy. (Leslie, you are the only exception, because your parenting whoa's trump mine right now ... although I know you well enough to just hang out at Target all week and I'll eventually see you)

* I have decided to set a goal for spider veins on my legs. This way, every time a new one appears I am really excited and happy because I'm one step closer to my goal.

Happy Thursday.

How I stopped yelling at my kids

I come from a long line of professional yellers, stompers and door slammers. I had a PhD in verbal assaults. It was my gift.

Yet, today, I do not yell. I do not yell at my husband or my kids. I would love to say it was the meds for depression and anxiety, but I cut it out even before then. Here is how I did it:

STEP 1: Believe yelling is not okay. When you are screaming at someone, you are not thinking clearly, you have abandoned love and kindness, and ... well ... it's wrong. It's just plain wrong. Yelling hurts. It never helps. Ya' know ... cause it's WRONG!

STEP 2: Acknowledge your children learn through what you do, more than what you say. "STOP YELLING AT YOUR BROTHER!!!" Um, yeah.

STEP 3: If it's good enough for your kids, it's good enough for you. Give your kids permission to say, "Mom, can you please change your voice?" Also, in our house we do something extra for the person we have hurt. So, if I yelled at my kids, I owed them an extra treat or some extra reading time or they could stay up a little later, etc. I received consequences for yelling.

STEP 4: Do not yell at your child the first time they rationally and calmly say, "Mom, can you please change your voice?" You'll want to, but it's better to put yourself in a time out ... in your room ... while you scream into a pillow.

STEP 5: Yell less and less and less until you are no longer a yeller.

Magical Milk Pic-O-The-Week

(photo by Hilary)

Therapy at Long John Silver's

Or, as we say in our house, "John Long Sliver's."

Anywho, what started as a minor correction after church turned into hot sauce being spilled at the Long John Silver's/A&W joint. By the time Mar was at the table eating, her top bun was disintegrating ... covered in hot sauce and the inside contents of her burger (this was the OUTSIDE of the bun ... how she does this stuff without us noticing is still beyond me ... she could make millions as a magician).

We have come a long way with Mar, especially in the past month. It was a moment and a time to address it and help her talk about the big feeling which led to the burger blow-up. Don't assume you are at this point with your child (remember, we've had a year of constant and intensive therapeutic parenting and attachment therapy - some kids could not handle this approach).

"Looks like you're done with your burger. Why don't you just eat your fries."

Minor tears.

After cleaning gunky hamburger parts off her hands, I asked her to join me up by front of the restaurant ... close to the spot where everyone placed their orders. It's kinda' like taking your date to a really nice restaurant to break up - you know they won't make a scene. Mar absolutely will NOT do her "stuff" with other adults watching.

So, I kicked back and said, "Let's talk about the big feeling which caused you to make those choices with your hamburger."

*the next 5-10 minutes were full of multiple versions of the same question with lots of love and compassion, followed by lots of "Nothing!" "It was an accident!" etc., etc., etc. No arguing. No sarcasm. Just loving and genuine concern. Lather, rinse, repeat.*

And then, after a big huff, she said, "I'm mad about earlier!"

We talked through the big feeling and we discussed ways she could do things differently the next time. We hugged. We stated together some truths about her - counteracting the lies she had believed about herself (therefore taking them out on her hamburger).

"Would you like fries with that therapy?"





(photo by Esmée)

Holy Guacamole

There is a particular activity Mar likes to do wrong on purpose (Learning Breakthrough). I've let it slide for a very long time. Today, I finally said, "Ya' know, everyone else has to do it, so how 'bout you just sit and watch while they all take turns OR you can do it correctly the first time."

Can you hear that? It's the sound of a very large rocket careening for earth.

She took a dive. As things go, she did not act out right away. It showed up in bits and pieces and ended with her slamming the bathroom door in her father's face many hours later after doing her best to sabotage a family bike outing.

When I entered her room later, she was trying to hang things over my loving words spray painted on her walls. :)

I asked her to lie down on the bed, head on the pillow, so I could put one arm around her (she didn't have to look at me or any of that jazz). Well, she did the squirmy game, and we were slowly migrating off the mattress. Her head was sinking deeper, and she was almost to my belly. "Honey, please keep your head on your pillow."

My smartie grabbed the far end of her pillow (just above where my head was stationed) and whipped that thing down in lightening speed ... so that what wasn't under her head was tucked neatly down along her stomach. Have I told you she's a genius?

Of course, it was so obvious and so very talented ... I couldn't NOT laugh. Deep, cackling belly laugh. She tried hard not to respond. She's great at hiding any hint of happiness with a whining voice. Well, the whining and the laughing and the pillow wrestling and the wiggling ... all turned into a giant tickle/wrestling type thing (I'm not sure where the red pom-pom came from, but at one point we were doing cheers in one another's faces to distract and then go in for a foot tickle and such). We were SO LOUD, and the whole family took turns coming to watch Marah's giant rage ... only to find us cackling and flopping each other all over the room.

It was exhausting, but it was just what she needed. She did NOT want to talk about her feelings. She DID want to rejoin the family, but she could NOT bring herself to do it. She needed a segue. I gave it to her.

Tomorrow I will tell her very clearly she WILL do Learning Breakthrough every single day, and I expect her to do it wrong every single day, and she can be sneaky about it or flaunt it, but it needs to be very, very wrong (this reverse psychology does not work on Mar, and she will take great delight in actually following the reverse psychology instructions). In all honesty, anything she does with that program is helpful, and it is absolutely not worth her feeling so stripped of control. She has been doing so many positive things lately. Yet, I pushed. It was just too much.

Message received.

That kid is not "bad" - he's hurt

My oldest daughter was eating breakfast this morning, about to head back to a technical school camp for the morning. She told me about a conversation on the bus yesterday. One girl was discussing a kid at her school. She had moved over 12 times in her 12 years of life. She dressed weird and talked constantly of blood and gross things and stuff she had done or wanted to do, which shocked and disgusted all the other kids.

Mac smiled at me and said, "Mom, I knew EXACTLY what was wrong with that girl! She is so afraid she'll get moved again. She's just trying to push everyone away! So, I explained it to this girl and told her she needs a really good friend who can help her get better and not get freaked out."

On a side note: for those who continuously wonder and never ask out loud, "How could you do this to your "other" children - bring in such turmoil to your home and family?" Yeah. My kids "get it" and they will spend their lifetimes helping other people "get it." And they will happily admit parts of it have SUCKED!! But none of us will ever be the same.

Okay ... so back to the conversation ...

Anywho, I all but cried. Then, today, I discover this little gem through Lisa. If you have ever adopted any child - no matter the circumstances or age, if you are a teacher or a friend or a neighbor ... if you breathe in and out every single day, I beg you to watch all 19 minutes of this video. You will start to "get it."

I plan to watch this at least once a month. Probably more.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Photo from Cate. "This is my daughter who came home through adoption as a preschooler. She wasn't breastfed ... We talk pretty openly about bodies and babies around here. I love that she doesn't run for a toy bottle when her baby's hungry."

I'm gonna' try to talk about it again

Anyone wondering about the whole parenting-trauma is going in our home?

Sure you are. Thanks for not asking. There is an ebb and flow, and I know it seems sometimes just TALKING about the flowing can cause major ebbing.

However ... (knock on wood, particle board, whatever) ... one of our children has turned a corner. I don't know if the big two months of escalation and regression were what many experts refer to as a "last hurrah" or what. I have no clue.

Here is what we do know. This kid is working much harder at having control over their actions and functioning as a much more "normal" kid - enjoying it. We are releasing the boundaries veeeeery slowly, and they are hanging in there with us ... and certainly letting us know when we are giving them too much freedom or privilege (oh, how I wish this were with actual words, but we all know better!).

I'll give you some examples. I know many of you are curious, especially those whose children have not yet come anywhere close to turning any of the many, many corners in their journey toward healing. Remember, there is no formula. This is just how it's looking with our daughter in our home right now. This child's birthday is coming up. They may be off the charts during that time. They may just wake up on the wrong side of the sock drawer one day. You can't always know. So, take it with a grain of salt.

We are able to stay on top of and in front of the escalation. The other night this child was corrected for something. It was the end of the day. They were tired. Functioning more "normally" is also very stressful for them. So, they went immediately into a stomp fest and yelled, "Fine!" We asked them to return into the room. After all we've been through, we knew this was completely fabricated (no building up - just one of those last ditch efforts at her "old stuff"). Anywho, they stomped over to Michael and I with their bottom lip pooched so far out I thought it might fall off. It was pretty comical. We couldn't help it. We both started giggling. Our child held it for a bit longer, and then their own smile finally broke. "Mooooooooom!"

Sometimes now when they are doing something just to receive extra attention - even if it's negative (particularly in the car), I'll say, "Oh, honey, you thought we had forgotten about you. We know you're there. Hi! (waving)" and all the other kids will join in smiling and waving and saying, "Hi!" Smiles and eye rolling. Rage/pout/whine averted.

We say over and over and OVER (and over and over) again how people love to be around this child, just because of who they are. My kid IS funny and IS delightful and IS fun to be around. We have regular rap-sessions where everyone talks about the things they love about each other. It then leads into a big sap fest with everyone getting all mushy lovey on our whole family. Sometimes serious. Sometimes funny.

Now, this child still does something controlling or manipulative at least 7-10 times a day (that I NOTICE). I'm not exaggerating. It's still pretty constant. Yet they allows us to address it with silliness and humor. I pray for creativity in this every single day.

A corner has been turned, however. It is a really long journey for our kids. One good month does not healing make. Yet, it is a part of the healing process. It is beautiful. It is hope. It is a big glimmer she is trying and she is making a very scary effort. I am thrilled for my kid!