I still have a very not-doing-great child.
A million times better than two years ago, but have I mentioned how those good days (and even weeks - WOW) really spoil you and then the bad days smack you between the eyes?
I'm on my game, though. I'm a therapeutic super star. Mostly.
We are keeping it silly. Talking about all the super crazy stuff that my kid COULD do - "Hey, you seem to feel pretty stressed and funky again today. I thought later you might want to run away, set the house on fire and perhaps dance on my head. Wadda' ya' say? Around 4:00?" I get a smile and a rolling of the eyes.
REMINDER: therapeutic parenting does not stop the behavior. It creates an environment of perceived safety over and over and over again while healing very slowly takes place (emphasis on veeeeeerrrrrryyyyyyyy slllllooooooowwwwwllllyyyy).
Yesterday morning I asked my lovely to take a break in their room after being pretty ugly to their siblings. We were having smoothies for breakfast, so I was all, "You can just take your smoothie with you - read a book - rest ..." (I got the robot look - you trauma Momma's know the look - the I-will-not-fall-for-the-therapeutic-intervention look) "... OR you could smash your glass against something and smear your very dark purple smoothie all over the wall, maybe break something on your bed, draw a picture of me and poop on it?"
Yeah, I TOTALLY got a smile and then they fought it back HARD. It was gonna' be one of those days. But still, always worth sneaking in a poop, fart or booger remark. Typically throws them off enough.
Well, the one thing I did not mention or suggest was to pour the very dark purple smoothie over some of their siblings' Webkinz that were still in their room from the day before. No biggie. Everyone kept a poker face (cause I prep everyone in these situations, "It is just a stuffed animal. They'll wash them to make it right. If they are stained, they'll buy you a new one. It's okay to be sad, but let's work really hard to not fight back."). My kids are all rock stars and really do let me teach them how to be therapeutic siblings. No reactions from any of them.
And when that child was ready (I did not push - just said, "When you're ready"), they ran the purple plushies through the washer and dryer. All came out looking fantabulous. Restitution was made and Mom resisted the urge to keep score and lecture and yell.
I wanted to yell, yo. But I did not. Fist bumps all around. OH DEAR GOD, DID I WANT TO YEEEELLLL! Instead, I started to do math problems in my head. And I crocheted. Cause it works. Don't knock it, if it works! We have to switch up our brains and energy just like they do. Oh, and you're all getting booties for Christsexmas.
So, I did not yell and the rest of the day was really pretty okay. Minor corrections and redirections here and there. Nothing more than the average child being a butt head to their siblings.
One day at a time.