Don't expect, suggest.

The last day of my adoption leave is before me, and all in all, it was a good time. The time off really didn't feel like time off--but I'd heard that raising a kid is hard work and I guess it's true.

My leave culminated in a five-day trip to South Dakota, where Rose and I had never been. I realize I'm doing this blog a major disservice to gloss over adoption day. I will go back and give that important day, July 19, 2011, all the credit and glory it deserves. I promise.

In the meantime, I need to mentally unpack the past five days. It's been emotional from the first day through the last minute. Before I become brutally honest, I'll post some of the optimistic, rose colored photos for those who prefer to dawn those glasses.

I actually snuck this photo before Rose realized it, hence, she doesn't have a scowl on her face.

To entice Rose into goofy vacation pictures, we attempted several ourselves. It failed, but we got some cute pics regardless.

A bird taking refuge from the heat in Custer Park and the bison doing what bison do best.

 

OK, so the fantasy ends there.

The picture below says it all. Notice who's missing? Yep, the same child who we thought and expected would be elated over a vacation refused to be in any pictures, was a moody teenager most of the time, mean other times, and defiant other times.

While sitting in a cafe in half-way to the Black Hills, where Rose refused to let Mike play a connect the dots game with us, it hit me like a load of bricks, this isn't the family I've dreamed of. I watched a family across from us. A mom, dad toddler and infant. Jealousy and anger filled me. Sure, they looked exhausted. Their toddler was needy. Yet, they were glued together by genetics lacking from our little family. I've got to keep that jealousy at bay though.  I knew this wasn't going to be like that.

We pushed onward despite my frustration, and by the third day nearly turned back when Rose refused to move away from a steep hill edge because her new shows were "slip proof." It sounds laughable, but I could just picture her trying out these shoes magical qualities and falling right off a cliff.

There were pleasing moments--watching Mike teach Rose to swim in the hotel pool each night, for example. Watching her face light up as she made a pressed penny at Wall Drug--which she'd never done before. Those moments feel all too few and far in between right now.

Tonight she had another anxiety attack resulting in extreme defiance, forcing us to leave the pizza place before our dinner arrived. She and I had a productive talk once she'd calmed down. She cried admitting she didn't know why she acted out or how to stop it. My heart breaks for the behavior she'll have to unlearn and brain chemistry she'll need to overcome. I believe her.

I just hope my heart can withstand her fury because at this moment, I am an exhausted shell of a human being unsure of any of this but very much certain we aren't raising a child but healing one. Pray for me.

So busy

OK, this is a note to myself to remember to catch the blog up on Rosie getting her yellow belt, the other adventures of our second week together and the adoption. Right now we're packed and ready to head out to South Dakota for our second family vacation.

Also, I caught myself thinking, maybe we should adopt just one more...and in complete seriousness.

Special Treat

On the way home from her Taekwondoe class last night, I asked Rosie if she wanted something special for breakfast today so she's fully fueled for her test.

"Yes." She said confidently. "I would like a piece of bread, a glass of milk, and two fiber gummies."

"Hmm, I was thinking something like chocolate chip pancakes, but bread, milk, and fiber gummies it is." I said, trying to hide my amusement.

"OOH, no, I want chocolate chip pancakes." Rosie hollered.  "Ahh, then that's what we'll have, I said."

When I told Mike this story, he said, "So special food for her is prison food?"

Goals Achieved

Today, after a small mental health break sponsored by Grandma Vicki, I felt put together enough to take Rosie bowling (goal 1 achieved) and take this picture (goal 2, check). These goals are truly helping me save my sanity and build my relationship with my daughter.

Rosie's mood has drastically improved from the meloncholy and defiance of the morning and night. She hated bowling, though, because she couldn't beat my scores ranging from 50 to 62. I told her my scores were laughable among most adults, but that didn't console her.

She is a true perfectionist whose frustration over "not even getting a spare" reduced her to tears. I tried to gently encourage her gently to avoid the bicycle episode. It didn't really help. She mostly remained sulky, but I did have a few moments of mommy brilliance that managed to pull her out of it.

It was fun, though, even when she pushed the reset button after I had thrown my ball--causing it to noisily crash into the metal pin sweeper causing no damage, thank goodness.

Who couldn't love this face?

Today, I tried a new strategy.

In the past 36 hours or so Rosie has been in a high state of frustration and anxiety resulting in her breaking many of her colored pencils in half and ripping sequins off of her shirt. Why? Mostly because the therapist tried to work with her on her "I'm always right and must argue all points" attitude. Rosie doesn't care for constructive criticism. That was last night.

We weathered the storm fairly well. Each outburst requires a bit of strategizing and can never follow the same course. This time, I did carry Rosie to her room to prevent her from throwing more sequins on the floor, which were hard and sharp and could easily get embedded into the dog's paws--a point I explained and she ignored.

When she refused to take her meds, we calmly told her she would have to go to the hospital where they could make sure she would take them. We need to keep her safe and healthy. She doubted me at first until I started packing a bag for her. Then she quickly took them.

This morning she woke up still very much dying for negative attention and vying for a fight. I wouldn't give it to her, but today she reduced to tears out of her frustration in being unable to do or say the right thing. This is the first time this has happened in this kind of situation--where I have seen her struggle to comprehend what she could to to make things better, not ensure she'll win. Usually she just stays angry. When she's angry and in the mood to argue, there's no point in trying to extend the olive branch.

Rosie also voluntarily got dressed despite her mood, which is also a first. So when she started crying this morning, I gave her a hug, told her to go sit on the couch where I would bring her breakfast, her morning meds, and I would put in a movie--of my choosing. And here we sit watching "A Muppet's Christmas Carol" quietly. A new strategy for a new combination of behaviors.  If anything, at least I had a 1.5 hour break filled with some of the most lovable characters ever created.

Copycat

I stole this picture from another parent's blog. Seemed fitting for this evening.

Days 1-4

Day 1: An enjoyable picnic spent at Minnehaha Falls. A place where I spent many enjoyable summer days as a kid with my first friend.

Day 2: An afternoon in the dog park, this little plant struck me for some reason.



Day 3: A girl and her dog.

Day 4: This photo seems to say it all today.

Goals

Rosie came back after a week of camp and said to Mike and I, "I got homesick Thursday. That is the first time I have ever gotten homesick. Were you daughter-sick?"

Of course, we told her we were daughter sick. Well, I did as I held back a few tears. Mike told her about how he was sick with a cold first. Boys.

Anyway, the comment was adorable, and it showed us she is attaching to us. We really did miss her. The house just felt empty and wrong.

Today starts my adoption/maternity leave. Three weeks without work to better get to know my daughter. A friend asked if I had goals for the time. I kind of scoffed at the idea initially. (Sorry, friend if you're reading this...)

This is the first time I have had 3 weeks off since I was probably 15, maybe even 12 when I became a full time summer sitter. So why would I want pressure of goals around this break?

Then the break drew closer and my anxiety increased as thoughts like, "what if I am really bad at this mother thing" flooded my mind. So yesterday, despite my initial objections, I set a goal, and I told Rosie that goal: no matter how grumpy we might be at eachother, we will do one fun thing every day.

That single idea made her smile and pushed aside a bit of my anxiety so today I set another goal: I will take one picture each day to chronical this time. (Rosie wasn't as thrilled with that one so don't expect to see too many photos with Rosie.)

Then, I found myself setting a third goal since the first two helped ease my nerves. I will not spend all the down time we have this break cleaning the house. I give myself the liberty to leave laundry unhung and floors strewn with puppy fur.

That goal I kept to myself, chuckling as I thought it since just a week prior the very idea of setting goals seemed a little silly to me. So thanks, friend, for the idea and sorry for my initial rejection. The inner calm I have found as a result has helped, at least today.

And what a perfect day--but I will save that for another post with pic. For now, here's a photo of Rosie at the pool with her friend yesterday.

Independence Day

For our first 4th of July together, we'll be apart. Rosie had asked to go to a bible camp that happens to occur this week. When she learned it was happening over the 4th of July, she complained a little so we gave her the choice to stay home. She wisely decided to go.

Now, her independence is making me a little nervous. This is her first trip away from us for more than two nights. I worry she won't make friends. I worry she'll be too controlling and get into trouble. I worry she'll get hurt.

I'm going to try to find independence form my worrying, though. She has been to this camp before so she knows what she's getting into. Yet, something very interesting happened in the last 24 hours that has made my worrying a little harder to push aside....

Mike's parents took Rosie for Friday night, and for the first time I didn't spend the entire time worrying about how she would do. In fact, the emotion that I couldn't shake while she was gone was a little sadness. I really missed her, and I kind of regretted having her go away for a night when she was heading to camp for a week so soon after. Long story short: I've started to lose my previous child-less independence. I'm attaching to her. I think that's great.

Rosie is also starting to show me that she's getting less personal independence from me as well. When we met Grandma and Grandpa at Red Lobster for dinner and the Rosie exchange, Grandma mentioned Rosie was too tired to get her jammies on Friday night. Rosie's eyes got big as she looked sheepishly at me, then at Grandma and said, "That's not good." Then she got a little down on herself for a bit, but she managed to pull out of it, finish her dinner, and even sneak a dessert out of the night.

As we walked out of the restaurant, Rosie rushed up to me to try to give me a zillion excuses for why she didn't put on jammies and do the other basic care tasks we expect of her. I simply said, I love you but I don't accept those excuses, Rosie. I know you can do all those things and more. I did add that visits might to grandparents, etc., might need to be shortened if she can't do these things without us. Then, we changed the subject, the entire night ended very happily. She showered and got into her jammies, and we watched two episodes of The Cosby Show until bed.

From my my lens, this means Rosie is starting to care that we get upset when she doesn't do what she needs to. At least a little bit. To quote her therapist, securely attached children seek their parents' approval and fear losing it. Children who suffer from Reactive Attachment Disorder lack any desire to gain or keep approval from adoptive parents mostly because their birth parents never proved they could be counted on to supply basic needs. Instead, Rosie learned to get what she needed her own way beginning at a young age, which makes our role seem almost unnecessary to her. She can get by on her own.

Oh, and Mike had promised to post a story from his time with her in June, but right now he's sitting beside me, working on a maze to put in Rosie's camp care package.