Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Neighborhood Show
It was mom who melted down today. This morning Rose wasn't happy. Who is? It's Monday, right?
I managed to deal with her grumpyness. Then she really started to up the sass. When she does that, she flips into a dialect that, as she confirmed, "is just how sassy black women talk." It's not the dialect as much as the total disrespect that comes along with it. Yet, I weathered that, too, until we were running late, which is a big deal because it means she misses the bus to summer school.
So I urged her to hurry up and was met with a, "you ain't the boss of me, who you think you are?" So I yanked the shoes out of her hand opened the door and threw them down to the street. All the while she was still going on about her birth mom. How I'm not her mom. More red.
I took her back pack and hurled that down the front steps. She kept going to so the peanut butter and jelly crumpets I had made for her I crushed in my hand and flung it into the blushes saying, "go ahead and steal the free breakfast from the poor kids." (Mom isn't politically correct when she's mad.)
She was still sassing, and I was like the hulk: totally unable snap out of my anger. In a last bit of flourish I threw my bagel with cream cheese, and it landed on my windshield, leaving a creamy white streak. Rose wasn't phased in the least. Calmly looking me she said, "I'm not taking my back pack." It lay on the steps, a bit of peanut butter smeared on it.
So I pushed her (not hard) to her back pack, made her pick it up and pushed her (again, not hard) to the car. She got in, and she continued to taunt me. She thought she had the upper hand, but I reminded her that family time was out of the question the longer she didn't behave respectfully. "I don't care." That is code she does.
The drop off at school wasn't a terrible success either, but the extreme drama wasn't there. She pushed it, but I didn't care. She hadn't missed her bus, so I was able to get to work after sobbing my way to my car, and all the way down the free way. I'm not proud of any of this. Pretty embarrassed, actually--especially about the pushing. So I figure I'll include this here to keep myself honest; to remind myself I have a lot of work to do.
I managed to deal with her grumpyness. Then she really started to up the sass. When she does that, she flips into a dialect that, as she confirmed, "is just how sassy black women talk." It's not the dialect as much as the total disrespect that comes along with it. Yet, I weathered that, too, until we were running late, which is a big deal because it means she misses the bus to summer school.
So I urged her to hurry up and was met with a, "you ain't the boss of me, who you think you are?" So I yanked the shoes out of her hand opened the door and threw them down to the street. All the while she was still going on about her birth mom. How I'm not her mom. More red.
I took her back pack and hurled that down the front steps. She kept going to so the peanut butter and jelly crumpets I had made for her I crushed in my hand and flung it into the blushes saying, "go ahead and steal the free breakfast from the poor kids." (Mom isn't politically correct when she's mad.)
She was still sassing, and I was like the hulk: totally unable snap out of my anger. In a last bit of flourish I threw my bagel with cream cheese, and it landed on my windshield, leaving a creamy white streak. Rose wasn't phased in the least. Calmly looking me she said, "I'm not taking my back pack." It lay on the steps, a bit of peanut butter smeared on it.
So I pushed her (not hard) to her back pack, made her pick it up and pushed her (again, not hard) to the car. She got in, and she continued to taunt me. She thought she had the upper hand, but I reminded her that family time was out of the question the longer she didn't behave respectfully. "I don't care." That is code she does.
The drop off at school wasn't a terrible success either, but the extreme drama wasn't there. She pushed it, but I didn't care. She hadn't missed her bus, so I was able to get to work after sobbing my way to my car, and all the way down the free way. I'm not proud of any of this. Pretty embarrassed, actually--especially about the pushing. So I figure I'll include this here to keep myself honest; to remind myself I have a lot of work to do.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Things get more real
I've been fairly silent lately. Mostly silenced by happiness. Rose's white noise from the last year has all but disappeared. The tension in the house is all but gone. Thinking of her as a three year old, not eleven, increased my patience. She's learning how to be a kid in some instances. She's letting us be parents, some times.
On the flip side, we're able to start seeing the real beauty and sad truthful longer term damage. These are my takeaways:
First, the beauty.
1) She is truly empathetic.
2) She is very, very stubborn. (A coworker today aptly said she had a daughter who she knew would make a cool adult, if she didn't kill her daughter before she reached adulthood.)
3) She is really passionate. She hasn't found her passion, yet. When she does, watch out.
4) She wants to be loved.
Then the sad.
1) No matter what we do, we can't convince her we know how to keep her safe. This results in lots of defiance--some acts more risky than others.
2) Realizing how much she doesn't trust in anyone's ability besides her own makes me especially all too aware of the hard road she'll head down.
3) She makes friends with abusive children. She is hurt by them. She goes back to them and gets hurt again. She takes comfort in pain, heightening my fear of a more dangerous path this could lead as she grows up.
Then the pathetic.
As a grown up, a perfectionist first born, people pleasing grown up, I'm realizing I can't control this. I realize no matter what we do, we can create positive change, but we can't deter Rose. In essence, "success" as a parent isn't truly definable. In training, one haggard, tired adoptive mom said she learned parenting meant attending the court cases for her son and writing him in court. I bristled, thinking I'd never have that fate. I'm too smart for that.
While I hope i don't my know-it-all big sister sensibilities prove right. I hope my optimism that I can flip any situation around, the reality we've seen lately makes me feel a lot more glass half full. This makes it really hard to bond. I have to somehow create a way to not take Rose's stumbles personally so I can overcome this hinderance. I'm just not sure how.
On the flip side, we're able to start seeing the real beauty and sad truthful longer term damage. These are my takeaways:
First, the beauty.
1) She is truly empathetic.
2) She is very, very stubborn. (A coworker today aptly said she had a daughter who she knew would make a cool adult, if she didn't kill her daughter before she reached adulthood.)
3) She is really passionate. She hasn't found her passion, yet. When she does, watch out.
4) She wants to be loved.
Then the sad.
1) No matter what we do, we can't convince her we know how to keep her safe. This results in lots of defiance--some acts more risky than others.
2) Realizing how much she doesn't trust in anyone's ability besides her own makes me especially all too aware of the hard road she'll head down.
3) She makes friends with abusive children. She is hurt by them. She goes back to them and gets hurt again. She takes comfort in pain, heightening my fear of a more dangerous path this could lead as she grows up.
Then the pathetic.
As a grown up, a perfectionist first born, people pleasing grown up, I'm realizing I can't control this. I realize no matter what we do, we can create positive change, but we can't deter Rose. In essence, "success" as a parent isn't truly definable. In training, one haggard, tired adoptive mom said she learned parenting meant attending the court cases for her son and writing him in court. I bristled, thinking I'd never have that fate. I'm too smart for that.
While I hope i don't my know-it-all big sister sensibilities prove right. I hope my optimism that I can flip any situation around, the reality we've seen lately makes me feel a lot more glass half full. This makes it really hard to bond. I have to somehow create a way to not take Rose's stumbles personally so I can overcome this hinderance. I'm just not sure how.
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