Rose's 14th Birthday

It's been a whirlwind Thanksgiving weekend culminating in today, Rose's 14th birthday.

She celebrated with The Schultes.

Then my family and our close friends at Olive Garden (the restaurant of her choice).

And, lastly, tonight with us, she got her Hermione wizard wand. 

 

Which she loved. Which I love because it means she's still a bit of a kid somewhere.

I only say that because this is what she looked like just two years ago. 

Since we adopted her at 10 and she didn't come with any baby pictures,  I look back at this picture with sadness. She seemed so little...

Early to rise makes you...

As if life wasn't crazy enough I decided I needed a new challenge. Something beyond hard so I can feel I've done something. 

Last Tueaday, I decided getting up 5 days a week at 4 am and working out all 5 days was this obstacle.

And I set forth determined to do that. The first week, I successfully got up 3 days in a row starting Wednesday and worked out. And guess what, I felt awesome. I was invigorated, my brain was alive, and I felt amazingly calm.

Ok, I can imagine the eye rolls. Who wants to hear about my exercise? No one. I get that. It's as interesting as hearing about people's diets.

In this case though, the unique factor is the sleep deprevation. By Friday I was ready for bed by 2 pm as the adrenaline rush dropped away.

Even by 10 am I felt my brain chugging along as I struggled to have a coffee with a new lawyer at my firm, so much so I worried he'd perceive my incoherent sentence fragments and rambling as drunkeness. So I explained my early workout routine. In hindsight, I'm not sure why.

The look in his eye clearly cast as much judgement as if I'd said I'd had a Bloody Mary before work. Though I think my discipline intimidated him, even if my stilted brain didn't.

This week, though, I couldn't make the five days of early workouts. I did succeed three days: Monday, Wednesday, and friday. Next week I'm shooting for four.

I will let people think what they want. I will accomplish this challenge and study in sleep deprevation.

Oranges in time out

When we set out to adopt a kid, and we put down our preferences, it never dawned on me to ask for a "type a" kiddo. 

A kid like me who lived to get good grades and please everyone, especially her parents. Who naturally stayed on top of homework, who asked for help when stuck, who kept education her top priority.

Instead, I got what I'm deciding is a type orange kid, because her behaviors are so foreign to me, I can't fathom how to parent her. Then we fight. 

For example, today Rose had a few things to finish for English. Oh, but first, she had a melt down about doing the homework, which forced us to put her in time out. Literally in the corner, like a toddler. See the pic.

After fifteen minutes in solitary, she was all too happy to do her work.  Of course, it took her an hour to do what should have been 30 minutes of work. Not a surprising pace for Rose when she's avoiding things.

Still, I went to check on her and noticed she was stuck. Sitting there staring at her paper baffled and ashamed. She'd been stuck like that for at least 15 minutes, she said.

Keep in mind, I was literally one room over. So was Mike. Yet she didn't seek our help. She had no desire to do so. My little orange just wallowed in frustration alone.

I just don't get it. I am stumped. How do we teach her to seek help without shame? How do we enable her to care about herself enough to be her own advocate? 

This has happened with her repeatedly and no matter how many times she sees that asking for help isn't hard, and that getting help speeds up her work, she repeats this cycle.

So I'll noodle on that for some time since those traits came naturally to me. In the meantime, I will be putting my 14-year-old in solitary time out wayyyyy more often when she's in a mood. 

No muss, no fuss, and after 5 minutes she was willing to do her work!! I made her stay there for 15 minutes, for effect and to give he illusion I am in charge (ha ha ha...she rules this house really).

Label conundrums

I've decided there is no true winning as a parent in a label-ridden society. Especially  since Rose has a chrome book. 

Let me back up. 

First, Rose has been labeled with multiple diagnoses. They're dead on, by the way. Plus, by understanding needs related to the labels--combined with the help of great advancement in psychological medicine--we've seen Rose make significant strides. Labels here don't give Rose an excuse at all. They're positive communication vehicles for us as her guardians. Yayyyy for labels in this instance.

Enter the Chrome Book...

A chrome book with no real filters handed to a kiddo with boundary issues, a family history that's scary, at best, and a lack of value in education. 

Enter the helicopter parents...yes, we've been labeled. 

Labeled as such because we review Rose's history daily and notice trends. We call or email the school frequently to ask how or why so much time was spent browsing Harry Potter sites instead of doing Algebra.

Yet, still the stupid label stings. Especially when we have to work so hard to protect her. Especially when people like social workers who get our kiddo say we are doing the right things. Still, most others don't get it, and so we're hit with a label.

Plus, if we decide to let go and give rose "normal" privileges of a 13-year-old she creates a Facebook profile using her birth name, applies no security to he page and includes our street address. That really happened. We just found it. Scary.

So for those of you asking me to pretend I have a "normal" kid, the advice is appreciated but that label is least helpful of all. She is beautiful because she survived what most normal kids can't and has intelligence beyond her years. She is amazing. She isn't normal. If she was, she'd be in a mental health ward.

So I'll take it... Helicopter parent.. This tiger mom would rather have a well adjusted kid who I've healed, than a mess who I pretended was "just like" a "fully adjusted" kiddo.  

Great blog post

I came across the following and wanted to share it here because it's so true. It also accurately lists things you shouldn't say to adoptive parents.

http://headsup07up.blogspot.com/2014/09/10-things-not-to-say-to-adopted-child.html?m=1

All about her day

We made it through another first day of school. Applause!! Freedom!! Happy dance!!

I love the first day of school, and not because of the parental euphoria it causes.

I love it because I have started taking it off so I can start the day in the exact, same, way.

First, I choose what I want to make for breakfast. Today was banana chocolate chip pancakes. Super delicious, I recommend you try it: http://greatideas.people.com/2014/03/14/bakerella-chocolate-chip-banana-pancakes-recipe/

After breakfast is consumed, we snap the obligatory first day of school pic, included below, along with her 7th grade picture, and a link to 4th, 5th and 6th.

Once Rose is gone I set to work prepping the dinner I let her choose. Tonight, for the second year she asked for lasagna. 

After the kitchen is cleaned up, I get a little mommy time. Today was even better cause Mike was home and did the breakfast dishes.

My favorite part of the day is being home when Rose is so we can walk Moxie while she tells me about her day ... Which is usually me asking a million quotations after being told, "it's fine" or "it's boring."

I made cookies today, chocolate chip toffee with a hint of peanut butter that were warm and gooey when she and I returned from the Moxie walk. I know ... It's sickeningly perfect sounding... But it's meant to be. I want the first day of school  to be just that.

Now the obligatory photos...

Eighth 

Seventh

Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

http://amadoption.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-few-more-september-photos.html

All about me day

Today we woke relaxed. It's day two of a family stay at home type of vacation, or stay-cation, as some might call it. 

I had grand plans, we would go to the water park, we might go to a twins game. We had to do a few practical things like groceries, back to school shopping (hallelujah), but I was resolved to be the FUN mom. 

Rose, freshly back from Character Camp was determined to be extra 13 and extremely arugumenttive. Really, it seemed she wanted alone time in her room and all my grand plans have shrunk. Fun mom faded into grumpy mom.

So I'm concentrating on me today. I ran four, four glorious consecutive miles for the first time since August 2012. The fourth mile was a struggle but no foot drop during or after. I even sprinted up a steep hill at mile three and did a little celebratory dance at the top as I heard the Rocky theme music in my head. The construction workers passing by didn't as they gave quizzical looks.

I can't express how torturous the last two years of gimpy running have been for me. Today felt almost spiritual as I slowed at mile four.

Now I relax in a mom's holy sanctity--a hot bath--where I am letting my muscles and mind unwind. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to better ignore 13-year-old defiance and arguing to continue our fun plans.

Yesterday we did eek out a nice outing to Minehaha Falls. Though upon arriving home returned to the other side of Rose. So we shall see.

Persistence

Today, Rose and I went out for a mile-long run. What a difference just a few weeks make!

Half a block in, she said she found out she likes running more if she can go her own, faster pace. Off she went.

See that pink blob? That's Rose!

Here she is zoomed in.

No whining. Minimal walking. She even commented with pride that she was faster than me!

We have to keep talking about pace though and build beyond a mile, but I think she is starting to get it. I'm so proud of Rose for being amazing and of myself for not backing down.

Browned butter

My newest addiction is browned butter. I'm addicted to the nutty goodness. It smells so amazing cooking, and it makes anything it's added to rich and deep.

Best yet, it starts off looking so innocent, so tame. It's just unsalted butter melting peacefully in my favorite pan. A pan that has literally been used only for special deliciousness like browned butter.

As you smell the butter melt, it starts to froth. The key to delicious melted butter is patience. The temp has to be low, and you have to watch it constantly. (See the correlation to Rose...?)

After a little patience, the shallow blond gets deeper and darker...and you'll be drooling as you stir, non-stop. 

Then, just when you feel success in your bones, the dang butter decides to with draw and hide all of its best qualities.

Stirring feverishly as you worry, your sense of smell amps up. The entire success of this cookie relies on your ability to sense when the butter had had just enough heat to be amazing, not burnt. This is no time for panic.

Cause all of a sudden, the most tantalizing smell teases the taste buds,ore importantly you feel it's time . You can see past butter's protective layer  to a rich, beautiful layer.

It has to cool and settle for what feels like eons before this highly nurturerd butter can blend into a recipe to create cookies suitable for President Obama. There is no rushing greatness. 

Character points

There are some days when we all hit our strides. Being all Scandanavian and German, I hesitate to blog about them for fear of bragging. 

Also, this lady has a pretty intense and healthy respect for superstition. If I post the positive, two days later I'll likely have something to the contrary to write.

Well, that's silly. When Rose grows up, if she reads this, she'll only get stories of angst. And really, there have been so many positive times, and really we are very proud of our Rose 

Like in recent weeks, we've been kind of killing it. As parents we are learning letting go and saying yes to things can make life a lot easier. We implemented a character points system allowing Rose allowance and privilege.

How's it work? Well, it's rather brilliant so be prepared to be awed. 

If Rose is caught in a lie and owns up, she gets 100 points. If she fesses up on a second attempt, 75 and so on. Four attempts to come clean whole earning points. 

Depending on the issue, a consequences  might still be warranted, but she will still be rewarded for owning up. In addition, she earns points for not arguing, for apologizing without being asked, for helping out with a good attitude. Basically, for being a person who shows good character.

And...drum roll please... I have noticed a change. She's arguing less. We haven't had any issues with behavior at the Y. Best of all, she is proud to be handed character money to spend on Y field trips, which is what her character points earn her: spending money and freedom.

As a result, everyone seems a little less tired and grumpy--allowing us to enjoy thinks like fireworks! Yay!

All you can do is laugh

Thanks to the friends who are always so supportive in my doubtful parenting moments. This week we reached the three-year adoption anniversary! It wouldn't have been possible without such wonderful people keeping us going.

This week was filled with typical clashes. On Tuesday morning's dog walk, I'm sure the neighbors who were probably still in bed loved being woken up by mom/daughter drama culminating in Rose screaming, "I f-ing hate you." and "I'm not doing that sh!t." 

Alas, I'm pretty used to being hated, and though I flinch when the word are thrown at me, they rolls off, leaving no real marks. In fact, replaying the scene in my mind makes me laugh. Other Rose thoughts that made me giggle this week were her insisting she didn't want to be independent to get out of opening an umbrella, and her questions about puberty. I will not share those here... Too private.

At the same time, I'm beginning to day dream about paint and wallpaper for our formal dining and living rooms. I know many doubt my sanity in picking wallpaper, but it's just for one wall, an accent. It's classy! It's old fashioned! You'll love it! And if not, well, it's not your house. ;) If I can be publicly hated, I can handle a little decorative disdain.

Here's the types of wallpaper I'm most interested in. Unfortunately, because it's truly vintage it costs a small fortune. This will be a purchase I need to save for later.

For the dining room:

I like the green here, and would almost want the whole dining room in it. Too costly.

Love this blue yet wonder if it's just too busy and bold.

Maybe the bird is too much, but of the three this is a winner for the dining area.

For the living room, I'm debating between gold foil versus red.

Gold...so elegant...

It's like living in a Jane Austen home, and the light reflecting off the gilded wallpaper would make us look like Greek gods and goddesses.

But then, there is red. Beautiful, striking, and bold.

Not sure stripes are my thing..

Very pretty, but again, rather busy.

Now, this is a little more subtle. Where the others smack you in the face as you enter a room, this one would greet you with a smile and maybe a hug.

So the search continues.

Mama drill Sargent?

It's amazing to me how we thought we could enter into parenthood the way we did. It's reflective of the last bit of super youthful idealism and egotism I once had in abundance.

The same optimism that made me confident I could do just about anything.

Sure! I can save the world with a sociology degree.

Yes! I can raise a kid with a traumatic background despite having no parenting experience or even baby sitting background.

For the most part, my stubborn nature and love for change and challenge has actually made my choices successful. If not, the mistakes were educational.

This time though, I have realized hurtling through parenthood means failures impact Rose and me. Failing her, or screwing her up worries me. 

So this weekend the fear came to a head as Rose attempted her first 5k through a mentoring program I enrolled her in.*

Mike and I came to cheer her on, and when we arrived she was hell bent on not running, and her mentor was pleading with her. So I played tough love to their begging, which awarded me a few questionable looks from mentor. That made me wonder if a home grown kid's mom would let her opt out. I pushed that thought aside, and somehow between all ofit she agreed to walk it.

It took her an hour, but still, she finished it. Plus, she wants to do more of them. So win and win. While I continue to struggle with what a "real parent" would do and the continued clash of younger Amy optimism, I realize being firm and nurturing is possible. 

Not sure Rose agreed as we headed off for a one-mile run today.

*note, enter the great Rose/Mom debate of 2014... for this mentoring program, Rose was asked whether she wanted to bike or run. I know this because I was there. I was astounded when she instantly said run. I challenged her, even, knowing of her running hatred. But she insisted, saying, "I want to run because my mom does." So my heart melted ... And I gave in. Rose swears I forced her to do the running... But sorry, my Dearest,  isn't so.

Now I have learned to stick to my guns and not be swayed by emotion. 

Swearing like a true lady

This weekend Husband suggested i might need a swear jar. "What?l", I f-ing thought, "I don't swear that damn much." 

Oops..maybe he's right. I guess I might have slipped into the habit after watching one too many episodes of Veep. The creativity of swearing on that show is second-to-none. 

Yet l, to set a good example for kiddo I resolved to be better about it. Until today. Right away in the morning I find a piece of paper on the kitchen table with rose's handwriting on it. It's apparently a journal entry venting her anger at me over the previous morning. It's filled with hatred and swearing. (Like mom, like daughter?)

Why she left it on the table, not in the covered journal, is obvious. Maybe a more mature adult would ignore it. But I'm a tad hot headed and I was tired, so confronted her. I told her, a journal entry doesn't belong ripped out and left where others can read it. That escalated to her demanding I was in the wrong for reading her private journal.

I didn't issue any consequences. I took a deep breath and headed to a day full of meetings. Then I received the lovely text from our brand new PCA informing me she's quitting. Like today. And really, that is the perfect place for a swear word, possibly several. 

So tonight I bake cookies and silently repeat swear words, which, despite their vulgarity, soothe my frayed nerves.  

Blog silence

The lack of posts in the past ten days has signaled tranquility and peace in our household as we truly recovered from the April "orange is the new black" scare. Otherwise known as the days where we all questioned our sanity hourly.

We had ten glorious days to ourselves for the first time in three years to let that baggage go. It's now burned. 

We enjoyed a series of dates and just being together in general. We reveled a little in the freedom of being out late, sleeping in a tad more, and for dorky me, over working a little. (Old habits die hard...)

Best of all, as the time drew to a close I didn't find myself dreading losing the freedom. In fact, I was elated to feel happy Rose was coming home. So much so, my jeep tires squealed with excitement as I pulled into the Y parking lot a little too quickly to retrieve her.

The best news...she had a GREAT time and wants to go back. She spent an hour telling me everything about canoeing, the girls, the counselors, the bugs...and she's usually kinda reserved about seeing too into anything. Lord forbid...

Even better, she was excited to be home and doesn't seem overly grumpy or exhausted. No excessive arguing, just a simply charming, very tan kiddo. And the post camp photos say it better that I can write it.

The big haul

Reuniting with Moxie

Reuniting with Apollo

The big hug

I'll admit, I worry often about my parenting chops. I question whether I have them...especially after the great soup incident of 2014. Never heard of it? That's because I was the blog author who decided to alter reality. Rose might remember it. And she can chuckle as she reads this. 

To summarize, I lost patience with my  literally feverish daughter. I acted in terrible ways. Ways I could envision her biography of me starting with, "my mom was the kind of lady who lost it over sass even when I was feverish." Sigh. 

Then today happens, Rose departs for 10 days back packing. I organized her to meticulous detail. I was honestly excited for the break. Yet, today, standing in that parking lot waiting for her bus, tears kept filing my eyes.

I was genuinely, sincerely, worried about sending her away. As I felt that emotion flood my senses, I gave her a side hug. Unlike normal side hugs, she didn't tense up. Rose genuinely sank into me. We side hugged for a few seconds more than usual as we stared at all the strange faces and the bus.

I teased her the whole time we waited about not getting crushes on the cute counselors. Kept reminding her about handing over her meds and not wasting all her spending money in one shot. I was grateful they let the kids (and parents)  linger until  when the bus was about to depart.

When it was clear she had to board I hugged her, and she hugged me. This time, though, we totally gave into the big and embraced tightly, she sank in, again. That never happens. We usually keep our breasts safe distance apart. This time, though, pubescent awkwardness melted. 

I felt tears again as I pulled away after at least 30 seconds, and I smiled at her, hiding my worry and sadness over seeing her leave for so long.

So there it is...I guess somewhere in me, someplace deep, I have developed a bond. More over, I do have mothering chops, at least a bit, no matter what the 2014 Soup Incident has to say about it.

And here she is, our brave back packer! May she have a glorious time.

Mommy melt down

Since I've aired some of Rose's dirty laundry I feel it only fair to share mine. 

Today, I arrived home to a sick kiddo. My eyes were weary from my early morning workout, my head tired, and my soul impatient. Still, after a practically stress free weekend filled with lots of fun and a date with, Mike, I should have been cheery.

I didn't really realize how impatient I felt until I sat across from Rose who refused to drink chicken broth. I didn't realize my temper was frayed until she further whined about it for what seemed an eternity.

I was just tired and grumpy as I told her to eat. You'd think that motherly, nurturing instinct would kick in as I stared at her feverish face. Yet, nope. When she finally whined about always puking after drinking that soup I lost my cool.

I yanked the bowl away, threw it in the sink, then threw a package of saltines at her and told her to go upstairs. I also swore like a sailor. Like, sailors were blushing if they heard.

I know, I know... I should have taken a break. I should have kept in mind how icky she probably feels. I should have just kept my mouth shut, just this once.

When I sat back at the table after Rose left, guilt eating away at me, the look on Mike's face read exactly what I already knew. I screwed up. The words "terrible mother" flittered in my brain as I demanded Mike yell at me.

Seriously. The poor man puts up with total madness. He refused to add to the insanity and we are in separate corners now as I attempt to cool my jets.

After I calmed down, I poured more soup and brought it to her room. Then I gave her a bit more with her evening Tylenol. Yet, I still couldn't flip into nurturing mode. I wasn't the ideal, caring mom. I was just the person who recognized she needed some solid food.

Then I think back to her and my day Friday when I didn't work, and she and I had quite a nice day. I was caring. I was patient. And I wonder, at what cost do my parenting skills suffer as a result of working full time?

All can be considered excuses though on my part. I will sleep tonight and try to reset myself to being a caring, compassionate person I know I can be.

Physical challenge found

Last fall, I enrolled Rose in Bolder Options. It's a mentoring program where each pair sets a physical goal, like biking in the MS50 or running a few 5ks.

I asked she be paired with a non white mentor if possible, because, well, duh...

So we got our mentor, who within two weeks, gave into Rose's manipulation and allowed the two of them to not do any physical activity, twice.

That's when bossy mom Amy stepped in. Now Rose and I need to run a mile at least three times weekly. She hates it, but she's so great at it. I am secretly jealous of her long stride and elegance.

Here's our first run result. Not too shabby!

Mommy rituals

Today, thanks to a wonderful husband I was able to entertain my favorite ritual. My hair-do. I'm convinced these rituals are required to sustain oneself throughout parenting.

I get to the salon a bit early so I relax with a pint before heading in. Today a good friend of mine was able to join me...double bonus.

Then I spend 2-3 hours with my friend who is also a great stylist and a color master. He single-handedly helpede through the grey hair crisis of 2010 by concocting an almost better red than I had been blessed with. 

He's funny, and he's all over the place, and we laugh. It's fun. It takes a bit longer than other clients' cuts and colors, it seems, but I attribute that to my thick hair and his ability to literally talk about anything.

Then today we were interrupted by an elderly lady. As she walked past my chair,  where half my hair was plastered against my skull with the dye, she said, "Wheb I saw you from the side, your gorgeous hair, I thought you were Shawn White."

That's right, the Snowboarder also known as The Flying Tomato...

Yet, she seemed to earnest, so complimentary. I had to stop myself mom laughing, as did my friend and stylist.

Most interesting ritual night, ever.

And really... The Flying Tomato?

Very unmemorable Memorial (yay!)

This weekend has been relaxing and peaceful for all of us. So much so, I haven't even started to worry about when the next kiddo storm will arrive. 

I've also had time to realize I need to create a daily physical goal for myself to get into shape. I realized this before and lost motivation because of winter, but now is the time. So what shall it be? Suggestions welcome.

In the meantime, here are pics summarizing our weekend so far.

This one's a keeper

After the debacle of last month, I copied Facebook and instituted a point system to let Rose unground herself through various tasks. Tasks and point assignments, Mike and I chose. 

Here's my rudimentary first list.

One of the options is to create a page-long letter to anyone in our house explaining why they're important to Rose. This was stolen, verbatim, from Facebook. I added it knowing Rose would be unlikely to do it. Too touchy... Too much emotion.

Yet, much to my surprise, she did it, and she chose me, her mom, as the subject. What a revealing letter. It really listed of all the needs I meet for her. Makes sense, when other caretakers failed to feed, clothe, or keep little Rose safe.

My highlights are as follows.

The funny: "you will not let me have sex (thank you)" [um...you're welcome? Do other parents of 13-year-olds allow this??]

The touching: "You love me a lot even when I am not being nice or cooperative." [really, I feel like a total monster most times..]

The interesting: "you will not tolerate me stealing." [yup]

The mundane: "you let me have sweets."  [eye roll...this seems like a ploy to get more sweets]

I could go on, but instead I might write Rose a response. 

Here's the letter, which is now safely stored in my hope chest for later, when she's 40 and getting married (ha ha), so I can remind her about the no sex comment.

Badge of honor

Today, Rose came home proudly wearing a medal for making honor roll. Gotta celebrate the small things!

Bear poking

This morning's dog walk lead to the sight above. I almost wonder what the neighbors think, but heck it isn't 1950, and I'd like to see them raise a kid out of foster care. 

What lead to Rose sitting outside in her jammies is irrelevant. What does matter is the realization I am living with a bear. There are times when we are talking and suddenly the little bear seems poked. Me, the accidental and baffled instigator outside her cage.

I pause, trying to pull the stick back to calm the bear. It rarely works. Once Rose's brain has launched into argument (fight) mode, poker beware. Suddenly, the bear roars and claws at the cage non stop about everything.

I helplessly stand outside the metal bars, then my fight instinct kicks in. I am, after all, a woman, and a first born, and Irish, and a granddaughter to a stubborn and amazing woman...so I don't back down from a challenge easily.

In the last three years, I have leaned to be better than that. To put my stick away, which is what I pretty much did today. It's so lovely out, the warm air made me peaceful. Even after the bear felt so provoked she threatened to choke me, I maintained my composure. Yay, me!

Hence, angry little bear sits alone outside gathering her thoughts as I drink coffee and eat a doughnut. Not to say there won't be consequences for bear's threats. It's just a good feeling to know today this poker didn't get a bigger stick.

Blushing politicians

Today, I reflected on how ironic it is that I adopted a child with lying skills that could make a politican jealous. 

I did so because today the whole Cosby parenting trap came to a head. Rose asked if I ate her truffles. I said I didn't, but I couldn't contain my goofy grin, and my eyes sparkled with the truth.

Mom, you're such a bad liar, she said. 

She was dead right.

I tried to act angry at her accusation and turn away from her as much as possible. No dice. My flushed, red face was not gonna let me have this glorious "teaching" moment.  I continued to deny knowledge of the candy whereabouts, even pinching myself as I crossed my arms. No luck. 

Mom, I know you're lying, you have such a silly grin on your face, she said, almost laughing.

Internally I rationalized I didn't eat the candy, which is what she said, I had just hidden it. I'm not lying on a technicality. And I took one more stab denying any knowledge and accusing her of eating them and blaming me. Alas, my stupid face betrayed me. 

Even after Rose left the room, Mike agreed, I totally sucked at lying. Damn it! No more Cosby style parenting for me. I'll have to leave that to Mike who, I learned, can quite easily keep the truth hidden. Must be his strong, German ancestry.

Loved

Today is my fourth Mother's Day. As usual, it's always a kinda hard day for me. I don't really feel like a mom. I feel like a caretaker for a very injured person who never really lets me into her world. Which becomes even more annoying when if she doesn't hate me, she clearly adores me...almost like worship of a younger sister. 

Up/down, up/down...the constancy of hatred and affection Rose constantly bestows on me is nerve wracking. (Excuse the writings style there...I'm now watching "Pride and Prejudice"..)

Plus. I digress, every year Mike sweetly tries to make it a special day despite my bit of gloominess. Even this year, after the struggles of last month, we had dinner out last night, he and Rose made breakfast this morning, and when a crushing migraine forced me to bed, he waited on me. Hand and foot.

Actually, once the puking stage of the migraine wore off, it became a nice Mother's Day because there was a "Sex and the City" marathon on the E network. I slept and listened to the crazy antics of Ms. Bradshaw, which created crazy dreams of New York. 

Finally, the Excedrin Migraine kicked in enough to let me read and now write as the family gets me a chicken strip meal...which may not be fancy but will hit the spot after a day of nothing but fluids.

Oh, and thankfully, a change in meds has made Rose a totally pleasant kid. So Mike spending nearly the entire day with her wasn't as worrisome as it would have been just one week ago. Seriously, it's like a dark cloud has lifted to reveal her personality. Sure, she's still a teen who knows everything, but now she's also not overly defiant. 

I'm not big on meds. I don't think all behavior should be diagnosed and treated medically. Children need to push and act out. I would like to see her ease off of them. However, sometimes they do really help. 

Now I am going to put this blog entry to rest so I can really enjoy the moment when Mr. Darcy kisses Elizabeth Bennett. Sigh....

Mutant cat conquers the world

Last December we added Apollo to the family. Rose picked the little orange tabby out for her 13th birthday, and his calm nature and quirky kitten ways have quickly bonded him to us.

(If you're not a pet person, worry not, there is a tie back to Rose, buried wayyyyy at the end. For now you can try to stomach some adorable photos and question why you're not a pet person...)

Heck, even Moxie, our 6-year-old collie, can't smother and play with him enough. Eddie, the arthritic 12-year-old is indifferent.

(I have a couple cute videos I'll insert here once I learn how...why google drive doesn't integrate into this app is odd)

Anyway, Mike, the once abashed car hater, which seriously made me wonder if I could marry him, has all but melted. In fact, all of his Facebook profile pics are now of the orange miracle worker, Apollo.

To be fair, hate is a strong word. Mike adored our little kitty Princess, too. He just didn't make his social media presence a small shrine honoring her. Probably because she was shy and hated having her picture taken. Also, Mike hates social media, but that's a topic for another post.

But I digress. As I look at Apollo today, it dawned on me that this little cat has more trust in humans than Rose ever could. He wasn't hurt, misused, or neglected as a baby. It's no surprise he can so easily bond and attach. Heck, even pose for photo after photo.

As you might recall, Rose wouldn't let us take photos of her for nearly a year. Clearly, the events of the past two weeks have been her best attempt to push us away, which makes our little well adjusted 

boy a welcomed distraction. 

At least he wants us, and more importantly he doesn't mistrust us because of others' maltreatment.

Plus, he doesn't have teenage mood swings or moments of rebellion. He is a wonderful counter force, soothing presence, in the house.

And he's a poly kitty, which means he descended from Hemmingway's kitties. He has a genetic variation that gives him a thumb! Yup, he can grip things. The perfect addition for me a writing and communication major and for Mike, a huge fan of movies about mutants (and a fan of literature as well).