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).

It's all happening

Since my last post, the crazy levels have declined even further. Mike and I are just too exhausted to be emotional. I've learned that I might be too strict about little things, which decreases some arguments and tension. It can be ok to just say yes.

Rose will, on occasion, glare at me but even that is lessening and seems more like normal teen moodiness versus hatred. Today I had to get home early because our sitter quit, and Rose seemed to really want to linger by me. So I guess we have made it through that wild ride only somewhat scathed. 

Here is the shelter where Rose stayed and a pic I snapped of her as we picked her up. 

Of course, I say things are normal when just yesterday Mike caught Rose stealing Cadbury Eggs from Cub foods. Once again, though, we are both so exhausted the reactions on our parts are pretty low key. Normal is relative.

In other news, Happily, our house remodel work is nearly done. Thank you, Mother Nature, for hurting our house which granted us insurance for updates we otherwise couldn't afford. 

As much as I'm kinda in love with the new look and feel, I am ready to not have contractors, carpenters and painters here from 7 until 5. Layering awkward small talk onto a week when I'm accused of child abuse and am convinced I'll be writing this blog from a prison cell makes me grumpy. 

Nonetheless, Here are some progress pics.

Bathroom before

Bathroom almost after

Informal dining and tv room before 

Dining and living room after -- an orange all of the contractors keep asking if I, not mike, picked. Can't men like orange?

Exterior before

Exterior after

Generally, I'm going for classic, retro, and elegant. Cover up the total chaos behind these doors and inside these walls.

And with the warm weather, sanity returned

Somehow, Rose managed to yank herself out of whatever was happening in her brain around 5 last night. Defiance is back at tolerable levels, not a threat has been issued by her, and we even made it to Easter dinner with the family today. Couple that with the lively weather, and I can almost forget the hell we went through.

We are still worried and cautious. Whatever caused 5 days of very strange behavior isn't cool, and we will all have therapy over it. I asked Rose as part of her consequence to think of the pros and cons of living here. The pro list is quite long.

All in all, I like to find some humor in even the darkest situations. Yesterday, we called the cops because Rose was on her way out the door. When they showed up, the cop looked at me, then Mike, and said to him, "sir, how many other kids do you have." 

I am not sure if he thought I was a kid or maybe a step mother since obviously  Rose came from one African American person. It still made me giggle, and reconsider my no shower, messy pulled back hair, tee shirt and hoodie look. This happened at the hospital a few years back, too, 

Day 2: lock down shopping

Rose woke up just as defiant as before so I sent her to her room with her homework and consequences.

Meanwhile, I've started to browse various websites, including The Limited. Maybe it's my five pretty crappy hours of sleep, but I love this spring line. Plus, it's all half off!! And my birthday is coming up so maybe I will just splurge...

I don't know why, but my thirties have turned into a decade of dresses. I love wearing skirts and dresses. It baffles me sometimes. I am a feminist. In college I'm sure this blog would have made me gag launch into a diatribe about respecting ones body.

At the same time, dresses are so comfortable! They flatter my shape. They make me feel confident and comfortable, which makes me powerful. Therefore, dresses make me Wonder Woman not vulnerable or subservient. What do you think?

And more importantly, since I'm stubborn and will do what I ultimately want anyway, what do these dresses say to you?

To me, this one says, with a little red accent belt, I'd be your best friend.

And this little number is just begging for a date night, yet, if paired with a jacket could be quite intimidating at the office.

Red is the true power color. Also, lust the shoes.

Then, finally, I stumble into a 50s themed site recommended by a friend. Found this conservative, and probably more office appropriate dress than it's sassy sister above. Would still pair well with those nude sandels.

Anger and the defeated

Why am I up at 12:44 blogging? Well, in the most simple of terms, I had to booby trap Rose's door. Though I guess I am getting a head of myself. Let's take a step back.

On Tuesday, as I was about to head into one of the more career defining meetings of my life, I got a call. It looked like Rose's school so I picked it up.

Only it was a cop who informed me Rose had said I had beat her. Rose was in his custody being interviewed, and they were going to put her in protective custody overnight.

I know I can ramble so I'll just say here and now I did not beat Rose. I was cleared by the police and child protective services. Though really, I have to wonder if there are going to be adult protective services? There aren't now, which is why Rose's door is booby trapped. 

Needless to say, the accusation shook me to my core. Mike, too. I felt sad she was away, I felt angry, and I myself felt victimized. The short story is Rose was refusing to walk to her bus, I put my hands on her shoulders to move her there. She's bigger, and pretty strong, and she struggled and on that chilly day to free herself from my hands. In the struggle, the plastic piece on the end of the glove scratched her cheek.

Honestly, mike and/or I have to repeat this process every other week. But this time, Rose decided she had enough and she reported it at school. The school had to report it, which I understand and am not upset about. And viola, I'm reduced to tears outside a conference room imagining me in prison while also worrying about what going to a shelter will do to Rose. 

The police said Rose's initial description of the event matched mine, but in the course of an hour interview escalated into me throwing her down stairs and punching her. Then her story changed again for the case worker. Kids who come from trauma do have tendency to do this kind of thing. Thankfully, the police and workers seemed sympathetic to the awful spot we were in. No orange is the new black blog for me.

By the middle of Wednesday all abuse accusations were cleared, but rose refused to come home. No matter how much I'm trying to make light of what has happened. This probably bothered me the most. So we let her stay at a shelter in Hastings until today when by law we had to go get her. I'll admit, we were both apprehensive about it.

When we picked her up she was defiant and angry. Physically threatening me over the smallest of requests. Me: "Rose you need to take a shower." Rose: "Fuck you, you can't make me, I'll punch you in the face so hard." Yep. That's my night.

Since this anger and violence is new, we brought her right over to the mental health ward for evaluation. In there she acted as happy as can be. Even recanting the punching story for the doctor. The doctor was an arrogant jerk who proceeded to condescend to us, and who clearly doesn't deal with kids like our daughter much. So she was evaluated as normal and sent home where she continued to throw things and threated me until bed. She also seems incapable of showering or brushing teeth. 

We've taken a huge scary step backward.

So tonight I did try to calm her down by reading a little of The Help, and I bribed her into picking up the stuff she threw by offering her cake. Both tactics worked, however, I am concerned for her and for my safety so now her door is Gerryrigged with rubber bands that will cause a coupleof paint cans to bang into each other if she tries to open the door. it is not so crazy that if we had a fire she couldn't escape but the noise would wake me up if she gets up at night. See the picture below for by Goony-like genius. 

We did ask to have a social worker assigned, and I am hoping she can plot next steps. Living in fear kinda sucks and I'm truly convinced something is happening chemically no matter what that jerky doctor said.

Sweet deceit

Last night, I was happy knowing I had a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream waiting for me. Chocolate mint crunch, to be specific.

I don't crave sweets often these days, but there was something about the warm weather the past few days that made me drool over this creamy, cool treat.

So it was really disappointing to open the freezer and find nearly the entire pint empty. I had stolen one tiny spoonful earlier, just one. It was bitter dissaponent at its worst. My drooling tastebuds started to cry, my brain struggled to comprehend to cruel state it found itself in. (First world problems, hu?)

Hell really hath no fury like an Amy deprived of her ice cream. Especially when the ice cream thief, a 13-year-old with a stong propensity for deceit, completely denies eating Amy's ice cream despite having a suspicious, solo spoon in her room. There were other telltale signs. 

So I took lots of deep breaths while silently repeating a mommy mantra: "It is just ice cream, and kids do lie" I recited. Lie when caught red handed, when 13 my rational mind wondered.

I suppose that doubt lingered because when Mike suggested we teach Rose how it feels to be lied to, I got kinda giddy. He wanted to teach not through a lecture but through a Heathcliff Huxstable  moment. I went from giddy to ecstatic.

Rose has Lindt truffles she gets every day she organizes her school work and gets signatures. Mike suggested we hide all but a few of them, then put the bag back for her to discover. Yes! And let's leave a few wrappers on the counter so when she gets up today she will see them and we can claim ignorance.

I know, so goofy. Kinda petty. Is this just about ice cream? No, it's about teaching a lesson. Right? Today she noticed the wrappers but only asked mike about it, not me. 

Tomorrow she'll get her reward and hopefully notice! I'm dying to see what happens. This could be creative parenting or it could be insanity, or both. 

Here is mike setting the stage for this endeavor. He didn't want his parental neurosis caught on film, but too bad.