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.