Turning off all my buttons

This morning started off like most weekends. With lots of "nos" and "I don't want to" when asked to get dressed.

Today, and all week, I've begun utilizing skills learned from 1, 2, 3, Magic a Guide to Parenting. I also had a self realization that has helped me be a better mom. Having a kid with higher needs, who is constantly defiant, and often disrespectful isn't what I had planned on. The smack of reality is causing a bit of grief and loss on my part over the child I had always imagined raising. So once I realized I was taking my grief out on her, I was able to mostly stop that cycle.

For example, today I firmly but not angrily told her she needed to be dressed by the time I got out of the shower so we could get her hair cut. If she wasn't, I said, I would need to cancel.

Needless to say, she wasn't dressed. The plan for today was altered. What was supposed to be a day of pampering for Rosie (hair cut and shopping) turned into a day where I gave Mike a break in the morning and he gave me a break in the afternoon.

I explained to my mom, for as frustrating as her behavior is, I try to remind myself that Rosie is suffering from depression, grief, and loss. So her desire to stay in jammies on a non school day is understandable. The downside is her disrespect, which sometimes feels abusive in nature, combined with Mike and I feeling like we are trapped in our house with our abuser.

We did make progress throughout the day thanks in large part to the skills we're building. I have gotten pretty good at not engaging in arguing, negative comments., etc. What's fascinating about that is how Rosie handles me not getting emotional. It's similar to a toddler. At first, she'll try getting more negative and pushing a button that might have made me angry before.

Today, she tried the "You're not my mom" bit a few times. "Disrespect" I said, firmly, not with anger or emotion, "that's 10 sentences." (We're imposing a consequence of writing sentences for disrespectful behavior.) Then I walked calmly away and finished making her lunch.

Dismayed that we weren't yelling at eachother, she came into the kitchen and said , mommy, look. I turned around and she was poking the insider of her lip out, and it has a drop of blood on it. Clearly, she caused the small injury, but I stayed calm. "Hu," I said, "you better go get some cold water and rinse it out, but it looks OK to me." So she left, then she came back, "Mom, loooook" she whined.  "Yes, I see, I think it'll be OK, maybe you should avoid orange juice for a bit though."

"DON"T YOU EVEN CARE???" She yelled as she stormed out. Then, out of no where, she decided to get dressed. So I praised her greatly for getting dressed as she ate lunch. I was hoping she'd realize that the attention she's getting is based on good behavior.

Yet, throughout the day, I was mellow, calm, and composed, and as a result, she too has stayed calm. I told her I loved her a lot.

So with my buttons all powered down, I'm finding motherhood much easier to handle--even if it unexpectedly means spending weekends at home.

Pulled back in

Thursday and Sunday night Rosie didn't sleep. Yet, she managed to stay up and be as energized as a kid who consumed pots of coffee until 8 p.m. the following night. This is a warning sign. It can be an early symptom of bipolar disorder. So we were relieved when we didn't have a 10-year old waking us up on regular intervals Monday night. Bipolar disorder wouldn't be bad, and in fact, knowing what is causing her mood swings would be a relief.

So I was confiding in a coworker about this Tuesday and he responded by saying, "maybe she's going through the change." I couldn't breathe momentarily. I laughed it off. She's only 10, I said. I tried to ignore the thought until Wednesday morning when just before we had to get to the bus stop Rosie called out from the bathroom, "Mom, there's blood."

"What?" I asked, "Did you cut yourself?" as I walked into the bathroom. Nope, she showed me her underwear and sure enough, there it was...the start of her period...staring me right in the face. I think a quasi smile froze on my face, "oh," I said as I swiveled around to hide my horror and find some sort of kotex that would fit a 10-year-old.

Then I swiveled back, "do you think you have a urinary tract infection?" (They do cause bleeding and i was admittedly grasping at straws.) "No." She said. "OK," I said, turning back around to get the panty liner. "Mom, why are you freaking out?" She said. Damn, I thought I was hiding my freaky moment.

So we talked about it, and after I thought I did an OK job describing periods, she said, "I don't want a period." I know, sweetie, I said, but we can't give it back, and it's a good part of life. I'm still not great with the motherly responses.

Since then I've kind of adjusted to the news. Somewhat. However, I did have a chuckle over the entire experience.

Mini Confession

I debate how much reality to post on this blog for a few reasons. The first is that if I only portray the happy or put a positive spin on the harder days, I might start to believe in that rose colored picture. I also think the ability to laugh about the shitty times, or to make lemonade out of lemons, helps me get through without deluding myself. Yet, lately I haven't been able to find a lot of humor in what our life has turned into. So there have been few blog posts.

OK, in hindsight Mike having to carry Rosie, who was stubbornly clad in her pajamas, to the car and haul her to Home Depot last week on a day off of school could probably be reflected on with a chuckle or two. It's just not the funny story I'd imagined prior to this journey starting. I am definately going through extreme culture shock, and Rosie isn't to blame for that.



The second is I worry about the judgement of others when I feel negative--which I've already encountered with her social worker who responds to my requests for help with books about how to raise hurt children. I also worry that sharing too much is giving people a bit too much access into some personal parts of our lives. As her parents, it is our job to fiercely protect Rosie and her privacy. A blog violates that responibility.
 
The third is I hate admitting when I am struggling. Yep, you could tie me to a boulder, throw me into the ocean and I'd probably to be too proud to ask for help--preferring to watch people above turn into wavy blobs as I tell myself I really enjoy the challenge of getting the boulder to the top of the surface regardless of the crushing suffocation.

Finally, I worry if I vent too much about the struggles anyone who reads this will fail to see the wonderful person Rosie is.  The glimpses we see of who she could be if we can hang in there.

So where to go with this blog? Let it die and hope there are more humorous, light-hearted family stories to revive it later? Or do I go ahead and write about what's really going on, putting a bit of pride and detail aside, focusing instead on the confusion, frustration and joy our lives now entails.

Identity Crisis

Sunday is Mother's Day, and it just doesn't feel like it to me. I guess after 32 years of honoring my mom or mike's mom, or my friends who are moms, I just don't feel like a mom, myself.

Coworkers and friends seemed surprised we had brought Rosie up to her foster family this weekend for a much needed respite for us all. Rosie's foster mom asked how I feel this Mother's Day. I said, I don't feel like a mom as much as I do a crabby woman. She burst out laughing and said, "That's motherhood! Welcome!"

Fear not, Rosie will return Sunday, and we will celebrate my new found motherhood. For those of you who remember stories about her foster mom that seemed worrisome. My fears were put aside when after a brief meeting with them, rosie commented that she missed them and wept. So I emailed foster mom and asked if she could invite Rosie for a visit.

Rosie was so thrilled and touched to have them call and want to see her. As we pulled into the driveway, rosie was screaming with excitement when she saw her foster dad and sister. So for the concerns I had, I figure one weekend is ok.

And really, celebration has already begun with a present Rosie made for me. Well, she designed the flower pot and planted the little annual...I think it's an annual. I don't have much of a green thumb.

Drill Sergeant

On the way to Rosie's school we passed a bus with a 20-something couple and a saying: "We are in love but we're not ready to have a baby." Rose read it aloud in a contemplative way.

So I asked her what they should do in that situation, and she said, "get that girl on birth control."

That's right, I said, anything else?

"Buy condoms" she said.  "Why?" I asked.  "To prevent disease," she said.

Yep, I said. The subject changed, but I felt proud of the exchange. Sure she is only 10 but with a 90% chance she could be a teenage mom, I will take every shot possible to drill birth control pills and condoms into her head.