TMI?

This evening turning into an ... unusual  (? I guess that's the best word?) one. But this is a story I can't really tell in real life.

Susan is 14. She's on the autism spectrum, very much on the high functioning end. She got her first period last summer. It resulted in a cancelled trip to the pool with her aunt and uncle and she's been wearing pads when necessary ever since. I've repeated the sex talk we had a few years back, now that puberty is clearly setting in physically, and have provided Advil on request as well as steered Mr D and brothers away at certain times as she navigates figuring out the cycles of her body. We've also talked about the importance of tracking her period -- both so she knows when to expect it and because she will be asked at every doctor's appointment for the next several decades: "date of your last menstrual cycle?"

Recently, she asked me to buy her a box of tampons and teach her how to use them. There's a pool party coming up and we'd discussed the need to ensure that her swimsuits still fit in enough time to go shopping if necessary. She wanted to try on the suits, but is currently in the midst of that time of the month. (I think she was also concerned that the period might not be over before the pool party.) I agreed to buy her some and to talk her through the process.

That last part happened tonight. Mr D is out of town; Peter had taken Edmund with him to check out a nearby park where he might play soccer in the fall. After the little girls were down for the night, Susan and I had complete privacy, so it seemed like the perfect time.

The insertion part was a bit of struggle, but she got through it and (I think) felt confident that she could do it again when necessary. She did state that she'd probably stick to pads unless absolutely necessary. She confessed that, once inserted, she didn't notice the tampon, but she didn't like the process of putting it in and she was worried by the warnings on the package about Toxic Shock Syndrome. (That's my girl -- worst case scenario finder.)

It was the removal that she really, really struggled with. She said it hurt, pulling it out, and she couldn't do it. We spent about 30 minutes sitting in the bathroom, trying to find ways to help her relax enough as she said that pulling it out was hurting. (In the end, she suggested I talk to her about something to distract her and then pull for her. Whenever she tried to do that herself, she either got so distracted, she forgot to pull or stopped being distracted as soon as she started pulling.) She kept asking me if this was "normal."

Truth? I honestly don't remember. I've had IUDs since Edmund was born and it causes me to have virtually no periods at all. So, I don't think I've used a tampon in over a decade. And my "first time" use? Was about 30 years ago. All I remember was struggling to understand the printed instructions that came with them because my mother certainly didn't talk me through it like I did tonight with Susan. I'd told her it's normal to feel uncomfortable putting it in until you get used to finding the right angle for your body, but I can't recall ever having trouble with getting it out.

I'm pretty sure Susan is now hoping not to need to try this again any time soon.

Heaven help me when I have to do this with Lucy and Jill.

Dubious Milestone (#microblogmonday)

C (aka Jill) has her first ear infection at nearly 10 months old. She's coping pretty well so far with the antibiotic (unlike her sister who had explosive diarrhea and nasty diaper rashes with her first couple rounds of antibotics) and it certainly seems to be improving her mood!

Trying an idea I stole from Empty Arms, Broken Heart.  #microblogmonday

Not Boding Well

Remember when I said Susan's IEP transition to high school meeting went well? (Bullet 5) Well...

At that meeting, we all agreed to make a specific change in one class that she's taking next year. (So, think of it as taking World History in 9th grade instead of US History.) There were good, long-term thinking reasons for the change and everyone in the meeting agreed to it, even though it puts her in a slightly harder academic schedule. We also agreed to remove a support class they'd inserted (without asking us. And her current teacher of that subject stated that a support class was not necessary) and talked about the elective options to replace that class in her schedule.

Last week, school got out for the summer. I happened to meet with one of the high school counselors about something else to do with Susan's schedule for next year and she read off the entire course list to me. The support class is gone and has been replaced with Susan's third choice elective (because the first two were already full by the time we got her out of the support class we never asked for or needed. Grr.). But the "history" change hasn't been made. I expressed surprise. I was told that the counselor couldn't change the schedule of a student on an IEP and I would need to follow up with the IEP caseholder (a rule that I'm sure is in place to prevent IEP caseholders being left out of the loop). Of course, we don't have a high school IEP caseholder yet and the counselor said I should contact the person who represented the high school in that transition meeting.

So, I did. He's not responding. I've also copied her eighth grade caseholder who is WONDERFUL, and she has forwarded that on to some others who she says can "hopefully get this corrected before school starts." I'm not OK with "hopefully...before school starts." I want it done before she gets her official schedule the week before school starts so she can walk her schedule and figure out how to get to each class. (We even talked in the IEP meeting about how she should do that --familiarize herself with her route and figure out the best times to take locker breaks. We can't do that if her schedule isn't right.) Today is the last day of post-planning, although the person I'm trying to reach is supposed to be working all summer as well. I tried calling today to find out when I might be able to catch him in the office. I got told that email is really the best way to reach him and he was already gone for the day.

This is not a good start to high school scheduling issues.

Counting

Lucy is learning the concept of numbers. For a long time, every time she saw a group of things, she would announce there were "two" of them. So, the collection of 5 horses in a field was "2 horses," the row of 3 birds on a telephone line was "2 birds," the long line of traffic coming the other way on the road was "2 cars."

We tried substituting "lots" for her -- "Oh, that's a lot of cars, isn't it!" -- but it didn't take. So, we took to counting them. "2 horses? Oh, I see... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 horses!"

She's getting there. Now she sits by the window in the car and "counts" with numbers in random order, but still generally ends on "two!" "One, three, five, two, three, four, one, two, three, two cars!"

Miscellaneous updates

• I still check up on the girls' birth mother periodically. Kayla went to jail in late November and stayed there until very recently. She gained a significant amount of weight while incarcerated (and complained about that on Facebook), but was so very thin before hand that I suspect she's actually closer to a healthy weight now than she was. She also commented about the weight being a result of being sober. I hope that her time in prison helped her break her addictions. What remains to be seen is whether her social circle is such that will support a lifestyle change to stay that way.
• We're half expecting a DFCS call in about 9 months telling us there's another baby. (To which we will have to say: thanks for letting us know, feel free to share our contact info with this one's foster/adoptive family. There's just no room at this inn.)
• Peter got his driver's license. There's a 15 year old Toyota Camry in my driveway that is "his to drive." Having him able to get himself (and his siblings over age 2) places has simplified life a bit. In our state, he's not allowed to drive friends for the first 6 months (and then only 1 at a time for another 6 months). (The not-driving-littles is a family rule which he is perfectly okay with obeying. They're just too distracting as passengers.)
• Lucy has learned how to say "help", which is awesome for letting her tell us when she needs us to step in and when she wants to work at it and figure something else. She's also taken to saying "helper" when she wants to do something for you that she thinks will be helpful. Like pick up the Cheerios that Jill has dropped out of the high chair.
• Susan will go to high school in the fall. We've had a meeting with her special ed team at the middle school as well as a representative from the high school to talk about the "transition plan." It all sounds pretty good. The real test will be next fall when she gets a whole new crop of teachers to work with and we find out how well the IEP gets enforced at the high school level.
• Lucy has begun saying "stop it!" Eek. I wondered and guilted myself and struggled to remember -- do I say that to her too much? I don't think I've heard others say that particular phrase much? Then, I heard it come out of my mouth. And realized I do say "stop it" quite a good bit . . . to the dog. (She jumps at the television whenever there's any kind of animal on it and I scold her to "stop it!" She barks at the UPS truck making a delivery across the street and I fuss "stop it!" She growls at the bird in the back yard and I snap "stop it!") 

Doctor's Visit

I love my pediatrician's office. Today, I was reminded why.

C, who I think I shall begin calling "Jill", had a well-child visit. We were 15 minutes early because it was the first visit since the adoption was final, so there was new insurance and a name change and I wanted to give the office staff plenty of time to get all taken care of before our appointment time.

They were running late. Way, way late. It was over 30 minutes after our appointment time before we were called back to a room. That's 45 minutes in a waiting room with a 9 month old and a 2 year old.

(That doesn't sound like a reason to love them, does it?)

Here's why I love them:

• Front office nurse apologized for the wait part way through.
• Nurse who called us back apologized again.
• Second nurse came in to help distract Lucy with crayons and a coloring book while Jill's vitals were taken and intake questions were asked.
• When the doctor came in, she apologized again.
• And -- on top of all the apologies? -- the doctor's only response to Lucy's meltdown while we were trying to get through the exam was "that's age appropriate."

I know delays happen. Appointments run long, people arrive a little late, children don't cooperate. I've always liked that they never feel like they are rushing through the appointment to get to the next one. But today, I really appreciated the total lack of judgement when I was feeling embarrassed by my 2 year old's "age appropriate" behavior.

(Jill is doing fantastic, by the way. She's on the small end of the growth chart, but staying steady on her curve; development is right where it should be. That, by itself, makes for a wonderful doctor's appointment, given the way her life started.)

Random Updates for the New Year

• We still don't have a finalization date for C's adoption. The new caseworker has a new reason every month for why she isn't ready to schedule a meeting for us to finalize the paperwork. (October: She has everything she needs, just needs to write this narrative. November: She's missing something, so agency caseworker forwards her the email (sent in early October) providing her (again) the items she's missing . December: She just needs to write this narrative. January: someone will be calling us soon with some questions (thought we did that months ago, too?) Wonder what the February excuse will be. At this rate, she'll probably be "missing something" again....)
• Since DFCS has let this slip into the new year, I'm going to spend another clothing allowance. I was feeling a little guilty about that, knowing how thin the resources are in foster care; the case manager's lack of organization has gone a long way towards helping me get over that! I'll buy the girls both Easter dresses and some other "fill-in" items in C's next size up as well as in Lucy's. Lucy's next size up will be 2T and once we hit 3T, I have quite the stash of hand-me-downs. The clothing allowance may be for C, but she'll wear the things I buy for Lucy eventually and I still have all of Lucy's hand-me-downs from the last year or so so there's no point in trying to buy for those sizes.
• Speaking of benefits I don't think we should still be getting, C's next WIC follow-up visit is next Wednesday, so we'll probably have another 3 months of her formula covered. At 5 months old, she's only just started eating some cereal, so there's still a lot of formula to buy in the next few months.
• It's already time to think about preschool for Lucy for next fall. I love my church (and the preschool there), but we live 30 minutes away. Having an hour of travel time during a 3 hour class window drastically lessens the list of things I can get accomplished while the child is in school. So, we are researching closer options. And having to think about things like: 2 or 3 days a week? 3 or 4 hour days?
• Lucy's favorite word right now is "No." Fun with the terrible twos and she's not even quite two years old yet!. (It would probably help if I could always resist the urge to laugh or smile when she's so matter-of-fact about it. I say it's "time to go!" and she replies, oh so sweetly and reasonably, with a smile: "No." )
•  I googled their biological mother for the first time in a while. She was arrested just before Thanksgiving and tested positive for several drugs. So, the "surrendering rights to C so she can focus on getting and staying clean" plan hasn't really stuck. It makes me sad, because I keep hoping that she'll be ready and able to make that change in her life that will allow us to include her in the lives of her daughters as they grow up. Right now, the drug use makes her too unstable for any kind of contact to be an option.
• Nothing turns up on google for their biological father. I don't know whether he's clean or just not getting caught. He's not interested in contact, so there's none there either.

Feeling Judged

I had a moment in the grocery store a few weeks ago and it made me wonder....how often is the judgement we think we are feeling from others actually completely inside our own heads?

I do not for a minute doubt that people have had moments of truly being judged by strangers around them. I've heard the stories of whispers and comments that drip with entitlement and lack of understanding. But, how often do we let ourselves feel judged based on nothing more than a facial expression we could have misread or a silence that might have meant nothing?

Here's my story:

I had Lucy in the child seat and C in her car seat carrier down in the basket of the grocery cart. C was screaming and Lucy was escaping the straps. But we were nearly out of formula and milk, so I had to do the minimum grocery run. As I approached a checkout lane, a gentlemen with a full cart waved me ahead with a smile.

The cashier made pleasant small talk as she rang up everything but the formula and asked me if Lucy and C were my only children. I laughed and said I had 3 more in school.

Then I pulled out my WIC checks to pay for the formula. As I did so, I thought I caught sight of the gentleman behind me in line -- the one who'd let me cut in front of him. I thought I saw him freeze, just for a second. I thought I felt him think, "5 kids? and on public assistance? Get your tubes tied and get a job, lady." I resisted a powerful urge to comment on the fact that we'd adopted Lucy from the foster system, that we intended to adopt C but she was in foster care and that was why she got WIC and that was also why I was feeding her formula anyway. None of that is the business of any random stranger in the grocery store and saying it would have served nothing but my pride.

But, here's the thing. The man in line said nothing. The cashier said only that I must be a busy woman. He did nothing but put his groceries on the checkout behind mine. She simply rang up my items in a professional and efficient manner.  I thought it. That was my voice in my head judging me, not theirs. It wasn't until I was in the car -- feeling judged -- that I realized I hadn't even made eye contact with either of them after I pulled out the WIC checks. I gave them no opportunity to show me a lack of judgement. I was so focused on myself, so turned inwards, that I didn't even really see them.

So, in that story, doesn't it sound like I'm the one who is jumping to judgement? I'm the one who is denying others the grace of assuming their best intentions.

Remove the log from thine own eye, indeed.

Rules, rules, rules

My state has established a new policy regarding the supervision of children in the foster care system.

There's a sentence to strike fear in the hearts of foster parents everywhere.

Actually, I think this one is a good change. It's called the "Prudent Parent Policy" and appears to be somewhat aptly named. It's not going to make major differences in my life because C is really going to be the last placement for a very long time (I mean it this time!) and she's too little for most of the changes to matter. But, for older kids in care, it's going to make a huge difference in allowing them to lead semi-normal lives.

Under the new rules, the foster parents are allowed to use their own judgement (GASP!) concerning short-term supervision. That means I can:

• leave the child with anyone over the age of 18
• leave the child in someone else's home
• let someone else transport the child
• even let the child spend up to two nights supervised by someone else, either in my home or in theirs!

I still can't:

• take a child out of state without permission
• leave a child with anyone under the age if 18
• leave a child with a biological family member other than state approved visitation (duh)

The only difference this makes to me is that I can now take C to a friend's house for babysitting if that's more convenient and that I can choose those friends from a longer list of options. And, maybe, that my mother could babysit overnight in our house so Mr D and I could get away for a break. By the time she's old enough for the other changes to be likely to matter, her adoption should be final.

But, for older kids? This is huge. This means that the 4 year old can go to a playdate at his friend's house after preschool. This means that the 8 year old can go to pizza with the baseball team and get a ride home with the team mom. This means the 10 year old can go to the spend-the-night birthday party for the classmate. This means that the 13 year old can go on the school's overnight field trip without the foster parent having to be a chaperone. This means that the 17 year old can travel with the dance team to the competition that is in-state but a 5 hour drive away, so the team is leaving the night before and will stay in a hotel. This means foster children can participate in school and activity carpools without the foster parents having to be the only driver. This means, in general, that foster parents can make normal, rational parenting decisions about where it is safe for the child to be. And that will go a long, long way in allowing at least a semblance of normalcy in these kids' lives.  

I always thought it was crazy that the system put me through all these hoops and trusted me with every detail of these children's lives, including trusting me to feed them, bathe them, clothe them, care for them in sickness...but didn't trust me to know which classmates' houses were safe enough to allow the child to go over and play after school for an hour. (And I'll confess, I kind of did this already with L who became good friends with a girl who lived about 8 houses away. I never let her spend the night, but I did let her go over to play after school, even though the mother was not "approved.")

Back Burner

We're still waiting to hear back on what (if anything) the agency caseworker learned from M's birthmother. We're also waiting to hear what her supervisor said about the grace period to finish up our licensing and what we need to do to stay open. I've promised myself not to call her to ask for an update until it's been about a week since I called her with the news in the first place. After all, this is not even an actual case at this point. No way it should take priority over, you know, children already born and in foster care or looking for homes. And it's the end of the month, so I'm sure there are lots of things to get wrapped up right now on her plate.

But I think we're pretty determined to be ready to figure something out if this baby ends up needing a place to go. We were still waffling over the weekend, struggling with the pull between rationality and emotion.

So, we got smacked over the head with it. This Sunday's scripture reading? Included 1 John 17.

How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

Well, then. I guess we do our part to be prepared to help and then see what happens.

Morality

I had an interesting experience yesterday. Well, I thought it was interesting at least. :)

I was school supply shopping with Peter. We had M with us, in her car seat, which I had set down in the basket of the cart. (Aside: when the Originals were babies, I did that thing where you put the car seat up on top of the cart, where the child seat is. I never thought anything about it; I needed the space in the basket for all the groceries! But after Edmund outgrew that carrier style car seat and I was trying to decide what to do with it, I noticed that the plastic near the hooks that latch into the base had white streaks, as though it had been bent near to breaking. So, with M, when the nurses in the NICU were insisting that I not attempt to latch the carrier on the seat part of the grocery cart because it can damage the latching system...I listened. She goes down in the main basket, and we fit the things we are buying down around her.)

We checked out and were back out at the car. I joked to Peter that we were about to find out if we accidentally stole anything as I picked her up to put in the car. Oops. We did.

 A pack of index cards and a protractor. Total cost: about $2.

I thought -- for about 2 seconds -- about shrugging my shoulders and going home. It was hot. M was tired of being in the car seat and getting hungry, so she was cranky. It was past dinnertime and Edmund and Susan were waiting at home. But, I had Peter with me. And I had just pointed out to him that we didn't pay for these items.

So, I carried M and the $2 worth of school supplies back into the store and paid for them.

What is interesting to me is this: I am certain that going back and paying for the items was the right thing to do. I am almost certain that I wouldn't have done it if Peter had not been with me. Apparently, I am a more moral person if I have an audience.

Preemie Development

I've never parented a premature baby before.

I knew -- intellectually -- that preemie development is assessed based on how old they "should" be, rather than how old they are. So, even though it's been a little over 3 months since M was born, her "adjusted" (or "gestational") age is 1 month because she was 9 weeks early.

So, I knew that she would probably roll over, crawl, babble, walk, talk and so on about 2 months later than is typical.

Notice how those are big milestones for later?

I used to tell people that the first 6-8 weeks are the hardest part with a new baby. Once they hit 8 weeks, in my experience, things sort of fall into place. They develop a little more of a personality, they fall into a more predictable schedule, their needs are more clearly established. Guess what else is taking a little longer for preemie M?

Truth be told, she is doing terrifically well from a developmental perspective. (So much so, that I sometimes wonder about the accuracy of her supposed due date.) She's holding her head up well, she pushes her shoulders off the ground during tummy time, she occasionally bats at toys hanging in front of her. We usually get at least one 6-hour stretch between feedings at night; when she does wake up in the night, it's usually eat and go back to sleep in 30 minutes or less. She's outgrown the "newborn" size clothing and is fitting into the 0-3 month sizes well.

But she is still mostly just eating and sleeping. She'll have two or three stretches during the day where she stays awake for an hour or two. She reacts to loud noises, but doesn't seem to turn towards a voice or respond to a face much. That's all OK, because she's still just (developmentally) 1 month old. As I think about it, I guess that I would say her gross motor skills are probably on track for her chronological age, but her social development is still at her adjusted age. Interesting that it can work that way.

It's funny being out places with her. People will ask, "Oh, how old is your baby?" and I say "3 months." If they look puzzled or startled, I will explain that she was 9 weeks early. I had my first experience of someone asking if she was breastfed yesterday. (I said "No, she's on special high-calorie formula.") It's hard not to justify myself, because I was obsessive about nursing my own biological children, but I remind myself that it's really not the business of this total stranger in line at the dry cleaners.

I'm hoping that we will soon be past the magic 6-8 week mark when I start to feel a little bit more like I know what I'm doing and less like I'm stumbling from one feeding to the next.

Drained

I'll just say this upfront. This is a whiny post. I'm having a difficult day and I want to complain for a while.

I'm exhausted. S is still raging. She saves them for me. I know this because I have seen her turn it off like a switch when she hears another adult come into the house, whether that's Mr D coming home from work or one of the myriad of social workers and counselors that drift into and out of our home on a semi-regular basis.

She's not throwing things at me any more. Well, not physical things. Now she's hurling words at me, as though she is desperately trying to break me. I don't know if she's trying to lessen her own pain by forcing it onto me or what is going on.

I'm trying to implement the things I've learned in training and from reading The Connected Child , but she keeps finding ways to react to them that aren't in the script. When I get down on her level to talk to her, she runs away from me. Do I follow her, in which case it turns into a chase around the house? Or try to honor her desire for space and have a conversation from across the room? She won't give me eye contact.

She resists complying with rules and requests by me with violence and anger...until the moment comes when she realizes that it's "too late" and then she tries to backtrack and begin to co-operate. My instinct is to say that she's missed her chance to make that choice and move on. I don't know if this is the right decision or not. Sometimes that choice is out of my hands anyway, depending on the reason it's "too late."

An example. She wanted to color today, and we had 30 minutes before we had to leave the house for something. So, I got out the crayons and put a piece of paper on the table. She demanded more paper, saying it wasn't enough. "Ask, don't tell." She Would Not Ask. She kept yelling "I want more!" I tried cueing her the exact words to asking, she kept resisting. When the 30 minutes were up and I declared it time to go, she finally said "Can I please have more paper?" I put more on the table for later, but there was no time left to color. She cried for 20 minutes in the car. No, she didn't cry. She sobbed, yelled, kicked, screamed and shouted things at me in the car. (Things like, "You're mean!" and "Nobody likes me anymore!")

And the most exhausting part is that she only does it with me. Oh, other adults get the occasional uncooperative moment, but not the violent acting out rages that I get. And that I only get when there are no other adults present.

I'm trying to believe that doesn't mean I'm doing something wrong. I'm trying to believe that means she's resisting my authority as the replacement mother figure or that she trusts me enough to try to push me away. But it's wearing me down.

Labels

Like a lot of foster parents with other non-foster children, I spend a lot of time feeling like I'm living in two worlds that only overlap in my house.

Most of the parents of the Originals' classmates and friends have "normal" children with "normal" problems. I don't want to minimize those problems because they can be very real and legitimate concerns. But sometimes, I just want to slap some of those people.

I hear a lot of people agonizing over "labels." They don't want their child "labelled." They don't want people to "only see the label." (Unless, of course, the label is "gifted", but that's a whole different vent.) That's a legitimate concern...that makes me grind my teeth.

Anecdotal evidence -- my only experiences with a child that's been "labelled" have been positive. My daughter is "special needs." She is "labelled."

And you know what? The label gets the insurance to pay for the therapies. The label gets the school system to make accommodations. The label helps my daughter explain some of her "quirks" to her friends.

We've just started counseling for S. Her new psych eval mentioned the possibility of a behavioral disorder. I don't know much about the specific disorder yet and I don't yet know if that's right or not....but if having that label helps us get help with the rages, then I'm happy to label her. I can't say that too loudly, though, or I start feeling like one of those parents who "just wants to drug their child, rather than work on the problem." I do want to work on the problem; sometimes medication is what helps work on a problem. We don't refuse to give a child an antibiotic when they have an ear infection -- why do we refuse mental health medication, if it helps? (We aren't talking about medication, anyway. We're talking about using different behavioral tools for S because maybe her brain operates differently than most children.)

Random Thoughts

• It's a good thing S had school today because we were getting on each other's nerves this morning. I did not have my usual patience for answering the same questions that I answer on a daily basis; she was not happy with my insistence that she knew the answer to that and I wasn't answering it again. I was not feeling the compromises today; she was not willing to hand over any power whatsoever. The initial pickup at school didn't bode much better for her side of it as she nearly melted down when I would not let her run through the parking lot with her new "kite" made in school that day, but the hours "off" had given me a deeper level of serenity and patience. I was able to redirect her onto a grassy field to show me the kite and successfully headed off the meltdown by meeting her need to show off her new creation while still meeting my own need to keep her safe.
• We might have court in a few weeks. But I don't know that for sure. If I think too hard about this, I will get irritable again. I will just say that S's mom told me when court is and asked if we would be there. I told her, honestly, that I'd like to be, but that I haven't heard anything about it yet. My query to the caseworker has, shockingly, gone unanswered. (BioMom says her letter tells her they will be discussing the possibility of moving to unsupervised visits with her. I would like to be there to add my resounding and enthusiastic support to that idea and hopefully get an official answer on what the rules will be -- specifically, what's the upper limit to frequency and duration?)
• Finally, finally, finally starting counseling for S, although it is clear to me that this counselor has only worked with kids in "schools" that are full-time day-care or, you know, K-12 schools. She's seeing S at "school" for an hour a week. Out of the 9 hours that S spends there. For the month that remains of S's school year. OK. What really made me laugh was when she earnestly told me she would plan to see her at 10am, so that she could be done "before lunch and nap-time." Yeah, those are at my house. :)
• It's almost May which means all the random "events" are starting up for the Originals as well as for S. Spring Sing concert, Field Day, Writer's Tea, Barter Day, Teacher Appreciation week, Band Concert in the Park, 5th Grade "Walk" (a "not-graduation" ceremony), Volunteer Appreciation breakfasts, sports banquets and End of Year parties. My May calendar makes my eyes hurt. Part of me wants to suggest that next year, we hold all our volunteer appreciation events at some random time during the year....like March....so that they don't fall when our volunteers are busy, you know, volunteering?

My own triggers

I'm feeling a little better about S's rages.  I finally got a response from someone . . . someone who listened to what I had to say, validated it and gave concrete, specific advice for how to move forward from here. That really helped. I also realized something.

When we were going through our home study, there was an interview section. The interviewer asked us questions about our own childhoods and relationships with family members. She talked about how there aren't really "wrong" answers to those questions (although I'm sure there are some answers that would be red flags), but said it was important to know what sort of things might be in our own pasts that a future foster child could trigger. We needed to work through any of those issues ourselves before we could help a child with similar ones.

Made sense to me. I thought long and hard and tried to imagine anything that could impact a placement.

But I looked too far back. I didn't think about more recent experiences.

I kept asking for help for S, telling professional after professional that she is melting down and I don't know how to help her.

I kept getting all but patted on the head as these people tell me this is "normal" and I'm doing a great job with her and would I like to schedule a respite weekend soon?

I finally realized what past memory that response is dredging up. Susan. The first, oh, about 7 years of her life. Specialist after specialist telling me she is "fine", she's "within normal ranges", she'll "grow out of it" or "catch up." Years of feeling in my gut that she's not fine, that there's something bigger here than a "mild developmental delay", that I don't know how to help her. Pretty much from birth. Until finally, in the spring of 1st grade, the school psychologist did a psych eval on her at my request. (Requested on the advice of the private psychologist we were seeing who told me they had to do it if I asked for it and that he could do one, but that the school might dismiss any findings he made, but "if they find it, they have to offer her resources in school to help her.") And that was when we finally had the Asperger's diagnosis. 7 years.

S can't wait 7 years.

I can't wait 7 years.

I don't ask for help or support services lightly. I know resources are thin and there's not enough money in the pot to cover all the help everybody wants. So, it takes a pretty dramatic problem for me to start screaming for help. And getting brushed off with what they think are reassuring statements is the last thing I need.

Again and again, forever and forever....foster care sucks.

Challenging Days

We're going through a rough behavior period right now and I don't know how -- or if -- to blog about it, so I just haven't been writing.

S has been here for over 5 months now. I'd say we are definitely out of that "honeymoon period" they talked about in training.

I'm trying to keep things simple and focus on one major behavior issue at a time, so that we don't set ourselves up to be constantly criticizing her.

So, I picked the biggest one, set some boundaries and am holding my ground.

She hates it. She reacts with shock and frustration every time I follow through on a promised consequence. (And she's reminded of the consequence and given a chance to change the behavior every time. She never does.)

I make her cry at least once a day. It's becoming a gruesome joke -- how long we will make it today? To bedtime? To lunch? Not even through breakfast?

Today, I was that parent in the grocery store with the 3 year old in the cart screaming her head off and kicking her feet. You know, the one that seems to be ignoring their brat of a child? That was me. I wasn't ignoring her. I had told her that we would talk about what had happened and how to get what she wanted when she was ready to stop crying. I repeated that to her several times before she finally "heard" it and insisted (still sobbing) that she was done crying.

I don't know. I don't know if I'm doing this wrong. I don't know if there's a better way to help her understand that her choices have consequences and that I always mean what I say.

I have a training class coming up on behavior tools, which I really hope gives me some new ideas because I am at a loss.

It's hard to explain this even to caseworkers because it sounds like "normal 3 year old testing limits" behavior. Until you see it. And you see how out of proportion her rage is and how genuinely confused she seems to be by the fact that I follow through on consequences and how utterly incapable she is of repeating back the reason for that consequence. Even when I just gave them to her. The conversation will go something like this:
     Me: "I put you in time out because you hit me. Do you understand?"
     Her: "Yes."
     Me: "OK. Tell me why you had to go to time out."
     Her: "Because I asked for ice cream."
     Me: "What happened when you asked for ice cream?"
     Her: "I wanted some."
     Me: "I know you wanted some ice cream. You asked for some and I said no. Do you remember what you did when I said no?"
     Her: "We don't hit."
     Me: "Yes, we don't hit. But you hit me when I said no ice cream. Do you remember that?"
     Her: "yes."
     Me: "And you had to go to time out for hitting."
     Her: "yes."
     Me: "So, tell me why you were in time out?"
     Her: "Because I can't have ice cream." **Not a real conversation. Hitting is not the behavior issue and not getting ice cream has never triggered it. But it gives you the flavor of how we're talking in circles and it feels as though she really can't articulate why she's in trouble....which makes me wonder if any sort of discipline could possibly be effective! 

Before I know it, it seems we have spent more time trying to get her to verbalize her understanding of the misbehavior than it is reasonable to expect a 3 year old to talk about it.

I can't tell if she really doesn't get it, if she's trying to manipulate me into dropping it (by "playing dumb"), if this sort of response has gotten her out of trouble before....I just don't know. Maybe I picked the wrong behavior to focus on...but I don't feel like we can resolve any other behavior issues until we get this one more in line with normal 3 year old development.

She's had a psych eval, which said she was mostly fine, just "borderline in a few areas." I'm pushing for further testing and support for those borderline areas, but the wheels are turning really, really slowly.

I feel stuck. And I don't even know how to end this post, because it isn't resolved. We're working on it. We've told BioMom we're working on it and what we're doing and asked her to "be consistent" with us during visit time, but realistically we doubt that's happening. (Who wants to make their child cry when you only get to see them a few hours a week? Especially with someone watching every move you make. If S reacts to her mother enforcing these boundaries the same way she reacts to me, I'm sure Mom caves to make her "happy" again. I probably would, too, in her shoes. I have the luxury of enforcing my consequences in relative privacy and having plenty of "not in trouble" time to balance it out.) I'm trying to trust that things will improve if we stay consistent, but I'm feeling discouraged and ineffective right now.

Asperger's and Connecticut

Because I have such a young one in the house, we have not watched much of the coverage of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary.

We discussed what happened with Peter and Susan. We encouraged them to continue to talk to us whenever they want or need to do so, but to ensure that we are in private when they do so. Edmund and S are young enough to not need to know any of the details. (At 3, S doesn't need to know anything about it all.)

But even within that little bubble, the latest stories connecting the shooter's behavior's to a supposed Asperger's diagnosis have filtered through.

And it makes me furious.

Asperger's can cause over-reactions to frustrations, disruptions and disappointments. Some people with Asperger's react to stress by lashing out.

But it is not a condition that should have made anyone expect that young man to pick up a gun and start shooting people.

Attitude Adjustment

I've been struggling lately with keeping a positive attitude while interacting with S. So, in the spirit of changing my thinking in order to change my mood and my reactions, this post is going to describe some of the things that are good and fun about having a 3 year old.

They like stating the obvious. Most of the funniest statements I have ever heard came out of the mouths of 3 year olds. Today, she told me that "We go to bed every night."

They really do want to help you. When S offers to help me carry the groceries in or sort the laundry or scrub the floor...she means it. It may actually make the job harder when she tries to "help", but she doesn't know that and she really, truly wants to do something for me. I need to remember to judge her on her intention, not the result.

They have rapid mood swings. That may sound like a bad thing, but it really isn't. One minute, it's the end of the world; the next, everything is rainbows and sunshine. The emotional lows of tantrums and crying are more than offset by the emotional hugs of giant hugs and big grins and infectious giggling.

They like repetition. My 12-year-old may complain that I "always say that", but I will never hear that from a 3 year old. Well, I might, but it would be something the 3 year old is happy about! 

They can take delight in little things. S loves to go places, so if I announce that we're going to run some errands, she literally squeals with delight. Sometimes she even jumps for joy at the idea of going to the bank. It used to make O's day when I would pull over so he could to watch a train go by. Three year olds can be just as pleased the hundredth time you drive past the pasture full of horses as they were the first.

They are terrible liars. Really. I don't think I've ever been taken in by the story a 3 year old was spinning.

They can turn anything into a toy. The cliche of the preschooler tossing a toy in order to play with the box is a cliche because it's true! Papers, leafs, rocks, laundry baskets, blankets, pillows, empty water bottles....everything can be a tool for active little imaginations.

Words

Edmund asked me yesterday if I knew what "retard" meant.

I'm pretty sure that I managed to stay outwardly calm, and said that I did.

While I was trying to figure out how to continue this conversation -- where did you hear that word? who said it? To whom was it said? Here's why it's not a word you should be using.... -- he continued, "it means slow."

"Well, yes, it does." I agreed. Technically. I guess?

Then I asked him where he heard it.

At school. In music class.

Oh! "ritard!"

Not the conversation I thought we were having.....