Another monthly update

My next monthly update to my successes and failures with my new year's resolutions:

1.  Lose 123 50 pounds.  I am not prepared to answer this one yet...but I will soon.
2.  Read at least 1 book a month.  At least one of them must be a self help book but not all can be self help.  I read 3 this month.  Who knew I would do that if I just committed to it.  The first book was My Lost Daughter by Nancy Taylor Rosenthal (I think... I can't remember her name).  Let's just leave the review for this one at -- I will not be reading any more of her books.  She tried to be more complex then it needs to be.  Less could have been more.  The second book was Fireworks Over Toccoa by Jeffrey Stepakoff.  The writing was a bit juvenile but since it is a story about a girl in her 20's -- told from her point of view -- it works.  It is an easy read but I liked it.  The third book was The Connected Child.  I loved it!!!  I can not say that enough.  I LOVED IT!  It is one of the only self help books that I have read that actually helped.  The authors give concrete examples -- of problems and solutions.  I am so sick of self help books that there only solution is "see a professional."  I know I need a professional -- I just need some hope until I get there.  Anyway, if you are a parent, or thinking of being a parent, or a friend or relative of someone who might one day be a parent -- read this book.  It is not stuck in labels.  It is about what we can do to make it easier for our children and help us live through it.  It is about being the parent of a child that has been traumatized and is not securely attached or feeling safe.  I LOVE this book. 
3.  Write the next great American novel a short story.  See last month's answer.
4.  Find a new job.  Big failure.  Although I did get a call from an agency today asking for an interview.  I had to turn it down because there is no way I can take an $18,000 pay cut.
5.  Move.  See above.
6.  Buy my first home.  Has to wait until 4 & 5 are done.
7.  Pay off all credit cards FIA credit card.  No progress on this one this month.
8.  Make at least one pair of earrings a week.  Didn't forget this one this month and yet the results were the same.  I think I need a place to have it set up all the time instead of having it packed away.
9.  Get at least 8 hours of sleep at least 4 times per week.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA -- still laughing.
10. Blog at least 15 times per month.  Success!
11.  Get child enrolled in a sport. No luck with this one yet.  But I am considering enrolling her in Amharic classes that start in a few weeks.
12.  Get involved with a charity. Not sure what to do about this one.  But I am seriously considering doing a trip to Ethiopia to work in an orphanage.
13.  Refinish the new kitchen table.  Haven't started yet.
14.  Enroll in a creative class -- writing, jewelry making, pottery...  Nope.
15.  Start a 529 account.  Not yet.
16.  Clean the house once a month.  Done.  With the help of Ladybug.
17.  Eat out no more then 2 times per month.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  I really need to get this one under control. 
18.  Call my friends and family more often -- rely on the internet less.  Well.  I called more.  But I love the internet.
19.  Start training for the Boston Marathon.  I know this seems out of the blue for most but it has been a long term dream of mine.  This needs to wait until #1 is under control.
20.  Fold and put away the laundry within 24 hours of washing it each week.  I was not successful the first half of the month but I did much better the second half.  Well, unless you count that the last 2 weeks I actually forgot I had to do laundry.  How does that happen??  I mean, I am a mother -- laundry is part of the package.
21.  Buy a new camera and take more photos of Ladybug.  Doing well with this one.
22.  Pay all bills on time.  Mental block.  Not successful.  But I did make the customer service guy laugh at me when I called to tell him I was completely incapable of paying a bill on time.  I made some adjustments in my plan.  Keeping my fingers crossed for this month.
23.  Become caffeine free.  I so failed at this one this month.  Sodas...teas...constant.  I hate coffee but I could not keep the other sources of caffeine out of my body.  Back on the wagon today -- which might explain the headache.

So some success and some failure.  Check in again next month.

Mean Mama

What wasn't

Have you seen the movie Sliding Doors?  I saw it many years ago.  I was fascinated.  The idea of the movie is how different (and yet possibly the same) our lives would be if just one thing changed.  It follows a woman through 2 scenarios -- one if she makes her train and one if she doesn't.  How that simple act changes the course of her life.  Fascinating.

I think we all of those thoughts at some point.  What if my parents had let me go to my first choice of colleges -- instead of having to going to my second choice.  What if I had stuck it out when I moved to Phoenix.  What if I hadn't gotten this job.  Or any of the jobs before.  What if I hadn't moved here.  What if I had picked a different agency.  What if...

Should have.  Would have.  Could have.

Most times it is easy to think and forget.  My life is what it is suppose to be.  For the most part. And I can't imagine it any other way.

But there is always that little smack in the face every once in a while.  I had one today.  And it is always around the same topic.  Maybe because this "could have" moment I had no control over.  Somehow I think it is a moment that in some form every adoptee has.  And now it makes me wonder who Ladybug will process it later in life.

Today I was cruising through my facebook page when a newly uploaded picture caught my eye.  I clicked on it.  And luckily it was not some scam or spam or virus.  It was a smack in the face though.  It was my brother.  One of my biological brothers.  He is a facebook friend so this shouldn't be a smack in the face.

But let me back up...

The first time I met this brother was his first Christmas.  He was about 3 weeks old.  The rest of my siblings and I had already been removed from my biological family.  We were all in foster care.  But my youngest brother had not yet been born.  That Christmas we all met at my biological grandparent's house for the day.  My biological mother brought my brother.  I remember holding him.  I had just turned 6 years old.  And then it was over. 

The second time I met this brother he was about 20 years later.  After searching and writing letters to every person in his state with his last name (this was pre-internet times) I finally connected with him.  We met...we bowled...we had dinner...and then we didn't see each other again.  Really.  Strange, I know.  We were both young.  We didn't live near each other.  And we don't have much in common.  It was a good meeting.  But we still lost touch again.

About a year ago I found him on facebook.  And we became "friends".  We don't really talk.  He doesn't really update his account much.  But once in a while he posts something -- and I get a peek at his life.  Today his brother (his adopted brother -- who is also adopted) posted pictures of him and tagged him.  So I got to see the pictures.  We still have nothing in common.  But there staring at me on my computer screen was a man that I am connected to.  What if ...

If we were walking down the street together nobody in their right mind would question that we are related.  We look so much alike.  We have the same skin.  We have the same eyes.  We have the same smile.  Luckily he has more facial hair than me.  But we do not have the same interests.  We do not have the same politics.  We do not have the same goals.  We do not have the same history.  My brother.  But not my brother. 

What if... 

I lost 5 of my 6 siblings through adoption.  I gained 2 siblings through adoption.  And today I am painfully aware it is a relationship that I can not get back.  Ever.  It changed my life.  In ways I will never fully understand.  And I mourn it.  The unknown.

Mean Mama

Free-Range Kids

As many of you (yes, all 2 people who actually read my blog) know I recently read a book called Free-Range kids by Lenore Skenazy.  It is a fabulous book.  And I believe it should be required reading for every parent -- even those who have no intention of following it.  First, because it is well written.  She uses humor and real life to make her point.  She makes fun of herself without being mean to herself.  And at the end of each chapter she gives some real life suggestions we can try.  Actually 3 suggestions -- baby step, brave step, or one giant leap.  You can pick which fits you (and your child) best.

It is important to note that the point of free-range kids is not to throw kids in the deep end without know how to swim and hope they don't sink.  The point -- over simplified -- is that we must teach them confidence and decision making so that when they are out on their own they are able to do things for themselves.  If we hold out kids close, protect them at every move, and prevent them from experiencing life, then when will they learn? 

She gives 14 commandments of learning to give your children a little more freedom, experiences, and life.

Commandment 1: Know When to Worry.  In other words -- know when a possible danger is a scrape of the knee and when the possible danger is a broken neck.  Let them experience the scraped knee and protect them from the broken neck.  There is a benefit to children to scrape their knees at times.  They learn what works and what doesn't.  And they learn to get better.

Commandment 2:  Turn Off the News.  Really.  This is one is hard.  It is every where.  I gave up NPR a few years ago.  I enjoyed NPR but it made me angry at people's stupidity so I gave it up so that I would not be angry every morning.  Giving up the actual news was easy.  Giving up internet news is near impossible...especially when my friends keep sending me links to stories of horrible things.  She also suggests to limit TV viewing of shows that death, abuse, and mayhem.  That is hard for me. Her reasoning is simple -- if you see tons of these things your brain is saturated with evil things so you always think of the worse happening to your children. Besides, violent crime has steadily declined since 1993 (at least think that was the year she used).  It is safer for our children then it was for us.  We just have the dangers put them in our face more now than we did in 1993.

Commandment 3:  Avoid Experts.  Why?  Basically they make us paranoid.  You don't need to be an expert to tell you how to raise your child (although sometimes it would be really nice to have the user manual).  You need to trust yourself.  Do your best.  You don't need "What to Expect When You are Expecting."

Commandment 4: Boycott Baby Knee Pads.  Oh my!  This is my pet peeve.  When I was getting ready to bring home Ladybug I got advise from everyone about all the do-dads and gadgets that were "necessary" to raise a child.  Monitors, gates, leashes, etc.  And I wondered how did we ever make it to adulthood.  We didn't have those things...and we lived.  I actually once fell out of a moving car and I lived (honestly).  However, she did make one exception for the "safety" equipment.  Get a good, properly installed car seat.  Use it.  All the time.  But there is no need to buy knee pads for your baby to make it easier for them to learn to crawl.

Commandment 5:  Don't Think Like a Lawyer.  This one is a little hard for me since all day at work I am suppose to try to think like a lawyer (without being one) and then I have to come home and avoid thinking like a lawyer.  Again, this is you can not protect against everything.  You don't want your child to be hurt but do you want to take away an experience.  You want your child to wear a helmet when he or she goes bike riding but do you want your child to only ride a stationary bike?

Commandment 6: Ignore the Blamers.  These people are everywhere in your life.  These are the people who are basically saying "it is your fault."  In reality these people are really saying that because they won't do whatever it is you just did, there is no way their child will ever be hurt.  It is a false sense of security.  The reality is you could do everything right and something could still go wrong.  This is what we call "life."

Commandment 7: Eat Chocolate.  Okay I am taking this one literally.  Nobody ever gives me advise to eat chocolate.  But this one is really about Halloween -- I think.  This is the "don't eat any candy until we get home because you never know if it has been poisoned or a razor inserted in it."  The reality is...this is a perceived danger -- not a real one.  Do not freak out over fake issues.

Commandment 8: Study History.  Look back 50 years.  Look back 100 years.  What were kids doing at 10.  What were kids doing at 15.  What were kids doing at 20.  Here is a reality -- when our parents were 18, they were starting jobs, buying houses, and having kids.  When I was 12 years old I was babysitting.  But I know some 12 year olds now that are still being babysat.  We do not do our children a service by treating them like babies long after they cease to be babies.  How can we expect them to be adults at 18 (which they will legally be whether we like it or not) if we do not give them tools long before they are 18?

Commandment 9: Be Worldy.  Look how other countries raise their children.  We live in a developed country.  We are the land of the free and the home of the brave.  Right??  Yet we completely restrict our children and try to protect them against any possible life experience that might possibly maybe hurt our children.  Again, let them experience things.  And not just let them have run of the neighborhood.  Let them help cook dinner.  Let them clean their bathroom.  Let them go outside and play.

Commandment 10: Get Braver.  Yes...you!  Let go of some control (let's be real -- you never really had it anyway).  Live with the risk of ... life.  I have a client who seriously wonders why her son is anxious all the time.  He is 11 years old.  She kicked her husband out of bed when her son was born because a baby can't sleep alone.  And he still doesn't.  She will not drive on highways because there are too many cars and anything can happen.  The child can not be without a cell phone -- just in case.  Her child has anxiety because he absorbs it from her.  Be brave.  Experience life.  And maybe your children will experience it too.

Commandment 11:  Relax.  Okay this seems a little contradictory to the last one.  Stop assuming that every little action has an impact on your child.  There was a huge discussion on one of my internet groups about the movie Tangled when it first came out.  The moms were in an uproar.  A Disney movie had turned a kidnapper into a mother.  They had let a kidnapper raise a child.  What was that teaching our children?  Should we let our children see such a movie with such things in it?  You know what my daughter saw?  A mean woman locked a girl in a tower.  That's it.  She did not ask if I kidnapped her.  She did not wonder if someone could kidnap her.  She did not worry.  It was a Disney movie.

Commandment 12:  Fail!  We so want our children to succeed that we forget to let them fail.  We do their homework.  We pick their clothes.  We give them step by step instructions.  They must succeed.  We insure it.  They will not fail.  You know what we do by doing that?  We guarantee that they don't know how to learn.  And they don't know how to try.  They give up if they are not perfect the first time they do something.  They don't enjoy the process.  Let them try things.  And if they are not good --- that is okay.

Commandment 13: Lock them out.  Okay not really.  But send them out.  Children have forgotten how to play.  They watch TV.  They play Wii or playstation.  They have hand held games.  What they don't do is play.  They don't run around the neighborhood playing cops and robbers.  They don't run around their rooms playing ... I don't who they would pretend to be now but when I was growing up we played Charlie's Angels.  We saved the world.  We climbed trees.  We swung from the rafters in the barn.  We dug up a bull skull in the back field.  We dug forts in the snow banks.  Has your child?

Commandment 14: Listen to Your Kids.  When you child tells you something listen to it.  When your child asks to do the dishes -- let them.  Even if it means you will redo them after they go to bed.  When your child tells you they want to make their own breakfast -- let them.  Even if it means they spill half the milk on the floor.  Children don't want to be treated like babies.  They want to feel helpful.  They want to feel a sense of accomplishment.  They want to feel like you trust them.  And how will you know if you can trust them if you never give them a chance to prove themselves -- to you or to themselves.

No you do not need to give your 9 year old a map and a subway token and tell him to find his own way home.  No you do not need to let her walk walk 1.1 miles to school as a kindergartner.  No you do not need to let them go into a public restroom by themselves.  Her point is simply this (or at least what I have taken from her book -- which I, again, encourage everyone to read) challenge yourself and your child to experience life.  Let go.  Live.

I am working on it slowly -- but I am also struggling with the possible attachment issues too.

Mean Mama

My Little Picasso

Before the disastrous Target run this is what Ladybug had been up to.

She said this one was my mom.

 

She said this one was my younger sister.

She said this one is my younger brother.

She said this one is my dad.  

But in reality he has no hair on his head because it is all on his chin.

She said this one if my step mom.

She said this one was me.

I wonder what those bags around my eyes are?

Mean Mama

Clean living room

After the disastrous Target run we arrived home with no further incidents.  Actually she did the typical thing and fell asleep.  I blow -- she naps.  It is her escape.  When we pulled up to the door I woke her and gave her a choice.  She could go upstairs and finish her nap or she could clean up the living room.

Neither was intended as a punishment.  Really.  But she is sick.  And she is sleeping.  So maybe a nap is a good idea.  And she did play hard in the living room today and it is a disaster zone.  So it does need to be cleaned.  I know neither option is really appealing to a 6 year old but I would have been happy with either one.

I was not at all surprised when she picked to clean up the living room.  I went in the kitchen and did a few things.  I was surprised when she came in the kitchen a few minutes later and announced the living room was clean.  Really?  I mean I know what that room looked like.  How could she get it clean so quickly.  I asked f she was sure.  She, innocently, with wide eyes, responded with a yes.  So I went to look.  And this is what I saw.

And then this is what was happening a few minutes later.

Mean Mama

I lost it

We have had a decent week... over all.  I mean, it was not perfect.  But not true major meltdowns.  Until last night.  And even that was over quick.  She refused to go to bed.  I gave her a choice, go immediately or lose 1/2 hour of tv in the morning.  I love her having tv on weekend mornings so I can sleep.  But she not only refused to go but she started kicking things across the living room.  I asked her to stop or she would lose another half hour.  This time she spun around and shot me the dirtiest look she possibly could muster up.  I told her to go or she would lose another half hour.  At which point she started yelling at me.  So I told her no tv at all and go to bed. 

I kept my cool.  Really.  I didn't raise my voice.  I didn't threaten.  I didn't use a "tone" with her.  All was done with love and compassion.

She woke up sad.  Sad she didn't get tv.  And mad.  At me.  Because I told her she couldn't have tv.  But we talked our way through it and then proceeded to have a good day.  Really.  She tried to trap me into some negativity but I refused to bite and she gave up trying quickly.

Until we were in the car.  We had to go to Target.  She has a head cold and we are almost out of kleenex.  The nightlight has burned out and we needed a new one - if I have any hope of getting her to stay part of the night in her room.  She has a head cold and we are out of medication.  I forgot what time of month it was and was caught without protection.  We needed to go to Target.  And she had done well.  She did some art -- Picasso-esque.  She had played with her barbies.  She had done some singing and dancing.  So before heading out for Target I made a deal with her.  If she did well on this little trip (takes about 10 minutes to get there) she could have a movie when we returned.  Half hour.  Good behavior.  For a movie.  Worth it.

Or so I thought.

About 5 minutes into the trip she casually announced... without malice....

Ladybug: I wish you were not my mother.
Mama: (don't bite) ok.
Ladybug: No.  I mean it.  I wish you were not my mother.
Mama: (Don't Bite).  Ok.  Why do you wish I wasn't your mother (calm...cool...no hurt feelings)?
Ladybug: Because I wish I had a mother I liked.
Mama:  (Nibble)  How would you like me to respond to that?
Ladybug:  I don't know.
Mama: Well why did you say it?
Ladybug: I don't know.
Mama: Was it a nice thing to say?
Ladybug: No.
Mama: So what were you hoping would happen by saying that?
Ladybug: I don't know.
Mama: Were you trying to hurt me?
Ladybug: No.  It was an accident.
Mama:  Saying something mean, that you know is mean, and repeating it is not an accident.  Why were you trying to hurt me?
Ladybug: I don't know.
Mama: Okay.  Well maybe you can think about it and you can let me know later.

End of discussion.  I nibbled.  But I did not bite.  Really.  I stayed calm.  I did not take it personally -- outwardly.  I did not raise my voice.  I did not use a "tone" with her.

And then I handed her a tissue and asked her to blow her nose.  She hates blowing her nose.  She can't breathe through her nose - literally - because of all the snot and yet she refuses to blow her nose.  I asked her to blow her nose.  She didn't respond.  I hate that.  I stop at a stop light and look back at her.  I ask her to take the tissue and blow her nose.  She takes the tissue and wipes her nose and throws it on the floor of the car.  I can feel my blood pressure start to rise.

I grab another tissue and I hand it back to her.  I tell her to blow her nose.  BLOW.  Not wipe.  She reaches out to take the tissue.  The light turns green.  I drive a standard.  I need both hands to get the car moving.  I ask her again to take it.  I look back.  She has put one finger and her thumb on the smallest part of the tissue and is holding it.  But won't really take it.  The car behind me beeps. 

And I exploded.  All she had to do was nothing.  NOTHING.  And she could have a movie.  But instead she is trying to make me angry.  She is trying to hurt me.  She is trying to make this difficult.  I yelled.  I know this is wrong.  But I yelled. 

Then she was all offended that I was upset with her.  Back to square one.

Mean Mama

Eating Habits

Have I mentioned Ladybug's eating isses?  Like if it is not pizza, hamburgers, macaroni and cheese, or chocolate she is not interested.  Really.  Yucky.  Gross.

Well let's add a few new ones...

1. She has started eating by slowly shoving food into the corner of her mouth as she chews it.  Sort of like shoving a log into a wood chipper.  So she chews as she is putting the food into her mouth.  Instead of taking a bite, chewing it, swallowing, and taking another bite.  It is driving me insane.

2.  Left overs are gross.  I made macaroni and cheese.  Too much.  The next night I gave her the left overs.  Please note it is a food that is on the approved list.  Yucky.  Gross.  Would rather go hungry.  And she did.

3.  She is stealing food.  Last night I introduced her to Thin Mints.  This morning I found that she had packed the entire box of them in her school backpack.  And lied about it until she was caught.  And then I also found gum, chips, and a banana in her backpack.  I pack a lunch a snack for her every day.  It is not like I don't feed the girl.

Not sure where this is coming from but I hope it gets better soon.

Mean Mama

Wishing Well

As we were driving home today, Ladybug announces...

Ladybug:  Mama, I saw a wishing well.
Mama: You did?
Ladybug: Do you know what I would wish for?
Mama: Chocolate?
Ladybug: No.  I would wish to be skinny, and white, with hair that is blonde and straight.

I hang my head in shame.

Mean Mama

Tangle Teezer

One of my Facebook friends raved about the Tangle Teezer a few months ago.  You can check it out here tangle teezer .  She raved so much that I went out and bought it.  It was cheap.  It was easy to find.  So I bought it.

I tried it on Ladybug right away.  And hated it.  Really.  I mean it didn't work at all.  It did nothing for her. 

But even though it was cheap I decided not to just ditch it.  Normally I don't keep things I don't need but I actually had room in the hair dresser (yes, we have an entire 3 drawer dresser just for her hair stuff) so I kept it.

Then over Thanksgiving my niece came to visit.  She is bi-racial and her Mama had not made any real attempts to learn how to care for the hair.  She is very fine (like her mama), loosely curled hair.  She has beautiful curls.  So her mama normally just throws it up in ponytails.  And it looks adorable.  But she asked me if I would do K's hair.  And I touched her hair and realized she was in desperate need of some real knowledge.   She let me know that she washes it every other day or so and then lathers it with vaseline and is done.

Vaseline?!?!  Okay, call me a snob.  I don't care who tells you it is okay.  Do not use vaseline on her hair!  Ever.  Much washing and conditioning happened that day.  And combing.  Oh yeah, back to the tangle teezer.  I tried it on her hair, too.  Her hair is thinner and less curly so I figured it may work on her.  Of course I did not account for the fact that K's hair felt like it had glue in the ends.  So I confirmed I hate the tangle teezer. 

But again I did not toss it.

So tonight was hair night.  It was not going to be pretty.  I had taken micro braids out last night.  I had washed and conditioned last night.  And patted dry last night.  And then I did nothing more.  NOTHING.  I did not combed it.  I did not put in extra conditioner.  I did not put it in puffs or large braids.  I did not put a cap on.  Nothing.  This morning I put it is a large puff -- uncombed.  That went over well - she hates puffs.  So as we sat down to do hair today I knew it was not going to be pleasant.  Her hair tangles very easily. 

And I decided to give the tangle teezer one last try.  And.... it worked.  I mean it.  It combed through it.  Without much pain.  And fairly quickly.  I got her hair combed, parted, and in 13 twists in less than 90 minutes.  That is good (her hair is long).  And she only yelled at me once. 

Well, she did freak out on me one other time.  But it wasn't her fault.  With wet, conditioned, gelled hands it was hard to keep the little slippery sucker in my hand.  I accidentally flung it across the room no less that 6 times during those 90 minutes.  I mean all the way across the room.  It went sailing and one of us had to get up to retrieve it.  Except once it flew straight into the air and came right down on her cheek.  She freaked.  I didn't blame her. 

I don't hate it anymore but I need some kind of gripping glove to wear while I use it.

Mean Mama

another step... in some direction

So a few years ago (time flies) Ladybug hit 40 pounds.  The big issue with this was that weight limit for her car seat.  I was faced with the decision to move her into a booster seat.  I wasn't ready for her to be in a booster seat.  Really.  I wanted her in a 5 point harness (this was before my free range ideas -- but for the record the author is all for car seats). 

So instead of putting her in a regular booster seat I went into research mode.  I found a car seat that went up to 60 pounds in a 5 point harness.  I don't care if the law says she was ready for a booster seat -- I wasn't ready.  And it was worth every penny.  Despite her complaining that it makes her feel like a baby.  And the nice thing about it was that she was old enough to buckle and unbuckle herself.

Fast forward a few years...

This past weekend she hit 60 pounds.  Yikes!  And... YIKES!

Time to get rid of the 5 point harness.  So I turned the car seat into a booster seat.  I stripped off the 5 point harness.  I set it in the car to be used with the regular seat belt.  The real problem is that she can't buckle it.  And she keeps pulling the shoulder strap all the way out so it locks.  So every time getting in the car I must take the shoulder strap out of the car seat to unlock it and then put it back in.  Then I must go around the car to the other side and climb in the car to buckle it. 

So she may be growing up but somehow we have taken a step back so that I have to be crawling in and out of the car to buckle her up and keep her safe.

Mean Mama

... two steps back

Today, just a few short hours ago, I commented on another blog that I thought the book I am currently reading is making me a better mother.  It is giving me hope.  I feel better.  Ladybug is acting better. 

I picked her up from school today and the first thing she said is, "Mama, I gotta tell you something."

I have learned that nothing good ever, ever, ever follows those words.  My heart sank.  I tried not to groan.  And I tried not to hit my head on the steering wheel.  I should at least wait to see what it is she has to tell me before I react.

Me:Okay, so what would you like to tell me...
Ladybug: I had to go down to the principal's office today.
Me: Okay...why? (still trying to hold it together)
Ladybug:  Because I got mad at A (girl in her class that she doesn't like) and I told her I was going to kill her.

Really?  Seriously?  So I look in her backpack.  Maybe she is making it up???  Yellow note.  That is a principal note.  "Class bully"  "Threatened to kill."  She is in KINDERGARTEN.

Maybe things are not going as good as I had thought.

Lots of crying -- mostly me.  And very tired.

Mean Mama

another project

The school keeps me busy with assigning project after project.  I know they are suppose to be done by Ladybug but they still take up a lot of my time.

A little while ago they home the Valentine's Day project.  She needs to make valentine day cards for all of her classmates and a small list of teachers.  A total of about 35 people.  But please pay attention to the sentence.  MAKE cards.  Not buy.  MAKE.

Why does she need to make cards?  Because it is important to teach the kids the relationships take time and work.  Yes, that is a direct quote from the directions. 

So I went out and bought all the supplies to make the cards.  Construction paper, card stock, stencils, stamps.  And we started making cards.  I sat with her.  Read off the list of names.  She made cards.  Slowly.  Very sloooooowly. 

After about a week of making cards we had about 10 done.  10!  I need to do another 25.  I realized we were not going to make it.  Not and keep our sanity.  So I made the choice to break the rules.  We went out and bought cards and candy.  And I sat with her as she wrote out the names on the cards and taped candy to it.  After 2 days we are done.

So the lesson we learned is... if friendships are all work and no fun, get new friends.

Mean Mama

Pet peeve

Because I haven't complained enough lately...

Let me just tell you one little annoying pet peeve.  As part of my job I am often writing legal documents that must identify the children involved.  Our standard language is something like...

There were X children born or adopted of the marriage, namely...

Simple, to the point.  Right?  But here is where I get pissy (at least internally).  Almost every single one of my clients who does NOT have adopted children requests that I remove the "or adopted" from the document.  Absolutely none of the adoptive parents has requested that I remove the "born or" from the document.  The non adoptive parents usually say something like "well why would I put something in there that isn't true?"

Hey Dude (or Dudette) I am not making any kind of comment on how your children came into your family!  I am covering all the bases.  Why is it so offensive to have the "or adopted" in your document?  If it doesn't apply then it doesn't apply. 

I know this is my own personal issue but I really feel like people are unknowningly and untentionally saying my family is second class.  "Why would I say my family is adopted if they weren't?"  Why does it matter?  Family is family.  Period.

Pissy.
Mean Mama

Walking to school

You may have read on an earlier post, I am contemplating this "free-range" idea.  For those not interested in this, it freaks them out completely.  My aunt is pretty sure that I am being grossly neglectful by just considering it.  The question that has been raised by others is how can I embrace free-range with a child that might also have an attachment disorder?  Well, I am taking baby steps.

So my first step was letting Ladybug walk to school today.  Sort of...

Before anybody freaks out (or congratulates me), let me explain the situation.

I live right next door to the school.  Literally.  Imagine if you will...   A townehome rental community on a corner of 2 major roads.  This community is made up of about 4 dead end streets.  I live on the first one (at the end of the dead end).  You go 4 streets over and you hit a row of trees.  A row.  Not a forest.  A row of trees.  On the other side of the row is a paved walking path.  On the other side of the path is another row of trees -- again a row.  Immediately on the other side of that row of trees is the school.  Well, the parking lot is between the row of trees and the school doors.  But there is a fenced in walk-way from the row of trees, around the parking lot, directly to the front door of the school.  And there is a paved side walk from the street all the way up to the fenced walk-way to the school.  From my front door to the school is .2 miles.  .2 miles.  That's it. 

So today, I let her walk.  From the street at that pathway leading to the school all the way to the front door.  We are talking about 100 feet.  Instead of getting in the carpool lane and dropping her off right at the front door. 

I didn't tell her in advance.  I drove up to the pathway and parked.  She looked at me puzzled. 

Me: Do you want to walk to school?
Ladybug:  What?  Me?  A walker?
Me: Sure.  If you want.
Ladybug:  YEAH!

She could not get out of the car fast enough. And she had the biggest grin on her face.  She turned around about a dozen times walking up to the fenced walking path, encouraging me to leave.  Finally at the top (because she had to climb a set of stairs to get to the fenced pathway) she turned, grinned, waved, and ran off to school. And then I drove to work.

When I picked her up from her after school program she couldn't wait to tell me about the entire adventure.  She was so proud of herself. 

I let her walk 100 feet to school today (remembering that at her age I walked 1.1 miles to my school).

I have promised a full review of Free-Range Kids.  It will come soon.

Mean Mama

a little lost and frustrated

Trying to figure out what is going on with Ladybug has been frustrating.  I don't know.  I am a parent.  Not an expert.  I do know this is not normal.  I do not feel like she is a lost cause.  I just know living in this current state of reality is not good for her or for me.

First let me say that we had a FABULOUS day.  She was tired.  She took a nap all on her own.  But she was great.  Loving.  Sweet.  Affectionate.  Cooperative.  We had the best grocery shopping trip ever.  Okay -- maybe not ever but in my accessible memory bank.  She answered my questions.  Responded to me.  Did run away -- she did run up and down the aisles but she stayed within eyesight.  She asked.  She didn't freak out when I said no.  She used the words "please" and "thank you" throughout the day without prompting.  It was a great day.

Despite all my complaining and questioning, I have felt hopeful since embracing the idea that maybe, just maybe, Ladybug is dealing with an attachment disorder.  Not that I have a clue as to what to do with it. But maybe I am heading in the right direction.  I know I still need to get her diagnosed (tested) and I need education on what to do.  But I at least I am seeing a possible light at the end of the tunnel instead of wondering where the damn tunnel is.

But (oh come on, you knew there was a "but" coming) this week I have had 2 conversations that seem to be trying to put me back in the dark.  Let me just say that I have respect for both these women and I love them dearly.  But the conversations were hard.

My step mom is a neuropsychologist.  So I went to her and asked about Ladybug.  I mean this is what she does -- testing and diagnosis.  She immediately told me that Ladybug does not have an attachment disorder.  She told me that Ladybug does have Sensory Processing Disorder (which she has been diagnosed with) and possibly is ADHD.  But there is no way that she has an attachment disorder.  And I felt deflated.  And then I remembered in my reading that a lot of attachment kids are diagnosed SPD and ADHD and the attachment is missed initially.  But I have a professional telling me that I am barking up the wrong tree.

Then today I called my mom.  She is a nurse with a psychology background.  I told her about some of the incidents these last few weeks and how I handled them.  She really came down on me.  She told me I can't "diagnose" Ladybug.  I haven't.  But she said that I am acting like I have.  That because I have started using some of the methods of dealing with attachment issues I have diagnosed her.  And that without a diagnosis I should not do that.  I got a little testy.  What I know is that what I had been doing was not working.  Maybe she doesn't have an attachment issue.  But if the methods help her be successful at school and at home why can't I use it?

So I am feeling like someone is trying to take my tunnel away -- and I want my tunnel.

Mean Mama

attachment?

Ladybug has had a friend over for an over night today. Ladybug has been giving me all kinds of dirty looks and pouting all day. She has been disrespectful and I haven't had the heart to deal with it. So of course it just kept getting worse. But at dinner she looked like she was about to hit me because I agreed that the plate of chicken nuggets was B's. Two identical plates. But she was going to fight over it.

So I sent her to her room. She started throwing toys down the stairs. I started throwing the toys away. I went upstairs within a few minutes of sending her up and crawled in bed with her. I held her tight to my body. And the fighting really started. She kicked. She cried. She screamed. She fought so hard she was sweating. She sounded like I was killing her. And then she did the only thing she could think to do to get me to let her go and get out of the bed.

She puked all over her bed.

It worked. I got out of her bed. And I took her to my bed. And we started all over. Finally Ladybug stopped fighting and just sobbed and hung on to me.

When she was calm I asked her what she was scared about.
NOTHING
I asked what she was afraid of.
NOTHING
I asked why she was mad.
She said because I was making her miss the movie (she had been watching a movie when this all started).
That made me laugh.

Finally I told her that I thought she was scared. She asked what I thought she was scared of. I told her that I thought she was scared that if I was nice to B that it would mean that I loved B more then her.

And then she cried so hard that she could not catch her breath.

Hoping the rest of the visit is better. 

 

Mean Mama

on the lighter side

I got up this morning and felt... well, tired.  Just a little. Nothing too bad.  I sat on the edge of my bed for a few minutes and wondered where the pain was.  I mean, I had a date with Bob and Jillian last night, I should be in terrible pain.  I felt... nothing.  I was fine.

Good.  Maybe I am in better shape then I thought.  LOL

I went to work.  Up an down from the chair.  In and out of the car -- but that is another post.  Walking around Target.  I was fine.  My new challenge is going to be a piece of cake.

After dinner I sat down to my nightly computer time.  Eventually I realized that I was chilled and the only way I was going to get warm (despite the heat being on a ridiculously high level) was to take a shower.  I stood up. And ... nothing.

Nothing.  I couldn't move.  I did not have the muscle power to move my legs.  Or stand up straight.  Yep, I looked the the old female version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I finally managed to hobble my way up to the shower.  I finally managed to get undressed -- not easy to take socks off without bending over.  I finally got in the shower. 

I don't think I will be having a date with Bob and Jillian tonight.

Mean Mama

My newest challenge

Now that I have finished yet another round of phase to of my starvation I can start exercising.  I am not allowed to exercise during phase 2.  I am allowed in phase 3. 

For Christmas I got a Wii.  Just the basic system.  And it game with 2 discs of games.  I have been slow to try it out.  Ladybug, on the other hand, loves it.  She loves to play "swordplay" where she gets to beat the crap out of people.  And she is scarily good at it.  She also likes "island flyover" where she gets to fly a plane.  Actually to be realistic she likes to do acrobatics in the air and then crash into the water.  It literally makes me sick and I want to throw up watching her play it.

So on Tuesday night, as I watched Biggest Loser, I decided I needed to get the Biggest Loser Challenge game for Wii.  And, unlike me, I went out and bought it on Wednesday.  I never make those kinds of snap purchases.  But, hey, I need something else to help me with my weight loss (or lack there of).  Last night I tried it out.  I created a profile.  And did the initial fitness tests.  Apparently the game believes that I can handle moderate exercise but I think it told me I have the health of a 78 year old.  That can't be good.

So my challenge is to do 1/2 hour every night.  For 3 weeks.  Which meant that today was day 1.  I did it.  Mostly.  Somewhere around minute 24 I wanted to throw up.  And I thought -- I have seen this on biggest loser.  I am on Biggest Loser.   I live in the land of delusion.  But I powered through. 

There were 2 problems. 

Problem 1:  On Tuesday I complained to a friend that I would not like the new "unknown" trainers on the show because they seem to focus on boxing as an exercise.  I don't like boxing.   Really.  I like running.  I like the elliptical.  I do not like boxing.  It may be great exercise but I don't like it.  And this disc made me do a lot of boxing type exercises.  I also discovered that I apparently am not coordinated to do boxing.

Problem 2: They made me (or at least tried to make me) get down on my knees for several exercises.  First, knees are not meant to carry my weight.  Even on a rug on a carpet my knees can not handle it.  Second, I blew out one of my knees a number of years ago and it just never really healed.  I can not get on my knees.  I did one round.  I could not do a second round.  Jillian yelled at me.  Told me not to phone it in.  But I have limitations.

Note to self:  Yes it is a video game.  But it will work me -- if I don't cheat -- so I need to change out of my work clothes (yes, I did 30 minutes of exercises with Bob and Jillian in my skirt and nice shirt).  And I will sweat, so I need to remember to put my hair up in a ponytail.  I have a feeling I will be feeling this tomorrow.

Oh, one more note to self -- remember to save the game before turning it off.  I am not doing a second round just to have proof.  I neglected this today.  So you are just going to have to trust me that I did it.

Mean Mama