Monday morning fashion struggles

One of the things I did this weekend was bring out all of Ladybug's summer clothes.  Why?  Because some days are hot and she needs appropriate clothes.  For her this is like new clothes and she wants to wear them.  But come Monday morning it was cold.  Really cold.  But she doesn't care.

Ladybug: Can I wear shorts this morning?
Mama: No, Honey.  It is suppose to be cold today.  The weatherman actually said it might snow.  Wear long sleeves and pants please. (shouting from the shower)
Ladybug: AAARRRRRGGGGGG! (stamping her feet)
Mama: Seriously?  You are getting mad at me because of the weather?  I don't have any control over that, Honey.  Please wear warm clothes.

She stamps away.  I shower in peace.  I am getting dressed when I yelled at her to see what she picked.  She appears in her door wearing... a short sleeve shirt and capris.  I guess that is "warmer" than what she wanted.

Mama: No.  Long pants and long sleeve shirt please.
Ladybug: (mumbles something I opt not to hear and stamps off to change)

She appears again in a long sleeve shirt (the thinnest material she can find) and stretchy pants.  I decide not to argue.  We finish getting ready and head out the door.  She stops in the doorway and I try to coax her out but she is not budging.  Finally she says, "Mama it is too cold out here to go out."

Lesson learned!

Until this morning.  When I was in the shower and she yelled at me to see what she picked to wear today... shorts and a t-shirt.

Yes, I made her change again.  Maybe the lesson that needs to be learned is that I should not have brought out her summer clothes this early.

Mean Mama

1 week hair update

I don't think it is possible for me to say just how much I love this new style.  Really!  We have passed the 1 week mark.  I try to moisturize it every night.  I try not to let her get it wet.  I can put it up in a ponytail.  I can put a headband on it.  I can pull some back away from her face.  I can leave it down.

I did have to redo some.  There were a few undone twists around her ears and nape of her neck.  I also did the ones right at her forehead.  I think I did 7.  7!  Hoping they survive another week.  Or two.

Here are some updated photos...

Seriously... this is such a time consuming style to put in but I am loving it so much that I will do it again in a heartbeat.

Mean Mama

House Hunter

I admit it.  I love HGTV.  I watch it a lot.  I dream while I watch it.  Some day I will own a house... or a condo.  So I watch and dream.

Ladybug watches it with me.  Not voluntarily.  And yesterday she did something that made me think that maybe I watch it too much.  She decided to hold her own House Hunter for me.  She drew 3 houses for me to pick from.

House #1:

I told her that it was beautiful house.  The original plan did not include the pool.  But I loved the garden.  I loved the garage.

House #2:

Simple.  And it has a dog house.  Have I mentioned how much she wants a dog?

House #3:

Another simple house.  With a pool.  And a dog house.

So it was decision time.  I needed to pick the one I wanted to keep.  So I explained that I really liked house #1 but I really don't want a garden.  I hate yard work.  House #2 did not appeal to me much.  And we don't actually have a dog.  House #3 has a pool.  Need I say more?  So my choice was house #3.

Apparently I picked the wrong house.  She decided that house #1 needed a pool.  And then she threw in a free car.  And she promised me that the garden was all done and I didn't need to do any work in it.  And just to insure that I would pick the right house on my second try she turned the dog house into a haunted house (hititot hous) on house #3.

I picked house #1.

Mean Mama

night dreams

One of the things my new therapist has is the sleeping patterns in our house.  I really have no point of reference as to what is normal.  I know what I did before Ladybug and what I have done after.

I sleep.  I love sleep.  My favorite hobby.  I love my bed.  Seriously.  But seriously, I need a lot of sleep.  And I use to sleep heavy.  I slept through fire drills in college.  Seriously.  I thought people were teasing me when they would mention the middle of the night fire drills.  I slept through them all.  I NEED 8 hours of sleep a night.  I could really use 9 hours of sleep a night.  And I would be in heaven if I got 10 hours of sleep a night.  I know it seems ridiculous but it is true.

That doesn't happen anymore.  Ever.  EVER!

Ladybug is not a sleeper.  People said when she stopped taking a nap she would sleep through the night.  Wrong!  She has never slept through the night.  NEVER!!  Let me repeat that ... NEVER!!  She has been home for about 4.5 years now... she is 6 years old... and she has never slept through the night.  I get so jealous when people start talking about their 3 month old sleeping through the night.  3 months??  It will never happen for me. 

I put her to bed -- like clock work -- at 8pm.  Well, except for weekends.  And for the most part she goes right to sleep.  She is tired.  I go to bed between 11pm and midnight.  in those 3 or 4 hours she will get up, on average, 6 times.  For the most part she stays upstairs.  She wakes up and goes looking for me.  I hear her walking back and forth.  If I am not in bed she goes back to her bed and back to sleep.  Once I go to bed she crawls in bed with me and sleeps.  She wakes up a few times during the night and reaches for me but she falls back to sleep. 

Before she crawls in bed with me, between her road trips to my bed, she has night terrors.  Nightly.  Okay, I don't know if they qualify as a real night terror but they seem terrible to me.  At one point I put her bed in the middle of the room because she kicks and hits.  I was afraid she might hurt her little toes kicking the walls.  she falls out of bed at least once a week...considering the condition of her room right now I am hoping it isn't any time soon.  She cries and screams and talks. 

For the most part I don't disturb her.  But sometimes I hear a blood curdling scream or NOOOOOO and I go to settle her down.  Sometimes I find her sitting up babbling.  Asleep.  And I coax her back to a sleeping position.

She never remembers her dreams.  So I am unsure how to help her process the night time issues.

I wonder what the therapist will think of all of this.

Mean Mama

And then sometimes....

Through all of my complaining lately there are good moments.  Actually this week we have had some seriously good moments.  I mean I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I am always scared the good will be replaced with the anger.  Like today when she asked from candy for dinner.  Of course I said no.  SHOCKING, I know.  And her response was to lay down on the couch and kick and scream and throw a fit.  And again she went off about how unfair life is.

Is that normal? 

So I asked a simple question.  Did she expect to get what she wanted because she through a fit?  I didn't get an answer.  I didn't really expect one.  But it did slow her down.  And when the screaming subsided I made her a promise.  I told her I could make very few promises in life but one I could promise her was that whenever she threw a fit I promised she would never get what she wanted.  That stopped her.

But we have had good moments.  Like this evening while we were watching Ella Enchanted (for the 4th time in 24 hours) and she asked for cuddle time.  Or earlier in the week when she did the dishes (she thinks it's fun).  Or the ridiculous number of please and thank you's that I have heard this week.  Or the middle of the night when she reaches for me and says she just wants to hold my hand.  Or this evening walking back from the mailbox and she took my hand without me prompting. 

I take my good times in moments.  Because they come in moments.  They are fleeting.  And they are sweet.  I live for those moments.  My heart practically explodes with pure love and joy when they come.   And I hope that as we get into therapy those moments will come more frequently.

Fingers crossed...and enjoying the moments as they come.

Mean Mama

Egocentrism

This is what my sister posted on her Facebook page recently...

"Doesn't make sense, does it? Homeless in the US go without eating. Elderly in the US go without needed medicines. Mentally ill in the US go without treatment. American troops go without proper equipment. American veterans go without benefits that were promised. Yet we donate billions to other countries before helping our own first. 1% will re-post and 99% won't. Have the guts to re-post this. I KNOW I'M IN THE 1%"

I found it offensive.  Not because it isn't true.  Which I have no knowledge about.  I know there are Americans in need.  I know Americans struggle.  I know Americans have needs that are not met.  But does being American mean that Americans must be in a perfect situation before we are able to help people in other countries?  And my daughter is not a born American.  Her niece.  She is from another country that needs help.  Her ancestors and her first family are Ethiopian.  I believe it to be impossible to adopt from Ethiopia and not fall in love with the country, the culture, and the people.  Should I ignore their needs because there are Americans who also need? 


It makes me sad.


Mean Mama

A E I O U

Ladybug has been having a hard time learning to read.  Or at least I think so.  I encourage her to try.  When she gets stuck my common response is ... use your sounds.  And sometimes that doesn't work. 

Mama:  What letter makes the sound "ah"?
Ladybug: O
Mama:  No.  "Ah!"
Ladybug:  O
Mama:  No Honey.  "AH!"
Ladybug: O


I wasn't getting anywhere.  And then today I had an "Ah ha" moment.

I was driving to work and listening to the radio.  A commercial came on and what I heard was...

"Ahm on my fate awl day.  Up and down the lighter..."

What?? 

Translation -- from English to English -- "I'm on my feet all day.  Up and down the ladder..."

And the light went on.

I am not from the part of the country.  I did not grow up here.  I do not pronounce my vowels the same way they do here.  And Ladybug is learning her vowels from her teacher -- who probably grew up in this town. 

Mean Mama

therapy update

I am not sure how I am suppose to feel.  I saw the new therapist today.  Just an intake.  Just a clinical review of what I am concerned about.  Ladybug wasn't even there.  Just my take on things.

At first she listened without real concern.  For about 5 minutes.  This was just an overwhelmed single mom.  I actually really liked her.  Down to earth.  Straight forward.  Smart.    I was honest.  And open.  I tried to just report facts.  No opinions.

She wants Ladybug to see a psychiatrist.  Actually referred me to one.  She knows she is diagnosed with a Sensory Processing Disorder.  She sees that in what I told her.  And she knows the OT who diagnosed her so she trusts the diagnosis.  She is also concerned about a possible sleep disorder.  And her anger.  And the aggression.  Possible ADHD.  Possible attachment issues.  She wants me to pursue an IEP.  Be open to medications.  She wants to get some relief for Ladybug because she obviously must feel terrible if this is how she is acting.

So how exactly am I suppose to feel?  Am I suppose to be happy?  Happy that someone believed me?  Happy that I am not crazy?  Happy that maybe there is hope for a change?  Am I suppose to be sad?  Sad that I might be right?  Sad because she may have a long road ahead of her?  Sad that she is not a normal happy go lucky kid?

Mean Mama

melt down versus blow out

Have you ever considered the difference between a melt down and a blow out?  I there a difference in your book?  I have recently decided that there is a huge difference.  At least in my life.  And the difference is very much visual.

Watching a child "melt down" is like watching a child melt (hence the word) into a puddle of blubbering mess.  I don't see this often.  But I did the other day.  I don't even remember what it was about any more.  But one moment Ladybug was standing in front of me asking me for something and then next moment she collapsed on the floor in a puddle crying.  She was upset and sad.  Sad being the operative word.  She was disappointed in my answer (which I am pretty sure was no -- even though I don't remember the question).  Whining followed.  But she remained a heap on the floor. 

A "blow out" is quite the opposite.  It is like watching a child go from standing next to you to having her head explode into a firework display.  This is what I see a lot.  One moment she is standing next to me and the next she she stomping, throwing up her arms, yelling at me, turning red, and threatening to explode.  I see it a lot.  Did I already say that?  Today...for instance...I picked her up from her after school program.  She walked out to the car.  It was written all over her face.  Brow furrowed.  Lips tight.  Eyes squinting.  Yep, the fuse had already bit lit.

Mama:  How was you day, Honey?
Ladybug: I got a lot of X's!
Mama:  Rough day?
Ladybug:  I already said yes!
Mama: What was the problem?
Ladybug:  I was hungry!
Mama:  Why?
Ladybug:  Because I threw away my breakfast!
Mama: What?  Why?
Ladybug:  Because I didn't like it!
Mama: Aaaah.  (Sigh)
Ladybug:  I am not going to talk about this with you!  We do not need to talk about everything.  You can not make me talk about my bad days.  (Kicks the the seat in the car.  Takes of her cowgirl boot and throws it across the car.  Crosses her arms in defiance.  Scowls at me.)

See the difference?  It is so clear to me when it is happening.  I see the difference.  I just wish I saw it less.

Therapy starts tomorrow.  I am scared.  And hopeful.

Mean Mama

I don't understand

I really don't understand.  I was just trying to have a conversation...on the phone... with my parents.  We started on skype but then my internet failed.  Ladybug talked to them.  Well... for a chatter she is not very good a phone calls.  But I let her go first. 

Then I asked her to go play while I talked.  I stayed in the kitchen.  I put away the groceries.  I swept.  I generally cleaned up while talking. 

She refused to stay up in her room.  She brought down every noisy toy she could find.  She didn't even play them in the living room.  She played them in the hall.  I tried closing the kitchen door -- yes, I actually have a door to the kitchen, which seems odd to me -- but she kept coming in.  I sent her outside to play.  She bounced a ball.  She stood in the doorway and blew bubbles into the house.  I tried closing the door.  She opened it.  I went outside.  So she went outside.  Of course.

She would loudly whisper to me.  I am on the phone!!!  I redirected it several times but then I gave up.  I obviously was not meant to have a conversation on the phone.  She was not going to allow it.  So I ended the call short.  I turned my attention to her.

And she promptly laid down on the couch and fell asleep.  Really?????

Mean Mama