Eight is A*Nuff

Oldest playing Wii downstairs, baby sleeping. Older three riding bikes on the basketball court. Younger three on front porch playing with action figures. Mama in the kitchen watching it all in wide eyed wonder. Other Mother on TV in 17 minutes for a news feature for the large community youth organization she runs.  A much better day all around.

Monday Morning Mayhem

It's way too early for Friday fragments, so I've decided to do Monday Mayhem. 

The two older littles are LOUDER THAN LOUD and spent most of their morning time ARGUING with one another and SCREECHING trying to pick up the bin of tiny plastic "leg*gos" building blocks they dumped all over their bedroom floor.  Their two favorites: hot breakfast of oatmeal and toast was incentive to do a quick 3 minute  pick up.  Verbal prompts and redirection every five minutes are going no-where. That was an hour ago.  When they do get picked up, they are going on a shelf.  The "leg*gos". Not the kids.

The Middle Little is food obsessed. Really. Most of the conversations he initiates revolve around some maddening variation of the following:
"I have a blow-knee-cheeze rollup?"
"You have mayonaisse blow-knee cheeze sam-ich?"
"I Have mayonaisse blow-knee?"
"What we having fur-dinner?"
"Is it dinner?"
"We have dinner?"
"I want blow-knee fur-dinner"
"I have juice"
"I want blow-knee"
"Is that my blow-knee?"
"Whose blow-knees that?"

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Doesn't matter if he just ate, or is watching me make his blow-knee cheeze....the kid is OBSESSED.

I'm re-thinking my plan to go to the water park with them ...A fenced in kid friendly back-yard sounds a little more manageable... than refereeing the second coming of the Frazier-Ali Match (for those of you age-impaired like me that are old enough to get that reference....)

I just heard about a thousand leggos clatter on the wooden floor.  Argh.

They are now SCREAMING again over whose job it is to pick them up. They have a nice little chant going: "Middle" won't help me" and "'Oldest' won't pick up".  Meanwhile, the leggos sit on the floor and the hot oatmeal isn't so hot. Maybe they'll grow up and work for FEMA.

PS. The twenty minutes back and forth to the kitchen, typing a paragraph here and sentence there, the total time to sit and write this and find 2 images is MY TIME OUT so I remain calm and centered when responding to their dysregulation and SCREECHING. Did I mention the SCREEEEEECHING???....

Sunday In My City

I love Sundays In My City hosted by Unknown Mami.  

Find out what's going on in communities all over the world at Sundays in My City

Yeah. What She Said: A Milestone Moment

If you don't already follow The Other Mother (my better half for the past Twenty years) you have to at least check out her post here about a milestone with our foster son, James. You know, the one who'd run away on us or not speak to us...the one who after five months of solid togetherness is starting to relax. The one who might be here til he ages out of the system in 9 years...

The other reason you should read her post is that I am too tired to do my own post...spent the evening with the three littles while she took James to his first football game at the league's Football Jamboree. He looked so handsome and grownup in his game uniform! 

During dinner, the oldest little had a complete scary instant meltdown because his sliced hotdogs were placed on top of his macaroni, not next to it. 

Regardless, of why -he imploded.  Then totally freaked when he was sent to sit in time out for five minutes on the edge of the raised brick hearth of our fireplace. Time out is centrally located in the hub of our family...I asked the middle little if oldest was always like this in time out and he told me what usually happens in time out. Time out at their bio-home is very, very different from our style of time out.  Different enough to make me feel sick.

Wow.

So I sat with him while he was still raging and reassured him what we do and don't do at our house.  I re-explained that time out was a chance for him to get all of his big feelings out and then pull himself together and come back and join us at the table. Finishing dinner was up to him.  He didn't have to eat it, but that was what was for dinner. He is a smart guy and if he was really hungry he could figure out how to get the hot dogs off the macaroni. He did join us and ate his dinner and laughed at how easy it was to move the hotdogs to the side of the plate.  He stayed close for the evening.  Several times he stood in front of me, head and shoulders down, with arms slightly up in the air in a "please pick me up" gesture and he'd just melt into my shoulder.  A rough day for the oldest little. I need to come up with names for the three littles....

Tomorrow we pick up Bobby from camp and we are heading to a state park to enjoy the lake with 7/8ths of our crew. Alex is working.

I'm off to bed.

Friday Fragments

• Last year I left my job in the Behavioral Program of an Elementary School and spent the past year as a Stay At Home Mom. SAHM. It still cracks me up there is an acronym for that. Anyhow. Two of the three new littles make me feel as though I am still there. I can't leave them alone at all (not even for three minutes to switch the laundry)or turn my back for 5 seconds with out one of them protesting the other's behaviors. Legitimately so. The older one is becoming my stick-to-guy. Good thing I had those blue and green sticky hands to practice with.
• I read FREECYCLE daily in the hopes that someone, somewhere is looking for what I am hoping to get rid of: Housefull of stuff I've managed to collect but will probably not use and a whole bunch of DPS (Dead Peoples Sh*t). So far this week I have a Kindergarten teacher looking for a guinea pig cage - which I happen to have. Sadly, The sculptor looking for assorted metal scraps was not interested in free-ranging my garage. Darn.
• I used to buy antiques, tools and country primitives and then sell at a shop in Central VT. I have an odd collection of leftovers when I closed my business that are gathering dust in the garage and basement, including a four foot long railroad wrench. Talk about trying to find a specific buyer. I can't help it. I love antique tools.
• No matter how much I plan ahead when buying groceries, or cook up several batches of food to freeze on Sundays, I am still absolutely surprised that I once again have to cook dinner and find something to feed these kids. Didn't I just feed them yesterday? Anyone else go through this?
• I have been reading some blogs of some wonderful women who are going through tough times with their kids. I read and witness their pain but don't have much to offer in the support/comment department. "Hang in there" sounds so weak, yet it is what I have said on more than one occasion. By the time I sit down to read at the end of the night I am fried from my own day. Sorry to those of you who need so much more.
• Babies are sprouting up everywhere around us: The Other Mother's program manger just learned she is having a girl in Jan., Bobby's oldest sister just learned she is having a boy in Jan., his older sister is having a girl in Sept., my first foster daughter is having a boy in October...phew. When we had Baby Dee last fall and winter, I had made it a part time job shopping for baby clearance/sale items and as a result have more than enough baby gifts to welcome these little ones.
• Happy Friday.

Semi Wordless Wednesday

It is so nice to have the helping hands of friends to get through the day.

Parenting RAD Is Like A Band Concert On The Canadian Border

We spend a good amount of time near the Canadian Border. At the beginning of the weekly Band Concert they play the National Anthems for both Canada and The United States. Everyone stands. Many sing. Some hum. Others, like me, close their eyes and soak in the songs of others.


But everyone stands.

Out of respect.

It made me think parenting a child with Attachment Issues is like a Summer Time Band Concert on the Canadian Border.
How so?

We are asked to stand with respect and patience as our RAD child sings a song we do not know the words to. Sometimes we get the feeling or sentiment, but just don't know the words. Just when we think we know the rhythm, the tune changes and we are lost.

Lost.

Waiting.

Listening.

Straining.
Impatient for a familiar note.

Something familiar that speaks to us and says "Oh, yes. Here we are in our song. Here YOU are. I know YOU".

Much like our song of Attachment.

Our children speak a language we do not always understand and live a life we do not always have the skills or energy to parent. It is hard. Very, very hard. No matter. We stand with them and by them and near them. Even when they sing a different national anthem and we don't know the words. We stand next to them respectfully while they sing.

Even when they push us away.

Especially when they push us away.

At the concerts we go to, both flags fly. The US slightly above Canada. Whichever flag is higher lets you know which country you are in. Who is in charge.

Living on the border between Canada and the US, or parenting on the border between Attached and Unattached, as we do, some days it is hard to tell whose flag is flying higher

On the good days, I like to think my parent flag flies slightly above the flags of my children.

On a really good day it actually does

So we stand in respect for whoever's flag is flying or when each other's anthem plays.
Parenting a child with Attachement Issues...If you don't know the words: relax and try to hum along.