What Does It Feel Like to Parent a Child with Trauma Issues? Sia's music videos (Part Two)

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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I felt emotionally hollowed by the video for "Chandelier," but the video for "Elastic Heart" gutted me. "Chandelier" puts me in the shoes of my step-kids and reminds me that the kids' behavior comes from a place of sadness, anger, and terror.

The video for "Elastic Heart" accomplishes this as well. However, Shia LeBouf's performance alongside Maddie Ziegler's adds a whole new emotional dimension that I did not anticipate when I started watching the video. I have had a hard time explaining to friends and family exactly what it feels like to parent my step-kids. I try to describe the pain they feel and inflict on me, the sadness and anger I feel over the whole situation, the commitment to keep trying even when it seems impossible... but my words fall far short of accurately conveying the reality of parenting children whose early-life experiences extinguished their ability to trust their caregivers.

Husband and I were overjoyed when his kids came to live with us. They were in an unsafe environment, and our home would shelter them. They would be safe with us. We would be able to fix their problems as long as they remained in our homes. But we did not understand that they would fear our safe environment full of love and kindness and predictability. To them, we weren't giving them a safe place.  They didn't even understand that concept. No. They interpreted all of our rules and structure as confining them.  We were trapping them and trying to force them to accept our love when they saw that love as a threat. To them, our house wasn't a home... It was a cage.

So, Middle and Little fought against us. Fought against our love. Attacked us. Over and over again.

And every time we thought they were starting to accept our love, starting to feel safe... Every time we thought, "Okay, Crazy Time is over. Now we can function as a family and have fun together. We can go to big events and the kids can handle it. Now we can get back to normal," something would happen and would realize they still have so far to go to heal. Feeling safe and trusting us evokes their feelings of insecurity*.  

In their minds, our safe environment threatened them, and our love couldn't be trusted. And even after almost two years, they still don't feel safe, they still don't feel like we will love them unconditionally. When they get scared that their world is going to be turned upside down,  "Fight, Freeze or Flee" kicks in, and they resist our attempts to bond with them. 

Husband and I are pretty lucky because they are young and they are too small to do any serious damage most of the time when they get angry enough to get physical. We are lucky because their violent outbursts have been rage reactions, not premeditated plans of attack. We are lucky because we have a wonderful therapist and behavior program and they are no longer physically violent or orchestrating mental manipulation on us (and each other) all day, every day. And I am thankful.

But when my kids do unsettling or violent things, I feel frightened. Their behavior can be scary on many levels... At least once a day I worry this will never get better, and that is terrifying.

The simple truth is, the intensity of their emotions can reach very scary levels. And sometimes I snap at them.

And sometimes, I do want to run away.

At times, I've felt that well-meaning friends and family have actually secretly wanted me to run away. People have asked me to really consider if I could handle parenting the kids.  If I really wanted to parent them. I've been reminded that no one would blame me for walking away from my situation. That I shouldn't be putting Oldest through all this drama for kids that "aren't really mine." And I have honestly pondered those things countless times, because the last two years have been the hardest two years I've lived.

But... I stay.  I stay, and try to comfort them when they are in the clutches of the Reactive Attachment Disorder minions.  

I stay, and do my damnedest to therapeutically parent them so that they can heal.

Here, Shia LeBouf enacts "playful" part of parenting with PACE 

(the acronym stands for Playful, Accepting, Curious, Empathetic; Daniel Hughes

established this method and his books really helped me feel more positive about parenting

Middle and Little).  Who'd have thought such an unlikely star would illustrate therapeutic parenting so perfectly?

I stay out of love for Husband.  How could I leave him to do this immense job all on his own?  How could I run away from his children when he so openly and readily accepted my biological daughter who has her own difficulties with behavior?  How could I abandon the man who has shown me so much love, who has redefined my definition of love, who would never abandon me if our roles were reversed?

I stay out of love for myself.  I couldn't forgive myself for walking away from these beautiful children who have seen more horrible things than I have seen in my 31 years.  Who have repeatedly been mistreated and abandoned.  Who so desperately want to love and receive love openly, without fear, who want to "fit" in our family... But just can't bring themselves to believe we won't hurt or leave them.  How could I live with myself if I just added to their mental distress?  I couldn't, and I know I couldn't.  So, I stay for myself.

I stay out of love for Oldest.  While it is true that in the beginning, the chaos that her step-siblings brought to our house caused her great distress, we have revamped our parenting style and put into place some steps for her to take if she feels scared when Middle or Little has a meltdown.  The "negative behaviors" Middle and Little expose her to are teaching her how to deal with peer pressure and other things that kids have to deal with as they grow, things I've always worried she wouldn't get a chance to learn with her genetic disorder.  She has someone to play with most of the time, someone to share things with. She loves her little brother and sister... and that is a good thing.  The chaos of our home can be distressing at times, yes, but having a family with two committed parents, where she really gets to see the unconditional love Husband and I have for our children, balances that out.

And, of course, I stay out of love for Middle and Little. I can't even imagine what would happen to them if I left them.  I can't imagine what their minds would do if I left them.  I know sometimes I doubt it, but the fact is they do love me as much as they can... As much as RAD lets them love me. Their expressions of love look so different than my own, and because of that I do forget this simple fact sometimes.

Watch the whole video below... and listen to the lyrics... and think about how children with traumatic pasts want your love but also fear your love...

And another one bites the dust

Oh, why can I not conquer love?

And I might have thought that we were one

Wanted to fight this war without weapons

And I wanted it, I wanted it bad

But there were so many red flags

Now another one bites the dust

Yeah, let's be clear, I'll trust no one...

Well I've got thick skin and an elastic heart

But your blade, it might be too sharp

I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard

Yeah, I may snap and I move fast

But you won't see me fall apart

Cuz' I've got an elastic heart

And I will stay up through the night

And let's be clear, won't close my eyes

And I know that I can survive

I'll walk through fire to save my life

And I want it, I want it so bad

I'm doing everything I can

Then another one bites the dust

It's hard to lose a chosen one

*For example: Yesterday was AWESOME!  We visited Husband's family and friends, and they rocked some awesome behavior.  Little even talked himself out of a meltdown.  This is an amazing feat in its own right, but considering he had been up for fifteen hours with no nap in a place that essentailly showered him with love and safety all day long, I found his remaining calm when he didn't get the piggy-back ride to the car he wanted absolutely remarkable.  I was thrilled.  

Husband asked the kids if they'd had a good time (clearly they had... They got to go swimming twice, had two picnics, played with dogs and other kids, roasted marshmallows, and played air hockey with each other).  Oldest gleefully cheered, "YES!  Best day ever!  Middle and Little, however, were less enthused.  "My day was in the middle," Middle said.  "Thumbs up.  Thumbs down," Little said sullenly. 

I spent the car ride home quietly preparing myself for the backlash we'd likely face today.  And, so far, today hasn't been so great, but Little has had two meltdowns (short ones, thankfully!) and when I woke Middle this morning I found that she had been scratching herself and there was blood on her face and shirt. Nonsense chatter is through the roof and Middle's deliberate antagonizing of me is full force.  They are also fighting over every single thing... Simple things, like how to pet our cat or over the last time Middle wore the shirt she is wearing.

I celebrate the fact that the great time we had yesterday would have been absolutely impossible one year ago. But I mourn the fact that for my step-kids, big fun means big feelings which, more often than not, means big chaos during or shortly thereafter.

Maddie Ziegler's Performances in Sia's Music Videos (part one): What does RAD feel like?

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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My step-kids had their first supervised visit with their mother last summer. Their visit would last three weeks and would be supervised by one of Biological Mother's friends. This was a condition of Husband's divorce settlement. We didn't trust the situation much because we didn't know the friend, but she supervised visits through CPS contracts. She sent us extensive documentation proving that she worked for the state as a supervisor, we verified it, and Husband reluctantly agreed to including her on the "approved supervisor list" filed with the court to avoid going to trial with Biological Mom again. We didn't trust that she would actually supervise Biological Mother the way she was supposed to, but we believed that she would at least keep them safe (and we were absolutely right... She didn't really supervise them at all, but they came back relatively okay).

Against our insistence that she not tell the kids about their visit too far in advance, Biological Mother spilled the beans during one of their phone calls about two weeks before they were scheduled to leave.

Pardon the language, but seriously... What the f@#%!?

Middle and Little hadn't seen Biological Mom in ten months, so they were incredibly excited and happy to go on their trip. They couldn't wait to see their mom. While they said they were a little nervous, they were mostly just thrilled.

Now. If you know anything about RAD, you know all about the following equation:

Excited + Happy+ Nervous + Impatient = EPIC NUCLEAR MELTDOWNS FOR DAYS

Things got nuts as soon as they found out they'd be seeing their mom. They reacted against me, constantly. This was when Little's behavior started turning violent against me and I had to restrain him for the first time. This was when Middle did things every time she looked at me to get a reaction out of me. This was when Middle screamed at me to get away from her during one of her fits, and when I tried to comply by leaving the room she charged me, jumped on me so that I bent over, grabbed hold of my hair and screamed, "DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!"

This was when I really reacting against their reactions. For example,  Little and Middle would NOT stop jumping off the 3.5-foot-tall toy box in their room, usually on top of each other in some sort of dominance game I just don't understand.

"THE BOX"

During this lead-up to their visit, Middle ended up kicking Little pretty hard in the face during one of her jumps. I sat them down and informed them that if they were caught jumping off of the toy box again, I would be taking it to the dumpster and that most of the toys inside would go, too, because we wouldn't have anywhere to store them.

The next day was rough. The kids were all over the place, acting completely bonkers, and I lost my patience around noon. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, I walked past their room and caught Little in mid-free-fall. His intended target? Middle's back. So, I started yelling. And I mean yelling. Essentially screaming. I grabbed the humongous toy box that weighed about 35 lbs and started dragging it out of their room. The kids grabbed onto it and yelled, "No!" and asked to get some of their toys out, but I refused and yanked the box from their hands. When I got to the front door and started hauling it out, Husband grabbed on to the other side.  "Hey," he said, "we don't know what's in there... maybe we should look and--"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IS IN HERE! IT IS TRASH NOW!"

After I got it to the dumpster, Husband wanted to bring back some of the now discarded toys. "NO!" I shouted.  "THEY DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT THE STUPID TOYS!  THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING! THEY NEED TO LEARN TO CARE! MAYBE LOSING EVERYTHING WILL MAKE THEM CARE, BUT I SERIOUSLY DOUBT IT!!!!!"

Husband dropped the subject. I left the house and went on a long, calming drive.

Around midnight that night, I started feeling guilty and decided to bring back in some of the special toys that were in the toy box. I went out to retrieve them, but, unfortunately, someone had spotted what must have seemed like a toy jackpot and took advantage. The toy box, and the toys, were gone.

Middle will never get back the bear the judge gave to her the day she came to live with us. They will never get back the special Snuggy blankets their grandma gave to them. It was a truly nasty thing I did, and I can never undo it. Husband and the kids have forgiven me, but I haven't forgiven myself because one of the theories on attachment disorder states that kids who have endured repeated trauma will destroy/disregard/give away their personal belongings as a way to protect themselves from loss. They've lost things and people they love, and if they act like they don't care about their things or give them away, no one is going to take that item as a way to hurt them.  When they do these inexplicable things to their stuff, they are choosing to lose that item. And I knew that when I threw out their toys. But I was so angry that I didn't care.

Anyway. That's how things were going. When Middle and Little left for their trip, I was actually happy that they were going. My thought process was something like, "I need the break. Sure, it sucks that they are going somewhere that might undo all the progress we've made. It's horrible that they might be exposed to more of the stuff that disrupted their minds in the first place. True. But I don't really care right now."

About an hour after they left, I read an article that claimed the music video for Sia's "Chandelier" to be the best of the year.  So I watched it.

I started crying here...

And had to pause the video here because I could no longer see the screen through my tears...

And I lost it all over again at the end.

The whole time I watched this video, all I could think was,  I've seen this before. The facial expressions, the movements, the intensity... I've seen all of this in Middle. This must be what she feels like all the time.

   

This face seemed eerily familiar to me.

And even though the song is about Sia's battle with alcoholism and the party scene, the song lyrics couldn't be more relevant:

Party girls don't get hurt
Can't feel anything, when will I learn
I push it down, push it down...
I'm gonna' swing from the chandelier
I'm gonna' live like tomorrow doesn't exist, like it doesn't exist
I'm gonna' fly like a bird through the night
Feel my tears as they dry...
But I'm holding on for dear life
Won't look down, won't open my eyes...
Cuz' I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life

I spent the next two hours sobbing on the couch, alone in my almost-empty apartment (Oldest was sleeping), angry with myself, regretting immensely the way I handled Middle and Little's behavior the days prior to their departure.  Was I actually relieved when they left here a few hours ago?  How on earth was I okay with them going on this visit?! And me... on what planet is my own behavior with them considered okay?!  They are children... hurt children.  And over the last few weeks I've been treating them like unwelcome guests in my home just because they were trying to hurt me in response to their pain. They are children and I am an adult! How could I do that?

This video restored my empathy immediately. I still watch it frequently when I feel overwhelmed with the immensity of my kids' behaviors and emotions. It helps me remember that they have a mental disorder. They're not doing the crazy stuff on purpose... Well, maybe they are doing it "on purpose," but they are not doing it with a sense of control.

Check out the full video below.  Every time I watch it, I'm reminded that my Middle and Little have so much going on in their little minds. Can you imagine going through life feeling like this? Try to put yourself in the shoes of a child whose brain operates at this frequency all the time as a protective mechanism, as a reaction to the life lessons his early-childhood experiences taught him.  I guarantee you will feel more empathetic, which will help you parent your kids in the way that they need.

They Asked, They Received: Conquering Food Issues (sort of)

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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One of the behaviors associated with Reactive Attachment Disorder is "gorges or hoards food." But there are a myriad of food issues you should prepare for if you plan on eating or feeding a child with RAD, or a child who experienced food deprivation, or whose previous caregivers used food in a punitive manner.

My step-kids didn't really have a reliable source of food. Sometimes there was plenty, sometimes food was scarce. Sometimes it was healthy food, sometimes it was Ramen noodles all week. My step-kids didn't wake up every day and know someone would make breakfast for them... Sometimes they had to get it themselves, and sometimes they made terrible choices in what they decided to eat (like rotten juice or expired turkey or a can of raw biscuit dough).

By the time they were three and four, Little and Middle had developed food issues.  Biological Mom frequently called Husband complaining about their strange eating habits. "Middle has an eating disorder," she said during one conversation. "She weighs 50 lbs and has cellulite and rolls because she constantly eats, eats, eats, eats." She'd found her eating an entire tub of ice cream and a pound of cheese in the middle of the night, and found her eating an entire package of bologna "right after she'd eaten an entire bowl of Ramen." Middle was only four years old when this conversation took place.

They also ate everything they crossed paths with that was edible, or that they thought was edible. Like juice boxes that had fallen behind the couch and had been there for months or pieces of cereal that had been swept up along with all the dirt and debris on the floor into a pile.

They also hid food... And they hid it well. Four months after we got custody of them, their biological mom told us that she'd found their stash of Cheerios "all over the house." Middle's eyes lit up and she regaled us with a tale of "The Day She Hid the Cheerios."  She and Little had been hungry but for whatever reason were not able to get food from their mom, so she got a ladder (most likely a step-stool, but she used the word ladder), climbed on top of the cabinet and had Little climb up with her. Then she crawled up on top of the refrigerator to get the Cheerios.  Then, they got little Ziploc bags, filled them with Cheerios, and hid them around the house so they'd always have food.

THIS IS, OF COURSE, HEARTBREAKING.  But this conversation really gave us an insight into their food issues and why they have them.

When the kids came to live with us, we noticed that they had some odd behaviors surrounding food. They were constantly asking for demanding food and drink. Angrily.  Sometimes even shouting at me, "GIVE ME JUICE!" "I WANT A COOKIE!"  Never a request, never a please, never a thank you.  They were almost always trying to take food from the fridge and pantry, even when they couldn't possibly have been hungry. They shoveled food in their mouths like they would never get another bite to eat.  When they left the room during dinner to go to the bathroom or whatever reason they felt it necessary to leave, they would ferociously shout, "DON'T TOUCH MY FOOD!"  Once, Little left his lunch plate and came back and thought Middle had touched his food. So he hit her and started screaming.  

Husband and I recognized this was abnormal behavior, and guessed that it had to do with their history of neglect their terrible eating habits.  We tried not to get angry with them about these food issues, but were getting frustrated with them.  I can't even count the number of times we said to them, "We have food!  You will never be hungry in our house!  We will take care of you, we promise!" 

I realized quickly we had to come up with a solution and started to work.  First, I implemented a system my mom had come up with for Oldest when she was young and always in and out of the fridge (this is a great system for kids who haven't had food-related trauma, btw! I highly recommend utilizing this with kids who can handle it).  I made each of them a snack basket for the fridge (the baskets were color-coded and tagged with their names).  The snack baskets had mostly healthy snacks and drinks, and a couple "goody" treats tossed in as well.  I told them they could eat anything in their basket at any time, and recommended that they space the snacks out throughout the day.  I figured after a couple times of eating the snacks too quickly, they would naturally start spreading the snacks out with some gentle guidance.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Little refused to eat anything in his own basket and would demolish the baskets of the girls. Sometimes he would just throw their stuff out of the basket without eating any of it.  Middle gorged on hers immediately after breakfast, and became distraught when she found an empty basket the rest of the day.  She would demand I fill them back up, and if I refused would have a total meltdown, or would wait until I was in the bathroom and start taking food from our pantry for a refill (I figured this out when I found a bag of brown sugar shoved into her basket).  So, the baskets were out (sorry, Oldest!).

My second solution turned out to be the key, and it draws on the nurturing principle paramount in therapeutic parenting.  It was a very simple solution, too, and that solution was... They Ask, They receive.

So.  If they asked or even demanded something from me, they got it. No matter what. No matter if we had just eaten or if we were just about to eat. No matter if they asked at midnight. None of that mattered. They asked, they received.

They didn't even have to say please and thank you (at first), something that grated my nerves, and really grated on Husband's nerves because we are in the South where everyone takes manners very seriously, apparently.  But manners didn't matter anymore.  They asked (without a please), they received (and I didn't expect a thank you).

If I found Little sneaking into the refrigerator or pantry for some food, I would close the fridge and ask him what he wanted. “JUICE!” he would shout. Maybe with a foot stomp for added oomph. And he'd get it. He asked (er... demanded), he received (sometimes begrudgingly... a three year old shouting, "JUICE!!!" several times a day got a little annoying).

If it was something they could not have (something they wanted but did not need), I would offer an alternative. They used to ask for soda several times a day, and we only let them have it on Fridays and special occasions. If they couldn't have soda, I would offer water or milk or another healthy alternative.

Of course, they then screamed that they hated water and sometimes they would refuse to drink it. Little and Middle both got angry at water and dumped their cups on the floor at one point. 

And when the backlash happened, I would say, “Then you must not be thirsty and you must not need a drink! But if you do need a drink, I'll be glad to get you some water.”  

This went on for about a month. It. Was. Exhausting. Especially because Husband was still in the army at the time. I was alone with three special needs children for twelve to sixteen hours each day and two of them were running me ragged with food and drink requests demands every ten minutes (literally).

And it seemed ridiculous. I felt like I was being too accommodating a lot of the time. But I wanted them to know that they didn't have to take care of themselves by scavenging food from our kitchen. I wanted them to understand that if they needed something, I would get it for them. I wanted them to feel cared for.

And, eventually, they did! They stopped yelling at me to get them their food. They learned they couldn't have soda and quit asking for it (I can't even remember the last time one of the kids asked me for soda!). They even started saying please! And thank you!!

Eventually, we got to a place where I could say, "Hang on," or, "After I finish this thing I will get that for you," and they wouldn't freak out or regress.  

Presently, I can flat out say, "No, it's not time for that," and get an, "Okay, Mom!" in response!

We still have a lot of food issues (and if you've figured out how to fix these things, please comment below so I can learn from you!). Middle is constantly (and I wish I was exaggerating) shoving food underneath her gum-line, chomping down on metal utensils, and trying to break her teeth with her food. She picks at her food obsessively... I'd never seen a child peel blueberries before! And if she is not picking at her food, she is shoving it in her mouth so fast and so hard and so full that she can't chew. It's gotten to the point where I cannot look at her when she eats or I get frustrated and angry with her... I've actually started buliding a little barricade out of pillows to put between her and I so I don't see what she's doing and have been leaving the monitoring to Husband.

Little has been refusing to eat more often than not lately, which is troubling, and will tell us that he doesn't like something he clearly loves to eat (like chicken).

And Oldest's genetic disorder has caused some structural issues with the way her mouth and teeth developed, so she chokes every so often. Also, she will eat until she throws up if no one is monitoring her intake. Dinner is sooo fun at my house.

Sometimes old behaviors pop back up. Recently, Little went through a period where he was waking up in the middle of the night, finding sweet things, and stashing them in his room, behind our living room TV, behind my dresser, and under the couch. One night I accidentally left a bottle of antacids out in the living room, and Husband and I woke up the next morning to find an empty bottle, and Middle smiling at us with chalky teeth. There's nothing like waking up and having to call Poison Control before your brain is fully functioning, let me tell you (don’t worry, eating too many antacids isn’t harmful and we do keep our medicine out of reach. I just had a momentary lapse in judgment... I blame the heartburn!).

But the bottom line is: We conquered some of the food issues. And that is awesome.

If you are dealing with these things, you can conquer some of the issues (food-related or otherwise)!

Because you are awesome.

"More Difficult with Female Caregiver"... No joke!!!!!!

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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There are days I don't even want to come out of my room, because I know that when I do, everything will go to hell.  Quickly.

And not because I'm a horrible, mean Mommy who will drive the children to act out with my mean ways.

No.  But some days, Middle and Little will be having a great day, and my mere presence will derail them into RAD Land.

Like three days ago.  Little and Husband were having a great morning.  I woke up around 8 a.m. and came out of the room.  Little immediately started bouncing around, wiggling, yelling... And then he did a flip off the couch, knocking over the project I'd been working on (and failed to clean up before I went to bed the night before... So, really, I have only myself to blame!).

Or when we went to the park with his therapy program.  We were having a great time together, then suddenly his face turned dark and he was glaring at me, and running away from me, and demanding that I stop following him.  He remained hateful and/or aloof toward me for the rest of the day.  All because I wanted to play tag with him.

Or when Husband leaves to go to the store, leaving me alone with the kids for a mere fifteen minutes. Almost every time he leaves the house, Middle and Little start freaking out and by the time Husband returns everyone (including me and Oldest) is screaming and yelling and crying.  He once came home to find me barricaded in a room with Oldest while Middle and Little were pounding on the door yelling at us, threatening us, and also asking us to let them in because they loved us.  THAT was a fun day...

So why does this happen?  I think Middle gave me a very good clue as to why this happens shortly after I first met her.  She hadn't been with us for a month yet when she dropped this bomb on me:

"Moms are mean," she said, looking me right in the eye, totally serious.  I asked her if she thought I was mean.  "No."

"Well," I said, "I'm a mom, and I'm not mean.  So not all moms are mean."

"My mom is mean."

"Well... Sometimes everyone can be mean, huh?  I have my moments where I get grumpy, too.  But that doesn't make me a mean person."

"Yeah.  But my mom is mean."

And what was I supposed to say to that?  This four-year-old girl knew a lot more about her mom than I did, and what I did know of her fell right in line with Middle's thinking.  She'd screamed and cursed at Middle and Little repeatedly.  Told them Santa didn't come in 2012 because they were "bad" (they were three and four!).  Physically assaulted their father in front of them with a machete and a 4-way tire iron.  Humiliated them in public.  Fought with other boyfriends in front of the kids.  Denied them food for being "bad."  Told them they were "bad" over and over and over again, when they were just being kids.  Made them clean their own vomit.  Made them change their own diapers when they "fuckin' reeked."  Made them lie to CPS workers.  Encouraged them to fight with each other and didn't come to help Little if, say, Middle kicked him in the head.

I wanted to agree with Middle.  "Yes!  Your mom is SO MEAN!" I wanted to shout.  "She did mean things to you and she shouldn't have done those things!"

Instead, I said, "Well... Yes.  But not all moms are mean, and even moms who are mean aren't mean all the time."  And I changed the subject.

The courts mandate that we encourage positive feelings about the birth parent and that we don't say anything negative about the kids' biological mother.  And some days, that's close to impossible to do.

Now that we've had custody of them long enough, Husband and I have made the decision to be honest with the kids (no sugar-coating) without judging. Example:

"Why can't I go see my mom on Spring Break?"
"Well... Remember the judge?  The lady who gave you the bear the day you came to live with us?"
"Yes."
"She said your mom needs to take some classes before you can go see her again."
"Oh." Pause. "She said we would come for Spring Break."
"I know.  I think she really wants you guys to come for Spring Break, but unfortunately, you can't until she takes the classes."
"Why hasn't she taken the classes?"
"I don't know.  But you are more than welcome to ask her when you talk to her next time on the phone."

A better example... This one has to do with the day the kids' biological mother came and removed the kids from my care before we had a legal custody agreement:

"Why you and my mom were yelling at each other in the parking lot?"
"I was worried because she surprised me by coming here and taking you out of my car.  It scared me.  It wasn't a good surprise."  This is code for: Because she was kidnapping you!!!  
"You didn't want her to take me?"
"No." Code for: Of course not!  She'd already hurt you beyond anything Husband or I expected and I didn't want her to hurt you again!"
"Why?"
"Because I was worried you would get hurt.  Or that I'd never see you again." Code for: Because she does crazy things and I had no idea what would happen to you!
"Oh."  Pause.  "You didn't think my mom would take care of me?"
"No." Pause.  "Not in the right way, anyway.  I knew she'd do the best she could, but I didn't want anything to happen to you." Code for: I knew she wouldn't.  I knew she couldn't.  Because when she had the chance, she didn't and she wouldn't.
"Oh."

I have to undo the programming that biological mother instilled in them when they were babies.  I have to UNDO the basic building blocks they erected in their head when they were building their reality and their definition of "mother."  Husband can help me do this, but really, the only way to shift their paradigm is to prove to them that their belief that "moms are mean" is wrong.  And really, only I can do that.  And the only way to do it is to try my very best to keep my cool at all times, even when they are pouring lava into a cup and forcing me to drink it.

It's a horrible, hateful job.  But someone's gotta' do it.  And that someone is me, and will continue to be me.  I only hope I can fulfill my role as mother well enough that when someone asks them to define mothers their first answer is "love."  Not "mean."

Wish me luck.

Nonsense Chatter... The Bane of My Existence

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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Oh, nonsense chatter.  How I loathe thee.

When we first got custody of Little, he was... well... little.  Since he was only three and we knew he'd been through some terrible experiences, we didn't notice that some of his odd behaviors were actually distress signals.  The massive fits he was throwing were almost normal for a three-year-old boy.  The toilet accidents were totally expected.  The fondness for the word "no" wasn't a surprise by any means.  And the constant questions and constant chatter absolutely did not set off any alarm bells in our heads.

Because kids talk.  A lot.  Non-stop, even.  About anything and everything and nothing at all.  I get it.

Early one November morning (about 4:45 am!), Little came into my room after Husband had left for work, as he had done every single morning since he'd come to live with us, and we had the following exchange:

"Where's Daddy?"
"He's at work, bud.  Go back to bed."
"Where's Middle?"
"In your room, sleeping.  Go back to bed, it's too early to be up."
"Where's Oldest?"
"Sleeping in her room.  Go back to bed."
"Where's Daddy?"
"Bud... Climb in bed with me.  We need to go back to sleep."
"When Daddy's coming home?"
"When he's done with work."
"Where's Middle?"
::Silence::
"Where's Middle?  Where's Middle?  Hey, I ask you where's Middle?"

And so on.

It was nothing new.  And my groggy morning brain ignored the "oddness" of this repetitive behavior for months.  However, on this particular morning, I was "with it" enough to realize he'd been asking me the same questions in the same order every day.  For months.  Surely he knows the answers to these questions by now, I thought.

Come ON, Pinky! 

Your time as a lab rat has negatively impacted your recall ability.

My flag started climbing up the flag pole.  This is definitely a sign of... something, I thought.  OCD?  RAD?  ADHD?  Or MAYBE it's something totally normal and I'm being weird.

So, the next morning, when he came in, I changed it up a little.
"Where's Daddy?"
"Where do you think he is?"
"Work.  Where's Middle?"
"Where is she?"
"In her bed in our room.  Where's Oldest?"
"Where is she?"
"In her bed in her room."
"Yes.  So... Why are you asking me these questions you already know the answer to?"
"I don't know."  LONG PAUSE.  "Where's Daddy?"

And even though it was only 4:45 in the morning, I was up now.  And I started paying attention to his questions and conversation throughout the day, and found he was constantly asking questions he already knew the answer to.  Such as when we took the girls to school and drove past some old tornado debris.  He'd ask, "What happened?" and when I stopped answering him and turned it back to him with a, "Gee, what do you think happened?", he would repeat almost word-for-word the explanation his dad had given him months before. "Oh, a tornado came and knocked down some trees and houses and they are still cleaning it up." Or asking me what day it was four times during the 10-minute car ride back home, even after I'd answered that question three times before we left the house and once when the girls had been in the car.

This was something I'd never encountered before... Nothing at all like a typical "Why?" phase all kids go through.  He wasn't asking for information.  He was doing something else entirely, but I had no idea what he was doing.

And then we found out about RAD, and learned about "nonsense questions/nonsense chatter." Theories behind this behavior vary a bit, but the reason this happens with Little (and, to a lesser extent, Middle) seems to be a combination of coping with anxiety ("I'm just checking to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be and that everything is fine and normal today and nothing is going to throw me off!" or, "If I keep talking and talking then I don't have to THINK or FEEL my FEELINGS!") and control ("If you are distracted with these questions you won't be angry with me because I keep waking you up before 5:00 in the morning!").

We've found ways to deal with this seriously annoying thing that Little does on a daily basis (at the bottom of the video I link to a resource that will help you if you need suggestions!).  But it still happens.  And these are my "favorite" questions he's asked me (and by "favorite" I mean the most ridiculous questions I've heard come out of his mouth when he's having a "rough" day").  I hope that if you read through them the examples illustrate just how this behavior plays out and how it differs from the normal questions kids ask as they develop their little brains.

1) "Why Max (our cat) is black and white? Why Max is white and black?  Why cats are black?  Why cats are white?  Why cats eat trees?  Why trees eat cats?  Why cats cats cats cats?  (The last question is WORD FOR WORD, and I remember because it got me to stop making lunch, get down on his eye level, and ask him if he was okay... Then he started throwing a huge tantrum.  Now, the question in retrospect is actually pretty damn funny... I mean, don't we all wonder from time to time, "Why cats cats cats cats?"  At the time, however, I remember my stomach dropping and getting that familiar, "Oh no, it's about to go down," feeling I get when I sense a meltdown coming on.)

2) "Umm... Middle... Why did, does, do, did, does, do, did, did, does, do, dis...... Ummm... Middle, Why doesdodiddodoesdiddoesdo..." At which point I mentioned he was chattering and asked him to stop.

3) "Why you Oldest's mom?"
"Because I carried her in my tummy and that makes me her mommy. And I take care of you and am married to your dad and that makes me your mom, too.  But you weren't in my tummy so I'm your step-mom, but it's really almost the same thing as a mom."
"Why Oldest is your mom?"
"Why am I her mom?"
"No... Why she's your mom?"
"She's not my mom.  She is my daughter."
"But why her is your mom?"
"I'm her mom, she is not my mom."
"Yeah, but why she's your mom?"
And so on for about a minute until I realized we were in a nonsense chatter loop.

4) Chuck E. Cheese commercials used to trigger a non-sense chatter exchange between Little and Middle.  Here's an example... It's not word-for-word, but the general essence of the conversation is the same and I only wish I was joking!

Little would start, "CHUCK E. CHEESE!  MIDDLE!  YOU BEEN THERE FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!"
"Yeah!  Long time ago when I was a baby!"
"Yeah! And I was there!"
"Yeah!  Long time ago when I was a baby.  I was three and you were two."
"Yep."
"And now I'm four and you're three."
"And then you'll be five and six and eight and nine!"
"Yeah, and we can go to Chuck E. Cheese for my birthday!"
"Yes! When you are a baby?"
"When I'm a baby we will go to Chuck E. Cheese and I'll be three and you'll be a baby..." And so on and so forth.  Every time the commercial came on.  EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  Until I snapped one morning and joined in their chatter just as enthusiastically as they were doing (because I knew exactly what they were going to say after the bazillionth time I'd heard it!).  They haven't done it since (woo-hoo!!!!).

This used to go on ALL THE TIME.  In fact, it used to be that when Little was spoke, he was chattering or asking nonsense questions most of the time. And when Husband and I started to call him out on this, THAT is when we started to get the scary, angry fits and the more upsetting "RAD behaviors" out of him.  Because we were taking away one of his mechanisms of control and coping.

Wondering what to do about this?  Watch the video by Christine Moers below.  This video floored me, because she was the FIRST person I ever heard speak of the things I was dealing with.  She gives an example of a nonsense question one of her kiddos asked that is ridiculous, and I remember getting a little shiver, looking at husband, and saying, "SEE!  SHE KNOWS!  WE'RE NOT CRAZY, THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING!"

She is a lifesaver, this woman.  I modified her "prescribe the questions" suggestion and we got great results! Watch the video and I'm sure you will find something you can implement in your household to cut down on the "blah blah blahs."

What Is Indiscriminate Affection with Strangers?

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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"There are no strangers here; only friends you haven't met yet."

William Butler Yeats

My kiddos must have been reading Yeats behind my back, because this is certainly how they view the world.  My biological daughter's genetic disorder makes her overly and overtly friendly. Her school actually contacted me once, concerned, after a strange man walked onto the playground and she ran up to him and hugged him (he was a parent, but still... She didn't know that!). When we lived in Hawaii and rode the bus, she routinely tried to climb on the laps of strangers and told anyone who sat next to her that she loved them.

For my step-kids, I think the last part of Yeats's quote would be altered a little bit... "There are no strangers here, because no one is a stranger."  I feel like they go through life thinking, "My friends and family are more significant to me than that man in front of us in the checkout line, but not by much and if he decided to take me home I'd get used to him and his house pretty quickly."

When I told the kids' biological mother about this being a sign of RAD, she scoffed at me and said, "They've always been like that.  A trip to Wal-Mart was always interesting because they would just talk to anyone who looked at them."

Middle and Little on a Wal-Mart run with their biological mom (who took the picture)

Husband and I assumed the behavior we were seeing when they first came to live with us was normal.  After all, some kids are just comfortable anywhere, right?  And we were both chatty little things when we were small right?  And didn't Oldest try to give an entire group of tourists kisses back in Hawaii... several times?"

Yes.  All of those things are true.  But my step-kids' behavior exceeds the bounds of "extra-friendly," "quick to warm up," "extroverted," "precocious," etc. (all words others have used to describe them).  I really can't explain this to you well with descriptors and synonyms... The DSM-V describes this behavior like so: "The child consistently approaches unfamiliar adults (as if they've known them for a long period of time) and acts overly familiar with the stranger, does not check back in with caregiver at a rate that is appropriate for the child's age, and goes off with strangers with minimal or no hesitation."  But I don't think that really captures the essence of this behavior, so I'll give you three examples to help you better understand why this is considered abnormal behavior.

1) The first time I met Middle and Little, I fully anticipated them disliking me, or ignoring me in favor of their father, and I was prepared and okay with that.  At the very least I expected them to be a little wary of me and clingy with their dad, and Husband and I talked about how he should take them with him if he had to to go somewhere and Oldest didn't feel like leaving the house.  I worried they would be scared if he left them alone with me since they were only three and four, and were away from their supposedly secure base (their biological mom); even though Husband was familiar to them, he'd been deployed or stationed far away most of their lives and they really only got to know him during their visits on Skype.  They hadn't seen him in six months and surely, I thought, they'd be nervous and a little confused.

But they weren't.  And they weren't wary.  Or confused.  At all.  In fact, they weren't even really curious about me at all.  They didn't look at me in silence.  They didn't ask who I was.  They didn't ask who Oldest was. Or why we were there.

And they didn't cling to their dad, either.  Within ten minutes of our arrival, Little was up in my lap hugging and kissing me.  I made a little stuffed Pooh doll tell a story, and Little eagerly asked me to do it again.  "Don't you want to go cuddle with your dad?" I asked.  "No, do it again!" he said, sitting harder in my lap.  I told three stories with Pooh and Little still didn't want to leave my side.  "Go sit with Daddy, he missed you!" I said.  "No!"  Eventually, Husband grabbed Little off my lap, and Little started crying.

At the time, I wasn't concerned.  "Little likes me!  Hooray!" I thought.  I thought it was a little "odd" that he didn't cling to his dad after being separated for so long, but didn't really think about it because with my experience raising Oldest, I'd forgotten that it is not typical of kids under five to be so comfortable in the presence of strangers and so dismissive of their familiar caretaker. Because an agreeable toddler is not something to complain about, right?!

2) The weirdness of Little's behavior didn't really hit me until we went to visit one of Husband's best friends who recently got married to K.  When we arrived after a two-hour drive with three special needs kids, I was in desperate need of a cigarette (I know, I know... I'm actually in the process of quitting!). I hung back for about eight minutes to feed my habit while Husband took the kids inside. When I walked in, Little was snuggled up on K's lap while she showed him pictures on her phone. He didn't even acknowledge me when I walked in, and he did not respond to me when I said he needed to get off her lap and use the potty. She's a cheer-leading coach and the pictures were of the girls she teaches, so everyone giggled at how Little was totally enraptured with the photographs of cheerleaders. I was annoyed at how Little was cuddling with this woman he did not know at all and completely ignoring me when I spoke to him.  But I didn't say anything, because that seemed like an absolutely ridiculous thing to be irritated over.

But it got really weird when we slept at their house the next night, although I wouldn't find out until morning.  When we stayed over at their house, the kids, Husband and I all piled into the guest room.  Husband and I gave the kids the bed and we slept on the floor.  Since Little has a tendency to wake up before the sun rises, we strategically placed ourselves between the children and the door so that they couldn't leave the room.

Imagine my surprise when I found out upon waking the next morning that Little did, in fact, wake up before the sun came up.  Turns out, he woke around 4:00 in the morning, and very stealthily left our guest accommodations.  He tiptoed into the room of our host and hostess and stood beside their bed, staring at K.  She woke up, surprised to see a little blonde kid staring at her.  "Ummm... I hafta' go potty," he said.  She took him to the bathroom then back to our guest room and went back to bed.  Before too long, though, he was back in her room.  "I'm hungry."

Kind K made him some breakfast and let Husband and I sleep.  When I got up and heard the story, I asked him if he'd tried to wake us up before he went to K.  "No," he said.

"It's fine," K kept saying.  But my mind flashed back on the signs of RAD I'd been learning about, and I just knew this was a sign of "indiscriminate affection with strangers."

"But it's K," Husband said.  "He met her before."

"Yeah, for about half an hour.  You don't think it's odd that he went to her instead of you or me?  Think back to when you were a kid.  If you'd been in a strange house you'd never slept in before, with people you'd never met before, wouldn't you have asked your parents to help you in the middle of the night?  Especially if they were sleeping right beside you?"

"Okay... It is a little weird."

3) Husband took Middle and Little to the swimming pool in our apartment complex the day he had to take the kids for their first visitation period with their mom.  When they got to the pool, there was a lady swimming.  As soon as they got into the water, Middle and Little swarmed her, before Husband had even had a chance to scope the lady out to see if she was okay to talk to and if she was open to the kids talking to her.  Middle started going on and on about her upcoming visit with their mom.  She hugged this lady around her neck as she spoke.  Luckily the lady was a kindergarten teacher and did not mind.  But it happened so suddenly and without warning that had she been someone less receptive to children, the situation could have quickly turned awkward or even unpleasant (I remember one homeless lady in Hawaii snapping at me that Oldest was "rude" and that I needed to "do something about her before she gets hurt.").  Turns out, this is a common thing for them to do at the pool.  The level of intimacy they express with relative strangers is really unnerving at times, and is almost always awkward for Husband and me (luckily it's not always awkward from the POV of the other adults in the moment).

4) This one's a little hard to explain, but Middle and Little will miss and/or worry about people and things that they shouldn't, and totally forget about people they shouldn't.  For example, Middle misses her first therapist, whom she only saw a handful of times and with whom she didn't really interact much.  She also TERRIBLY misses her great grandmother who passed away... Sometimes even to the point of tears (just last week she was tearing up in the back over Sarah Bareilles's song "Brave," because she said the repetition of "I just wanna' see you, I just wanna' see youuuuu" reminded her of her great grandma and how much she wants to see her. But she only met her a few times as well.  Little has told his therapist that he misses J, the boyfriend his mom had over last summer... And he told the therapist that about two weeks ago when he'd only spent two weeks with J (and only intermittently during those two weeks)... And the time they spent together was TEN MONTHS AGO!

Another example: about a month ago, I was driving Little home from his intensive therapy program.  When we stopped at a major intersection, a lady pulled up next to me and asked me how to get somewhere.  I told her I didn't know and wished her luck.  For two days in a row after this, every time we hit that intersection and regardless of which direction we were traveling, he asked, "Where's that lady who didn't know where she was going?  Did she find her friends?  I hope she did.  Did she?" When I asked him why he was asking, he said, "I'm just worried she won't find it."  When I told him that it was nice he was concerned, but that she was a stranger and we really shouldn't spend time worrying about her when we don't know her, he said, "But her was my friend and I want to know if she found her friends."  He hasn't mentioned that lady in a while, but I won't be the least bit surprised if he asks about her again in the future.

But the strange thing is, they don't ever talk about people you'd assume they missed and worried about.  Like their own mother, for instance.  When she was arrested for assaulting Husband, Middle and Little were three and two.  Husband says that they didn't ask about her for nine days (he even emailed their mom to note his concern that they weren't asking for her or about her at all).  And when we got custody of them, they didn't talk about her very much at all, and Middle (who loves to draw) did not draw any pictures of her biological mother... When she finally drew a picture of her and told me it was her mom, she later changed the identity of the drawing to her maternal grandmother.

As many problems as she has, she is still their mom, and most children will talk about their mom, draw pictures of her and for her, etc.  That's the "normal" thing you expect.  But they don't very often.  In fact, we can go days without hearing a mention of their biological mother.

Once again, we noticed this was atypical behavior, but we didn't realize they were displaying signs of serious disruptions in their brain development.  The kids were not acting, and still do not usually act, like typical children with healthy attachments at all.

Turns out, children do react differently to strangers and new situations and their reactions are largely dependent upon their attachment style (which is generally dependent upon the life circumstances the child has experienced).  One method that has been used repeatedly to test attachment in young children is the "Strange Situation" experiment developed by Mary Ainsworth.

Husband wasn't in the country when they were that young so cannot state with certainty when they started showing signs of attachment issues, and his ex-wife is not a very reliable source of information on things like that.  But we do know that they don't have a healthy attachment to anyone.

But we are all certainly working on helping them to develop one.