I'm Dreaming of a Trauma-Free Christmas

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'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where no meltdowns happened, and children listened
To us when we had to tell them, "No"

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
With every outburst and each fight
Can't our days be merry and bright?
And why can't our children just act right?

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
All that I want is Christmas cheer
Not these hateful faces, nor these exhausting paces
But it is not to be I fear

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
With every single fit they throw
I'm just so tired of telling them, "No"
Man, I wish I had somewhere else where I could go

The Candy Cane Lesson

(There is a smidgen of "adult language" in this blog... Just a heads up!)

Today I tell you, dear readers, a little story I've dubbed "The Candy Cane Lesson." This is not a recap of the cute but questionable "origin of the candy cane" story that I got to hear for the very first time last year (Husband was shocked that I'd never heard that story, btw... We were raised so differently!).

No. This is a story of Reactive Attachment Disorder's associated behaviors, and how those behaviors differ from kids who do not have such a disorder. Come, children, gather 'round while I regale you with a rousing tale of deceit, conflict, and love...

Last week was the last week of school before Christmas, which means it was a week full of trauma behaviors. Last Wednesday, Middle hopped in the car after school, and within a few seconds she popped something in her mouth.

"What you put in your mouth?!" Little demanded.

Middle didn't answer.

"WHAT IN YOUR MOUTH?!"

"A candy cane."

Husband, who thankfully does the picking up of the children, asked her to spit out the candy cane because we have a rule that they can't just eat in the car willy-nilly (this is because of Oldest's tendency to choke when she eats... I insist on being aware when children have food in their mouths in our vehicle!). He was telling this story to me while the kids changed and I went through backpacks. I found another candy cane in Middle's backpack and put it away.

When Middle emerged from her room, she started digging through her backpack.  "WHERE MY CANDY CANE IS?!" she demanded (and this was my first clue that something fishy was going on... Her grammar gets ridiculous when she is triggered).

"I put it up." Middle went to grab it. "NO," I said. "You need to wait until snack time. Right now it's time to do homework if you are up for it."

We started her homework, and she was making little mistakes... LOTS of little mistakes... Mistakes on things she "mastered" a year ago. Mistakes on things like writing the letter "e." She was "playing the game"... she was screwing up on things she knows, and repeating those mistakes even after I intervened. When Middle plays this game, that means something is triggering her.

"Hmmm..." I said. "Looks like something is bothering you. Maybe homework is not such a good idea today. What's going on?"

"I just want my candy cane."

"You'll have to wait."

"But can't I have it now????"

My RAD-parent brain kicked in right about here. I'll bet she stole those damn candy canes. 

Now, I knew I could not say that out loud to just anyone, because I knew how crazy it sounded. If your kids never experienced early-childhood trauma and don't have "RAD behavior," or if they DID experience trauma but you somehow avoided the insanity-inducing behavior that can stem from such trauma, I know I often look like a paranoid, over-involved, overly suspicious mother who should probably be evaluated by DSS. And I am thankful that most people don't understand me, because that means that most kids do not carry the deep scars of early-childhood trauma with them for years or decades or forever after they are removed from the traumatic environment.

But, if you are raising a child with trauma issues, you get it.

You get it.

And I'm sorry.

But anyway. There we were, Middle pleading for her candy cane, me getting more and more suspicious of these candy canes.

"Gee... Where did you get that candy cane anyway?"

No response. I asked again. "My friend gave it to me."

"Who?"

"My friend."

"Which friend?"

"I don't know."

"Did you get them in class?"

"Yes!"

Dad jumped in here with, "I thought you got them from the library?"

"No..." Middle said.

"I'll just message your teacher to find out about the candy canes."

Middle went back to her room, with the instructions to lay down and read. I messaged the teacher, the teacher told me she had no idea where the candy canes came from but that she would check with the librarian (who told the teacher she had not given out candy canes to any students).

I checked on Middle, and she was NOT doing what I asked. "So, what's going on in here?" I asked.

"I JUST WANT MY CANDY CANE!!!"

"Your teacher says she doesn't know where those candy canes came from. And, since they seem to be causing you a problem, I think we will have to wait on that candy cane until we get to the bottom of that."

Now, right here I want you to think back to when you were younger and tried to take something you shouldn't have. Didn't you try to keep your procuring of the forbidden item on the "down low"? Did you keep it somewhere your parent wouldn't stumble across it? Or use/dispose of said item before your parents could even lay their eyes on it? THAT is what typical limits testing or even just plain childhood greed looks like... Take the stuff and enjoy it before I get caught.  But with my kids, it seems to be different. They take things... And then make sure I notice they have taken something they weren't supposed to take. I've actually told Middle that she couldn't take a certain toy to school, and then on the way she started playing with it and holding it up in the rear view mirror, or dropped it and then said, "Hey, Mom, I dropped that thing you just said I couldn't bring with us. Can you get it off the floor for me?"

Anyway, after a couple hours of asking for the candy cane every time she opened her mouth, she eventually told us that a friend of hers took the candy canes for her when she asked him to. Even if that is not entirely accurate, she wasn't supposed to have the candy canes, and she knew it, so she got them through illicit means.

Of course, I knew this within minutes of her arrival home, and I told her as much.

"How did you know?"

"Because you are a good person. And when good people do things that are wrong, they feel guilty. And if you are feeling guilty, your behavior tells everyone that something is bothering you.  I'm upset with taking the candy cane, I'm angry that you lied, and I'm sad that you've spent two hours throwing a fit about this candy cane when we could have been having fun."

Silence.

"So, I think we need to throw away this candy cane because it's making you feel so badly. What do you think?"

Now, what would you expect here? I know I certainly expected another meltdown. Even well-adjusted kids with no trauma history will have a meltdown if their parent throws away candy, right?!

And therein lies the danger of expectations.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," she said.

Then we hugged it out and moved on with the day.

And so goes another day full of trauma drama.

And man. I'm so tired of it.

But, hopefully, she will remember... That I know she is a good person.

She's not fooling me with her obnoxious behavior. And, I hope I never fall for her trick. Because she needs me to see through all the bullshit she throws at anything and anyone in her path, to see past the lying and arguing (OH GOD THE ARGUING) and destructive behavior and strange things she does, to dig through the rubble and find the little girl who just wants to be loved but doesn't know how to accept it.

So I'll keep trying.

Every single day.

The Attachment and Trauma Network Needs Our Help to "Win" $50,000

Hello, readers!

Some of you may be familiar with the Attachment and Trauma Network (ATN). For those of you who are not, they are a wonderful resource for people who work with and/or parent kids with trauma issues. Julie Beem, the head of the organization, is in the running for Eagle Rare's "Life Honor" Award, which would reward ATN with $50,000 should she win.

If you or a loved one works with, parents, or has been diagnosed with an attachment-related mental health problem (Reactive Attachment Disorder, Complex PTSD, etc.), or if you just want to help those affected by early-childhood trauma, please click here to read her story and vote for her if you feel her cause is worthy! She needs to remain in the top 30 through January to be considered for the next round. You can vote once, twice, or daily, and it takes less than a minute to cast your vote.

When I Ask You Not to Send Presents to My Kids, I'm Not Being a Scrooge!

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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Dear friends, family, and well-wishers from our community,

I know, I know. You want to shower my kids with gifts every chance you get, and the holidays provide the perfect chance to spoil the heck out of them.

I know you want to send them mountains of presents, but I have to ask that you limit yourself to one or two gifts for each child.

And I ask you this, because I made the same mistake with two of my kids after we were granted custody of them.

My youngest and middle children are my step-children, and my husband and I got custody of them in 2013. Before they came to live with us, they experienced several traumatic events and some neglectful conditions. They were diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) shortly after they came to live with us.

The early-childhood trauma my youngest kids endured actually changed the way their brains develop, and as such they respond to things very differently than most children. So, the first Christmas we had with them, their dad and I went way overboard with the gifts and Christmas cheer. We gave them dozens of presents, trying to make up for all the less-than-awesome Christmases they experienced when they were younger. But, instead of being excited about all the gifts, my step-kids seemed to get exhausted by them; they seemed to get more and more upset with every wrapper they discarded. By the end of the day, my middle kiddo was trying to give her gifts away. She even went so far as to wrap some up on a blanket and try to return them to me.

When I explained they were hers and asked if she liked them, she told me she loved them, but did not want them. "Why not?" I asked, confused.

"I don't know. I just don't want them."

And those gifts sat in a corner of her room, wrapped in a blanket, for over a week.

The same kind of thing happens with our youngest, only often he becomes aggressive and destructive during and immediately after his birthday parties or holiday parties. He has completely shattered some of his "most favorite!" gifts beyond repair... Within an hour of receiving them!  And not in the "typical" way of playing too hard and too rough with a toy, but rather by smashing them into the wall, stomping on them, or throwing them at his sisters as hard as he can.  This is the kind of behavior you expect from a one-or-two-year-old boy, not a boy nearing six years of age.

I didn't understand this at the time, but now that they've been diagnosed and I've learned a lot about how a brain affected by RAD works, I know that my step-kids never learned to differentiate between the emotions of fear and excitement, which most of us learn to do early-on in our lives. And the best way to ensure our holiday celebrations don't devolve into a massive puddle of tears, bloody noses, trying to sneak new toys into the trash or trying to give them away at school is to limit the amount of "holiday cheer" we expose them to.

We put our decorations out very slowly, one or two per day, beginning December 1, and we wait to put up our tree.  We definitely don't put the presents under the tree. We try to skip commercials with holiday messages, and we don't go out shopping with the kids. We don't discuss the naughty and nice list and we certainly don't go see Santa at the mall.  Because these things, while fun and stimulating for typically developing kids, only serve to amplify our kids' anxiety levels and send them spiraling down into a cycle of negative behaviors associated with RAD.  And there are probably fewer things worse I can picture for our family than a Christmas season dominated by RAD behaviors.

So, friends and family, as much as I love the idea of showering the kids with gifts (and I really, really do!), I have to ask you to restrain yourselves and send only or two gifts, if you choose to send anything at all.

The best thing you can give to our family this year is your love and kind words, and, of course, respect for our parenting choices

Orchestrating Chaos... An Example

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 know I sound absolutely paranoid and borderline insane when I talk about my kids sometimes. I mean, before I learned about Reactive Attachment Disorder, I know I'd have questioned someone's sanity if they'd told me how their extremely young child could manipulate almost anyone and could orchestrate chaos out of thin air.

But kids with traumatic histories can do these things! And they do them so well that it is almost awe-inspiring... but it's not, because it's so damn frustrating when you are trying to parent them!

Middle and Little can read people, situations, and surroundings at a level I don't think I have reached yet after thirty-two years of living on this earth. And if Husband and I could just nudge their manipulation skills toward good instead of "not good," our children will grow up to be incredibly successful adults.

Yet, even though I recognize the potential of this skill, it is not a skill I particularly like...

Okay, I hate it. I hate dealing with it. I hate dealing with it all the time, every day, all day, constantly. It's infuriating.

I'll give you an example so that you can see what I mean, and why it's so frustrating. Keep in mind that similar situations to this arise multiple times a week.

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Middle came home Tuesday and started in on her after-school routine. A few minutes later, she called me back to her room.I found her standing next to her bookshelves, her hand on her hip, her shoulders raised. "WHERE ARE MY SLIPPERS?!" she asked in the most accusatory tone her 7-year-old body could muster.

I took a deep breath and answered, "We donated them, remember?  They were too small."

"I DO NOT REMEMBER THAT."

"Well, I do.  We went through your room and donated things that were too small, and threw away the broken stuff."

"I remember THAT, but YOU said I could KEEP my SLIPPERS!!"

"Huh. Well, if I didn't donate them, they must be somewhere around here."

"BUT WHERE?!"

Another deep breath. "I don't know. Is it my job to keep track of your things?" I asked as I walked out of her room to escape her withering, angry stare.

Things did not go well that afternoon. I had to constantly separate Middle from Little, and I couldn't do anything with her because she was angry. She even got angry with me when I let her have computer time because I wouldn't put her on the website she wanted to get on to and instead put her on an educational site. And when I told her computer time was over and to get her things for her bath, she really started "poking" at me (she was picking out "daytime" clothes instead of PJs, she forgot to bring in new underwear, she "got lost" in her closet, she broke a hanger, etc.).  When she got into the bath, I asked her if she wanted me to wash her hair. "NO."

"Oh... What's the problem? Is there anything you need to talk about?"

"I JUST MISS MY SLIPPERS SO MUCH AND YOU THREW THEM AWAY!!!" she wailed.

I told her that we'd decided to donate them, together, and I was sorry she didn't remember that. I told her that missing her slippers is no excuse to treat me like crap.

But she wasn't going to take that answer as justification for her slippers' disappearance. She assaulted me with a verbal tirade and I left the bathroom before it got too serious. "If you change your mind about me washing your hair, let me know," I said over my shoulder.

Things only went downhill from there... Middle and Little started engaging in some unsafe behavior. Neither of them has been sleeping well this week, and they both had monstrously dark, large circles underneath their eyes. We chalked up the crappy behavior to being tired and we decided to make them dinner and send them to bed about an hour early.

Middle was clearly unhappy with this decision, and she refused to eat.  I left the room, again, because I could feel my face starting to get hot. I was on the verge of yelling at her, and that wouldn't help anyone. I went back in her room and my eyes landed on a box, sitting out on her bed. I'll bet she hid those stupid slippers in this box, I thought.

DING DING DING DING!

After finding the slippers, I remembered that when we went through her room, she'd told me she wasn't ready to give up her slippers yet. I told her I wouldn't donate them, then, but encouraged her to get rid of them when she was ready so she could get new slippers that fit better.

I stomped out into the living room where she and Little were eating, slippers clenched in my fists. "HERE ARE YOUR SLIPPERS!"

She looked up at me and made "the face"... You know, the one that she makes when she realizes her jig is up. "Oh."

"You know where I found these?!"

"In the box?"

"YES IN THE BOX! Why you would hide the slippers in the box and accuse me of throwing them away?!"

::Middle's "face" intensified::

"Did you just NEED a reason to be mad at me?!  So you made one up out of thin air?!"

::"Face" intensified to max strength::

"WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM TONIGHT!" I said yelled, and put them in the "toy time out box" we keep in the living room. "You really hurt my feelings and I'm angry."

The slippers joined Oldest's camera and Little's shirt in the time-out box. At least they weren't lonely.

I stormed out to our porch for an oh-so-calming cigarette, and by the time I got back inside, she was in bed, her food uneaten. But she didn't fall asleep until 2:30 in the morning.

............

At which point Little woke up, and I pulled out every strand of hair from my head and screamed into pillows until morning broke.

Or at least that's what it felt like.

Silly Sunday #6

Okay, I debated on this one for a while because I didn't know if the cat was okay... But, the cat is fine! I also learned that cats tend to survive falls and jumps from seriously high heights!

I'd seen the tail end (heh) of this gif many times... Had never seen the lead up to the ultimate feat of feline prowess, nor had I seen it paired with music until this weekend. Worth the brief watch.

Ladies and gentlemen... Sail Cat!