RAD Wedding Planning... Or... How I lost my mind.

Husband and I are having our wedding ceremony in less than two weeks.

LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, YOU GUYS!

We were legally married earlier this year, but couldn't have the ceremony at that time. Now the big day is just around the corner!

Anyone who has a blended family knows that this is a challenging experience even under the best of circumstances. Now take the "normal difficulties" and "normal emotional conflicts" kids with divorced parents have when one of those parents remarries... And multiply them by A HUNDRED BILLION BAZILLION... And you may have an accurate idea of how bonkers things are getting around here, especially with Middle.

When you add in a phone call from bio mom to all the wedding excitement, you get a dysregulated Little and a nearly apoplectic Middle. This was the first phone call in a month. Middle asked to call her mom, and it just so happened that it was her mom's birthday (we knew this because bio mom sent about 20 texts the day before demanding access to them via telephone because it was HER birthday and "all she wanted" was to talk to HER kids... Middle probably didn't know this unless her hypervigilant observation skills are WAY more advanced than Husband and I realized).

And of course after Middle learned it was her mom's birthday she made a card... But we can't send said card because bio mom has moved yet again and we don't have the address... And making that card was so sweet, but probably reminded her that she got nothing from bio mom for her birthday last month... Which probably reminded her that she hasn't really gotten much at all since we got custody of her and Little...

And so on.

There's a lot of excitement going on. And when there is a lot of excitement, kids with traumatic backgrounds often interpret that excitement as a threat. Which means Middle is absolutely losing her mind.

Saturday night, she hit Little in the testicles. Sunday morning, she briefly trapped my cat and terrorized him while no one was looking, called attention to the fact that she terrorized the cat because no one noticed she had just engaged in domestic animal terrorist tactics, and then triangulated Husband and I against each other for a very brief moment (he was convinced she hadn't done anything to the cat, I was convinced she had), and then when things calmed down she copped up to being mean to the cat... I couldn't tell if she was just trying to rile everything up again or not, but by the time she admitted to what she'd done, I was calm enough to ensure things stayed placid around here, thankfully.

She's also had some bathroom issues, been staring at me with "THE FACE" on almost nonstop, refusing to sleep, and doing weird things with her clothes again (she hid her uniform this morning, she is putting dirty underwear into her clean underwear drawer and clean clothes into the dirty clothes basket, there's a new hole in one of her pairs of pants and one of her blankets, etc).

This morning, the hidden uniform fiasco resulted in some very impressive orchestrated chaos... But I take the blame on that one.  I completely overreacted when she said she couldn't find her uniform. But it wasn't even 6 a.m. yet, damn it, and I'm tired.

And don't think for one minute that Oldest is just sailing along smoothly throughout this crazy time. Oh nononono. Her behavior regressed quite a bit this weekend as well, and we had to separate her and Little on many occasions because she was being WAY too handsy with him. She also progressed in age, apparently, because she was TOTALLY acting like a teenager when I asked her to do things or tried to talk to her. That, or she lost her hearing suddenly because she pretty much ignored everything I said to her unless I was talking about food.

SO! I may not be around too much until the wedding confetti settles. I missed "Silly Sunday" yesterday, and don't really have too much time to write. I am working on a lil' piece called "Airing Dirty Laundry" that goes over the importance of sharing our experiences with others, but by "working on," I really mean "I've come up with an idea and I haven't written a frigging thing, but I have every intention on doing so."

I'm also working on a blog that I hope explains why normal consequences and rewards don't work so well with kids who've experienced trauma... There are actually words written down for that one, so that will probably come before the "laundry" post.

Anywho... since publishing with The Mighty my readership has increased exponentially, and people I don't know pop in here now and again, I figured I should offer a brief heads up that I probably won't get much accomplished with writing until after this whole wedding shindig wraps up. I'll try to get some stuff written and posted, but no promises on seeing anything from me until the middle of October.

See you then!

I am NOT Superwoman: The importance of self-care

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 learned the importance of self-care the same day my wedding dress came in the mail.

         

 

Husband and I engaging in self-care together!

Things started to go wrong, however, the moment I opened the box... and they only got worse as the night wore on.

I ran into some disappointment when I realized I couldn't try the dress on because I couldn't zip it up on my own, and no one who lives here could help me... Oldest's fine motor skills are lagging due to her non-specified genetic disorder, and I didn't want her to snag the fabric. I was too nervous to ask Middle and Little for help because they are only five and seven, and I didn't know if helping me with such an exciting and intimate task would trigger their early-childhood-trauma issues. And asking Husband for help was out of the question, because tradition and bad luck and all that jazz.

I pushed my slightly-sad feelings aside when my kids came home from school.  Why do I feel like I have to try the dress on immediately anyway? I asked myself. Quit being so whiny, Self!

Unfortunately, Middle and Little were having a "bad day," which meant an evening full of arguing, screaming, crying, and general weirdness, and it all came to a head at dinnertime when both of my step-children refused their dinner. They suffer from encopresis (holding their bowel movements). I have lots of experience with this because Oldest also has problems with her bowels. Oldest's problems stem from a lack of muscle movement in her bowels and can't be helped. Middle and Little's problems likely relate to traumatic toilet-training experiences during their early childhood, before we got custody of them. We don't know everything that happened, but we do know that when they were two and three years old, Middle and Little were expected to change their own diapers and were given consequences for having accidents. 

So, when they only took a few nibbles before pushing their plates away dramatically, I looked at their stomachs. They were quite distended.

"So... When was the last time you guys pooped?"  

Cue three hours of hysteria on and off the toilet, capped by taking Little to the hospital when he started screaming and shaking (We were worried he had impacted bowels, but he was fine. The next day we kept both of them home from their summer behavior program and emptied them out, courtesy of Fleet, and we started keeping better track of when they did (and didn't) go to the bathroom after this).

Anyway... While Husband and Little were at the hospital, I got on Skype with my mom to show off my dress. My mom oohed and ahhhed and did all the mom things that moms do when their daughter prepares to walk down the aisle, and then we switched gears to talk about the trip Husband, the kids and I had been planning. We'd been working on an 18-hour drive to visit her my mom in Kansas so she could see everyone and meet Middle and Little, and then to Arkansas to visit Husband's grandpa, mom and brother. My mom asked to talk to Husband, and I broke down telling her about the poop drama we'd gone through that evening.

In tears, I whimpered, "I just wish they would let us take care of them!"

In front of my mom, you guys!

I try to keep a happy face in front of others, especially those who worry about me when hard times befall me, and especially especially in front of my mom. She's too far away to help out like I know she wants to, and I try not to weigh her down with our family issues, which can be incredibly intense at times. But I couldn't keep it together that night. The jig was up.

"You and Husband are doing a good job taking care of the kids," my mom said. "But what are you doing to take care of yourself?"

Man, I hated that question, and my mom wasn't the first person to ask me about self-care that month. I'd been asked that dozens of times... Friends had asked me, our family therapist had asked me, the case worker at Little's behavior program had asked me, and now my mom was asking me this very simple question. And I gave my standard answer.

"Nothing. How can I take care of myself when there's so much to do for everyone else?!"

"Maybe instead of everyone coming, you and Oldest should come by yourselves."

This, of course, just made me cry harder. Why can't we just have a normal family vacation like normal people?! I wanted to scream. Instead, I let loose a muffled, "Mnghuaghlstguh."

Somehow, that did nothing to soothe my mom's worried face. "I really, really think you need a break," she said. "So, think about it. I can meet Little and Middle when I come in for your wedding ceremony."

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I didn't plan on taking her advice, but a few days later, Little decided to slap me across the face hard enough to knock my new glasses off. He then snapped the earpiece in half. Later that week, he started throwing a fit in the car and when Husband pulled over to calm Little, he punched Husband in the face. His violent behavior kept increasing, and it got to where I couldn't even look at Little without getting angry. I was so mad and so frustrated with his actions and his lack of remorse for those actions that I was overreacting to every little thing he did. I was not in a healthy place, and the case worker at Little's program gave me a week off from attending the program with Little and Husband. "You must take a break," she said.

"But how can I take a break? I can't take care of myself when everyone else needs me to take care of them!"

"I hear you, but... How can you take care of anyone else when you're kind of a mess?"

(I'm sure she said it more professionally and more eloquently than that, but that's what I took away from our conversation!)

I decided to take my mom's advice. Oldest and I were gone for twelve days. Part of me was despondent that only 2/5 of our family went on our "family vacation," but part of me was so relieved at getting some time away from the traumatizing behavior of my traumatized kids.

Before I left, I made little gifts for the kids... ten pages of questions and activities for Middle ("What did you do today?  Draw me a picture!") and a little booklet for Little that used his name as an acronym for awesome things ("D is for daring, darling..." etc.). While I was gone, I called home daily. But I didn't do any research on RAD or trauma... The closest I came to that was chatting with other trauma mamas and papas on my favorite online support group (read this: If you are raising a kiddo with trauma issues, you need to find an online support group that offers you a safe space to rant and ask advice! Look into that pronto!)

While I was gone, I focused on me and Oldest, my mom, and my friends.

And when I came back, I was a whole new trauma mama! I could interact with Middle and Little in loving, caring ways because I took a break from the onslaught of difficult behavior they'd been tossing my way for weeks and weeks on end (summer is difficult for them because most of the MAJOR singular traumatic events they experienced happened in June and July).

I've been back for over a month now, and guess what? I haven't even YELLED once since my return!

That doesn't mean I'm not struggling. Not at all. In fact, earlier this week I had to fight the urge to throw things and scream and cry. But that little break... That short little bit of ME time... Has put me back into a place where I can parent my kids with extra demands successfully (er... somewhat successfully).

Bottom line: Self-care is JUST AS important as taking care of your children, and it is especially necessary when you care for children with special needs, be they physical, developmental, or mental. We know that raising kids with special needs is demanding, and we need to be at our optimum levels of awesome to meet the needs of our children. Make time for self-care! Get away every once in a while if you can... And if you can't, find something that allows you a little mental escape when you are feeling overwhelmed.

Silly Sunday #3!

Today, I strive not only to bring you laughter, but also education!

Ladies and gentlemen... I now present to you... "True Facts About [Insert Animal Here]" from YouTuber and Buzzfeed contributor Zefrank1!

Disclaimer: There is some mild cursing in some of these... The "BIG" curse words are bleeped, but wanted to throw out a heads up!

Ever wonder where modern clowns come from?  Now ya know!

"If you're writing a children's book... Remember... Only one animal can die. Not all of them."

"Don't do drugs, because if you do, an owl may rip your face off."

Now, I'm familiar with the horror of Mantises... Manti... Uh... You know what I mean.

When I was a single Mama, living in Hawaii with Oldest in a tiny ground floor apartment, my daughter suddenly started screaming, "THERE'S AN ALIEN IN MY ROOM!!!"

I walked in to find the BIGGEST MANTIS EVER.

LOOK AT THAT THING!

It was seriously the size of my forearm.

We ran outside screaming.

When I realized running out of our apartment was probably not the best way to get rid of the thing, I decided to take charge and evict our unwanted house guest.  First, I looked up whether or not those things bite (they don't... But they DO have spiky things on their legs that hurt if they get ya), then I grabbed my oven mitt and caught him... Screaming the entire time. My local neighbors laughed and laughed and laughed.  

It's funny NOW... But when there's an ALIEN right in front of you, it's really, really hard to laugh!

Hope you all are having a great Sunday.  If it's a rough one, hang in there.  You can do it!!

Silly Sunday #2!

We visited Husband's parents and siblings yesterday... The kids swam all day, jumped on trampolines, ate ice cream cake, and just had a great time.

So, of course... Today is a big ol' pile of suck.

Oldest took in a TON of water yesterday when she jumped in the deep end for the very first time (go Oldest!)... She couldn't breathe when she came up and ended up vomiting (Soooo awesome, right? Not in the pool, thankfully!). She told me she felt funny on the drive home, and then after she went to bed, she started having some very deep coughs.  I didn''t think anything of it until RIGHT before I went to bed... Suddenly, all those articles I read about secondary drowning came rushing into my brain and I decided "better safe than sorry!" and took her to the hospital.

She was totally fine, but we didn't get home until 4 a.m.!

Then, both Middle and Little woke up around 6 a.m. Middle had a huge breakdown this morning and Little is in the midst of a three-hour meltdown... With no signs of letting up! Husband and I are taking shifts with him in his room, with varying degrees of success at therapeutic parenting.

I'm so glad today is Sunday... Today, I'm sharing some silliness with you that my mother-in-law shared with us yesterday.  Ladies and gentlemen... May I present to you... "Guy on a Buffalo" by Possum Posse, an epic tale of love, loss, betrayal and... Revenge!

How Middle Taught Me An Invaluable Lesson

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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If you've read my previous posts, you know that  Middle and Little experienced chronic early-childhood trauma before they came to live with us. When the judge presiding over Husband's custody hearing awarded him full/sole custody, we expected them to engage in some problematic behavior when they moved in... "But it will get better once they've been here a while," Husband and I said, "All it's going to take is consistency, patience and love." 

I can't even begin to tell you how wrong we were.

Husband and I found ourselves totally unprepared to deal with the needs of my step-children... No one warned us that sustained early-childhood trauma can negatively impact the brain's development. We'd never even heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), and therefore we were completely baffled when they reacted so negatively to our safe and secure environment. And we certainly didn't know about the therapeutic parenting style we would adopt when they resisted our traditional parenting methods (often with screaming and yelling and kicking and spitting...).

I tried my best not to put too much stock into the RAD diagnosis, but eventually, subconsciously, I started automatically attributing any negative or odd behavior to their attachment issues. I lived in near-constant worry that that our love wouldn't be enough, that they wouldn't get better, that all of our valiant efforts would fail miserably... And if I lost my temper and slid back into traditional parenting methods, I would dwell on the most negative thought of all... Maybe their behavior would get worse.

So you can imagine my reaction to Middle when she told me about "The Good and Bad Maps" in her brain that make her "do good/bad things." 

I emailed her mental health counselor immediately... "Is this a sign she is having delusions? Middle's family tree has some mental illness in its branches... Should we look into other diagnoses for her?" 

The therapist asked me to make a note when she brought up "The Maps," but said she wasn't too worried about it... Middle is very artistic, and her therapist thought she was just using visuals to explain how her mind works. 

Middle brought up "The Maps" a handful of times that month, but nothing major. Satisfied that she wasn't experiencing dissociation or mental hallucinations, we let the subject drop, but in April she started going into great detail about people in her brain that made her do bad things. She vividly described their appearance to me and even imitated their voices for me! I sent another alarmed email, but was again advised again to make a note when Middle mentioned the "people in her brain." I complied and tried to play it cool, but I was getting more and more concerned convinced that we were seeing the development of an additional mental health problem.  

She kept talking about multi-colored people that lived in her brain and how they were in control of her thoughts and actions. I grew more and more worried as this discussion continued on and off for a month or so, until one day I heard her squeal, "MOM!!! COME QUICK!!! IT'S THEM!!" 

I raced into the living room to find her excitedly pointing at the television, jumping up and down. "THERE THEY ARE! THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD!"

I could only reply with an embarrassed, "Oh... Okay, I get it."

It was a commercial for Inside Out.

Mystery solved.  

But wait... What about those maps she kept talking about in March?

Turns out, her kindergarten classroom had a giant poster about choosing the right path... The poster included drawings of paths to success and paths to trouble... Paths that Middle called "The Maps" in class.

Poor Middle... She was using her imagination so wonderfully, and there I was, a mother with no higher-level psychology education, trying to shuffle her into another serious diagnosis.

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This story's end may be amusing, but I hope it serves as a word of caution against relying too heavily on a diagnosis to understand someone (or even understand yourself).

The power of the RAD diagnosis was so strong that I guess I completely forgot that all young kids say things that sound weird to adults and engage in behavior that we don't understand from our vantage point.  I'm glad I had this realization when I did because I didn't even realize I was seeing her diagnosis instead of her.

Now that I have recognized my faulty thinking, I do my best to avoid falling into that pattern of thinking again, and I'm much happier interacting with my kids diagnosed with RAD.

After all, it's so much easier to laugh at the absurdity of childhood experimentation and logic when I'm not constantly asking myself, "What does this mean?!"

The Fundamental Differences Between Them: empathy and morality in securely attached children vs unhealthily attached children

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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The other day Little and Oldest were playing a "game" together. The game consisted of running as fast as they could into the wall.

That was it.

They weren't crashing into each other. They weren't fighting. Middle wasn't in the room so I didn't have to worry about my step-kids triggering each other. The floor was clean and free of obstruction. They were being safe... well, as safe as kids can be when they are slamming themselves into the walls. They were having a great time, and walls can be fixed if damaged, and running into the wall isn't too likely to result in major injury... If we owned our own free-standing home, I like to think I'd have allowed them to continue this game because this... interesting game is just "Big Body Play," and I know that is important.

Unfortunately, we live in an apartment with adjoining neighbors and we try to be courteous, so I had to ask them to stop and tell them that slamming into the walls is against the rules. I left the room and they stopped... But after a few minutes, loud, dull THUDS began reverberating through the walls again.

I asked Husband to go in. I figured he would separate them, but he did something totally unexpected and pretty brilliant.

He stood in the doorway and waited for them to notice him. When they saw him standing there, they of course stopped their game. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"SORRY, MY FAULT!" Oldest said.

"I didn't ask you to apologize, I asked what you were doing."

"Breaking the rules," Little said, nonchalantly.

"Okay... But what were you doing?"

The kids fell silent. So Husband asked them again until Little said, "We were running into the wall."

"Oh, yeah? Do it again. I heard you guys laughing, so it must be fun." At this point, Oldest started crying, Little started smiling. "Why are you crying?" Husband asked Oldest. "I just want to see what you are doing in here."

Little smiled and laughed while Oldest wailed. "Go on," Husband said to Little. "Show me."

Little charged the wall and bounced off it, giggling.

"Your turn, Oldest," Husband said. But Oldest refused to move.

"Why won't you do it?" Little asked Oldest. But Oldest wouldn't answer.

"It's because she feels guilty for breaking the rules," Husband explained.

"Huh?" Little asked. "Guilty? What guilty means?"

"She knows running into the wall is against the rules. She knows that I feel upset when she breaks the rules.  She doesn't want to upset me."

Oldest nodded.

End scene.

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So.  How does the above example illustrate the differences in healthy and unhealthy attachment? How can I say that when there is an age difference of four years between Little and Oldest? Am I reading too much into this?

Well... No. I do realize that this is not a perfect example to show the differences between secure and insecure/disorganized attachment because of the age difference... The development of empathy (the ability to consider how one's actions effect the well-being of others) and morality (the ability to choose the "right" thing even if it contradicts your own personal desires) is a long process that doesn't fully develop until the "tween" years. The Evergreen Psychotherapy Center in Colorado describes the typical process like this:

Primary Process Thinking (ages 12-27 months) 

"I want it, so I'll take it!"

Primitive Causative Thinking (ages 2-3 years)

"I want it but my parents will be upset with me... So I'll take it when they aren't looking!"

Causative Thinking (ages 3-5 years)

"I want it but my parents will find out... Is it worth the risk?"

Emerging Internal Control (6-7 years)

"I want it, but I won't take it because I don't want to upset my parents and then I'll feel bad."

Internal Control (8-11 years)

"I want it, but I would feel bad if I took it."

So, even if they were on track with their development of empathy and morality, my daughter would far more often choose the right thing to do for the right reasons. At five and six years old, respectively, Little and Middle should be considering the fact that we might find out about wrongdoings before they take action.

Unfortunately, they're not. Instead, they seem to vacillate between "primary process thinking" and "primitive causative thinking." I have been contacted by teachers more than a few times about Middle and Little trying to get away with something "wrong" even when they know it is wrong (primary process thinking). I warn the teachers that even if they say they are sorry, they are likely to just continue that behavior whenever their back is turned... And then I get another email in which the teacher expresses shock that the behavior is continuing on the sly.

Of course they're shocked... Most kids their age learn not to do "bad" things after getting caught and receiving consequences a few times, but since my kids are several years behind in this area they just don't have the cognitive skills to consider much outside of their own personal interests.

And they don't have these skills because such skills are dependent upon a strong, natural desire to please their parent-figure, which emerges as a natural and pleasant consequence when a secure attachment bond develops between parent and child.

Middle and Little don't have the type of desire to please we expect from young children because they did not develop a secure, healthy bond with Husband (army deployments disrupted their attachment process) or their biological mother (who, for whatever reason, wasn't able to provide them a safe environment while Husband was away).

And that is why parenting children who experienced early-childhood trauma can be so damn challenging... We see kids who are physically 5, 6, 10, whatever, but their development of empathy and morality is just not on target. And it's incredibly hard to get them on target, because the early foundation was never put down.

But we keep trying to get them there. And we will keep trying. Until we get there.

Photo: Big Hearted Families

Silly Sunday!

Trying this out... Raising kids is hard, raising kids with special needs is super hard, and raising kids with attachment/trauma issues seems damn near impossible sometimes.

We all need to laugh.

So, every Sunday, I'm going to get silly around here and post things that make me laugh.

I hope they make you laugh, too.

Today, I am featuring Fowl Language Comics. The artist and author, Brian Gordon, was kind enough to give me permission to use comics from his site for my first "Silly Sunday."

You can get updates and more from this artist on Fowl Language Comics's Facebook Page. Check it out if you don't mind a little strong language!