Superficially Engaging and Charming: The behavior that unsettles me most

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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This article by the author of Rescuing Julia Twice does a good job of explaining this trait. This passage in particular described how it feels parenting children with this behavioral symptom:

"Strangers or fleeting caretakers tell me I have the most adorable, delicious, precocious, confident child. Some say she's the most adorable, delicious, precocious, confident child they've ever encountered. I nod and smile and pretend to share their sentiment, but I keep my thoughts to myself. How can I explain to a stranger that at home this child is distant, elusive, emotionally closed off, and defiant? What stranger will not say, or at least think silently, Really? I don't see that.  It must be you because she's not like that with me."

All of my kids are charming, but my step-kids seem to use their charm to manipulate, to trick. Sometimes it feels like they are so sweet and cute in front of others simply to make me look like a crazy person. And I know that simply admitting that makes me seem like a total nut-job. I know that if someone had told me their five-and-six-year-old kids were so adept at manipulating their demeanor in "the before time," I would have scoffed silently and wondered if they were "a little off" because it sounds so very paranoid and ridiculous.

But it's very real. And it freaks me out more than any other behavior because it's so deceptive... and it's a behavior attributed to certain infamous individuals who have done some truly terrible things to other human beings.

Little is the master of this. He will act like an insane gerbil on PCP for an extended period of time and then shift into the cutest, sweetest, most wonderfully adorable little guy when a) someone else lays eyes on him or b) when he decides he wants something from me.

For example... A couple months ago, we were driving to his school. He started in on the nonsense chatter and yelling at me over the radio.

"MOM!"
"Yes?" I asked, turning the radio down.
"Why I have to wear shoes?"
"So your feet don't get hurt."
"Okay.  Turn it up, please."
I turned the radio back up. A few seconds later...
"MOM!"
"Yes?" I turned the radio down again.
"LOOK A MAC TRUCK!"
"Cool!"
"Turn it up please!" I did as requested.
Pause.
"MOM!"
Repeat three hundred and twenty-seven more times.
"MOM!"
I turned the radio off.
"Why you turned the radio off?"
"Because you want to talk to me."
"No, I don't. Turn it back on please."
"Okay."
Pause.
"MOOOOM!"
Radio off. "Yes?"
"Ummmmm..... Turn it up, please!"
"No, I think we should ride with it off."
::whimpers::  ::starts crying::
"Talk to me, Bud! I want to hear what you have to say, but I can't hear you with the radio on!"
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU I WANT THE RADIO ON!"
"Okay, but if you want to talk I'll turn it back off.  Okay?"
"K."  Pause.......... "Where's Daddy?"

At that point I turned the radio off and determined to keep it off. This decision proved to be the catalyst to an epic f$%#^king meltdown.

He screamed. He accused me of not loving him. He yelled that he hated me. He kicked my seat so violently that the headrest knocked into the back of my head. A shoe flew off. He slammed his fists into the window. He tried to pull his car seat out from under him and throw it at me. All because I would not turn the radio back on.

Frustrated and a little frightened, I called the receptionist at his behavioral therapy program as soon as we pulled off the highway. "Someone needs to meet me at my car to walk Little into his classroom." 

He raged and raged until we pulled into his school's parking lot. "I hate you!" he screamed. Then he fell silent.

I parked the car and used the rear view mirror to look at Little. He was staring out the window. The placid look on his face unnerved me. By the time E (a caseworker assigned to our family) opened his door, there was no trace of the raging maniac he had been less than two minutes prior. "Are you ready to go to school?" E asked Little.

"Yes!" he bounced out of the car and practically skipped inside the building, smiling and chatting with E enthusiastically, not even a trace of the darkness I had just seen.

And I collapsed in a puddle of tears. This is exactly why no one believes me when I tell them about the problems we have at home, I thought.

I could give more examples as this happens regularly, but I'll save that for future blogs.

This superficial charm is incredibly unsettling. He is so precious and cute... when he wants to be.  And it's the "when he wants to be" that makes it so hard to parent him, because I never know what is real with him. I want to believe that underneath the outbursts of rage and the darkness in his eyes lies a kind and loving heart... I have to believe that. I have to believe that the REAL Little is the little boy who gave half his Easter eggs to a little girl who did not find very many so that she would have some candy, too. I have to believe that the REAL Little is the little boy who so gently touched my foot and asked tenderly, "Are you okay, Mom?" when I stepped on a piece of glass earlier today. That the REAL Little is the little boy who loves to cuddle, loves to hug, loves to love.

I can't let these pessimistic questions overtake me and buy into them. I have to believe that the traumatic events of his past dictate his emotional reactions and that after enough time and enough healing his "good heart" will overtake the trauma reactions.

I have to believe that. I know that we can pull him out of the darkness. I know there is hope.

There has to be. Otherwise, what are we putting in all this effort for?

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."