Back and Forth we go

I am not sure if it is the change of me being home for the summer, the warmer temperatures, the trauma of times past, or that my 5 1/2 year old is emotional reaching out like a 2.5 year old, but something is amis.  I am struggling right now on how to be there for Isaac, when he is really struggling emotionally.  For the last few days with me, he has been in full blow baby mode.  By this I mean he found a pacifier (which he never had to my knowledge) and has been using it whenever he can.  He is crawling on the floor, sucking his fingers, talking mostly in babble baby talk.  Then he is "acting" quite helpless about things he is very capable of.  For example, Isaac always gets his shoes on the right feet, he is very good at getting dressed and he is very brave and stern with the new puppy.  But today if the puppy was in the same room as him, there were tears and screeching, he put his shoes on the wrong feet at the YMCA and just sat there waiting for me to notice.  When I asked him to get his shirt on after swimming, he put his head through the arm hole, then proceeded to melt down when he got stuck. 

So, some of this I know is "normal" for kids who are adopted.  Especially where trauma and neglect are involved.  And, I still can't wrap my head around the unpredictable nature of not knowing weather I am taking two 5 year olds to the pool, or two boys who look like their five, but one who is literally acting like a baby.  Not to mention that now I feel like I am on extra high alert because I want to do anything to avoid another PTSD trauma trigger.  Instead of being more loving and attentive, this instead makes me anxious and irritable.  I can't be the prepared mom with so many variables, or at least that is how I feel. 

This afternoon I got a chance to chat with my sister and she asked a very important question:  "What is all of Isaac's stuff triggering in you?"  It finally came down to me having a similar feeling I have with some of my female students who choose to play the cute and dumb card so they can feel like the fit in or to get attention from the boys.  When girls do that, it boils my blood for so many reasons.  Here I feel similar with Isaac, because from the outside, my child appears to be a wreck and a "baby,"  but I know how very smart and capable he is.  I know that he can do so much, and it frustrates the daylights out of me to watch him think that being helpless is the way to get attention from me. 

Fortunately in Alabama we have a great resource for adoptive families in the state.  There is a psychologist available to meet with parents and kids who specializes in adoption related issues.  I plan on meeting with him by myself early next week, and then later on with Isaac. 

I feel like I am flying blind on some of this stuff and I don't know the clear definition of "normal behavior" any more. 

The other thing I am struggling with is that I received a copy of Isaac's findling add.  I ordered this after seeing a friend get hers for her soon to be adopted daughter.  It explained how her child was left with blankets and a note that showed love and affection.  I felt like ordering the add might give me a small little piece of Isaac's past.  See, the other day I was telling Emerson some of his stories about when he was small(er).  Then Isaac piped in and wanted to hear his stories.  I was not sure what to tell him.  Should I tell him about the drugs he was on, the malnourishment, the parasites, the bareness of the walls in his room, how he would bang his head against the wall, or rip the wall paper off. 

Then the add came.  And, I was left even more empty, because of what was not said, more than what was said.  There was no mention of a note, or a blanket, or anything.  Just that he was found.  That is it.  My heart aches at the possibilities of why my little boy was just left, but that is a post all in it self. 

A longer rope

I have found myself these last few weeks at the end of my rope.  I had run out of patience with some of my students, the bureaucracy of school work was wearing me thin, my chores at home were mounting but I kept saying "I will take care of that during summer."  My family has sadly been the suffers.  By the time I get home, I have given all the slack that my rope had, and I am at the end hanging on for dear life.  Operating in survival mode is just not fun for anyone. 

This last week has been a roller coaster for Isaac.  He is finally better from both of his ear surgeries, but his schedule has been off at school and there have been big goodbyes and big transitions.  He has needed me, and sadly by the time I would get home, there would not be much left of me to give.  The last three days though, I have had the clarity and strength to take the time to sit in the rocking chair with him, and just rock and sing and be present. 

My greatest gift I have just been given now that school is out is the gift of a longer rope that is a whole lot more flexible than the one I have been using for the last 10 months.

My 5 year old with PTSD

What a weekend we had.  I am in a funk right now.  Which leads me to working hard and winning the lamest mother of the year award.  I am tired, I am coming to the end of a long school year, I am achy, because that is what my body does, and I am lonely. 

If one looks at my life from the outside, they would wonder about this last statement.  "But you are surrounded by people all day."  Yes, but it feels worse to be surrounded without meaning and depth to those interactions.  I live in a world of 30 second conversations that are interrupted constantly, and the flow is out of whack, and the demands of others are constantly interjected.  I am needed, but I don't feel wanted, and as a result, I feel like running away from it all. 

Of course this is not an option, because I am needed, and this weekend was no exception.  Saturday we had the farmers market booth to run of the business.  Our both was swamped, but I could not really help directly because it is impossible to talk to customers and keep the boys from causing trouble.  I took the boys to railroad park where they had a good time, but I had the dog to also watch, so I could not run around the playground with them.  Then, I took them to the pool.  This was the one time of the day where I felt on purpose.  ON task and present for both boys.  This is one of my favorite things about swimming with them.  I don't have the choice to disassociate when I am overwhelmed. 

Emerson is very independent in the pool, which is great because it gave me lots of very sweet time with Isaac.  I could hold him, catch him, give him piggy pack rides, and just play without much distraction.  BUT, pools close and dinner must eventually be made, so the good time must end.  Well, that is when all hell broke lose.  When I told Isaac it was time to get out and dry off, he lost it.  He raged, he hit, he threw things, he threatened, he cried, he screamed, he head butted, he fought with every fiber of passion he could muster up.  As his parent I felt helpless.  If I handed him a towel he would hit me with it.  If I tried to hold him he would scratch at my face or punch me, it I talked to him, he would scream louder.

Fortunately there was a crowd, which helped me not join in the chaos.  I stayed calm (and for this I am proud of myself.)  I even laughed at one point when people started staring and I said "I bet you are glad you are not me right now." 

Once Emerson and I were dry and I had everything packed up, I calmly explained to Isaac that we needed to go and that I was going to start walking to the car.  He is still raging, but I have managed to get him to agree to let me put his shirt and shoes on.  Then as soon as we left the pool area, a switch flipped and he was 100% different and well, fine. 

It took me until today, and a good talk with my sister to figure this all out.  This was a PTSD trauma triggered episode.  It has happened before and water is a trigger.  He came to us terrified of water, and we thought that now that he loved to swim that this trigger was gone.  But NO, this pain and trigger is deep and terrifying for all involved.  We have lots of work to do.  He is little now, but he will not always be.  Looking forward, I will admit I am scared for all of us.  Good thing summer is around the corner because I will now have time to go get professional help.  It is needed, while he is young, while he is little. 

Yet, this morning, he made sure to invite me in his room so that he could tell me he loved me.  He gave me a huge hug and a kiss and wished me well for the day.  We have made so much progress, yet that is why I think I get blind sided by such extreme traumatic episodes. 

Where the Wild Things Are

Last night, out of exhaustion, and craving for cuddle time with the boys, I agreed to a family movie night.  John, in his haste at the library, picked up Where the Wild Things Are. We had just recently talked about the book, who's author passed away last week, because I was telling John about the amazing piece NPR did about the book and author.  http://www.npr.org/2012/05/08/152248367/maurice-sendak-where-wild-things-are-author-dies

I must admit, we have the book, and I have read it to the boys, but I have never really loved it, or felt the depth that is so often discussed about Maurice Sendak's work.  I also must admit, that I regularly tell my students that I hate watching movies of books I have read, because I don't like other people to do my interpreting for me. 

Well, last night that all changed as I watched one of the most powerful storied unfold with my two little wild things sitting on my lap.  First off, I think I loved the movie because it pushed me to broaden my view of the simplicity of the story, but it left me with a huge amount of room for interpretation, inference and a way to internalize the deep symbolism. 

As we watched Max rage at the beginning and struggle with basics like friends, manners, family relationships, I felt a kinship.  I related to the exhausted mother, the love, the frustration, the desperation, the pleading, and the unconditional devotion to her child. 

When Max approached the monsters, I began to recognize my monsters, the monsters that plague my students, my boys.  Doubt, invisibility, rage, distrust, nervous, anxious, sadness, loneliness, desperation...

What I found to be so powerfully sad, and inspiring at the same time, was Max's desire to survive by pretending to be King.  The ideal that he could somehow control the fate of all the monsters through power, or fun, or war.  Ultimately, though, love, honesty and understanding was what was truly needed.  The monsters remained for Max, but through love and distance he became empowered, despite the inability to dictate or control the demons that plagued him and so many of us. 

I found myself moved to tears.  Moved to loved and moved to understanding of the complex relationship we all share with our demons.  Most importantly I found the end scene with the mother with a big dinner and huge hug and a sigh of relief to be the most powerful gift a little boy could receive. 

Two Weeks

So if you have not noticed by now, I am three people in one.  This is good, because I regularly proclaim that I received the advanced parenting assignment, because my children are the 3 for 1 special.  But, right now, it is paralyzing me to be running a business (The Backyard Pantry), teaching full time to 126 students, and raising two boys (+ one puppy.)  It is a lot, and the spring is the busiest time for all three of my beloved jobs. 

Fortunately for me (please don't hate me for those who don't get this time off), I have only two more weeks, until I am down to two full time jobs.  Again, I love teaching and my students.  It is an honor to get to stretch young minds.  And, I feel like I have to put so much on hold right now because there is no way I can do it all.  So how do I picture things to be different in two weeks:

1.  I can take daily naps :)
2.  I won't have to cram all of my baking into one day a week.  Currently I bake all our breads and snacks on Sunday, because during the week, I do not have 4 hours at home to devote to making bread.
3.  I will actually have the time to tackle projects like purging toys and clothes that are too small for my boys.
4.  I can take my children to the eye doctor, dentist, and pediatrician without having to spend 2 hours calling a sub, + trying to call the Dr. during the day when I have students in my room.
5.  Reading, lots and lots of reading.  Granted, I always make time for this.
6.  Daily trips to the pool with my boys.
7.  I plan on getting the boys signed up for martial arts this summer.
8.  I can start intensively training our puppy.
9.  Lots and lots of time in the garden.
10.  I can make food to sell at the farmers market
11.  Canning for the winter.  It has been so nice this year to not have to buy things like pesto, salsa, jelly, pasta sauce, chutney or apple sauce because of my efforts last summer.
12.  I can have an exercise routine.
13.  Vacation to Kazapalooza.
14.  Vacation to the North West to see all of our friends and family
15.  I can actually have the brain power to help John with the day to day operations with the business.
16.  I might just be able to have conversations with friends or do something social for my self.  I currently don't do this often, because I feel so guilty for already being away from the boys so often. 

For now though, I get my kids for two more weeks.  I am very fortunate to have a great group of students this year.  Kids I have invested in, and they have grown to trust me.  So for now, I have a list to go along with many more list, but it will have to wait.  Because for now, I need to be in the moment and hang in there for them. 

Pain in the r'ear'

Boy the last two weeks have been a dusey.  It all started back such a long long time back... No wait that is the Lorax. 

However these last two weeks have felt very long given their contents.  First John was sick.  John never gets sick and is not very humble about being sick.  Fortunately after he admitted that smoothies were not going to cure him, he went to a doctor and found out he had walking pneumonia.  He got a Z- pack and returned to his "normal" self within a few days. 

The somewhere in there, I get an e-mail from Isaac's teacher saying his ear is hurting, leaking and he does not feel like participating.  She has tried to reach John, but surprise, surprise, John is not answering his phone.  Yes folks, you can take the boy out of the wilderness, but you can't train him to keep a cell phone in ear shot, then answer it if he hears something that he is sure is not a bird chirping.  So, I scramble to find a sun in the middle of the day, jot down some notes and whisk off to find a miserable feverish Isaac.  I then proceed to locate through a series of phone calls, his ENT.  We like to work with this guy because he is on the UAB cleft pallet team. 

Anyway, we get an appointment for 4 at the opposite end of town.  I take him, the doctor shows up at 6:30, looks at him for 2.1 min.  Says "yep, that is a nasty one.  It is infected, the tube has collapsed and he is going to need surgery ASAP.  How about Wednesday."  That is only 6 days away, "Sure" I say. 

Oops.  One thing to know about Isaac is that he can out last a cat in time out.  The boy did time in one o the most understaffed orphanages in one of the most densely populated places in the world.  He usually does not bother with tears in the middle of the night.  He learned early on, that they are a waste of precious calories, because for 3.5 years, no one would come.  So for Isaac to be up every hour on the hour sobbing for 5 nights was heart breaking, and a positive thing.

I know some of you are like, did she make another one of her famous typos?  But yes, when Isaac leaves food on his plate, a little part of me sings.  When he gets his feelings hurt on the playground by another kid, I am actually a little bit relived.  And, yes, when my child cries for his mom in the middle of the night, after I say a few bad words under my breath, I am thankful that he is learning that moms help in these kinds of situations. 

We spent a lot of quality time rocking that week, singing, being close, and learning about love and comfort.  Yes, a wee bit late, but so necessary.  I will say the novelty of the revelation that" moms get up in the middle of the night and comfort you" had lost some of its magic by the time Wednesday's surgery rolled around. 

Unfortunately due to me having limited time away from work accepted, I had to send John on Wednesday with him for the surgery.  I sent him off with the promise that he would feel so much better after the surgery with his new and improved ears.  Ladies, take note here.  If you send Dad, send him with a note and folder.  Yep, just like the one the kids take to school with a side for "give to doctor to keep," and another with a worksheet of questions that the doctor or nurse must complete and sign and place back in the folder on the side saying "return to child''s mother." 

I was told, "yeah, everything went OK, we should take him in in two weeks to get it checked."  Unfortunately, everything was not OK.  Isaac's ear was leaking thick yellowish pinkish puss in copious amounts.  I am talking I could scoop it out with a q-tip.  It was smelly, nasty and worst of all he was in a ton of pain.  So at one week, I decided the Dr. should be called and Isaac should go in.  We called and got "our business hours are from 8-5 M-F, please call back during those hours."  Click.  For three days we got this message, now throwing us into the weekend.  By this point, Isaac won't let me near his ear or the back of his head for that matter, and one hour of consecutive sleep would have been dreamy. 

In the mean time I have gotten the flu and a stomach bug.  I am one yucky weak lady, with one sick ticked off kid. 

By Sunday morning, my mama bear instincts are in overdrive fueled by sleep deprivation.  I call our pediatricians after hours.  I talk to a very sweet nurse.  She tells me he should be seen, and that I have to wait until 1pm to call back and get an appointment.  Then I get the gate keeper from hell at 1pm.  To make a very long story short, she informs me that because Isaac has not been seen by his pediatrician there for over one year, he is no longer an active patient and is not eligible to be seen on the weekends.  Kaboom, my rage balloons, and my loss of hope in the world becomes that much greater.  Seriously woman.  My child is in and out of the specialist once a month and because I have not stopped by our very inhospitable pediatrician's office for a $30 deposit and picked up a few infectious diseases for 13 months, my kid has to suffer.  ....  I could go on way too long here so I will stop.

On Monday, John finally gets through to the ENT.  The ENT looks and says "Oh $h!t" the surgery did not work at all and the infection is threatening to move into the back of his head and burst his ear drum.  We need to do surgery again on Wednesday morning.  John point blank ask, do we get a discount for a "do over" job. 

So finally today we, being me, this time, truck over to Children's this morning.  We are late, but I decide not to feel bad about it.  They are nice at the check in counter and the woman said that my co-pay was waved.  I could have kissed her.  This was the way to start my visit.  Then we waited, and waited, and the "get out of co-pay" card's joy had worn off and huger started to kick in for Isaac.  (Before you get all "my kid gets like that when he is hungry" take note that I am pretty sure I was the only parent in the very busy waiting room taking this kind of abuse.)

Isaac was on the most combative and hateful behavior this morning, that I have ever experienced.  He was raising his fist at me prepared to punch me in the face.  If I tried to hold him, he would become stiff and say things like "don't touch me, I don't want you to talk to me."  Then he would screech and babble at god awful volumes.  He scratched at my face, he would kick the chair I was sitting on, barely missing my body.  He would shout "I want to punch you in the face and slice you into pieces."

For my part I recognize that I am woman figure #4 in his life.  The others did not do such a great job, and there for I get to be tested out for "how unconditional is your love" endurance.   I took him on piggy back rides, I tried to play cars with him, I took him on rides in the little red wagon, but ultimately to him I was two things.  1.  Another woman who would not give him food when he was hungry, and 2.  Another woman who did not make his pain go away. 

By the time we got a room I was having to hold his hand firmly to avoid being hit.  One second he wanted me to sit with him, the next I was not to touch him.  When the anesthesiologist came in and I had to sign something, he started pounding on me, scratching at me and biting.  All offers for comfort and cuddling were fiercely rejected.  I kept my cool trying to be empathetic.  Finally they were ready to take him back.  Now is when he lost it.  He became hysterical. He wanted to be held by me, didn't want them to take him away from me, promised me he would be good. 

I walked him past the first door to OR, the nurse had to physically carry him past the second door, and then he was off. 

The surgery did not last long, the Dr. said it really did go well this time.  They had to put in a much bigger tube and different kind.  He did say the infection was terrible and he needed to continue antibiotics for two weeks, but he felt this surgery would work.

The best news though was that Isaac came out of surgery calm, and asking for a Popsicle.  Once he had food, he returned to being my sweet, thoughtful snuggley little boy.

Forced Indifference?

I don't use the term indifference lightly.  I find the crime of indifference to be one of humanities greatest failures.  Yet, right now, I feel trapped in a world so mired in the wrong thing and so clearly choosing to do the simple thing.  Sure, the average people I run into are not out there murdering people, committing violent hate crimes, neglecting children to the point of starvation.  Instead I am surrounded my a lot of very busy looking people who are just trying to survive themselves in a false construct of the new "community" with out the commonality.  Except of course a mass condolence of interference. 

What choice do us average ordinary folks have.  We want the best for our children, but all too often others are telling us what is best because somehow they know better.  Don't get me wrong.  Sometimes they do know better, but in this day in age it is just easier for the "those who know" just to tell us what to do, rather than engage in an open discussion to create a holistic solution. 

Where is all this stemming from you might ask?  I am not sure, but I feel like the world is throwing bricks at me hoping I will wake up enough to catch one rather than just standing around dodging them so that I won't get hit.  So sorry if you happen to be standing behind me and it got you, but hey, I have my own family to look after.  I will admit, I have been way too informed these last few days with being sick.  One story in particular has not been able to escape my attention. 

The story of the blind Chinese Lawyer who is caught between the idea of fleeing or the doom of staying in China to fight literally a "Blind" legal system has sunk in deeply with my conscious.  For me I take this case as a personal attack on my family.  See I have a Chinese child that is a bi product of gross human rights violations.  How "lucky" was Isaac that Chen called attention to forced abortions, that could have been him.  But still, Chen's work was not enough to preserve his family ties.  

There is way too much talk in this about niceties, promises made by the US, made by China, what Chen said in the Embassy, what he later said in the hospital.  For me, just an average ordinary person, it all seems crystal clear.  Every fiber of Chen's being is one of making a difference because he truly does love his country and wants to protect people like my child's birth mother.  Unfortunately the world we live in has given him two choices. 

1.  Stay in China and live in perpetual fear, and certain retaliation and stand up for as long as you can for the little person, but in the meantime risk your own family's lives an your own which would get the littler person no where.

OR

2.  Flee the country and "try" to help from the outside.  Yes, he keeps himself and his family alive, but he knows this will not help his friends, the victims, the next person who dares to stand up for the average and ordinary. 

Of course he is confused and torn.  This world is a really hard place.  My frustration, however, stems for the fact that our desire to make things simple, streamlined, and better is just founded on a faulty premise that more is more.  So here are the big Whys racing through my head:

1.  Why do mothers often have to pay as much as they make to put their children in child care so that they can then afford to take them to the Dr. from all the ills they acquire at child care?
2.  Why do we live so sprawled from our friends and family that we can no longer be in a consistent loving community that supports one another?
3.  Why do we feed our kids foods that hype them up and then insist on giving them drugs to calm them down?
4.  Why do we love placing labels on people but never bother reading the labels on what we put in our body?
5.  Why do we keep little kids off the playground more and more, so that they can "learn" more, but know less?
6.  Why am I as a teacher valued so little, that I can't afford to take my kid to the Doctor even after health insurance?
7.  Why am I running this rat race when I know things can and be so much better?
8.  Why do we assume that because kids are a year older, they are ready to move up in the exact same time and space as their peers?
9.  Why oh Why does the school want my children's original birth certificates and SSN to register them for kindergarten. By the way people it is still illegal to use a persons SSN as an ID number.  Oh and thanks for the video explaining why I need to donate $40 for toxic cleaning supplies because the state does not fund our schools anymore so that we can brag about low taxes.  Guess what people.  That $40 is a tax. 

I could go on and on, but I will stop.  I am sure it is time for news fast, and to feel better, and to get my hands in the dirt.  But, as much as I would like all of that to make it better, I am feeling like the world does not have any green grass right now.  I know, I know, "The grass is greener where you water it."  I guess that is where my tears of frustration might help, but I don't think grass thrives on salt water.