If there is one word that defines my family it is stubborn. This can be considered a good trait when used for niceness. It is called tenacity, then. Ah,but when it is used for naughtiness,it is just plain hard headed (or pig headed,or thick skulled,or….)
I am being tenacious. My contrary son is being hard headed. The result is a very clean house,yard and garage.
Today my garage is getting cleaned out,swept and possible hosed down. Everything will go back to where it is supposed to be. As of yet,my son is still deciding whether or not academics are less bothersome than manual labor. He is still dragging out jobs and pretending to be done when he is not (also called lying). This is my fault. I keep going to check on him. If I just let him tell me a falsehood,he would be done.
He is just plain mad about something. I don’t even think he knows why he is mad. He just is. Hormone surges with an alcohol effected brain are not a pleasant mix. At least he is quiet when he throws his fit.
Physical labor is a good cure for angry preadolescent angst. It works off the extra testosterone and helps him re-regulate.He also accomplishes something tangible.

We have finally made contact with the people at youngest’s RTC. My husband went up the food chain (actually sideways if we are going to be accurate) and was able to get our ECHO number and the name of our son’s therapist. I was getting increasingly frustrated trying to get the information myself. Until we had the blasted name and number they wouldn’t even tell us he had arrived safely. Youngest is settling in. His therapist said he is laughing so much the other kids are looking at him. That is a new behavior. I feel better now that contact has been made.

My yard is looking good. All those pesky weeds have been pulled from the front and the back lawn. (of course,without the weeds,my lawn is less…well there is just less). My baseboards are clean, my floors have been mopped daily,cabinets are cleaned out and my blinds and windows are being cleaned as I type.
Attitudes are still iffy. The positive thing about this son is he will take his consequences. Oh,he will stall, cry and lie about finishing. Think six year old here. He will,however, redo what he is told to redo and eat his peanut butter stoically. I wish he had enough insight to talk about what is really bothering him. We have guesses,of course. But they are just guesses. He is at least smiling some today as he works. I tell very bad jokes and suggest bizarre cleaning tips-such as having my son lift up the dog(45 pounds of fur) to lick the windows instead of using Windex. I tried all yesterday to get him to sing “Sixteen tons and what do you get-another day older and deeper in debt.” Yesterday he would almost crack a smile and catch himself. Today he is at least smiling when I am ridiculous.It’s a start. The other kids are not giving him any sympathy. Everyone is pretending it is just a normal day. My middle daughter and her husband were here and ignored the lip quiver and told him “hi”. My daughter also teased her high school aged siblings by asking them what they needed to get an education for. After all ,they had their jobs in the restaurant. Why would they want something less stressful with better pay? It helps to have the twenty somethings reinforce what is important. They still have the “cool factor”. Parents of course,do not.
If nothing else is accomplished this week,I will at lest have all the annoying detailed chores out of the way for a while. If my son is still refusing to do his school next week,he has three grown siblings that would sacrificially offer their own homes for him to deep clean. They are all supportive like that.
This is in honor of my thirteen year old son:

My formerly “good” thirteen year old has decided-for reasons know only to him- to refuse to do any school work. He is lying.He is cheating, (yes,homeschooled children will try and cheat,just because they are homeschooled,doesn’t make them any less children). He is pulling his younger brother’s trick of gorging himself at one meal because he has already planned on refusing to do his work and earning a peanut butter sandwich for his next. He is not doing what chores he’s been assigned, but spending his time doing those things he is not supposed to do. For a good part of the weekend he has been crying and letting the snot run into his mouth (over the beginner mustache floundering on his upper lip). He doesn’t cuss’ He isn’t violent.He can’t quite make himself be that hateful. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a large puddle on my floor if he keeps up, though. This has been gaining momentum through the fall and I have hit the end of my patience with the boy. There comes a point in time when it no longer matters why you have decided to lie and refuse to do your work. You just need to get over it.
There will be no CAP for this son this week. Young men who are not mature enough to do their school and tell the truth, are not old enough to participate in the Civil Air Patrol. Young men who feel they have no need of an education,will have an entire week’s practice doing house and yard work. His siblings are going to be thrilled. That is all work they would have had a share in. Now they can kick back.
I am finally over the worst of whatever crud that was that hit me. I hate getting sick. Normally I just push through.I am of the mindset that if I ignore illness, it will go away. This year everyone is a bit paranoid,so I kept my sick self at home and missed the kids’ Karate tournament and their banquet for CAP. I will admit,it was nice to just hang out on the couch in a quiet house. I just wish I’d been well enough to enjoy it more fully.
Poor me.
Youngest is still sitting in detention. He has seen the dentist.I am told he should be transfered today or tomorrow. I have been told quite a few things,so I will believe it once he has been transported. I haven’t seen him since Friday. Both of us went,which makes visits easier. Our son was in the middle of his emotional range. It is hard to visit with him. He only talks about himself and rarely makes a lot of sense. He tends to jump all over a narrative and talk about nonsense. He also likes to give long and involved excuses about how he wasn’t doing anything wrong when he has gotten in trouble.He has no interest in what happens at the house.He has no areas of interest to talk about. He isn’t interested in talking about anyone else’s interests. He will talk trash about other kids,which we won’t listen to. If we do, it is to point out he does the same behaviors he is so upset about. Most of the time he doesn’t listen to us anyway. It makes for a very long half-hour.
My grandson the destructor is coming for an overnight visit today. His mama and daddy are worn out. He is very,very busy. He is also a hoot. Now that he is closing in on three, he is a lot of fun.

It hasn’t been the best week. Monday was court and a sideways day for the kids at home. Tuesday the full weight of my youngest son’s emotional problems as well as his legal problems hit me square on. Yesterday I was hit full on with whatever virus is currently circulating and I found out that youngest has managed to get himself on lock-down, and my other thirteen year old was still sideways. Today I am feeling functionally better and was told that a close family member once again asked why we can’t just undo the adoption of youngest.
This isn’t the first time someone has suggested we just give our son back as if he were a defective piece of merchandise. I am a bit more forgiving when it is those who are acquainted with us superficially. It hurts deeply when it is family. It hurts very deeply. It also makes me angry.
I understand there are times when dissolving/disrupting an adoption is the only way to get a deeply disturbed child the help they need,or is the only way to keep other family member safe. It is a heart wrenching decision that has a multitude of ramifications and is rarely done lightly. I am not in any way,shape or form judging those who have had to make such a difficult decision.
To “give my son back” would mean abandoning him to the state with all of the legal ramification of abandoning a birth child.
My son is a child. He is not a puppy or a microwave oven. He is a human child who has been horribly abused and neglected. The fact that he is more disturbed than we were led to believe is moot at this point.
His father and I stood before the judge and swore to care for him just as if I had given birth to him. More to the point, we are responsible before God to this child. You don’t give a child born to you back because he is not what you intended when he was conceived.
God called us to love this son. God placed him in our home,under our care just as he did each of our other children. God is not a respecter of persons. He does not value our son’s soul less because he isn’t Caucasian. He does not judge our son because his birth parents did not care for him as the blessing he was meant to be.
God loves him no less than he loves the person who respects my son (and us) so little.
All of us who claim Christ as savior have been adopted. None of us (unless we have been born Jews) are God’s chosen people. It is through the miracle of Christ’s birth, death and resurrection that we have the honor (not based on works which we have done,our works are as nothing) to be called Sons and Daughters of God.
If we “give back” our youngest son,what are we teaching our children and grandchildren about love, family and commitment? How are we showing Christ to our children and grandchildren-especially youngest son? Is not his soul less precious to God because he is a product of adult’s abuse?
If we grieve because our son cannot acknowledge our love, freely given,how much more does his Father in Heaven grieve?
Each of us who truely follow Christ Jesus have been given a calling-a job if you will. Some are called to the deep,dark places of the world. Some teach. Some lead.
Some of us are called to love children. Some of us are called to simply give a child a home and do our best to help them heal from the evil inflicted upon them. Ours is a fallen,evil world. Not all of the children we love and sacrifice for will become instantly whole. My son may never be able to love. He may, in fact, continue the cycle of abuse he was born into. That doesn’t make us love him less. It doesn’t make him less worthy of our love. God did not call us to heal our children. He did not call us to make our children Christians. He called us to love them and to teach them about Him. He calls us to be obedient to Him. He does not say we will see success.
My youngest son is a child of God. He is loved by God. God has not rejected him. My son may reject God. He may also turn to Him tomorrow,or in twenty years or on his death bed.
Our son may continue to reject us. Of course that hurts. Our son’s rejection of our love,or his acceptance of
our love, isn’t the point. Whether or not he is a “financial liability” (and what child isn’t) is not the point.
Whether or not he is in our home is not the point.
The point is he is our responsibility.
The point is he is our son.
The point is we love him.

God has asked us to love this child. God has given us the ability to love this child. He did not tell us it would be easy. In fact,he told us the opposite.
Now do you understand?

I handle the big things OK. I have listened to some pretty horrible things from small children’s lips and kept it together. I did fine in court yesterday. I did well during my visit with youngest yesterday. I didn’t leave when he cussed,or yelled at me. I did raise my voice when he justified stabbing the boy with the pencil by telling me the boy was “messed up and annoying” I did ask him if I should stab him whenever I felt he was annoying.He didn’t see the connection. I told him again that we wanted him to come home. He was loved. etc.etc. I rubbed his back. I did my best. The poor kid is so messed up. He was surprised he would be on a locked unit at residential. He was surprised he would be shadowed 24-7 for the first month there. He was surprised he would sill have to go to school. He was surprised he would be expected to follow the rules. I reminded him all this was explained to him. I reminded him I explained it all to him.
“I don’t listen to you” he told me. “I listen to people who don’t have to look things up on the computer”
He was under the impression all he was going to have was therapy a few times a week and the rest of his time was going to be free.
He was also upset to know he will have to go back in front of the judge to have his record expunged when he is 18. He told me that was “messed up” and ” I’m not wasting my money on no lawyer just for that.” The fact he will not be able to get a job,rent an apartment,join the military or get financial aid for college with the felony on his record is not sinking in.
It was,all in all not a very good visit.
My son cannot be admitted into residential until he has his dental exam. His last one is over a year old. He should have had one last spring,but he was too unstable and was then incarcerated. I had planned on getting it done when he came home. But he isn’t coming home.
To get his teeth checked he will be in leg irons and have a armed guard. I asked they take him to Castle and not our dentist. Our dentist office is not used to kids in leg irons with armed escorts. My other kids would be embarrassed forever.
That is what put me over the edge.
My son, my thirteen year old son (who looks ten on a good day) is going to be taken to the dentist in leg irons. I think about it and it is all I can do not to weep. I take that back. I am crying. The reality of where my son is and is going has hit me full force. Every bit of grief is back. All the feelings of failing this child,all the feelings of not being who he needed are bubbling up. My head may know this isn’t my failure. My heart says differently.
My son is going to be going to the dentist in leg irons and an armed guard.
And there is nothing I can do to make it better.
In fact, I seem to be the one who makes things worse. Just by being a mom. Just by being his mom

I want my son to be well.

Court for youngest was this morning. He is being sent to the only residential treatment center in our very large state that would take him. I have heard very very bad things and very good things about this facility.I am praying it is the good things that are true. It isn’t as if we have the slightest bit of control over any of this.
My son almost had new charges pressed on him last night. He stabbed another boy in the leg with his pencil over a board game. I was told they knew he was about to be moved and didn’t want to jeopardize that by pressing new charges. I don’t know if that is true or not. I do know stabbing someone with whatever is nearby is not a good thing. What if he would have had a fork,or a knife-or a gun? I do not pretend to understand the reasoning of my youngest son.
He had attitude in front of the judge. The judge interpreted his mumbling as being nervous and ignored his steely eyes. He was told point blank if he appeared before the judge again he was going to the correctional facility. My son smiled as he left court. He smiled. He should have been crying.
My thirteen year old here at the house is back to playing games with his school. He just pretends he has completed something and then cries when I ask to see it. When you have the beginnings of a mustache, the tears just don’t have the same effect they did when you were six. My seventeen year old son is still on his first subject-and it is after noon. We start school between eight and eight-thirty.
This is going to be a very long day.

I think we have finally found the kid’s reset button. On Friday we went hiking and the kids finally relaxed. My thirteen year old was glued to his dad. There is just something about being outdoors that helps reorganize them-and us. It was a beautiful day. I forgot my camera; which really doesn’t matter as I still haven’t found my camera cord. We went to Walmart afterwards so the older teens could purchase shirts for work. Walmart undid the hike. I haven’t seen them that stressed out by a public place in a few years. It was way too much stimulation for them to handle. To undo Walmart, we went to a new (very small) organic food store in town which for some reason they really like. We then browsed Half Price which they also enjoy quite a bit.
When we returned to the house we grilled beef fajitas.
It was the food that finally motivated the boys to finish their school work (the work they have been refusing to do for weeks now). When my thirteen year old was young,he would lie quite often. If you asked him if he was lying,he would tell you, yes. He was a very honest,dishonest child. One of the carrots we used to encourage him to tell the truth was our family favorite-peanut butter sandwich for dinner AKA The Choker.My son would check with me about an hour before supper to see what I was fixing. If it was something he really liked,he would come clean. I would say things like;”Well,those who don’t lie to their mother are having fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Those who lie to their mother are having a choker and a glass of water. Do you have anything to tell me?” He would always tell me “No” and then come back to me about ten minutes later after thinking about fried chicken vs. peanut butter and come clean.
It was the same response this weekend. That boy cracks me up. Talk about being ruled by your stomach…
Because they were finally working, I allowed them to finish and then eat the good food. Normally they would have had until supper and then had yet another yummy peanut butter sandwich and an early bedtime.
To prove what a sap I am, I also allowed the boys to go to their party and give me the labor they earned this afternoon. To their credit,they did not ask to go. They were willing to take their earned consequences without complaint. I think it was that, added to the fact both boys need to be with kids their own age, that made me decide to let them go. The party was well chaperoned, so I could drop them off without worry.
All I know is the kids are much lighter in spirit now.
For that I am grateful.
Tomorrow is court for youngest. His court appointed lawyer has never returned phone calls or e-mail. I am beyond irritated. My son’s councilor did get back to me and told me it looks like the facility that has accepted my son is clean and there are no major complaints or violations at this time. Our county toured it and they were “impressed”. I am somewhat comforted. I have been around the block enough to know that there can still be problems. At least the county is taking my concerns seriousely and checked more thorough than they normally would have. I am very impressed by our county for the most part. Many have gone above and beyond to try and find help for my son. It is beyond ironic that it is the judicial system that is turning cartwheels to get him help. It is not mental health. It is not out states post-adopt services. It is the judicial system. Because the lawyer hasn’t returned any calls, I am not sure if he will be moved or not tomorrow. I hate,hate,hate flying blind like this.

Here is a picture of my grand-babies last night before they went trick-or-treating. (My son said that people were very stingy with their candy this year. He felt so bad at the kids lack of candy,he stopped at the store and bought them some chocolate. He’s a bigger sap than I am.)
You can tell they’re cousins.

This morning I went to iron my only pair of khaki’s. The first thing I see is that the iron was plugged in and on. (I am very grateful for automatic shut-off). I start to iron my pants and notice something brown and sticky being left on my pants. I turn the iron over and it is -brown and sticky. Thinking to flush out what ever the kids had gotten on the iron I took the glass of water we use to fill the iron and filled the iron. It wasn’t water. It was oily. It was vegetable oil and water mixed together. Vegetable oil and water will make your iron turn brown and sticky and will not be kind to your clothing. My pants are now ruined and I am not sure I can save the iron.
The question “Why?” comes to mind. The response from my teen aged children when asked was to glare and stop speaking to me. Sigh

I don’t know if it is the change in the weather,or the phase of the moon,or hormones. I do know that all three kids at home are full of attitude. They are not being the most pleasant of companions today. The boys still have not finished their work that should have been done almost two weeks ago now. At least their sister is doing her school work. She is also working out of her mad faster than her brothers. The seventeen year old is wanting from time to time to work out of his mad,but catches himself. My thirteen year old does what his brother does. No independent thoughts there. My boys are throwing a very long,drawn out,silent hissy fit over their school. Their refusal to speak to me is getting kind of old. We have been playing this game since last Thursday. I may resort to moving rocks and other meaningless physical work soon. After all, if you don’t graduate high school you are pretty limited as to job opportunities. Manual labor might be you best shot at paying the bills. I have no problem giving them practice so they can be the best meaningless manual laborers they can be.
I partially think my problem is how slack I’ve been with instant consequences. I have been wanting them to self regulate. I also have a fair amount of guilt over the chaos of the last year and am overcompensating somewhat in the grace department. They are showing me I need to parent them much,much younger than I have been. It is hard to parent a seventeen year old like he is ten. I feel like a smother mother. Any other teen age boy would be rebelling like crazy with the reigns that tight. This son is rebelling because I have loosened his too much. Some times you can’t win.

Youngest son has been pleasant to us and racking up the incidents over stupid things for the folks in detention. I suppose he has to be ugly somewhere. When he was ugly to us, he was an angel for the staff. If he is nice to us, he is ugly for the staff. It makes no sense to most folks to refuse to fasten the Velcro on your tennis shoes. Somehow it makes sense to him. The hardest part when he is pleasant,you can see the person he could be. He is a joy to be around then. All the hope comes back. Hope he can come home. Hope he will settle in. Hope he will heal. I understand why those who only know his casually are smitten with him. I understand why they don’t believe in his dark side. I have trouble remembering just how ugly he can get. I want to forget,to tell the truth. Who wants their son to be so messed up killing people is justified in his mind?
If he were ugly all the time I wouldn’t be as afraid for his future. His ability to charm and then turn on those who care for him is much more frightening that simply indiscriminate rage. I have no answers.

Of the four kids attitudes and behaviors, I will take the older three’s scowling and stubborn refusal to do their school work over charm vacillating with violence. Eventually they will work themselves out of it. When they do, they will do their consequences and move on. They may have trouble with cause and effect, but they do get it in time (kind-of,sort-of). At least they try.

If you are a professional in the mental health field and want me to trust you, I will give you a little hint.
Tell me you are in over your head. I understand that. Tell me you have never dealt with a child who has been as damaged as my child, but you are researching like crazy to find things that might help. You can even ask me what has worked-or not worked-in the past. I will respect you for your honesty. I will feel as if we are a team in the attempt to help my child. I will feel I can speak freely to you. I will trust you.
I will tell you what not to do as well.
Do not tell me my child would be well if only we (the ones who adopted him,not the ones who abused him) would parent him the way you tell us to. Do not tell me there is nothing wrong with my son having a first degree felonious assault charge.Do not say my son would not have really hurt me.The police over reacted. We over reacted. We can ignore all the little attempts to hurt me since then. Do not tell me his revenge list isn’t actually a list of people he wants to kill-even though my son freely admits that is what it is. Do not tell me that my fear of increasing institutionalizing of my son with RAD is not important. Do not tell me that facilities that have serious abuse charges against them are safe because someone in CPS said they are.
Do not talk to me in a condescending manner and tell me outright lies. If they are not lies, and you believe these to be facts, then you are even more incompetent than I was led to believe.
Do not,I repeat,do not tell my son that the juvenile correction facility in our state is a good place to go and some children even prefer it to their own family. Have you no sense whatsoever??????
I have this fantasy where I find a professional not only cares about my child, but is experienced as well.
In my fantasy this professional type person will have successfully helped hundreds,or even dozens or even one kid like mine. I will not have to watch them reinvent the wheel. I will not be more experienced than they. They will respect our entire family unit. They will understand that while we are upset over the behaviors of our child,we do in fact love him fiercely. They will understand that we are not the ones who hurt him;we are the ones trying to pick up the pieces of his life.They will see themselves in partnership with us; not in competition with us. They will want my child to succeed so he can have a productive life,not so they can write a best seller.
It is a nice fantasy.

Yesterday the weather was sunny and almost hot (80 or so for you Yankees-you know who you are dad).
Today it is in the low fifties (feels like forties according to Weather.com) and raining. I am freezing. (quit laughing at me dad!) The kids are not having an academically on day.All three are varying degrees of sideways. My thirteen year old is confusing his mathematical operations. He is setting up an addition problem and then multiplying it. He is trying to find out how much time has past from 9AM to 11AM and is coming up with 2AM. The other two aren’t doing much better. At least my daughter doesn’t have attitude to go along with a hard-to-think day. Her brothers however, are blaming me for kicking back their work and trying to explain the correct way to do it. Of course,they are both still mad they are not going to the Halloween party next Saturday. Neither of them finished their work from last week-even though they had three days to do it. My youngest refused to break his work down into manageable bites. Instead he insisted on spending most of his time running in circles. His brother handed me a paper he,himself admitted he would kick back if he were I.
Sigh.
We have days, weeks, occasionally months where they seem to tool along without problems.Sometimes we have days,weeks,months where their brains freeze up, but they push through allowing me to help them. They allow me to be their external brain so to speak. Then there are days like today. Not only are their brains shorting out, but their attitudes are in the toilet. It isn’t they who have the problem. I am the problem for pointing out they have a problem. It isn’t that the math answer makes no sense whatsoever. It is me for pointing out they have a wrong answer that gets their knickers in a twist. Please don’t think they are embarrassed. I don’t do anything that would bring shame. They are simply stuck. Reality doesn’t play into it.
My prayer for this group of teens is they will one day have their own system for external accountability. I want them to recognize they are having a “hard to think” day and have a contingency plan is place-like not being afraid to say “I don’t understand” or simply looking up how to do something they knew how to do the day before. I think my daughter is about seventy-five percent there. She is no longer arrogant in her ignorance. My sons,however, are about fifty percent there. I know it must be frustrating to them to lose stuff in their own brains. Their dad and I have been working for years to help them find face saving ways to compensate.
We cannot undo the damage to their brains. We can help them learn to navigate around the damage to minimize it’s effect on their lives.
I think it is because they have come so far,that days like these are harder for me to see. I want the damage to be gone. Erased. Never to have existed to begin with. Off days,FAS days, sideways days like today remind me the damage remains.
I prefer denial.