For the second day in a row, Squeaker had a teenage tantrum about watching a DVD...this time after I told her to turn off a movie with some inappropriate dialogue which she kept repeating and making sure Lucky didn't miss.
Tonight's display included stomping, defiance, yelling in my face and a lot of muttering under her breath, mostly about how stupid and retarded I am.
During her "time out" she shoved the dining table around and repeatedly banged on the couch. When told to stop, she said, "And what are you going to do if I don't? Yeah, that's what I thought."
When she finally went off to bed, I heard "what a jerk" and "I hate you" coming from the room she shares with Lucky but it got really quiet when I went and stood in the doorway. All is peaceful now. Sweet dreams.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Day 2 on a Hostile Planet
Monica and the Boss are visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Washington, D.C. for a little R&R leaving me here where the natives aren't always friendly.
Yesterday, Squeaker got mad because she couldn't put a movie on so she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. I am so done with door slamming around here.
The room she just moved out of has a cracked door, patch on the wall, scraped door jam and loose door knob from several angry door slammers. I really don't want that to happen again, so I followed her upstairs and offered to escort her around the house since she will soon lose the privilege of opening and closing doors for herself. Then I reminded her that she already lost the privilege of being upstairs without permission. Snort. Eyeroll. (That was her, not me.)
She spent the next half hour stalking around the kitchen shooting me dirty looks and muttering under her breath. I didn't even bother to ask. The following half hour was full of nonsense babble at extremely high volume which also included bizarre threats to one of the rats. Don't ask.
I have yet to find out if Squeaker's mood has improved. Both she and Lucky overslept this morning and I only saw them for a minute while I was giving meds with one hand and pushing them out the front door with the other.
Yesterday, Squeaker got mad because she couldn't put a movie on so she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. I am so done with door slamming around here.
The room she just moved out of has a cracked door, patch on the wall, scraped door jam and loose door knob from several angry door slammers. I really don't want that to happen again, so I followed her upstairs and offered to escort her around the house since she will soon lose the privilege of opening and closing doors for herself. Then I reminded her that she already lost the privilege of being upstairs without permission. Snort. Eyeroll. (That was her, not me.)
She spent the next half hour stalking around the kitchen shooting me dirty looks and muttering under her breath. I didn't even bother to ask. The following half hour was full of nonsense babble at extremely high volume which also included bizarre threats to one of the rats. Don't ask.
I have yet to find out if Squeaker's mood has improved. Both she and Lucky overslept this morning and I only saw them for a minute while I was giving meds with one hand and pushing them out the front door with the other.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Ixnay on the Esttay
This week the kid's start the state standards testing in school. Squeaker has been obsessing for weeks about it to the point of being extremely irritating. The teachers are really building it up and putting the pressure on and she has been freaking out about it which for her takes the form of tears, temper, non-stop talking, and a full blown rage last night as we tried to get her and Lucky settled into their new room.
Possibly brought on by the stress, she has been increasingly mouthy and mean to the Boss, a favorite target. Although her treatment of him had improved somewhat she's on the downward skids again. He's afraid to walk past her or go into a room with her unless someone comes with him. She says unkind things to him and calls him names when she thinks no one can hear. And lately even in front of us as she herself pointed out last night.
In the horrifying early days of her diagnosis and botch job by the psychiatrist prescribing totally wrong meds, she was especially mean to him and would punch him, block his path, and steal his toys when I wasn't looking. He was two and she was eleven. Is it any wonder he is permanantly glued to my hip? I had to keep him constantly with me so he would be safe from her and other emotionally traumatized kids. Now he freaks out if he is not with me all the time. That plus his minor developmental delays gives her lots of ammo for hatefulness towards him.
Very frustrating as much of my time is still spent making sure that the two of them are never alone together even though he is now five and has quite a little mouth of his own.
Possibly brought on by the stress, she has been increasingly mouthy and mean to the Boss, a favorite target. Although her treatment of him had improved somewhat she's on the downward skids again. He's afraid to walk past her or go into a room with her unless someone comes with him. She says unkind things to him and calls him names when she thinks no one can hear. And lately even in front of us as she herself pointed out last night.
In the horrifying early days of her diagnosis and botch job by the psychiatrist prescribing totally wrong meds, she was especially mean to him and would punch him, block his path, and steal his toys when I wasn't looking. He was two and she was eleven. Is it any wonder he is permanantly glued to my hip? I had to keep him constantly with me so he would be safe from her and other emotionally traumatized kids. Now he freaks out if he is not with me all the time. That plus his minor developmental delays gives her lots of ammo for hatefulness towards him.
Very frustrating as much of my time is still spent making sure that the two of them are never alone together even though he is now five and has quite a little mouth of his own.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Fun Day
We had a pleasant Easter although we were minus Lucky who was at her mom's house.
Squeaker behaved well and appropriately although she did tell anyone who would pretend to listen about how she does not want to go to the local high school in the fall.
Most importantly we are safe from candy holidays until October!
Squeaker behaved well and appropriately although she did tell anyone who would pretend to listen about how she does not want to go to the local high school in the fall.
Most importantly we are safe from candy holidays until October!
Friday, April 10, 2009
High Crimes
We had plans today to go down to our church's Good Friday service at noon, meet with Lucky's social worker, and then go to the beach for the afternoon. Our plans were blown when Ana called the court recording to find out that she had to report for jury duty this morning. I told the kids we had to nix our activities for the day (we're down to one car) but we might still go to the 6pm service because we had to pick up Shorty this evening.
Squeaker slammed her door in a snit angry about having to go to "stupid church" when she wanted to go to the pier. I should have just left it at that. She might have escalated on her own anyway but I should have walked away. Why didn't I just walk away and let her throw things at the walls. Why must I always say something about door slams? Stupid, stupid. {smacking forehead against table}.
Things happen, I explained. Yeah, because some stupid criminal has to ruin my life by getting caught so that Auntie has to have jury duty, she says. (Huh?) Why are you making it about you? It's not really about you. Stuff happens and you deal with it. That's it. Why don't you stay up here and calm down and come down in a bit?
Whoa, duck and cover! Slamming, head banging, throwing stuff. Inevitable personal attacks. Trotting out oft repeated arguements about being blamed for everything. Angry exclamations: "I'm sick and tired of being punished because of other people!" Again, huh? Apparently some idiot criminal did actually go out and commit a crime and get himself caught so that he would have his day in court so that Squeaker's auntie would get jury duty on this day. Why? Just so that Squeaker could NOT go to the beach when she wanted to. Who knew?
When I texted the day's update to Ana at the courthouse she replied that she was reading an old Newsweek article on pediatric bipolar (magazines in the jury room a year behind, I guess). In children with bipolar disorder there is too much activity in the amygdala (regulates emotions)and not enough in the frontal cortex (rational thought). Sounds about right to me.
Squeaker slammed her door in a snit angry about having to go to "stupid church" when she wanted to go to the pier. I should have just left it at that. She might have escalated on her own anyway but I should have walked away. Why didn't I just walk away and let her throw things at the walls. Why must I always say something about door slams? Stupid, stupid. {smacking forehead against table}.
Things happen, I explained. Yeah, because some stupid criminal has to ruin my life by getting caught so that Auntie has to have jury duty, she says. (Huh?) Why are you making it about you? It's not really about you. Stuff happens and you deal with it. That's it. Why don't you stay up here and calm down and come down in a bit?
Whoa, duck and cover! Slamming, head banging, throwing stuff. Inevitable personal attacks. Trotting out oft repeated arguements about being blamed for everything. Angry exclamations: "I'm sick and tired of being punished because of other people!" Again, huh? Apparently some idiot criminal did actually go out and commit a crime and get himself caught so that he would have his day in court so that Squeaker's auntie would get jury duty on this day. Why? Just so that Squeaker could NOT go to the beach when she wanted to. Who knew?
When I texted the day's update to Ana at the courthouse she replied that she was reading an old Newsweek article on pediatric bipolar (magazines in the jury room a year behind, I guess). In children with bipolar disorder there is too much activity in the amygdala (regulates emotions)and not enough in the frontal cortex (rational thought). Sounds about right to me.
No Wonder I Don't Get Out Much
This evening we took Squeaker, Lucky, and The Boss to see the movie Hotel for Dogs. The girls had been wanting to see it so they were happy. I've been avoiding it as long as possible. We were aiming for Inkheart but got there a bit late so we decided to grit our teeth, mask our pain, and give 'em sweet potatoes (for you Zig Ziglar fans out there).
Now I feel a rant coming on.
SPOILER ALERT! If you are planning to see this movie I'm about to blow it for you. Stop reading now.
Not that you won't be able to decipher on your own the non-existent plot twists and painfully predictable characters in the first few minutes of the movie enabling you to jump to the inevitable warm, fuzzy conclusion and reclaim a good hour or so of your life by cutting out after the opening credits.
Okay, that was unkind. My kids liked it. Yours probably will to.
HOWEVER....
If I had known that it was about poor waifs in foster care I would not have bothered. True to form in the world of entertainment, the foster parents were depicted as stereo-typically mean, disgusting, self-serving jerks who take the money, mistreat the kids, and lock up the good stuff and feed the kids vile slop.
I've only ever seen two shows where foster parents were portrayed in a positive light. One was the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie Ellen Foster and the other was an episode of Touched by an Angel. Of course, on TBAA everyone thought the foster parents were baddies and it took an angel to show that they were actually caring and loving. Wait a sec, another pops to mind--Angels in the Outfield. The foster mom was a nice lady even though she made the kids sleep in sleeping bags instead of giving them sheets and blankets.
To be fair, in Hotel for Dogs the foster parents were not the only moronic adults. The cops and animal control officers were unsympathetic, snide, bumbling idiots who were dumber than all the kids and dogs combined. Pretty typical fare for child-focused movies.
As Ana commented, "This whole movie is a cliche."
It had some cute moments but they don't serve my rant so I guess you'll have to discover them for yourself. The girls got teary at one point and The Boss laughed out loud at the dog antics although he was bored any time people were on screen. By the time he had accidentally dumped two trays of popcorn and all his candy on the floor he just wanted to go to the lobby and play video games.
At least we went to the discount theater.
Now I feel a rant coming on.
SPOILER ALERT! If you are planning to see this movie I'm about to blow it for you. Stop reading now.
Not that you won't be able to decipher on your own the non-existent plot twists and painfully predictable characters in the first few minutes of the movie enabling you to jump to the inevitable warm, fuzzy conclusion and reclaim a good hour or so of your life by cutting out after the opening credits.
Okay, that was unkind. My kids liked it. Yours probably will to.
HOWEVER....
If I had known that it was about poor waifs in foster care I would not have bothered. True to form in the world of entertainment, the foster parents were depicted as stereo-typically mean, disgusting, self-serving jerks who take the money, mistreat the kids, and lock up the good stuff and feed the kids vile slop.
I've only ever seen two shows where foster parents were portrayed in a positive light. One was the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie Ellen Foster and the other was an episode of Touched by an Angel. Of course, on TBAA everyone thought the foster parents were baddies and it took an angel to show that they were actually caring and loving. Wait a sec, another pops to mind--Angels in the Outfield. The foster mom was a nice lady even though she made the kids sleep in sleeping bags instead of giving them sheets and blankets.
To be fair, in Hotel for Dogs the foster parents were not the only moronic adults. The cops and animal control officers were unsympathetic, snide, bumbling idiots who were dumber than all the kids and dogs combined. Pretty typical fare for child-focused movies.
As Ana commented, "This whole movie is a cliche."
It had some cute moments but they don't serve my rant so I guess you'll have to discover them for yourself. The girls got teary at one point and The Boss laughed out loud at the dog antics although he was bored any time people were on screen. By the time he had accidentally dumped two trays of popcorn and all his candy on the floor he just wanted to go to the lobby and play video games.
At least we went to the discount theater.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Geek High Five
So much going on with all the kids that I haven't been able to get my head straight to blog any of it. I feel like thoughts and ideas and worries are flying around in my brain but none of them connecting. When I described the feeling to Ana, complete with a demonstration of my index fingers shooting past each other but not meeting, she said, "Like a geek high five."
Two challenging kids back to line-of-sight supervision to protect property and the neighbors, daily lies and misdirection, irrational fears and unexplainable fits from the five year old (how will he go to kindergarten in the fall when he cries for 45 minutes because he has to go to the bathroom by himself?), keeping the littles safe from the meanness of the middles, navigating the complexities of older teens stuck somewhere in the crack between adult freedom and childish irresponsibility...all the while being constantly reminded that we don't communicate or do things like everybody's "real family". No wonder my head is rattled. These days I have no idea what I'm doing or what I've gotten myself into.
Squeaker is still acting a bit off even for her. She's cussing me out one minute and then acting super sweet and trying to engage me in coversation the next. She may be able to switch moods in 10 seconds flat but me, not so much. I don't even get how she can be so hateful and then come out and ask me sweetly for a privilege or favor while I'm still feeling freshly overhauled by her latest rage.
A renewed outburst of mean-and-nasty in which she pulled out every cruel insult and ugly word in her arsenal and shoved her bed in front of the door, resulted in her losing her activity for the evening and all privileges the next day.
I thought Saturday would be a toughy because that was the day that she was supposed to go either to Disneyland with her sister or to her cheer competition but her chronic temper had lost all privileges for the weekend. However, she did fine and was reasonably cheerful all day. I gave her a short hair cut as a fix for her hacking off big chunks from one side. She's been cutting/shaving/pulling snatches of her hair for years and I'm constantly taking her in to get it fixed so this time I did it myself.
Another cell phone went missing last week and, although I knew she and Lucky must have it, they kept it hidden for three days. I keep my bedroom door locked any time I am out of the room but this stealing thing has really gotten out of hand. shorty had set the phone down outside while he was on the trampoline and one of the girls just picked it up and slunk off unnoticed. Squeaker asked this week to go to the neighbor's house for the afternoon. Not hardly, little klepto.
Now the girls must ask permission to leave their room in the morning, go upstairs, outside or anywhere we can't see them. We must know where they are at all times even in the house. What a silly way to live. I don't want to be a jailor. Squeaker also frequently says mean things to The Boss when she thinks no one is around. But he's the biggest tattler in the house and then she hates him even more when he brings reinforcements.
As it turns out, keeping them close to home doesn't necessarily mean keeping the neighborhood safe from their obnoxiously inappropriate behavior. Monday night we got a knock on the door from one of our back-fence neighbors. Seems our sweet young ladies have been spending their time on the trampoline yelling naughty words, making fun of the neighbors in a racially disparaging way, and throwing bark and debris into their pool.
You know, I'm proud of my kids and I'm usually happy to claim them as mine but sometimes I want to say to people, "I didn't raise them that way! They didn't get that from me!"
Just sometimes.
Two challenging kids back to line-of-sight supervision to protect property and the neighbors, daily lies and misdirection, irrational fears and unexplainable fits from the five year old (how will he go to kindergarten in the fall when he cries for 45 minutes because he has to go to the bathroom by himself?), keeping the littles safe from the meanness of the middles, navigating the complexities of older teens stuck somewhere in the crack between adult freedom and childish irresponsibility...all the while being constantly reminded that we don't communicate or do things like everybody's "real family". No wonder my head is rattled. These days I have no idea what I'm doing or what I've gotten myself into.
Squeaker is still acting a bit off even for her. She's cussing me out one minute and then acting super sweet and trying to engage me in coversation the next. She may be able to switch moods in 10 seconds flat but me, not so much. I don't even get how she can be so hateful and then come out and ask me sweetly for a privilege or favor while I'm still feeling freshly overhauled by her latest rage.
A renewed outburst of mean-and-nasty in which she pulled out every cruel insult and ugly word in her arsenal and shoved her bed in front of the door, resulted in her losing her activity for the evening and all privileges the next day.
I thought Saturday would be a toughy because that was the day that she was supposed to go either to Disneyland with her sister or to her cheer competition but her chronic temper had lost all privileges for the weekend. However, she did fine and was reasonably cheerful all day. I gave her a short hair cut as a fix for her hacking off big chunks from one side. She's been cutting/shaving/pulling snatches of her hair for years and I'm constantly taking her in to get it fixed so this time I did it myself.
Another cell phone went missing last week and, although I knew she and Lucky must have it, they kept it hidden for three days. I keep my bedroom door locked any time I am out of the room but this stealing thing has really gotten out of hand. shorty had set the phone down outside while he was on the trampoline and one of the girls just picked it up and slunk off unnoticed. Squeaker asked this week to go to the neighbor's house for the afternoon. Not hardly, little klepto.
Now the girls must ask permission to leave their room in the morning, go upstairs, outside or anywhere we can't see them. We must know where they are at all times even in the house. What a silly way to live. I don't want to be a jailor. Squeaker also frequently says mean things to The Boss when she thinks no one is around. But he's the biggest tattler in the house and then she hates him even more when he brings reinforcements.
As it turns out, keeping them close to home doesn't necessarily mean keeping the neighborhood safe from their obnoxiously inappropriate behavior. Monday night we got a knock on the door from one of our back-fence neighbors. Seems our sweet young ladies have been spending their time on the trampoline yelling naughty words, making fun of the neighbors in a racially disparaging way, and throwing bark and debris into their pool.
You know, I'm proud of my kids and I'm usually happy to claim them as mine but sometimes I want to say to people, "I didn't raise them that way! They didn't get that from me!"
Just sometimes.
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