Gimpy

This time it was The Boss visiting the ER. The scene in the X-Ray room was a familiar one. Lots of screaming, kicking, grabbing, freaking, not cooperating, etc...

Yesterday The Boss was jumping on the trampoline with Shorty. He suddenly fell screaming and grabbing his leg. The X-Ray shows no breaks but some fluid on his knee so he's in a hip-to-toe splint and will need to be seen by an orthopedist in a few days. He may need an MRI if the pain persists. Somewhat concerning is the fact that he was complaining about pain in that leg two days before the trampoline incident. He also seemed kind of feverish so I attributed it to that and gave him some Tylenol.

Hoisting him around the next few days should be fun and back-straining. Just propping him to use the toilet has been an interesting adventure. When I laid him back on the bed this morning and got his clothes put right again he said, "Thank you for helping me with that, Mommy". Awwwwwwww. He's just the sweetest. He whimpered and thrashed all night but is refusing any medicine. He does seem to be in a lot less pain today now that the leg is immobilized. I've had to move him up so I can get him in and out more easily and pile up pillows to keep his leg straight out in front.

Trust but Verify

I can't even do that. One of the byproducts of being lied to all the time by kids is that I can't trust anything they say. Sad.

Unrelated....another three hours in the ER with yet another kid. More on that later.

"It's Everywhere!"

The Boss has lots and lots of very thick, coarse, sticky-up hair. He also has some sensory issues and is easily bothered by uncomfortable things touching his skin.

This combination makes haircutting a nightmare. I have to bribe him with candy, ice cream, cookies and all other manner of junk food. For one haircut he got a donut, ice cream, and coke for breakfast following (it's was Thanksgiving morning, I can justify that has a special treat for the holiday, right?). And that's just to get him to sit in the chair.

His last haircut was, by far, the worst we've had in a while. Dreading the inevitable, I had let him get way too poofy. He thrashed, kicked, screamed, slithered off the chair, and yelled "Owie, owie, owie. It's itchy!" incessantly. Ana had to hold him while I did the best I could with the scissors. I really wanted to pull out the clippers but he about went through the roof when I suggested it even though it's a much faster solution to the poof problem.

All that movement caused the clipped hair to go down his shirt and get all over his face and hands resulting in him screaming "It's everywhere!" repeatedly. He rubbed an itchy spot on his chest until it welted and then bled. Haircuts should just not be this traumatic (and the Boss had a pretty rough time too).

He was such a stinker afterwards that he only got one piece of chocolate but at least the deed is done for another month or so.

He is pretty darn cute though!

"Have a Nice Trip. See You Next Fall."

Last night I took Drama Boy, Sparky, Squeaker and our respite kiddo, J, on one of our "good citizen walks." This time we walked from our house to the nearby WalMart, picking up abandoned shopping carts along the way and returning them to the store.

Despite my pre-walk lecture about staying together, not being loud, rude, inappropriate or otherwise obnoxious, the kids climbed in and out of the carts, ran off the sidewalk, played bumper carts, ran a cart into a fence, did not stay together and were generally loud, rude, inappropriate and obnoxious.

And, just to prove true the old cliche that "no good deed goes unpunished," my flip flops hit some water as I was crossing the street and I slipped, slid, flipped and flopped, landing hard on my knee and rolling backwards into the gutter water. Since we were still a few blocks from WalMart, I decided to continue on, dripping and squelching along the way.

Half a block later, the sidewalk was slick from sprinkler run-off. You guessed it...down I went, this time doing the splits and landing again on the same knee. Not a perfect landing, but at least this time I wasn't rolling around in the middle of the street.

We finally made it to the store, stowed the carts and walked back home without incident (with Sparky cheering me on "there's some water...do you see it?...be careful...don't fall...yay, you didn't fall...good job!) but I don't think I'm going to wear those flip flops on a public street ever again.

The Flip

We have one criterion that outweighs all others when determining which kids can be placed in our home and continue to live here. It is, "Everyone must be safe".

Even though we knew it to be part of "the plan", the older boys' behavior escalated to the point that we no longer felt that all family members were safe from their aggression and verbal abuse. If they were the only children in the house things might be different but, even then, Drama Boy cannot be kept safe from Sparky's constant attacks and badgering and Sparky cannot be safe from himself because he refuses to comply with basic rules of safety (leaving the house without permission and not returning home on time, climbing on the roof, jumping on moving cars, rearranging and throwing furniture and other items, etc...). He even bruised Ana a couple of times from punching and grabbing. His oppositional behavior is such that Ana had concerns over her ability to continue to parent him into his teen years.

The very painful decision was made that they would need to be moved to ensure the safety and well-being of all.

Too late, Drama Boy realized that he was a follower in a "plan" that he wishes now he had not been party to. His birth mom has been encouraging and coaching his misbehavior and hatefullness towards Ana in an attempt to have them moved to a "better" place apparently thinking she will get them back more easily. DB now freely admits this and says he wishes he could take it all back. He sobbed for hours last night as he asked Ana for another chance to stay. Infuriating how their birth mother has used and manipulated these poor kids. She has been so careless with their lives and fragile emotions and then argues that no one but her loves them or is good enough to care for them. She has done a good job of convincing them of it, as well.

Sparky is the primary source of the aggression, destruction, and angry trantrums. Drama Boy is often his target and Sparky's outrageous behavior is the reason that the two have moved from several other placements. So, we'll revisit our decision in regards to Drama Boy with some reservations, many caveats, and insistence on improved behavior. It is somewhat surprising that DB expressed so strongly his desire to stay since in the past he has rejected any notion of connectedness to us and often makes no effort at civility to our extended family.

Sparky, on the other hand, is ready to "move on" (his words) and seems willing to do so on friendlier terms than expected. He wants to come back for visits especially if DB continues to live here. He is filled with deep, explosive anger which comes out as shocking meanness, violent aggression, destructiveness, and routine defiance. He is often personable and fun but when he's mad...everyone had better watch out! He did have to admit that he likes Ana and thinks she's nice and this is the best place he has lived.

His overwhelming argument in favor of moving?

Wait for it.
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We don't have cable tv.




Yep.
And he's not embarrassed to tell the social worker that. Many destructive tantrums were launched due to this sad fact.

We'll always love you, Sparky. This one's for you.

That Hurts

Major emotional meltdowns going on upstairs tonight, emphasizing again that hurting kids can be hateful, hurtful, dangerous, and abusive in an effort to reject you before you can reject them. But they feel it just as deeply even though they expect and practically beg to be rejected in order to confirm what they think they knew about you all along.

Wait, now I'm getting confused.

It makes their broken appeals for acceptance and belonging all the more heart-breaking that they are delivered with such volatile and violently mixed emotions. Can't post details yet but we are in for an awful, painful, gut-wrenching week.

Brain Held Hostage, Day Three

I'm on the third day of a splitting, migrainy sort of headache. Today the two littles are screeching, running around, and getting on every ragged, ouchy nerve ending I own.

Yesterday every single one of the six of them had either a shouting, crying, or stomping fit (there was an eye-rolling "whatever" fit too but that one didn't hurt my head).

Fortunately, the little tantrums are short-lived these days. My aching head rejoices.

Ooze

Sparky's leg wound got infected and Ana had to take him to the doctor once and back to the emergency room twice to get it checked out. They go back to the doctor on Friday to have it looked at again. The drive to the doctor is a long one since it is in the next county and the emergency room is always a long wait but at least more interesting. He's had an additional injection of antibiotic and today, after he got kicked by a kid at school, they took out every other staple so that it can drain better. Ook.

What would be really nice is if everyone could get on the same page. So far Ana has been told: he can walk and even run around/he needs to stay off of it and keep it elevated, he should keep it uncovered so it gets air/he should keep it wrapped, he can go to school/he needs to stay home, no special care needed/didn't they tell you to put neosporin on it?

It's a wonder anybody survives a trip to the emergency room.

Midnight Musings

1. If the dinner dishes aren't done by midnight they probably won't get done until the morning.

2. The only time this house is quiet is in the middle of the night.

3. Mountain Dew in a pink cup looks extremely unappealing. I don't even like Mountain Dew but it's the only thing in the house with fizz.

4. If I set my own work hours why am I coming back downstairs at midnight to finish today's work?

5. The later I stay up the more I think of the things I should have said to the kids in response to events during the day.

6. How can a little bitty four-year-old completely hog a queen-sized bed?

7. By morning, I never remember everything on my mental to do list but I probably still won't write it down.

8. The later I stay up the more I worry about stuff. Why don't I just go to bed early?

9. Ana's decription of Sparky's gash didn't do it justice. It looked like a shark chomped a chunk out of him. Not really. But it was deep and wide and GUH-ROSS and now it looks like a fat-lipped smile that has been stapled shut. Where's the camera?

10. It's difficult to type with a heavily bandaged middle finger. I fear it will have an adverse affect on my weekend Guitar Hero ability as well.

Yowzer

For the past few years I have been unsuccessfully trying to get The Boss to sleep in his own big boy bed. I don't bother any more so he sleeps in mine with the rule that NO toys come into mama's room. Also unsuccessful.

3:55am. I got up to use the bathroom and tripped over an aircraft carrier that I had shoved to the floor when I went to bed. I pitched forward in total darkness, falling spectacularly in face-first-look-ma-no-hands style. The bridge of my nose and my right eye slammed into the hard edge of The Boss' hamper. You really do see stars and little birdies just like in the cartoons.

I lay on the floor for a few minutes clutching my eye so it wouldn't pop out and roll across the carpet collecting dust bunnies. When I got up a little voice chimed from somewhere behind me, "Are you ok?". Always searching for those "teachable moments" I told him, "THAT'S why we don't bring toys into mama's room."

I flipped on lights as I went downstairs to get an icepack and a glass of water to suck down a bunch of aspirin. Usually I leave the lights off, feeling my way down the stairs and navigating the rest from memory, but I was taking no chances that a stray Thomas Train or Transformer would be my secondary downfall.

Assessing the damage in the bathroom mirror, I found a small cut and a large Cromagnum-like swelling between my eyes, the beginnings of a shiner, and a nasty red splotch on my right eyeball. Ewwwwwww.

When I finally returned to bed, a Hotwheels car had taken my spot.