But your going to be a FREAKING Butterfly !!!!

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over...she became a butterfly".
~anonymous~

This quote has always reminded me of my oldest. Hence why her nickname is "Papillion", french for Butterfly.

This post isn't really about her, but it is. It isn't really about adoption, or parenting, but just about loving someone. The pain of seeing the potential that they can't or don't or won't see in themselves.

As friends, parents, spouses, partners, humans....we desperately want and look for the good, the better, the "final destination" for the "who" or "what" they can be.

"If only we knew the absolute brilliance of the life we've planned for ourselves. If only we could see the bigger picture for what it is and stop messing with the details. If we saw the truth we would know that nothing is really ever lost. And that which feels like it is, is necessary for the growth of our soul."
~words of wisdom by Marcia Petie Coleman

and...sometimes we want to shake them by the shoulders, and SCREAM " you are better than this, you have sooo much potential!" But what is potential?
Is it a definition of what we have for someone else, to make them be what we want them to be? Can that be a selfish, expecting someone to be something they may not be capable of being?

I have a hurt and broken child, I want to hug them, I want to protect them,run away and stave off all of the hurt and broken, and fix and heal, and make whole what has been made un-whole. I want to scream in their face, "knock it the crap off and be healthy, your going to be a FREAKING butterfly DAMN-IT"!....and I can't do anything at this point to change or heal, or convince them of this....am I being selfish in wanting this? No. Is it going to work? no.

But instead of "potential"...I am going to stick with what was left in Pandora's box when everything else escaped, because that is about where we are scraping bottom bucket here...and "HOPE" , is really all that is left.

If all I have to offer is unconditional love, will it be enough? maybe not. But it is what I have, and this never-ending hope.

When we chose to love someone, it is a choice we keep on making everyday, sometimes every second, even if it makes us feel like hamburger, raw, red and GROSS.

“Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen.” ~anonymous~

Forever and Always and NO Matter what…Kids with Reactive Attachment Disorder and Suicide.

We have a BASIC Rule list in our home, as well as a “Deal Breaker” List. This applies to all of my children. If a Deal Breaker happens, respite becomes involved, because at that point it is NOT about discipline, it becomes about safety, and safety come s first. This is our family’s working Household Requirements list.

HOUSEHOLD REQUIREMENTS

Deal Breakers (Not being safe enough to be in our home)
• No hitting EVER. ( this is NOT “play fighting, or angry smacking”, I mean aggressive, breaking bones stuff)
• No putting self or others in danger (threats of harm, suicide attempts, sexual abuse).
• No running away.

General Requirements / Rules
• Follow instructions / do what is asked.
• Treat others with respect (no rolling eyes).
• Be where you say you are going to be.
• Honesty in all actions (stealing or lying).
• Do your best.
• Use exit strategies when angry.
• No screaming, yelling, or threatening.
• Take responsibility for school, chores, and church activities.


I was NEVER going to open up about this bad boy. There are just things you DON’T say and talk about, things that you respect for your children, because they will be healed someday and maybe this kind of stuff should not be out there, when and if they do. BUT, and I mean a BIG Fat-heart-breaking-BUT, some of our kids may not be that lucky

Some of our kids may not get there. Some of our kids no matter how safe we try to keep them, how much therapy, how much time and therapeutic energy we put in, may not make it out alive.

And well someone needs to talk about it, and well since I HATE that I am becoming the poster child and expert in self harm, safety and suicide attempts….here I am, telling the truth, because when other people are brave and lay them selves on the line, it is when and where I learn the MOST stuff to help my kids…and I may or may not be returning the favor, but I also am smart enough to know; I. Am. Not. Alone.

Deep Breath….sad sigh…
Putting up the Ugly-Sad-Scary-Worst Nightmare FLAG….

We have had now, two very dangerous suicide attempts in our home.
One was a prescription pill overdose, another whtch is 2 days recent, involved self harm.

Someone asked me recently “what do you do, when your child’s chronological age and some of there more basic behaviors are age appropriate, but emotionally and socially they are much, much younger. Parenting wise, we basically parent the age in the moment, acting 10= ten year old logic and discipline/natural consequences, not easy, but work able. Logistically in the “system” it is HELL. Unless you live in a large city with incredible adoption/therapeutic resources and respite, you and your child can fall through cracks, worse your emotionally eleven year old eighteen year old can be put in adult facilities, be charged as an adult, and much worse. Trust me, I know.
The triggers are always crazy, sad, and minimal to the lay person.

My child went on a church activity, and met a nice sweet 15 year old young man and a crush seemed to form. Seemed harmless enough, except the age difference, and some of my child’s behaviors of choice, not always being the most appropriate. The HARD/Honest truth is, he is a 15 year old boy, emotionally 2 years younger than girls, and she is an 18 year old girl, emotionally in the pre-teens as well, they probably do relate really well to each other, yet the law would hardily disagree.


In our home, our children may not singularly date until they are 16; yes we are old-school. So when we let her know the door swings both ways, and if you choose to “date” someone younger than 16, than it needs to be supervised, in group dating, or hanging with the fam…I am pretty sure she thought she would die….LOL…maybe that is not the most “appropriate’ saying… whatever, appreciate my dark humor and the brilliance of my foreshadowing….because in situations like this, after you are done crying your eyes out…the crazy-person laughter comes next.

“We” obviously lost our cell phone last month after the $450 worth of calls in two weeks.

Well, being supportive and understanding, we wanted to foster this situation as safely as possible, and allowed texting on one of our cell phones, after she asked, so we could keep record of the communication….and we were pleased as punch things were going so swimmingly. (just say it..”Idiots”)

Once things hit the fan. Once she found out she could not “go out” by herself with this boy…it got ugly fast.

After a verbal slip, and some investigative work, we realized that the relinquished cell phone of last month, had been stolen, and used to the point of ALL minutes and texts had been used in one week. …replacing it every morning on my dresser, so I would have no clue of it’s nighttime absence….hence why we were so eager to use Mom and Dad’s cell phones.
The clincher; and I am slow to share, but what the hey…Ugly Flag is already up.OOPS! “We” had “thought” we had deleted, all incriminating texts, yet let’s just say…some incoming and outgoing photo texts had been over looked, and yes, I did vomit.

And the Nightmare began. Morally, ethically and occupationally (for my husband) we were obligated to contact this boys parents. Due to the age difference and our daughter being a quote”ADULT”…they had every right to press charges.

We gently and non-shamingly explained our heart ache, our concerns, and the reality of the natural consequences at hand. Sadly, maturity wise all she heard was, “I will not be able to see or talk to the LOVE OF MY LIFE, anymore, it’s OVER”…and because we are so young, we have so little problem solving skills, we really did believe that our life was over, and we really did have the desire, will and ready to try to make that happen, my daughter tried to end her life over a boy she met a week ago.

I now know what an actual psychotic break looks like.
I now know what it is like to try to explain to your five year old what he saw was not O.K., book a therapy appointment, and PROMISE over and over again hourly, that his sister is not dead.
I now know what it is like for my child for five hours to not know who you or they are.
I now know what it is like to ride in the back of a police cruiser with your child to the E.R., because you could not safely drive them yourself.
I now know what it is like to restrain your child in an E.R. room from attacking health staff, physically and emotionally.
I know what it is like to have to explain to a child that has completely lost any frontal lobe capabilities what “going to the bathroom” means for a tox screen.
I know what it is like to cuddle and comfort a terrified child, in a cold E.R. room after they have beaten you to a pulp, because they still need you.
I know what it is like to threaten a feeding tube, to get your child to eat, so they can take anti-psychotic medication.
I know what it is like to BEG the psychiatric staff to NOT admit your child into the adult un-involuntary program, even though you are terrified to spend another minute with them. Because they ARE NOT an adult, and it would be more traumatsing, than therapeutic for them.
I know what it is like to pull strings, use my husband’s reputation, and get my child relinquished to me once released from the hospital, with nowhere to go…because going home to 8 terrified children, would do no one any good.

I know what it is like to phone all over three sates to try and find a RTC that will allow my broken child/Adult into an adolescent program, 27 phone calls no success…one possibility.

I know what it is like to, unshowered, straight from the hospital
in the same clothes from 24 hours ago, (that you had run three miles in no less) walk into a hotel with an overly drugged teen and rent a room, even though all you want to do is go home, and not be terrified of the person you are sharing that room with.
I know what it is like to so desperately want to take a shower..but be so
scared what could happen in that ten minutes, that you run a bath instead, once bath is run, you can get in, leave the door open, have a cell phone available for 911…and a towel kept close, just in case of a runner.

I know what it is like to look at the edge of the tub and see this shampoo bottle:

And laugh HYSTERICALLY…really that’s ALL it TAKES..a little “normalizing shampoo…and ba-da-bing my life would be good as new…her life would actually get to start…I sat in that luke warm water and laughed until it turned to ugly sobs…and then I got up, turned my dirty sweats inside out..and tried to sleep with one eye open, as I waited for my husband to call with the “next step” the hope of a safe, appropriate respite for our broken child.

I know what it is like, not to sleep all night as your child wants to be held like a baby, calling you Mama..and then lashing out, and locking herself in a bathroom.

I am home now; we found a safe, temporary respite in trained family, while we continue to find a good fit for Long term Respite Care.

I am numb. I am SAD. I am relieved. I am exhausted beyond belief. My child is ALIVE.
I don’t really know what comes next. But, I know I am doing the best I possibly can for her. Forever and Always and NO Matter what…

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!!! Blow out your Triggers *cough* I mean candles….

Remember that blog post …oh say like three days ago..and my fear of jinxing myself?…Stupid head…I should have like knocked on salt, thrown a black cat over my shoulder …er sumthin’.

Cause we’re a BA-AACK.

Can you hear the 1980’s slasher film sound track in the background of this post?

Yeah…not pretty.

Stuckville, ID /Podunk, ID is again my address….which I refer to with my closer friends a B*$%#-ville…but I’m being “therapeutic” right now.

Our birthday is this week…and chronologically we will be 18 yrs old, emotionally, I am betting on a solid 11.

Recently "we" lost our newly reinstated cell phone. It took 2 weeks. It cost me to the bill of $450, that was *after* “we” called the phone company and reversed the parental controls in Mom’s name and made 26 phone calls to random boys in Haiti. There is a back-story a mile long…and am I going to share it….a NOPE….but it’s juicy. Sigh.

So we have been pouting, throwing grand maul tantrums, silent treatment up the ying-yang…and generally stealing all of the good air out of the room…

So the “empathetic, curious, lovely, understanding Mama…came in for a sit down, talk it out and validate session….no sarcasm here, seriously….

Once the “real reason” we are sad is, here comes a deep heart bleeding sigh, “I am not getting a 2011 Blue Land Cruiser for my birthday”…."and I want a lap top, and my cell phone back"……and this so called empathetic, curious, lovely, understanding Mama….gots NUTHIN’….and I mean I sat there with my mouth open with no tangible words able to come out…I wanted to validate, and be understanding..and all I could do was have the cash register add up in my brain, the 100’s of things I have had to replace, reimburse, fix, and live with trashed, between these birthdays…..the fact that my bedding has rips, my home has been flooded (on purpose 3x)…and so so much more…and these last 3 days of hell are about a blinking Land Cruiser?....when we don’t have a drivers license, nor could pass the drivers test?

“Bro-OKEN TEAD”

Every birthday I take my kids to JC Penny’s (I have a Platinum Card, it’s total debt, whatever)…I had taken Cookie out last fall for his annual pick a b-day shirt and jammies, it was a BIG DEAL…and our first time since he came home in a department store.

As we were walking down the aisle, I heard very softly in his thick-adorable accent. “Bro-OKEN TEAD”, ….we would walk a little farther and again…he would say “Bro-OKEN TEAD”….Finally I realized he was looking at the mannequins and all of the bodies were HEADLESS..and so he had figured they all had “Broken Heads”….

That is what I was thinking as I sat there with no words. “Bro-OKEN TEAD”

And…in moments like this …when I can STOP, not flip a-lid…and REMEMBER our heads and hearts have really been broken. That deep down her fear and defiance and generally Hellish behavior is not about the ”stuff and things and entitlement” …but REALLY about the fear, the triggers, the memories, and sadness this anniversary of her birth surfaces. The loss of so many birthdays not being valued. The family and memories that hurt. The fact that we are not chronologically fitting up to our peers. The fact that as much as we “want” these so called things …deep down we know we are not safe with them yet….so it makes us idealize them and want them more..to the point all is lost if we don’t have them…if I can get that far in my thinking, I can remember I am not dealing with a spoiled, mean, selfish 18 year old, but a scared, hurt, broken/healing 11 year old in a very mature body….and I can breathe…and find the words….and I can be sensitive and validate, without agreeing to her unrealistic wish list.

Papillion is sitting next to me right now. Her arms are crossed, her face is sad…but she is sitting next to me, which means she wants closeness, but that is as far as she wants to go right now...and that's O.K. cause THAT would not have been an option months ago.

We have sat quietly on her bed. I have probed a little, guessed a little, “seems to me” a little, and gotten some big and little things out of it.
Even THEIR BIG DAYS can be triggers, weeks and days up to the “Big Event” can and most likely will be sabotaged, the good is so scary. Setting herself up for dissatisfaction is a safe way for her not to be too disappointed… I get that.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt my heart. Doesn’t mean I feel sad knowing whatever her birthday brings will be painful, but still necessary to celebrate.
I hate this. I hate that all “good, fun Mommy things” are generally pooed on. You Mommy’s that can throw a fun themed birthday party for tons of well coifed youth..and not have the day end in a RAGE..good for-freaking-you….I used to belong to your club, whatever. Now, I figure if a holiday goes by without a trip to the ER….I consider it a success…just sayn’.

But, it is what it is, and by me recognizing the trigger that her birthday is …might, just might keep me and her from totally losing it…..and remember I said “might”.

Sigh,
“Bro-OKEN TEADs”.

IT'S A NEW DAY

I am afraid to say it….terrified I might “jinx it”…or reverse what has been, by saying the words out loud…but I WANT TO SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOF TOPS…..

“WE ARE IN A GOOD PLACE” and by we I mean, teen and the family….and even three weeks ago, I would not have believed ANY of that was possible…Not. At. All.
It has been a million little things, and I am going to share some of them.

Three weeks ago, I was looking into respite again, heartbroken that we were paralyzed in a very, and I MEAN VERY unhealthy cycle and had been for months, but we were reaching new lows, even I could not get my brain around. I am not going to share all of the details…but there are many I will. So read between the lines, if you will.

We were stuck, we were dangerous, we were committing crimes, we were lying boldly, we were rejecting all good, we were incapable of communication, and speaking in behaviors…it has been VERY bad.

Often with older kiddo’s it seems things have to build, peak, explode, have a decent moments, and then start the cycle all over again. You walk on land mines.

My littles and I were walking on them everyday. We would wake up and go to bed filled with dread. I sucks you into this pain vortex, in very real and very damaging ways.

I prayed deeply sobbing-muffled into the carpet. I know I am her best chance, I know if she loses the hope in me to love her and keep her safe, then at age 18, there is a good chance it could never happen for her….and that is haunting….

So another crappy day dawned. I had called around at some RTC centers looking/checking out….weighing options…at this point it was about everyone in my home feeling safe…and I wanted a plan B in place, for when not IF a bomb got detonated yet again.

And I cried and prayed some more…and I got on facebook, cause that is where all mind numbing takes place for me….

So a couple things happened….and then a couple more, and to say these were not tender mercies from a loving God, I would not be giving credit where credit is due.

One thing I have learned and had lost in the first few months of my family being home and together…was instituting “Random Acts of Kindness”…well I mean people were doing it to us, daily, sometimes hourly, after we got home from Haiti and had gone from a family of five to one of eleven. We were in pure survival, and physical healing, so I get that I have a pretty damn good excuse.

BUT, a year and some months later…as we begin to deal with the emotional scars…the lack of Empathy, entitlement, self surviving behaviors, an incapability to see others needs and pain…we turned back to a very simple, but hard to do principle. The absolute importance of Service.

Two weeks ago, before school ended there was a horrific occurrence in our community.
A 7 month old baby boy was brought to the Emergency room comatose, and eventually died. The diagnosis, death by Shaken Baby Syndrome. The parents were separated, father had visitation.
All I could do was think about this mother, this single working mother, with two other children to care for, how ANGRY, distraught; numb …there are not words or a way to understand her pain. She probably was separated form him FOR A REASON….she probably was court ordered to allow the visits. Her beautiful baby was killed, and yet she can’t afford to stop and morn, has little resources to care for her other children...and now if the father had been paying child support that would be gone now as well…..now I don’t know these people personally, I am just speculating and could NOT STOP, thinking about her, as a Mother….as things happen, which they often do, I then find out, the Sister to the baby was actually in my little Chatters Pre-School class.

It was an incredible opportunity to talk to my older girls about someone else’s needs. How the family might be feeling, what could we do? I talked about how the Mama, still has to work, and how she might feel by the end of the day, and have kids and meals and laundry to still have to do….and how she probably just wants to climb into bed and pull the covers over her.

My oldest could relate! ....and said, well Mom, it’s not like we have extra money (a-to-the-men) …but we all like to cook, and you know how we make freezer meals for neighbors or Aunties when they have babies?...what if we did something like that?
So. We. Did.
We made a list on Wednesday night…and went grocery shopping after school Thursday. The time clincher was FRIDAY was the last day of pre-school..so we needed to have em done and dropped off at the school in time for her to pick them up that morning.
…..so me, my girls, and my hubs pulled an all nighter.
I was so VERY proud of my girls…they speculated on how “The Mama” would feel, when she knew people that she didn’t know , loved her and her babies, that she might feel a little bit better, maybe.
We managed, Chicken Pot Pies, Lasagna’s, Enchilada’s, Sweet and Spicy Meatballs, Pumpkin Cookies, Cupcakes, Homemade Chili’s, Homemade Hot Pockets…all in one night. Loaded em up in a Laundry basket and dropped them off early enough that the Anonymous-ness would work.

My girls went to school exhausted, but PROUD.

Next came my friend Cynthia sharing this blog post:
I am VERY honest with my daughter about her Reactive Attachment Disorder, as well as her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She is almost eighteen, and we don’t have the luxury of time to candy coat her stuff. We call it as it is, and why it is. I use the example of if you had a broken leg..would people expect you to run, would it make you stupid or bad, because your LEG was broken? So if parts of your brain have been broken, hurt and damaged…how does that make YOU BAD?.. NO WAY~!!!
.It just takes MORE time to heal, different kinds of Dr,’s and medication, new ways to find all of the broken parts. I take pictures during times of dis-regulation and bring em up later, when we are more regulated to talk about them. Ex: the Dishes being done one handed….so back to the blog post.
READ IT! ….READ it with your teen/child. Have them re-READ this part.
“What changed?
S: I got tired of day after day ruining relationships and the family. I looked ahead and pictured what my future would be like if I kept on going like this. When I was old enough to drive or get married. It wouldn't be a happy future. The turning point was when I realized if I want a better future I'm going to have to change, to turn around. Whatever I did I still couldn't change my birth mother's mind. I couldn't change her decision to give me up. I couldn't be a better baby. It wasn't my fault she gave me up. It would be her decision to change her choices, not mine to change her. It was not my battle to fight with her. I let go of her and B and my birth dad.”.: via Marty’s Musings @ Waldenbunch@ blogspot.com

My daughter did…and then cried…and I was able to ask…Is ANY of this an example of what you might be feeling? SHE. WAS. SHOCKED.
She gets so stuck, so lost in her own pain and anger, she has NO CLUE that there are other kids out there with broken brains, broken ways of thinking and relating to the people who love them. When she is reminded …she doesn’t feel so alone!

I asked if it was O.K. if I printed it out and shared a copy of it with her therapist, and not only did she say “YES”…she asked for her very own copy. WOW!

We also have been reading a TON of books…here are some of them…and YES…some of them are children’s books, and ones I read out loud to ALL of my children, and some I am not posting that are workbooks and more in depth to her needs and kinds of abuse she suffered, if you would like reference to them personal message me.
We read these a lot lately:
The HURT
by.Teddi Doleski, William Hart McNichols


The Boy Who Didn't Want to Be Sad
by. Rob Goldblatt

The Right Touch: A Read-Aloud Story to Help Prevent Child Sexual Abuse (Jody Bergsma Collection)
by.Sandy Kleven, Jody Bergsma

A Terrible Thing Happened - A story for children who have witnessed violence or trauma.
by.Margaret M. Holmes

One particular book we have been reading at night, before bed time, just her and I (In the words of MANY young woman) talked about the importance of TALKING about the hurt, the past, DOING the work, and how getting the hard and the bad out is painful, but keeping it in is like waking up and putting on a back-pack full of painful heavy SCREAMING bricks….that you carry with you are all times. That really spoke to her. The next day she had therapy, and for the first time ever, (after a whole year of therapy) SHARED…really did some work…I WAS SO PROUD of her..and so was her therapist!!!

Summer came and we have been watching some movies, some that have been INCREDIBLE conversations starters (and are on Netflix instant stream) are “Pay it Forward”, the beauty of that film is that the idea is by a little boy, who does not have a “perfect life”, and the acts of kindness are done and given to every person, from every walk of life imaginable. The “myth” that only good people do good things, and bad people do bad things, is reachable and teachable.
If our kids deep down believe that they are bad and shameful, they deep down have that EXPECTATION OF THEM SELVES….so this was a GREAT opportunity to teach that light, that hope, that possibility to serve and do something great , that EVERY single one of us have in us. This has always been one of my favorite movies.

We also watched “Where the Heart is”. It was a PERFECT example, of how we can start our lives one way, but it does NOT DEFINE who we are, or what kind of happiness we deserve. We were able to use how she must have felt when she was abandoned on the Wal-Mart, pregnant with nothing. How afraid she must have been….How she did deserve a good man, and even how the result of her friend, not always choosing the best men hurt her and her children, and that cycle. Not there is abuse in this movie, underage sexual over tones…but with good consequences, a young man picks up a 14 year old girl..and he goes to jail…VERY candid conversation opportunities…but pre-screen, if you are concerned.

Last Sunday my friend Noelle had posted this link. It is incredible…now I don’t stomach Glen Beck well…but the interview is incredible, and worth every minute. Papillion was GLUED, intrigued and touched….Please take the time. The Neilsons story, of surviving a plane crash, allowing there faith in God, never alter there faith, and who they were as a couple and a family is beyond inspiring….and with that I am done writing a full on Chapter/Blog Entry…I deeply felt the need to share some of the tender teaching, learning, and healing moments we have been blessed with lately….

TWO WEEKS ...and I'm not looking back...
I had to be her taking the first steps, but MAN is it amazing how quickly tides can turn, (and how quickly they can turn right back around again, I’m not duped into believing this may pass)..but I will stand and enjoy this NEW DAY for as long as I can….

When Trauma Monsters come creeping…

I am sad…I am sad that my kids are so uber sensitive, and trigger so easily…. And are so VERY fragile. It DRIVES me CR-AZ-Y when people say…”Oh just let them be kids….they will figure it out, they don’t need therapy, or special treatment, kids are so resilient.” SURVIVING is not resilience people, breathing in and out in not fully functioning. And if kids are so Stinkn’ resilient…How the Sam-Hell do we have so many messed up adults? Now I didn’t do so hot in Algebra…but doing the math …most adults that have “issues” didn’t buy them off the street at age 18…just sayin’.

My little Missie shocked the pants off me today, she has been in the realm of some darn good, deep down healing…and a time bomb triggered and blew up in both her and my face today…

I have often talked about the fact that I used to work for, and help process adoptions for the children at my kiddo’s O. The director G and his wife M, are dear friends, and I have lived/stayed for much time in their home/Orphanage, while my children awaited the finalization of their adoption.

Well yesterday, a phone call came, “M” was coming in a few hours to “stop by and visit”, and as much as I appreciate her good will, and want to “pop in” and surprise me and the kiddo’s…the end of our honeymoon period was a direct result of our family attending the “Orphanage Reunion” that is thrown for the families every summer….and this was NOT going to be a healthy surprise…and I kindly ( but still totally managed to offend) declined ….


Jump to today. The park. With nine kids. Hundreds of strangers. First day of “free lunch”.I am stupid.
So when a controlling behavior hits, my Mama radar is flipped on….and I can smell it-a-comin’. One particular child’s talent is the “Eating like a Turtle”…she gets dis-regulated and you bet this one ditty is gonna come out to play. Imagine 8 kids, each totally hooked up with a Wonderbread sandwich’s (ew), apple slices, Sun Chips, Milk and Juice….all of this being consumed (first day of Summer…what the hey).
And El’ Diva is on her third bite of crust. The amount of energy it must take to count to 100 between bites (cause I SWEAR that is what she must be doing)….has got to be sapping all of her energy..cause MAN-OH-MAN is it sapping mine…and I am biting the insides of my cheeks….knowing the next trigger for the other kids (which is exactly why this is the controlling behavior of choice)..is that their food is gone, and she still has hers…and they have to sit and watch her finish her food. Right? …so after clean up and wipe down and throwing away and folding up the blanket, and potty trips, and reloading babies in strollers…she was on bite #4…and well, I said, “lunch time is over, lets take your food home, and you can have it for snack, I AM NOT THROWING IT AWAY, in fact you may finish your sandwich in the car….”

BOOOOOOOOOM…did you feel the ground shake say 12:34 Mountain Standard time in your area?....yeah…that’s what that was.

We couldn’t safely get her in the car…the kicking, scratching, biting, screaming…and no zip-ties for car seat….me and the other 8 had to wait it on out….as did our audience…of 100 mini-van Mommies….wondering “What did that white Lady do to that poor little Brown girl…wait a minute, is she really double flipping the bird…wow the things that family must teach their children”…again just speculating…couldn’t hear over the wailing/gnashing of teeth and general screams of “I HATE YOU”.
30 minutes later…(and I am praying no one has called the police)…we are ready for take off…our trip to the library has been prematurely canceled…bummer.

Once home, littles put down….older kiddo’s reading time …and the rage revs on up for a personal screening….
Two hours later…I want to bang my own head into a wall, instead of protecting her from hurting her own noggin.

And here it comes…: “I DON’T WANT TO LIVE HERE…I AM GOING TO GO LIVE AT M’s HOUSE….I AM LEAVING!!!"

Hello ”Light-bulb-moment”…thank you for finally showing your freaking face.

Apparently my hyper-vigilant little one had heard my phone conversation…and wigged a little…(snort).

My little 5 year old was terrified she was being taken back, away from Mommy…so it was MUCH MUCH easier, to reject, runway and CHOOSE to leave….instead of being abandoned again…..and my heart breaks…and the empathy comes.

She is still fighting mad, telling me how much she HATES me, how much BETTER she liked M’s house, that she had Chocolate cake everyday….and I calmly listen, validate, tell her how much "I wish she would have been able to have Chocolate Cake at M’s house…and that I have something to tell her"….here is where she covers her ears..starts jumping on the bed and sings.."I am NOT LISTENING"….so I remember a trick I learned from House Calls Counseling…the great, “not talking about it trick”…

Papillion had walked in to check in on me and let me know she was done reading…and I asked her if I could tell her a BIG FAT SECRET…she said “sure”…and I told the Div’s to cover her ears..this was a SECRET she can’t hear it..I DON’T want you to LISTEN”…(and of Mwahahaha she was ALL EARS).

“Papillon”. I tell her, “I DON’T WANT DIVA TO HEAR THIS…BUT, I WILL NEVER, AND I MEAN NEVER, EVER, EVER, LET HER GO TO BACK TO M’s HOUSE, OR BACK TO LIVE IN HAITI, SHE IS MY BABY, DIVA , NO MATTER HOW BIG SHE GETS WILL BE MY BABY…AND I WILL LOVE HER NO MATTER WHAT”….”If anyone EVER tried to take or hurt my baby…I would beat them up and say NO WAY DUDE!”

….and that big beautiful “secret”….broke a dam…and things started to flood.

Big tears…and her little finger is pointing…”I HEARD you, I Heard what you said….”

“What did I say baby girl?”

“That you never ever and no matter what gonna ever let me go away, cause I’s your baby!”

…..and she was RIGHT….and the ugly Monster went back into the closet…a little bit smaller tonight…..

There are days….

There are days I want to SCREAM:”Uncle”, “Seriously”, “You really think I can do this and everyone will survive”….”REALLY”….there are days I want to run away…days I hate the Mom I have become, and days I am darn proud of myself that all nine children are tucked in bed, ….unbeaten….because to those of you who wonder how I don’t spank, scream at …or “lose it”…sweet people…I do, and then I hate myself even more. I don’t do it often…but when I do…it’s a doozie…and then I resolve to do better.

There are days I cry in beauty of a moment so tender, words can’t explain the giggle that escapes Diva’s lips as I lift her to see the precious gift of baby birds in a hidden nest, the same little Miss I would visit in an Orphanage …and for three visits …would/could. Not. Even. Smile.

There are days I choke on sobs in my closet after cleaning up blood, poo, pee…or self induced vomit, and think “This is really my life….I want to see the sign up sheet and make sure it is really my signature.”
There are days I look at my children and wonder…”Are you ever going to be safe enough, to face this Big Bad world on your own, without getting yourself hurt, or hurting someone else”?...and there are days the healing is almost tangible…..I LOVE those days.

School is out and we are in transition again. Let me be clear….”I HATE TRANSITION”…because of how it impacts my kids and the Wompas behaviors that come to play…and what I mean by play, I mean terrorize and destroy.

Last Saturday was one of those days… a child was so dis-regulated, being in our home, being around our family…heck BREATHING in and out …was a BIG FAT Trigger….so we had bathrooms to clean, grass to mow… piles laundry to swim through…and we chose to DANCE…

We got the heck out of dodge..and Danced…we got outta there…we left all of our shtuff….and did the Ho-Down….we went to the FARM…and not the Funny one.

We called Grandma and asked if she needed a “special helper” for the day..or two…cheap manual labor ..is there anything Grandparents don’t love more?
We loaded up, we drove the 30 min into the boonies…and what do ya know…we had a FANTASTIC DAY..and by the way...stuff fried in FAT...always makes the day better...mix it up..eat stuff ya' never do.

Princess Dis-Regulation stayed for a day and a night, honeymooned all over the blinkn’ place…and came home a lil’ bit better…and the rest of the kids were WACKED the next day….but I planned for that…and had nothing planned, and it wasn’t half the tornado it could have been the day before…

I have often had friends call me at night…saying “I blew it today, they are all finally in bed…and I CAN’T even IMAGINE what tomorrow is going to bring since today was so gosh darn awful…Linds what do I do”…and I say DANCE…knock em off their game plan…wake em’ up in P.J.’s…pick up a greasy-breakfast-take-out and go on an early morning hike in Pj’s…or trip to the playground ..your kids will think you are a Rock star….and will forget their “plan”…..Shake it up, Move it on up, Dance….cause at that point what else do ya’ll have to lose?

There are Days…and peeps…I soo get that …so instead of being paralyzed…worrying about the mine fields and time bombs and not wanting to move an inch…. Do the BOOGIE. ….even if on occasion you gotta have someone sit out a song er two….

There are days….