Grieving the Living

We all do it you know, grieve for a relationship, a loved one that for one reason or another is gone, misplaced, or has left you somehow. Perhaps they fell out of love with us? Perhaps another person, object or substance got in the way? Maybe it was pride, a disagreement, they or you changed, and now the once tangible part of your life leaves a phantom absence.At times it is someone whom has never actually left that you can stand right in-front of them reaching out, and never reach them.

Sometimes I think we can even grieve for the thing that never was. A inactive parent, a sibling relationship that fell short, a child we didn't get to raise the way we wished....
Sometimes, I think it is things and situations that block our intentions, and so we grieve, and maybe
sometimes those intentions no matter how honorable taint the reality, and that too sours and spoils what might have been.
I have lost much in my young life. Parents to divorce, young friends to death, children in both miscarriage death, and mental illness. As we age I think we keep doing that losing and gaining simultaneously.

When I stop to think of some of my greatest losses of those I have loved. The ones that remain living, are the ones that continue to lend the most hurt.
I don't know if I would have believed someone if they had told me that 21 years ago when I my neighbor knocked on my door to tell me at 13 one of my dearest friends had taken her life.
Or at 18, when a sobbing phone call related that my boyfriend had died in a motorcycle accident.
Definitely not to the heaving, heart broken woman who delivered her 22 week early son on the bathroom floor. Or to the mother who answered the phone call that her 11 moth old baby boy passed away from dehydration without her comforting arms around him in his homeland.

And still to this day I ache and hurt, my throat begins to swell and my eyes fog in memories of those times. Those are days and weeks and months I do not wish to live again. Times I wish I could go back now, hold myself tight and promise, “you will get through this baby cakes, sit and feel this deeply, lie face down on the bathroom floor if needs be, and then lets find you some good chocolate and a wash cloth for your face.”

Today I am grieving again. Grieving my inability to on my own fix my broken girl. I have been here before, and perhaps that is why it feels so familiar and raw. Today we admitted one of our children into a Residential Therapeutic Hospital for help with her self harming and eating disorder struggles. Late last night we did loads of laundry and paperwork and made this step.
I am grieving selfishly that this is not what I wanted. Grieving that when I naively decided to bring hurting children into my home I had already painted a picture of expectations. Of how I wanted our family to look and function.

They were basic.
Pancake mornings, Homeschooling debacles, Saturday farmers markets, silly teasing and 'normal sibling rivalry.

No where did my mind make room for door alarms, safety plans and restraining holds.
No where did I think I would need to own bottle of ipecac for overdoses, and butterfly band-aids for intense skin cutting. No where did I expect to need to constantly protect other sibling and animals from a dis-regulated sibling or worse them selves.

I remember the day my oldest son was diagnosed with Autism, I sat on a curb outside the psychologists office and cried. I mourned all the things I thought I wanted for him , and the fear that many of them may never come to be. I remember when a dear girlfriend gave birth to a beautiful daughter with Downs Syndrome, and how she fiercely loved her little girl, but too needed the room to mourn.

As much as I ache sometimes to call out my late son “GIBSON” 's name in from playing with his brothers and sisters, I have closure of his loss, I have a tree and a photo book and places to go and feel and miss him.

With Papillion, I don't have that. I have worry and regret, sadness and concern. Will she ever be O.K.
Is her healing ever possible? Will she ever see and know or remember the love I had and still have for her? Borderline Personality Disorder is such a tricky beast of a disease.

I think of my friends that have lost parents,partners and children to substance abuse. How even after the initial break, the wonder and hope stays alive and pulls at you like an anchor attached to your ankle.

There is no clean break with the living.

With the hope of my child returning home, hoping she is willing to allow someone else to do the work with them she could not do with me. Hoping she is willing and able to want us, me, her home more, more than the monster in her head. I grieve all that I want and hope for my child.
Hope in a way begets grief. Hope can be an open wound.

I grieve the living.
I think we all do.

I think in ways it make us stronger.
I think in ways it makes us kinder.

I think in ways I need a future me to stop by with a ; “you will get through this baby cakes, sit and feel this deeply, lie face down on the bathroom floor if needs be, and then lets find you some good chocolate and a wash cloth for your face.”

I want to see you be Brave

My Name is Lindsay. “Hi Lindsay.” and I sometimes am to quick in the need to fix things.
Like swoop in and slap a big fat band aid over a gaping wound. I used to like think it was about my extreme and generous need and want to help and serve and love on people, and yes, that is sometimes true. ( Hmmmm I wonder how I ended up adopting 8 children?)
But, If I am more honest with myself, it's a little selfish. This peace maker stuff? Total Bull crap, I need things to be O.K. , I need the people I love to be O.K, mostly because I love them, but also for me. Because Honestly? I FEEL BETTER, when they feel BETTER. I can have a total emotional reliance on others emotions to equate my emotions.
And I am working on that, a lot.
Me this bundle of self improvement.

I sometimes when someone is sad, depressed, or angry, worry and stress that somehow it is my fault, somehow I should and can fix their feelings.
Children of divorce find this a common theme. Heck, sensitive humans, find this theme common.

So you need to be O.K., for me, because I am not comfortable with your feelings. Geez, that’s a little embarrassing to admit.
While parenting children with a traumatic past I have learned better to not take their feelings onto my plate, and try desperately to not make what they are feeling, about me. Sometimes they are sad or angry, and actually have no identifying reason why.
I used to prod, “Come on, there has to be a reason for the way you feel.” ( I NEED there to be a reason, so then we can look at it together and I can help fix it, neat and tidy with a bow.) All kids are full of these unidentifiable feelings, and sometimes we can and should help them dance them out, and sometimes, we can sit with them and let them feel those feelings until they are ready to move on.

Just last night I was reading “Dear Sugar, tiny beautiful things” by Cheryl Strayed, and there was a phrase that I locked onto. “Fountains of Inconvenient Feelings.” Oh my goodness, yes.
In this day and age, feelings are inconvenient, you can be fine and stand next to me, or not be...and um, go sit over there. The sincerity of the phrase “How are you?” is lost in pleasantries.
No wonder sometimes our kids and we feel like Aliens.
We live in the land of Big and Inconvenient feelings.

Yesterday at church, while wrangling 5 semi-well coiffed children into a church pew side booth (strategically blocking them in) we sat and faced the pulpit. Behind it sat my darling 8 year old daughter, getting ready to sing with her age group to the congregation, her face was shiny with excitement and pride, I grinned and did the proud mama scrunchy hand wave. I then looked over to my brood. Her eight year old brother had enormous crocodile tears streaming down his face.

“Psssst, dude, come here, whats going on Buba, whats with the tears, big feelings?”

“Sniff, Yeah guess so, I am kinda jealous of her getting to sing in front of everyone, and that everyone will come up and tell her that she did such a good job”, big sigh, deep breath,” and I am the one, out of the eight year olds that likes to sing, it's my thing, not hers.”
Man, he looked sheepish and sad sharing that with me.

And I leaped.
“Yes buddy I can feel that with you, with 3 eight year olds in our family it must be so important to have something that is 'your thing', what can we do to help you feel better. Do you want to try a “Yay me”, or Maybe you can pick a song and sing it to all of us in the car on the ride home, or in front of all of us after dinner and we can clap? How does that sound?”

“Um...Or maybe I can feel this way, jealous and sad for just a little while longer, and work to feel happy for my sister when I am ready, and if I get stuck, we can try one of your idea's mom?”

“Yes. Or that, because that makes a lot of sense that you might just want to to sit with those feelings a little longer. Awesome, great.”

FACE PALM.

Sometimes as parents, partners and friends we are too quick with the swoop in and rescue. We are too uncomfortable with other peoples feelings. Sometimes we are in such a hurry to fix their feelings, put a bandaid over a gaping wound and keep them moving, when really , we need to allow them to sit with their feelings a little while and feel them, roll around with them, and release them when they are ready.

Because someday, especially with our kids, we won't be there. They are going to have to learn to brave their feelings on their own, with the tools we have given them.

Or we could potentially cause more damage.

I remember one day my brother came home from a Boy Scouts Activity.
Instead of working on knots outside, they decided to practice jumping off the church roof, because 12 year old boys have the reputation of really thinking things through.
My brother had jumped and while landing heard a crack and felt a stab of pain.
He was slow to admit in all his preteen masculinity that he 'might' have broken something. Once he did, it was met with denial and possibly fear, most likely because the boys were worried of the repercussions of their leader finding out that instead of perfecting their sailor, slip and square knots they were all going Condor man off the roof of the building.
So they did what any anxious group of man children would do. They started playing keep away with his shoes forcing him to hobble after them, calling him a whanny and telling him to buck up.

By the time he got the x-rays back they found 4 fractured bones in his foot and quite possibly had fractured only one bone, but added to the damage walking on it and ignoring the pain.

While living in the world of sadness, shame, guilt, grief, fear, jealously and anger I am learning to wait out and let them use the tools I have been handing out to them for the last 4 years, recognizing they too are getting better at seeing and processing what they are feeling in the moment, and trusting them to come to me if they get stuck.

I am not sure who this is harder for.
There is such a deep importance to allow the pain to cycle, for the grief fountain to run dry, for the healing to happen before continuing on.

I need to let them be Brave.
That makes me Brave.
I can be ready to catch them...but mostly let them ask, let them feel, and me be O.K. with whatever those feelings are.

I want to see them be Brave.

Digging Out of a Funk

Parenting is HARD.
Parenting neurotypical emotional children is HARD.
Add trauma, a mood disorder, toss in a little sensory stuff and attachment, and well, there are days you wonder why you bother getting out of bed, getting dressed or making any sort of effort. Speaking period can be dangerous and triggering.

Are you with me?
I SAID: ARE YOU WITH ME?!?!

I hope you nodded a little or even shouted a resounding “HELL YES” at your screen.
I promise this post will not include a purple “back-pack, back-pack” and a fox named Swiper.
:)

Are there days the the idea of facing one of your angry elves has your head and mind racing, even before the alarm goes off and you just DON'T WANT TO GET UP, FACE THEM, SMELL THEM, or BE IN A ROOM WITH THEM?

I mean rrrrreeeeeaaaallllly don't want to get up and face the angry, sad, sullen, yelling, screaming, silent treatment control games, that seems to be an endless game of specialized torture just for you?

Can I get another “HELL to the YES.” Even if you don't always feel this way, come on, sometimes you do, right? RIGHT?

My kids (cuz lets be honest I have so darned many) like to take turns with making certain seasons of parenting them an extra hard painful (like pulling my fingernails out with pliers) affair.
So very painful. When they are struggling, when their shame is eating them alive and holding them under, when their ability to regulate emotion is null. You become, after themselves their favorite bonding buddy of misery.
In their need to explain their pain they enroll me in their boot camp of “Feeling shitty, angry and rejected.”
And I can be a damn good soldier.
They want me to join their ranks. They poke and prod and pee and lie and steal and hurt me so that I can 'get' a fair understanding of how they feel 99% of the time.
They are Share-bears on crack. The result being, neither of us end up feeling too great about each other or ourselves.

We BOTH get stuck.
We both need to be dug out.
And since I (unfortunately) am the adult, I eventually have to realize, we are either going to have to stay stagnant in the stuck, or I am going to have to grab a friggin shovel.
Because even IF I want THEM to do it and unstick themselves, they can't.

At this point in the stuck, my usual, booty shaking, music playing,goof ball tactics are not working, and really, my heart isn't in it as much as I want it to be. When they roll their eyes at me, I want to join them, in a “Right this is ridiculous that I am EVEN TRYING” eye roll of solidarity.
I want a bag of mini snickers and a good Netflix series to get lost in, not dealing with their crap and my emotions surrounding it.

Shovels up. Clink here we go.

Ways to dig out.
NOTE:
These are not sure fire, they don't all work for all kids, and I would LOVE to hear different idea's from different sources.

Somethings I have learned about the dig outs, is: a) the least obvious and ostentatious the better.
When we do something for our kids when we don't want to, they can smell it.
Might as well drag it through the dog pooh of “See you are mean to me and I STILL DO NICE THINGS FOR YOU.”
Not that I have done that 5 hundred million times.
Because to them, it is still shaming, it is still saying, “You are mean, you won't let me love you, SEE I do nice things, and am nice and you are not and this is proof.”
Yup, and that reception? Not going to be taken well.
You might get a brand new pink swimsuit with glittery butterflies, or a Green and Blue Bey blade spinner thrown back in your face, but there I go being all specific and shit.

You have to be stealth.
The stealthiness, the sneak, and the dig, gives our kids the oppertunity to react without the pressure of us looking for their response. The dig sometimes is a big back hoe brought in the middle of the night, or at times is bit by bit, teaspoon by teaspoon.

If these reconnections can be made without the need of them having to accept it from you, or you even expecting an acknowledgment, it creates a safer environment for them to accept it.

Around Christmas time and my now favorite tradition is the “secret elf”.
Instead of elf on a shelf, we all draw names on Thanksgiving and begin a season of random anonymous acts of kindness. There is no pressure to preform the duties, or acknowledge them.

So when I am hurting, with and about one of my stuck kids, I like to become a Secret elf, to my Angry Elf. There are simple things bit my bit that can help knock out a season of stuck.

My beautiful brilliant friend Christine is an AMAZING example of this. I am soo thankful for her day to day reminders and examples of how fiercely she loves and parents. Many of theses ideas are her gems.

So, here is my list of a handful of ways to still be emotionally protected, in a healthy way that protects both of you, and slowly bring you both back to a better place.

For smaller people
Hidden sweets in their pockets, or shoes left on their car seat or under a pillow.
A new coloring book and crayons just sitting out.
A new blanket or soft toy, sprayed with your scent, left somewhere it obvious it is for them.
Gentle music is a biggy, PLAY it. Have a wind up something available.
A reason they need lotion or you do on feet or hands.
A class that you as parent and child participate in.
Cooking in separate bowls (even if they are just stirring yogurt) something that you then eat together.
Just sitting listening to your favorite music, closed eyes.
Planting flowers,or seeds and bulbs in their own pot with complete permission to through the dirt and anything else they feel like throwing.

School aged kids and readers ( again given and done stealth with very little expectation)
*Any of the recommendations above.
*Random unsigned notes in pockets, shoes, lunch boxes
*A book on tape or music you know they would enjoy when you are in the car with them (avoids arguments too)
*$1 store Puzzle Book and fun new color pencils
*New socks and under clothes left on their bed ( because we all know how often they go missing)

*Random “just because” snacks they can bring or have dropped off to their classroom or Day Care
*A new to them shirt or item they have been wanting or that has been taken away returned with no words
* An after school movie date with Popcorn
*Craft Supplies left on their bed
*Their favorite music primed and ready for specifically HARD mornings or trips in the car.
* A surprise outing planned with a friend or sibling unearned, like a picnic and trip to the park.
* Having finished their chores for them, or cleaned their room wordlessly, without expectation of acknowledgment.
* Putting a framed picture of them up in their room, with a sticky note of why you love this picture of them.

Teens and young adults * all of the above, including the coloring book and crayons
*Gas, music or fast food gift card just laying on pillow
* Their favorite movie rented and a bag of microwave popcorn sitting out
* New Body wash, soap, shampoo, waiting in bathroom (always a bonus when a teen smells better)
* Tickets to somethings they really have been wanting to see or go to, left somewhere they will find.
*Making their favorite dinner and having their favorite snacks around on a particularly hard day
* Sticking gum or mints in their wallet or purse.
*Picking them up at a time they were expecting to walk
* A journal and new pens sitting on their bed
* Taking care of a problem for them, without being asked
* leaving flowers in a vase in their room
* making their bed with clean sheets

Is anyone dry heaving yet? Hand raised. I know all of this sounds HARD when you are being treated like dirt, I KNOW. And I can't promise at all that any of these teaspoons of digging them and you out of being stuck will work, but what I can promise? Doing something, is way way better than doing nothing.
And while you may not get a single positive reaction or change, you may be cracking a foundation, you may be loosening some soil, you gasp, may be giving your child the room for them to have a single positive thought about you, and therefor themselves.

YOU have got this .
Give it a try, can it hurt or cause any more funk in the funk you are facing?
NOPE. 

Shovels up, Clink.
Here, we go.

The Pre-Waiting Room Letter

Last night I stayed up and helped my husband whom is a LMSW, prepare a presentation on early childhood trauma, identifying the symptoms, behaviors and best practices in therapy to a class of social workers about to join the public health force.
Unfortunately he only has an hour.
I told him to lock em down with food and water and give em the rest of the month, and after the first hour I would drop the kids by, and give em all a little "hands on experience."
He didn't think I was very funny.

He has the rare insight of working in this field and parenting healing children.
Still their were times I was all “ UM NO, you can't say that.”
It was truly a labor of love and patience and moments of tears and frustration recognizing the struggles we continue to face and remembering behaviors that are long since gone that have snuck away so discretely we didn't notice.

I decided to write a form letter, in a parents voice for him to share.
One that gives parents and care providers like us a voice and consideration by the professional who’s office we are about to enter.
Feel free to use this, if it might help you in your brave, nail biting experiences of the dreaded waiting room.

Dear,
NEW therapist, counselor, pediatrician, or teacher, (health care professional)

              Whew, we are taking a big breath and a giant leap by walking into your office.

We are nervous, excited, exhausted and so very, very hopeful and feeling so incredibly vulnerable to be here meeting you.
You see, we need help, and new opportunity's for our child, ones we hope you can provide.

Your office is one of many we have sat outside of, nervous, hoping what I am about to tell you about my child’s special needs and behaviors are things you are familiar with, understand and well really will simply believe.
We have been in situations where this was not the case and truly increases the anxiety of seeking your, and others help.

We hope you can listen openly, know in the past I and this child has been met with disbelief and judgment, and that has been painfully hard and hindered healing for both of us.
You see we both have healing to do from the onslaught of pain that has overtaken both of our lives from the aftershocks of their trauma.

Nothing I share about my child is meant to shame or demonize them. Their trauma already has them believing the very worst about themselves. I am hoping in sharing their past and hurts and unhealthy coping behaviors you can aid in giving them more tools to combat their and even my pain in trying to parent them.

Some things I need you to know.
My child distrusts people who try to get close. In the beginning it is very possible very little truth will be told in most circumstances it is a coping mechanism for my child to control the information and if you ever have any questions about the validity of something my child has said, please, please ask me, I will do my best to not be defensive.

My experience has been as vast and unbelievable to most people familiar with neurotypical children.

Things as “normal” hiding the fact that they have spelling tests, to more manipulative behavior such as pretending they can't speak English in a classroom for week, to using another siblings trauma in therapy instead of sharing their own. Creativity does not run short.
Their need to constantly control their environment creates such barriers.
But they do feel safer with adults that hold them gently with truth and emotion regulation.

My child does not need a second parent.

Because of early trauma my child struggles with attachment at times and often sabotages their relationships with the ones they are closest too. Most often it is their primary care giver, and often my partner or other siblings and family members. They are masters at creating sympathies in strangers for more attention. I recognize the need for you and my child to have a working, trusting relationship, and absolutely support that, but ask you to recognize the importance of boundaries with them as to not to encourage emotional dependence on you.

My child also struggles socially with their peers. If you can help them in healthy ways look at creating those relationships that would be so helpful. Often my child is “ new parent shopping” and creating fantasies around a new home and parent situation. It is not rare to see my child on a playground and instead of engaging with the other children, seeking an adult to charm, please join me in redirecting the importance of age appropriate friendship. It has happened more than one that my sweetie has packed their bags ready to move in with their latest teacher, aid, therapist or playground monitor.

Please believe me as their caregiver. I can not express the pain, frustration and alienation that comes with parenting a child with so many special needs. At times the additive of doubt,blame or judgment to families like ours, magnifies the shame and pain for both me and my child.

Let me just say Thank you, once again, I know the responsibility to work with families like mine must be difficult, and I recognize your profession and education as such a benefit to what you can do for us and so many others.

We are so hopeful walking through these doors. Ready to put our faith in your ability. Grateful that you might be a step towards my/our child’s healing.
Please know we are available at any time and willing to do much to make this new relationship successful. Thank you so much for reading this letter.
I promise I am not quite as crazy as this letter makes me appear.
I am pretty darn normal, normal, and desperate, and hopeful.
Deep Breath, whew, here we go.

Sincerely,

A basket case of a Mom with all of the best intentions in the world.

P.S.

"I will bake you cookies if you can get my kid to stop peeing on everything, Peanut-butter balls if you can stop the lying. "



Dear ones,
I am curious,what more would you add to this letter, in hope to engage and help a new care provider understand your and your child's needs?

Shock Absorbers

When I was a Senior in high school and my younger brother a sophomore, we inherited our stepfathers old Rusty 1960 Ford Diesel truck. We dubbed it the “Green Monster” that thing could go anywhere, smash anything and survive with barely a dent. We once had a brush with a giant spider in the cab on our way to school, ending with my 6ft 2' brother screaming like a little girl, and a side swiped Beamer crumpled like silver paper.

The best and worst part about that truck was the shocks, there were none.
At times, while piling a bunch of kids in the cab and back it was considers fun as we hit bumps and rolled around smacking into each other getting a little air over speed bumps as our butts jumped inches off the seat.

However making out while in transit? While someone else was driving? Forget about it, you could lose a tooth, or end up with a bloody lip*cough * not that this every happened, ever, while my poor kid brother was driving, and I stained my fella of the months letter-man jacket.

Anyway, shock absorbers, kinda necessary,especially in a car, or you know “life”.

Good ole Wikipedia says “In general terms, shock absorbers help cushion vehicles on uneven roads. “
Part of the beauty of a shock absorber it the ability to gently rebound from the initial unsettling.

Huh.

What about people? What about parents that are helping hurt kids navigate uneven roads ,what then?
How do we gently rebound?

This has been incredibly hard week, that being an understatement.
One of my children has upped her shame resulting in creative new ways of self harm.
This road seems more than uneven, it is bumpy and twisting, without enough guard rails and feels damn right scary. I have cried, felt helpless, and been tossed and banged up along with the pain my child has been feeling.

Much like that old truck, I have been feeling every inch of the road, every giant rock, wind gust and uneven trench, many being so unexpected.
It happens to all of us, driving along perceiving the road and and pot holes along the way and then BAM, there is a speed bump in the middle of nowhere that takes out your undercarriage.
I happens to all of us, the shock of, “wow, maybe I should have seen that coming, but I didn't".

And so we sit, reeling from the shock, the whiplash of sadness and pain and surprise that leaves your stomach doing flip flops and your mind racing while your body feels it could sleep for one hundred years.
As parents , in preparation for these uneven roads, even if we can't construct bubble wrap protection around our children, or our hearts having a plan, having built in 'shock absorbers' seems necessary.
Hell, it is part of the survival and unwritten manual of parenting healing children. If we are able to be too easily knocked around and bruised during those pot holes or surprise speed bumps, how are we capable teach our children to create their own shock absorbing strategies?

So I ask you wise ones, What do you do for you? How can you find that steady ground of being O.K, even when things aren't?
What things help you cope? What things help you center when your kid side swipes a BMW....or self harms, or needs respite. What do you do when your child is kicked out of school, brought to the emergency room for a stomach pump, or stitches because their pain had to come out one way or another?

Today I went to yoga.
Today I sat and wrote this.
Tonight I plan on a warm bath and a funny movie.
Because tomorrow I may need that cushion of me being O.K. So I once again can be available to help my child navigate their uneven road, until it gets a little bit smoother down the way.

Hot Tea and Redirection

“How is a Raven like a writing desk?”
I remember watching the movie 'The Last Unicorn' as a kid, and wondering what the answer to this riddle was. And by the way? The old freaky lady that had the animal circus in that movie still gives me the full body shivers. FA-REAK-Y

So the other day, and today, and lets just toss in every day/waking hour of my life for the last four years I have needed to help a child of mine in a behavior adjustment or repair. It spans from basic, “lets not pick our nose and eat it” to “you really don't feel like burning the house down today, do you?”
Hey I like variety.
“It's the spice of life.”
er somthin.

One basic thing I am STILL learning is the dropping the suggestion, or recommendation for alternative behavior or thought is the 'leaving it in their lap to absorb/chew on/sit on/digest”....and WALKING AWAY...mostly the leaving it and walking away part.
Nope, I sometimes like to suggest, re suggest, AND THEN RE SUGGEST AGAIN ,add three more reasons for WHY my SUGGESTION is a GOOD ONE...and then sit and watch, and wait, and remind them to pick up the suggestion, and what to do with it...and REMIND them how to chew, and process...

to the point that I have bought myself a full scale battle with my kid.
Because sometimes I am awesome like that.
Because sometimes all of the time, I like to be right, and obeyed, and not have to wait.
NOTE: This never turns out well for me.

So how is Redirecting your kid like hot tea?

Just yesterday my child was “Doing their chores” , really this kid was slapping the broom down LOUDLY and scattering dirt. I was not feeling therapeutic, I was in desperate need of a snack and a nap and my blanky.

The come home had begun with a door slam and toss of coat and shoes and backpack in the middle of the floor (insert eye roll) and demand for a snack. Yeah, awesome.
I was NOT in the mood for Senorita Drama-pants.
I prompted with, “hey I am super excited to get your snack for you, as soon as your coat and school stuff is picked up and you finish up your sweeping that didn't get done this morning, when you were in a rush to get out the door.”

Insert Death GLARE,”I WAS NOT IN A RUSH THIS MORNING.”
Beginning the broom and floor abuse.

“Sweetness, if you are too tired to sweep the floor nicely you may go rest first, and after you have rested come back and pick up your things, sweep and then ...may have your snack.”

“I AM SWEEPING NICELY!!!”

Kablam, bam, bam...(the poor broom was loosing synthetic hair like a bad weave)

and here is where I blew it.

I walked over and tried to take the broom.
Yup.
I engaged in a stupid control battle, one that she had been vying for the second she walked though the door.
She gripped it hard, screaming “LET GO.”

So I stood there and started talking, about how if she would just use her tools, and what her tools were, and how we had American Idol tonight, and didn't she want to watch that..and kept on talking, while she yanked that dumb broom and I didn't let go, because, I WANTED her to LISTEN....
The situation began to escalate,and my child was now spitting angry.
I was doing it.
Trying to give her a recommendation, but then MAKING HER TAKE IT, trying to make her chew on what I was trying to tell her, standing there wanting her TO HURRY UP and LISTEN TO ME.
NOTE: It took me five minutes of broom dancing to realize, this was not working.

So I stopped.
I apologized for trying to take the broom, told her the tools and things she needed to do to get the snack and the repair she would need do for arguing, so that we could make her snack together, and then walked over, with my phone and tried to pretend I was lost in Facebook, I WALKED AWAY and left it with her.

She stood there glaring at me, trying to argue.
I sat there, kind eyes and just kept on nodding my head and agreeing with her...and finally after I am sure she contemplated throwing the broom through my head like a champion javelin Olympian, calmed and begun sweeping.
Before I knew it, the menagerie of school stuff was put away, and she was sitting at the table waiting for me to get her snack.

How are our kids like Tea, or a Fine Wine?

If you don't have patience, and let things simmer, cool and seep....
You will end up with a HOT unseasoned burn of blah or bitter Nastiness.

Trust me.
I totally burn myself with tea, and children regularly.
Just a little thought, and reminder mostly for me.

The difference between Letting go and Giving Up....

I owe myself an apology.
and possibly in turn you.

You see, there has been a mantra I have been selling to myself, a bar I have been holding myself to, a belief and expectation of myself that I have clung to.
Never, not for one moment would I expect any other person, mother or care provider to do this to, or expect it themselves, and yet, I stand here guilty.

I BELIEVED I had to do it ALL.
I believed that to be a good mom and to help my kids heal I HAD to do it a certain way, make it look and flow within my expectations of myself. What I forgot?
The variables, my children, what they might need, regardless of what I THOUGHT they might need, within my abilities to give it to them.
Because why?
It is MY job....
and, I am a bit of a moron.

In a world of humans struggling, fighting battles of love, finance, illness, business, politics, religion and much more, we say, "Never Give up", because failure in not an option.
Sacrifice is glorified, for the out come, and yes, sometimes that sacrifice is warranted, and all too often sacrifice is just  waste, wearing a sad cloak of self righteousness.

So I am de-cloaking a bit.

Good crap this is awkward.

I have these insanely AMAZING people in my life.
People that are raw and honest and on incredible journeys to heal their children, relationships and along the way heal themselves. They are so brave.
I sometimes push them to forgive and let go of things, do MORE self care, forgive them selves or others and move on, to lesson expectations.
I am SO good at gently advocating for these people I love, wanting them to see the amazingness that I see.
And five minutes later? There is no way I could take my own advice.
Because I suck at all of the above.
Like a lot.

Never Give Up?
welllll...it's kinda crap.

We all have to accomplish the art of letting go.
Weeks ago I stood in my Grandmothers ICU hospital room, with an aid of a ventilator she was being kept alive.
Hope was being sucked in deep gulps, desperate to erase the last three days that transformed someone that had been such a permanent fixture in our lives , into someone that might slip away, never to return.
Words like, "She's a fighter, she's a tough lady, she can pull though this."
Were shared as we willed her to wake up, begged with tear filled eyes at her still , yet breathing body to wake up.

As days passed new words replaced those most desperate sentences: "She wants to be with Grandpa" who passed before her. "She would never want to live in a hospital", "She isn't going to wake up and be who she was before, and that would be unfair."

It was time to let Grandma go.We didn't give up on her, we were more fair and more kind in what was best.

It think sometimes we get so stuck in the fight, we forget to pull our heads out of the sand trap,and look up and around for some other options, better options.
Sometimes those other options are not what you would want them to look like, some options are more a letting go.

While fighting an uphill battle, there is a natural need to hold onto your convictions, and faith that YOU can make things better with two very tight fists.
When doing the very hard and thankless sometimes that hope is all you cling to with a thread.
That tomorrow will be better...if I just stay on this road, this HARD thing will get better.
Often that is so very true.

Yet sometimes, it's simply not.
and that is where I owe myself the apology.

I am sorry I waited so long to look up and consider another path.
I am sorry perhaps through my actions and example I made anyone including myself believe that I could possibly have all of the answers or even some of them.
I am a student on this crazy twirling ball like the rest of you, just trying to figure crap out.

Sometimes as a parent or a partner, or a caregiver, you have to pull a new card.
You are not giving up, you are seeing things from a distance and recognizing the path you are on is the looonnnggg not necessarily best path to the inevitable.

Perhaps, this whole letting go is a good thing.
Perhaps this "Never Give up" needs to pertain to yourself, and not the situations and scenarios placed upon our backs. Somethings are meant to be shaken off, let go of, or even handed off.

Truth is , we can't, and shouldn't expect, or make ourselves to it all.
Truth is in this place we can waste the best parts of ourselves and others in the name of sacrifice.

Is there something, something you can let go of, celebrate defeat over, or switch up a path all in the name of Never Giving Up, but also Letting Go?

Monday, this homeschooling mother of nine?
She is packing lunches, and putting into place 1:1 aids and nurses for two of her chronically ill children, recognizing that this too, though not my original goal of what educating my children would look like. The goal? The outcome will still be the inevitable. They with lots of trouble shoots and energy needed much tweaking and long hard days, my children will receive the  education they are capable of. With me, yet with out my sacrifice.
Those are some weird pants for me to be trying on.

Earlier this week in a private message to my incredible friend Christine I wrote her this;

"But, honestly...we are better parents, because we see where our energy NEEDS to go, instead of throwing ourselves under every bus in the name of being a good mom...instead recognizing that damn bus is coming no matter what and getting out of the way..."


So in short.

Dear Lindsay,
Thank you for figuring out the difference between "Letting go" and "Giving up".
Thank you for pulling your head out.
Thank you for re tipping the scales with having more opportunities for better, though fewer interactions with your children.
Though it is scary, you are being smart.
Take less time being stubborn K ?

kisses,
Yourself