The truth about line drying your laundry and therapeutic parenting.

Proof that I have moved into the country and am slowly morphing into the self-reliant/farm girl/ hippie/organic farmer of my dreams.

The user tabs in my computer open are all about wind turbines, organic fruit tree spray and a shopping window for essential oil.

 “You can call me Granola if you want to.”

so , in between monitoring my kids manual labor of removing rototill-ed-up- grass where my new flower bed is going to be, and messing around on the internet, doing important research.

 My washer beeped.

Time to put the laundry out on the line.

There at first was a novelty to it.

Now sometimes it is a pain in the butooski.
Sometimes I don’t want to STOP what I am doing and take the TIME.

When it is warm, and the birds are chirping, it is peaceful and rewarding to be out there, barefoot grass between my toes, sun on my face, I feel like I should have a back ground sound track for some laundry soap commercial.

But I live in Idaho.

When it is cold, or blowing wind too hard for things to stay pinned, or even better raining, then I want to stomp and swear and ask Trev to build the vent thingy for my dryer. Then I want it fast and easy and use less of my energy. I am tired, I have other things I would rather be doing.
I want to hurry the crap up and get it over with, move on, do it the conventional way.

When the air is sweet my laundry smells AMAZING.
When the cow dung smell is blowing fierce, not so AMAZING.

But there is some truths in the line drying.
It may take more energy at first, but things dry faster, and better, with the initial time taken.
If I am honest, even when I don’t feel like it or want to, when I am done, there is a feeling of accomplishment.

The extra time and effort gives me time to think and process.

So that is all I have to say about therapeutic parenting.

Flatlined

You know when you watch those hospital based T.V shows, and the heart monitor stops making groovy triangled lines and the intermittent beeping changes to a long annoying whine of a straight never ending “beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” as the triangles stop and turn into a straight line?
And then the panic sets in?

Flatlined.
That. That is how I have been feeling about one of my children.


We are in the throughs of moving.
We are stuck in the start/stop, hurry up/and wait part of it all. And it sucks. A lot.

And I have been really angry and sad and mad, and heart broken with one of my children.
I have struggled letting a choice they have made go, and I deep down know it is affecting my day to day interaction with them. Maybe not on the surface, but deep down where the good stuff is? My heart is flat lining toward this kid. I don't want it to feel like that.
But I am human, and trust and things held most important can only be broken so many times before wear and tear of emotion is inevitable.

So it's four in the mourning and I just finished rocking and feeding baby Faith's little sister, and now can't get back to sleep.
As I lay, contemplating/praying meditating on things I have no time in the daylight to ponder. This one thing that is eating me up/flat-lining my heart comes up.

I am asking myself “HOW, how are you going to trust/feel better about this kid, that needs you, and obviously needs to get better and change their behavior, how is this going to work?”
and I dive into that big empty ache, that is filled with fear... and I swim around in it a little bit, telling myself I know the answer, but I stubbornly and understandably don't want to do it.

The answer is whispered to me, in the sleeping breath of my three year old laying next to me....

“ How can they get better if they can't forgive themselves. How can they forgive themselves and move on, if you won't.”

Well shit.

There it is.
And I don't know if I can.

But there lies the truth. Forgiving is never ever Forgetting....especially when safety is involved.
And yet there it lies in my palm like a sleeping bird.

They can't let go and move on, if I can't.
I know this because I only move forward in my life once I have forgiven myself for stupid choices and actions that have hurt myself and others, and I am an adult.

For a kid, they need a map in the grand forgiveness of themselves, shame is too much of a roadblock. I, I too have been guilty in using it towards them, I too have been blocking them from progress , because I want feel and know they are sorry enough. And that is my stuff, not theirs. Their shame is so deep, this kid is sorry for 90% of the breaths they take, and they might not even know that, but there it is eating them up all the same.

But what if, what if I can get over myself for one minute?

What if they can learn this one thing, to forgive themselves and move on, that, right there is a tool most adults never master....and what if we all could, what would the world look like?

So damn-it.
Looks like it's going to have to start with me.
And I am far far far away from wanting to. Really if I am being honest with how I feel.

I.don't.want. to. The flat lining feels numb and oddly easier than opening up the wound and scraping out the infection...but if I can do this for them and in turn they learn to do it for themselves and others?
Forgiveness of oneself , well that is the root of the root.
And where the beginning of self healing starts..........

Beep.beep.beep.beep.beep.beep.
<3

Walking on Hot Lava

I love this image.
I my head this is me.
In my heart, this is so many of us.

For two days I have been stuck in confines of my home, in my bedroom, on my bed with a puking toddler, 7 year old, 9 year old ...and you know the "other ones", that fortunately were not projectile vomiting, but unfortunately for me, healthy enough to be bored.

Toddler's with the flu are not ticking time bombs...hell no, those give warnings and count downs. Toddlers with the flu more like unexploded detonated grenades...you never know when, or how ..but you know it is coming, and the likelihood of it being messy is inevitable.

As I sat there with her.
Most the time offering clean towels, clear liquids, comfort, fresh pajamas. Anytime I had to retrieve more supplies, remove soiled items, parent other children, go pee...there was a fear that she would throw up while I was absent, and I wouldn't be able to direct, help or contain the mess.

I had time to think between the laundry loads.....

This is my life, this constant juggle, one crisis always requiring my attention while attending to everything  and everyone else.

I am always playing hot lava.

Did you ever play that game as a kid? One rule, do not touch the floor, for that is the Hot Lava.
My brothers and I would go in their room and play a precarious game of tag crawling, jumping and climbing over all the furniture in their room, but not allowed to touch the floor...we would jump, bunk bed to dresser to chair to scaling the window sill. How nothing was broken is a mystery.
Once the game was over the steaming red hot burning, waiting to consume us LAVA turned back into shag carpet....we jumped down into the middle of the room, and we walked out.

That has been me for three years. Balancing, straddling the window sill and the dresser, except I have become so used to the floor not being safe beneath me, I stopped looking down, trusting it, or remembering I had the say when the floor gets to turn back to something I can safely stand on.

I have the say.
In some things and in some ways, we all have that say.

Things have been hard for so long...and continue to throw me for loops...but there are things I am reclaiming as I look around and see what I am missing, what was once important to me and I want to pick back up, and those things that don't hold the same value to me.

I love this image, because she is not only rising from the ashes. She is dancing on the hot lava.
Dancing.

Last night between Insomnia and re-evaluating I picked something up I dropped three years ago, my family diary/blog/journal.
Like me it looks different now.

I will remain here with my personal and parenting trials and successes...but the other parts of me, the better and worse parts I don't share on this very public blog.
The boring shmoring stuff, like kids having the flu, and pictures of birthday parties and trips to the library park and dentist, art projects and skinned knees...things I wished I had written down.
I am starting to write down again.

Bam.
and then in a small brave way, she turned that Lava back into shag carpet, and is dancing on it...

So I was going to write a whole post...

About Parenting in SPACE...the Conference in Chicago I go to every year...that helps me you know, not to lose my shit on my kids as much....PARENT my kids from hard places ....and generally try NOT to screw them up anymore than they already have been and learn new amazing ways to find healing, together.

I would write about how I went last year, and the year before that...and how much I LOVED it.

I was going to reference all of the blogs I have written that were examples of tools I picked up while hanging with the House Calls Parenting staff.

How I helped my daughter coping with separation anxiety USING, S.P.A.C.E. Stuff.

How sometime NOT talking about an issue (while talking about it) is one of my favorite tools while dealing with an issue.

Or how Billy Kaplan taught me about using CURIOSITY saves my butt on days the lying gets out of control !!!

Or throwing a “maybe” at it.

I would talk about the infinite LOVE I have for JIM KLING and how hos repair model has helped so much in the repairs my children are learning to do.

I was most definitely going to post a video of me chatting with Christine Moers ABOUT going to SPACE and what it has done for us, and the incredible friendship we have developed.

Most of all, If I was going to write said post....I most definitely would mention these points:

1. My first time I came, I went on the tail end of a credit card, totally broke in every way...and still know it was the best money I have spent on my family.

2. I have never been surrounded by more therapists that GET me and my kids than at SPACE.

3. If you are reading this....and think, my kid is really hard for me...BUT, NOT as messed up as some of the kids I read about....you, need this.

4. your tank is empty. Just come. I promise...we are all sputtering in.

5. Parenting our children is hard, every.single.day.even just neuro-typical kids...but parenting children from early childhood trauma, ADHD, autistic spectrum, Fetal alcohol or drug related affects, can deplete us much, much faster...we may have read ALL of the books,and blogs, own all of the tapes...but coming to a conference,interacting, refreshing our skills, is necessary in the survival of our families, in the survival of ourselves.

So...you know...if I was going to write that post...I would kinda, sorta say all of those things. <3

N.A.R.D.S.

N.A.R.D.S.
(and I Sooooooo get this is a made up term that I use to cope; so dear, dear,dearest troll that likes to knock me and my parenting...have.at.it.)
I so just prescribed rude comments...check me out!  :D

I am going to share a term we like to use when coping with Narcissistic behavior from my attachment challenged children.
You see one of my children really struggles with this aspect of his Attachment and all around well being...the kid is a full on Narcissist. When children live in a survival state, the only things or people they need to worry about is Me, Myself and I..how the world operates is only viewed directly on the soul factor of how it affects them. PERIOD.

N.A.R.D.S.
Narcissistic Attachment Reactive Disorder Symtoms
HA! And the 9 year old girl in me thinks this is hilarious....lets kick him right in the NARDS!

But parenting the NARD ridden child.so.not.fun. (again so know this is a made up term...)

My son struggles with a 'Whoa is Me, everyone is so MEAN to ME, I am so sad, all of the TIME, nothing works out for ME, I never get what I want, life is so so hard for ME, Everyone else has it easy except ME.”

Nothing is a direct consequence for him, everything is something that is being DONE to HIM....even after we process it for the gazillionth time....

Him punching his brother= sit and think time= doing his brothers chore = me being MEAN to HIM.
(feel free to insert this equation in every.single.situation.possible)

Today it was over a ball, he had given to his brother, for his brother's birthday, of which he felt he had ownership rights over....so a tantrum, wailing “whoa is me”, crying Oscar worthy performance ensued.

I first swore in my head ,then calmly knelt down by him and asked him “who's ball is it buddy?”

“My brothers, but “I” gave it to him, so “I' should get to play with it whenever “I” want.”

“yeah, no, it's your brothers, if he wants to share HIS toy, regardless of WHO gave it to HIM...it is up to HIM”

and then it came....

“Why is everyone so MEAN to me, I NEVER get what I want, you love everyone more than you love ME, “I” am always in trouble..”I” don't love any of you...I hate everyone...”

..and maybe he should go eat worms.....( I need a banjo)
(just kidding...but it is totally O.K. That I am singing this in my head...)

So we had a sit down/come to Jesus meeting...another one...it's a weekly meeting, but this one had pictures. :)

and so I drew this lovely diagram...no worries I am full on aware of my artistic abilities... I have to use symbols when am trying to apply concrete processing with my children. Especially when dealing with learning disabilities...

What this is saying...is; What the “Family side” is always and, no matter what giving him...
love

home

food

toys

bed

playing with him

blankest

we go out and have fun

we share with him...
and that no matter HOW MUCH STUFF, LOVE, THINGS we share and give to him..he holds on to it and wants and thinks he deserves more....it.is.never.enough.
He hoards his things, won't share...will wear and play with all of his brothers things, but he won't use, (or let anyone else) use his things...
and so I started with a happy face in the upper left corner, because these things and this behavior makes him think ultimately it will make him “happy”.

“But does it baby?”

“No, I just want more, and then I get more, and I am happy for a second, but then I want what everyone else has too, so then I am mad and sad.”

...and let's put that song on repeat....

“Soooooo , is that working for you...all of this taking and wanting and never giving, is it making you happy, and loving, or even liked...which is what you want most from your siblings?”

“Well if they weren't mean to ME....”
I stopped that before we got the pity party rollin'....

“What I am asking without focusing on anyone else...is ; Is what YOU are doing, holding onto, not sharing, not giving love, or kindness, let alone letting anyone touch anything that is yours...and always wanting more....is.that.working.for.you.

“NO”....sob......

“So what if we didn't even start with your toys or food, but tried with feelings...and sharing and giving and loving in small ways...remember on Christmas when you couldn't wait to watch your brothers and sisters open the drawings you drew for them?”

“Yes, I wanted them to like them.”

“and when they did, how did that make you feel?”

“Good, Important, that I did a good thing.”

“and you did, buddy THAT IS GIVING, that is the good feeling I am talking about when I am saying working on giving love, sharing, and being kind, and how that might make YOU feel.

What do you think about that?”

“I think I am going to get mad and forget.”

“Maybe you will..but maybe we could hang this beside your bed and you can work on remembering what might make YOU feel better, what really might make YOU more happy.”

“O.K. Mom I will try”

“That is all I am asking buddy.”

Loving Fiercely.

The other day I was at lunch with a dear friend, that recently moved back into town and has been out of state for 5 years.

NOTE: I rarely see anyone in real life, because well my kids hold me hostage, my life is busy an about intense healing .

all.of.the.time.

An hour into "catching up"... after she shared her trip to Disney World with her 3 kids,she asked ; "How are things with your big, beautiful family?"
I had decided to be honest....
I was trying to explain “things”...and she bluntly asked, (not being rude),

“So do you love your easy kids more?”

My answer;
“My “easy kids” (and what kid is 'really' easy) don't hurt me, like my kids from hard places do, but no, I don't love them less, I don't do less for them, in fact I probably do more, but my easy kids honestly are easier to love. My hard kids have taught me to love fiercely, without expecting reciprocation...and THAT has taught me so VERY much, even when I HATE it.”
I most definitively HAVE to love them differently.

“BUT they are SOOOOO cute, I would bring one home if I could, I don't understand how they could be so angry and violent”

(don't hate her she just doesn't know, she really is very sweet)

“Have you ever looked at how sweet and darling a baby gorilla is? Adorable right? Want to take one home?...truth is they 'can' be loving and oh so cuddly...truth is there is a primal part of them that may or may not rip your arms off of your body and beat you with them, truth is they could be easily frightened and throw their feces at you to keep you away if they get frightened, you just never know....”

she knodded.

“My kids come from survival, they can switch to that primal brain and have no say in how to regulate or really know how to stop their behavior... the throwing shit has happened...but look both arms still attached, for now.”

I grinned big at my brilliant analogy and humor...until I saw her face.
Shock.

Forehead slap, I have gotten WAY too used to speaking frankly.

“What I mean is this, they are capable of things,things that no parent is prepared for because of things that were broken inside of them when they were very small, so they try to control what they can...like my mom, never being ever to go to bed with a single thing out of place, even if she is on her death bed?...it's like that with everything..and that can be HARD.”

She responded, “I am sooo like that, a little OCD, I have to have things in place before I can sit down or go to bed.”

“ Exactly, now times that by one million.
When Dude was a baby, he refused to drink, anything, for no reason.would.not.drink. He was 20 months old and going dehydrated, whatever I tried, he would spit it out..we had to hydrate him with enema's. Can you imagine, he is here in AMERICA for craps sake,and he is dying of dehydration, because he WILL not DRINK...and imagine being me, a Mother who has already had a son die because of dehydration...the look of HATE in his eyes saying, I will not let you save me, help me, love me,

....if he could have ripped my arms off and beat me with them he would have...it sucked....so it is like that, not always as extreme, but you know, like that...”

So I love his fierce little spirit the only way he will let me sometimes. With a whole lot of consistence, a whole lot of love, and not letting his rejection work, by trying with everything in my being to not reject him....love is that for us.
Love is giving him everything no one else did, a bed, food, safe environment..and sometimes that is all he can take from me, even then sometimes THAT is too much...so he emotionally does whatever he can to make me want to push him away.
IT.IS.THE. HARDEST.THING.I.HAVE.EVER.DONE.

I am not a robot, sometimes the kid succeeds, I am after all human and totally blow it.”

She just sat there.
“We live in separate worlds, don't we?”

“yes.”

we ate in silence for a while.

“I want to tell you about how cute Miley's birthday party was and how we decorated it,and the food I made, because you used to do the same kind of things, would that hurt your feelings?”

“NO, I would love to hear about it, it won't make me sad, a little nostalgic, but not sad.”

so she shared, and I lived in that world for a while...

When we left the restaurant she hugged me tight, and said, “I couldn't do it, and I am not being complimentary, I wouldn’t be that strong, or want to be, but I am grateful for you, and love you, I want you to know that.”

Walking to my car and watching her drive away, I knew that hug was a goodbye, forever.
She doesn’t want any part of my reality..and that hurt for three good long seconds, as I am sure she mourned what our relationship and how our lives complimented one another years ago...and I and she let it go.

Reflecting after she drove away and I sat in quietness, waiting for my cell to start lighting up with texts of
“when are you coming home?”
“So-and-so just broke/destroyed/peed ....”
“Help meeee....”

I thought about where, and who I was 5 years ago...who I was, what used to get under my skin, what things I took for granted...
Yes, my heart breaks daily, yes, I am stretched and yanked and pulled on, and almost ripped to shreds...by my kids inability to love, my heart and body are covered in emotional scars, loss and losing, sacrificing and letting go are daily events,”moving on” is a mantra tattooed on the inside of my brain...

as is the simple words 'Thank you”

and I like that.

I don't always like my life.
I don't always love my children the way most people love theirs... I simply can't.
But, If I am remembering, I AM loving them more and better than anyone else EVER has, that, right there is MORE than enough. I can feel good about that.

Today I am loving the fierce strength, confidence in who I am , who my family is, and NOT needing to apologize for those things.

Loving my children has taught me so very many things...things I may have never wanted to know about the extent of damage and pain, torture, neglect and abuse one little soul can take and their hearts continue to beat...

Loving my children has taught me fierceness in love, support, in caring, loving, recognizing what is and what isn't important, what relationships, words and work I want to put into things, and what is simply fluff.

I live in a no fluff zone.
I am good with that.

I recognize the losses, I do...but I also choose to see what I have been given ten fold in those losses, and some of the time (not ALL of the time) what I have gained, been given, the insights and friends I have now far surpass who and what I had and was before...and that feels right, not easy, never ever easy...but so right for me.

….and I also so still think baby gorillas are adorable....just sayn'.

Lets talk about SEX....

So, It's midnight, I was cleaning out my closet , donating those items I haven’t worn in a year...or finally getting rid of those items I swear I will wear “someday”, but passover every.single.time I walk into my closet...Hausta La Vista baby, packing to move can be soooo cleansing....

Anyway, anyway...sex, right? The topic of this whole derned blog post?
The other day I was invited to a BUNCO party/game thingy at my neighbors house. It is a dice game , that is simple, based on luck and finger foods. Most of all women socialize and snack. Anywho, before the dice were tossed, a women at my table brought up that she was a 5^th grade teacher , and the girls in her class were about to begin the maturation talk.
She mentioned that the boys in sync WERE not only not going to be in the room ( that's fine) but were NOT getting a talk of their own....because well, girls mature faster than boys.

Interesting. I don't agree, but you know, interesting...

Then she also proceeded to tell me that the school district had a policy that the speaker was not ALLOWED to say either the word “Penis” or talk about actual penetration.
“WHA?excuse me? Other than The female cycle and change that comes with puberty, what are these poor girls going to learn about ACTUAL sex?”

“Well we CAN talk about how sperm fertilizes and about the egg, because we talk about eggs and the menstrual cycle and why women have eggs to begin with.”

ME: “ But no Penis, with the sperm, no direct explanation on how said sperm might “get” to the egg and how that happens WITH penetration?”

“No, none of that”

“That.is.crap.”

Here lemme borrow that soap box.

Number one, regardless of how conservative of a community we live in, these kids live in a world and time of constant communication and information, they already “THINK” they know about sex. Sex according to the media. Sex is what happens on all of their television shows, or between their favorite celebrities, or according to their friends..so the ONE place where they can get accurate, scientific information is failing them ...in hopes of being what? Modest? Conservative? Not offending their parents? Now I one THOUSAND percent believe kids should be learning and having questions answered about sex, and maturation far before it starts happening , and preferably by their parents, but if not....hello it is basic biology. Biology that most 4 year old children “get” if they live on a farm.

I have a three year old daughter, just like she can point out her elbow, she knows where her vagina is.
To her an elbow and a vagina are BOTH simply parts of her body. Does she know certain parts are to be respected and she has all say over them, ABSOLUTLEY, and she also knows the appropriate name, of those parts.
BONUS. If anything ever, and heaven forbid it happen to violate any part on her, she would have the appropriate words to describe what happened.

Educating our children is protecting them.
If our kids know the ins and outs of sex, is that giving them a permission slip to start sleeping around? Absolutely NOT, you can apply education with whatever moral, safety or other wise values, beliefs and precautions you want. I think the education is vital SUPPORT to the “why” in the moral hand hold of abstinence or safe sex. If a girl is old enough to menstruate and get pregnant ...shouldn't we be using words like “Penis and penetration?”

I mean bumping Who-ha's and We-willie-winkies, can make a baby , just as easy as a Vagina being penetrated with a Penis? Sheesh, don't you think the correct terminology is something we should teach our children out of respect, for them? Teach them about the possible life they could be creating in the loss of information we are giving them, in the name of “protecting them?”

Lets be open, lets answer questions. Being responsible means education, when we hide things and words from our children, we are not creating an environment in the protection of innocence, we are creating “the unspoken”, something that is dirty, or shameful...and I am sorry but Sex IS AWESOME, and fun with the right person, and I sure don't want to screw that up for my kids for the rest of their lives....

So lets talk about sex.
Lets talk about all the good things and the bad things, that. may. be.
Lets talks about sex with our kids.

Some resources we use as a family, and my husband as a therapist recommend.

And you now have my permission to go youtube the Salt n' Pepper song running through your head.
It's O.K., I know you want to.