tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68300525625431135282024-03-05T16:55:25.666-08:00My walk with RADA place designed to reach out to other parents with children who suffer from Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) providing hope and encouragement from one family's point of view.
My walk with RAD is simply that... MY walk with RAD and my experiences, the good, the bad, the ugly.Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-46844072618648766142012-01-12T06:56:00.000-08:002012-01-12T06:59:37.925-08:00Going through the BIG "D"...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHiki_ggmgRztapk9Q868e39ZSvTJHTqT3ElDhJlOH3R38v7wyQ2RveOy204GjmSw3ZLPPaFxUUaGsqbekdHVwYfX7RddWBeqsdApTB-JP8wiYeG7rn2xH3O_-2mU_uhSEfeJEDo8KqQi/s1600/vitamin_D_new.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 217px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696760054399013730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHiki_ggmgRztapk9Q868e39ZSvTJHTqT3ElDhJlOH3R38v7wyQ2RveOy204GjmSw3ZLPPaFxUUaGsqbekdHVwYfX7RddWBeqsdApTB-JP8wiYeG7rn2xH3O_-2mU_uhSEfeJEDo8KqQi/s320/vitamin_D_new.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And I don’t mean Dallas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tomorrow is D day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That’s right discharge day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Emotions are high and questions are looming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For the most part I am trying to keep a positive outlook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have “carefully placed” hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am not operating off of anything other than a maybe, a possible, let’s just see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I worry about the transition home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The weekend visits during his stay in residential never fared well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They were aggressive, violent and downright mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nothing changed so locating optimism that the transition home will be smooth is difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will give this my all and do whatever I am told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wish some of the people in place to help were not as “accusatory” sounding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Feel more like I am under the spot light with a detective than a therapist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I certainly hope that demeanor changes before speaking with my son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can see him having a lot of manipulation fun with this one.</span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I spent some time going back through my blog from the beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We have come a long way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I read some of my old posts that sounded so happy and upbeat, the ones where I thought healing was going to begin, the ones where I tried techniques that worked, ones that didn’t, horror moments and reflection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have changed so much in the last several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My entire household has changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I see how my children have shifted and evolved and I wonder what is in store for their future.</span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Will it always feel this crazy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I took the time to really focus on my other children during the RTC stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We laughed, giggled, snuggled, played, sang, dance, you name it, we did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was able to love my children without any limits, guilt or repercussions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I hope I can work that balance and continue to be able to be the mom I want to be while being the mom I “must” be.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I never bargained for this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Parenting trauma is intense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you are not careful you can lose yourself along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was never one to run a marathon but I do in my home daily.</span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">So for now I will listen and do as I am told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will try whatever they suggest and prepare myself for potential outcomes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will try to make this work with everything I have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To me, I feel like this is the last mile of that marathon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I will try.</span></p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-46582122380221091412012-01-05T09:15:00.000-08:002012-01-05T09:18:56.006-08:00Ready or not the RTC is done....<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It amazes me to think that I have gotten to the mindset that “I just don’t care”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I look back at my life, the last 4 grueling years, my children, my marriage, everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am amazed that most of it remains intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I feel punished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>My heart aches and I am out of answers.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">We are days away, Friday the 13<sup>th</sup> to be exact, for his return from residential treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It did not work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He continues to escalate and continues to attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They can’t help him no more than he can help himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He shows behaviors there but nothing like at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I guess they can’t justify keeping him if he is not trying to plan the next mass attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He continues to be self mutilating and dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We feel lost, tired and angry.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I have gone silent since he left in May, 2011 (his 9<sup>th</sup> birthday).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I needed healing for myself, my other children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have had a taste of what our lives could have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Bike rides with giggles, snuggling watching movies, hugs-oh the random daily hugs- sweet gestures, laughter and I love yous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It all stops now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have to transition back into protective mommy mode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hate who I have become.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I try to find my pizzazz and my internal happy that has kept me pushing for so long but the fire is out and I can’t seem to relight the match.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I don’t want to give up on making the memories that I have been making with my other children over the last few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will leave them as that, memories, beautiful moments that I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can be happy knowing that I capitalized on the time I had with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">While in RTC he came home for weekends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We never had a good weekend while he was home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The music stopped in the house and the control battle began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The violence and rages continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some weekends were better than others and some you just had to buckle down and ride it out until the weekend pass was over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I then spent the entire week showing my other children love and affection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Love and affection piss him off and make him violent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It has become safer to avoid affection when he is home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The affection between me (mom) and the other kids (always better than him according to his perception) causes violent rages and intense moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><u>Safety</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s what’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It seems to be ALL that matters.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I am scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am scared of my 9 year old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>How do you explain that to yourself let alone the professionals?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I have been beaten down by a new batch of “quick fixers” the State has sent to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If I am told one more time to throw everything I know about parenting this child again I may scream or start punching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have been told that therapeutic parenting is bullshit and the proper parenting technique is to “lead by example”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><em>(those of you that are sensitive to language may want to turn the page here for a moment of venting).</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I am the Motha of a F@#$ example as a loving parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I dissociate better than my child so that I can always show love, kindness, and acceptance and Damnit I spend every breath working on techniques, identifying triggers and trying to make sure everyone moves within the house easily and safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have no life other than trying to understand and help my children of trauma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><em>(please resume normal reading here)</em></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Unfortunately if I do not take the new help I am considered unwilling and I will have no services, nowhere to turn when he goes off the deep end again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have to play nice and show that “I want to make myself better so that he can love me”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>(nice quote huh?-jerk faces!)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">He is super excited that we have people that will be in and out of our house “showing me how to be a good mommy”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Did they really say that to him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That is his perception and one of the biggest obstacles we have to tackle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His perception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nothing is as he perceives it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Red is black and a dog is a cat, it is that off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He thinks this new round of treatment is funny and likes that I have to have “helpers” to be his mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The attention is delighting him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is yet another person to manipulate and he loves that more than anything.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It sucks me dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel that I have nothing left to give at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am numb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel weak and ready to just let him finish me off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This sucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The worst part is my post is so similar to other moms just like me feeling the same thing, looking for answers, giving it everything they have, pulling their hair out, sadly I am not alone in this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It’s time to find some real answers and I am going to show them they have never met a “motha” like me…</span></p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-42286313144619396422011-05-27T10:23:00.000-07:002011-05-27T10:35:01.344-07:00RTC-done<div align="justify">I just left the residential treatment facility my son will be housed at for the next 4 months or more. I wish I felt peace. I wish I was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">ok</span> with this. I have suffered some pretty intense days in the last 3 years and some down right "how thew hell did I survive" days in the last 6 months. I have spent the last several weeks in a slump. I have no doubt I am depressed. I want to curl up and block everything out.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">I may take some time away from life for a bit. I need to step back before I make a rash decision.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">This has been a hard road for everyone involved. Our family has struggled and most of us can make it through a day without showing some scars. For the people that have been there and tried to be supportive, thank you. I doubt I can say or do anything to express my gratitude. I know I am not the easiest to deal with and even more so when I shut down in pain. I appreciate you.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">Now, for those of you that chose to walk away when you see a family like mine, make snide comments about me giving my child away, asking if there is a military <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">boot camp</span> for such a child, suggest I give him back to the adoption agency, suggest I sue the State for giving me my child, share your unwanted opinion while living your nice little fruity life, call me when you are having a bad day expecting me to stop parenting real trauma and assist you, get pissed when I can't do what you need exactly when you need it, at his little butt with a belt", <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">look</span> at me like I have 2 heads when I say I can't be a volunteer and no he can't have candy!, scoff at me and say "oh my" at my children, turn your nose up at my "odd" family. SCREW you. Happy now? "The demon child" has left the house for a little while. Hope you have fun riding atop your mountain. </div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">Somethings just need to be said <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">out loud</span>.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">I promise to keep an update on approved therapies in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">RTC</span> as we work through the program. I know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">RTC</span> is a bit of a stretch for some of you and it was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">definitely</span> not what I had in mind for our future.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-20886809022981100952011-05-24T17:55:00.000-07:002011-05-24T18:21:36.449-07:00<div align="justify">I feel like a shell of my former self. Most of you that know me on a more personal level know I am not a "feel sorry for myself" kind of person. You know that I am very much a say what is on my mind kind of gal. This post is just that. I need to get some things off my chest. I need desperately to find my place again.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I hate RAD. I hate the disease. I hate what it is doing to me. I hate more what it is doing to my family.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I wake up mad at the world. I go to sleep angrier still. I spend every waking minute trying to find my peace and find some happy around me. I am so overwhelmingly exhausted when I do finally pass out at night after fighting myself all day I can't sleep. I don't sleep well. I toss and turn. I have terrible dreams and I often wake myself in tears. This is not me. This is not the mom I was and not the mom I want to be in the future. I struggle everyday to make sense of the world that we now live in.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">My home is a prison. I am constantly on guard. He is not healing and therefore nobody in my home can begin healing. It scares me just how effected my other children are. It's not fair to them. I simply can't be everyone's everything much longer. </div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I have tried over and over again to find things for myself. Time with the little friends I have left, hobbies, writing, a new business. You name it and I have consumed my world with it in efforts to hold on to something...anything. Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. It seems that the harder I try the more withdrawn I become. I am pushing away the only people I have left. I want to be alone. I am starting to hate me.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I have spent the last year feverishly trying to get help for a very disturbed child that I call son. He calls me bitch. I went from a loving mom who loves to care for her children and anyone else that will let me ...to...bitch. All the things that defined me as a caregiver, a mom, a person, have faded away.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I hate RAD in case you haven't noticed.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I feel like I have exhausted everything and everyone for one goal, my son. I feel like I am not heard and I feel like I am looked at like a lunatic. I am passionate about getting help. I have no other choice. I wish I felt heard. </div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I am secluded and avoid public. Sad, really sad. I am safety patrol now, not mom. Attachment therapy and trying to connect has shifted dramatically. The last 6 months have been more about safety and less about attachment and love. There seems to be a fine line. Love and tolerance. Mom and Officer. Child and Aggressor. The lines have seemingly been blurred and I can't for the life of me redefine them.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">Peace. I want peace. I pray for peace. I NEED peace. I need to know that it is possible again. I have felt that God is not with me lately. Stupid statement because I know in my core he is here and he is my rock. Why can't I trust that enough to let it go?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I have pushed so hard for so long. We are really close to residential treatment. I don't have much enthusiasm left in me and I wonder if it will really help. I have to hope that it will. Something is better than nothing. I feel oddly mixed about RTC. I have worked so hard for the only help that can make a difference and in the same breath losing my son at home. Seems strange that we have to make that step, that sacrafice to get help. Nothing makes sense anymore. I want him here. I want him to heal. Part of the feeling is that I have failed even though I gave it my all and failure should not be defined by RTC. It is the way I feel though. I feel like he had such a rough start in life and I was chosen to be his mom. I was chosen to help. Help has come in a form that I never anticiapted and never wanted.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">This is a new road and maybe a shot for the family to heal. I wonder how long I will have to "pretend" to be happy while my son is away in a mental facility. How do you pretend through something like that?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">How do you mother a child away?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">How do I find peace within under the circumstances?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">How do I convince myself this is for the betterment of him and the family?</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-79811086523829537202011-05-03T07:17:00.000-07:002011-05-03T07:18:12.117-07:00Some days I get so sick of the rainbows and kittens<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I feel constantly reminded that my son has issues bigger than anything I was able to comprehend at adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He has baffled one professional after another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I get scared for his future and for ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The other children are in limbo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He lasted 5 full days home before he had to be sent back to the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I told myself that I had no choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I <u>know</u> that I have no choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Stupid mom side of me keeps sneaking in doubting everything I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hate that I can’t change him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hate that he doesn’t want to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hate that he chooses institution life over his family and I am powerless.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Therapy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Did we really make headway or was it just another very clever acting game?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can’t answer that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My real side says I was duped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My mom side says it was wonderful and he was healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Whatever the answer is I think it helped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It helped me and gave me hope. (there goes that 4 letter word again)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I am two people living in one body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am not sure just how to be a normal mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am completely lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Learning to relax is not as easy as it sounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have more anxiety and stress from parenting one child and constantly being on high alert that I had no idea what havoc I was wreaking on my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am learning to be calm and silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have filled my days with work, project upon project, cooking, cleaning, kid activities….you name it and I am the first one there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For the time being I have to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I need to.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It’s not like I don’t have 3 other children with various issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It just doesn’t matter at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think it is blatantly obvious I am “trying” to have fun with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My oldest told me yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Mom everyone knows you have to be all crazy dealing with W and we understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We expect things to be different with him, treat him different, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It seems to other kids like he is your favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>X asked me yesterday why you were always with W like he was your favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled and said nah my mom doesn’t have favorites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But we know you love us and you are always there for us. You just have to be a little differently”</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Damnit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was trying to make me feel better but the reality that my other kids are suffering and even their friends notice stinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s not that W is my favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All you RAD moms know what I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some days we would like to be AS FAR AWAY from them as possible!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>AHHHH!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Favorites?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Necessity?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Abso-freakin-lutely!</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Remembering me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Remembering the mom I used to be.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Last night I dreamed I was spread in a field of sunflowers, alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sky was beautiful and my sundress flapped in the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I could smell the sweet smell of the flowers around me and feel the warm sun on my skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The clouds rolled and I was still. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Beauty was exploding all around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Just before I woke I looked up and whispered “thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I thought you stopped listening to me.”</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I want to go back to sleep…</span></p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-46336682856219600912011-04-26T12:16:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:17:40.649-07:00Help for a tired mom<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Sometimes I am truly amazed by my own strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Other times I wonder how I will push forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This moment falls under the later of the two.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I feel like every parent reaches a point where they serious asked themselves if they are making a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Am I healing my child?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Am I doing it right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Is my child healable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>How much more will it take?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Is he a lost cause?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hate these questions but I am comfortable enough in my own skin to vocalize them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can’t answer those questions for you any better than I can for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>What I can say is that HOPE is a four letter word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Look at it how you wish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For me the word seems to conjure more feelings than I care to deal with at this time.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Some days I stare out the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wonder and dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am not too numb that I have stopped dreaming, I just dream with more reality than I used too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My light seems little dimmer these days and it takes a lot of energy to pull my bootstraps up and carry on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My mom used to call me sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Her little sunshine”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I would walk in a room and light it up according to mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now, I would rather stand on a wall and pretend to be invisible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being seen hurts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being noticed and gawked at hurts more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Most of us put on a pretty good show for the normal parents but our exterior is not without cracks and flaws.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The past few weeks have been a nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I doubt I can sum it up in a post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will give you a brief overview and all I ask is for support, prayers and answers for resources if you have any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am pressing on but I need help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am not afraid to shout from the rooftops that I need help.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Hospitalization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was bad this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was kept for a week but it was not long enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No behaviors, no treatment equals worn out parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Med changes and he was sent back home for the weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The minute he got home he wanted to go back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No triggers, no chores, no nothing to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He prefers institution life to his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His entire stay away he <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><u>never once</u></b> asked about family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Never once asked about his brothers, the animals, school, nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He never asked to speak to us although I called religiously 3 times a day to see if he would talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Reality quickly set it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He wanted the institution over his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All of my feelings of attachment and progress in his therapy that we have worked on tirelessly for the last year and a half went out the window. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>He has NO attachment at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I’m tired and I feel like my pizzazz has slipped.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Since being home he has:</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-attempted to jump out his window</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-mutilated a fish (literally snapped it in half and laughed the strangest laugh we have heard)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-talk extremely sick about taking the little fishes’ life (while reeling in his joy)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-kicked his foot through a wall</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-tried to slam his head into walls</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-destroyed everything he can</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-scream, yell, bully, curse and threaten everyone and everything</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-beg to go back to the hospital</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-forget everything (including wearing shoes 2 sizes too small)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-blaming EVERYONE for EVERYTHING</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-scream for hours!!</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-restless sleep (even though he is on a sleep med)</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">-attempted stealing</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">He is different since he came back this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He looks different, acts different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wish I could describe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">If anyone out there has suggestions I am open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Please email me privately : </span><a href="mailto:bl.merrifield@cox.net"><span style="font-family:Calibri;color:#0000ff;">bl.merrifield@cox.net</span></a><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is so much to tell that I simply can’t post it all.</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I try hard to leave my blogs with a positive note or something to hold on too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel like every last ounce I have is devoted to safety .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-84690995405811301952011-03-16T08:41:00.000-07:002011-03-16T09:01:43.758-07:00Honor Roll of Shame<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tdpT5x7uN8DjXroiKDeqCSkKnla9QxndXWA7qE2WDHOrpDnBYXuZj_FOnei2byHC6yOcAcGibxg_0PurNs-9bxwYYJlBsVSLrUy3964QlweiilsRWNOyZQzgQF1wFXbVX80QJ5tz1xYt/s1600/report1.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 159px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584704536754251826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tdpT5x7uN8DjXroiKDeqCSkKnla9QxndXWA7qE2WDHOrpDnBYXuZj_FOnei2byHC6yOcAcGibxg_0PurNs-9bxwYYJlBsVSLrUy3964QlweiilsRWNOyZQzgQF1wFXbVX80QJ5tz1xYt/s320/report1.gif" /></a><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Report card time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some kids sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some get excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Some get rewarded. Some get punished. </span>Some…well some throw themselves on the floor in a fit of rage, convulse like they are having a seizure and scream at the top of their lungs about how awful of a mom you are because you don’t care, no one cares!</span></p><div align="justify"><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span> </p><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It lasts about an hour total.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Painful to listen too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Painful to understand all this shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think sometimes that the shame will kill him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It reminds me of a person’s grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You look at them and wonder if their soul will heal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You wonder if they will ever be the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You wonder if they can ever do “normal life” again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel that way about my son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Can he EVER get past the shame enough to love?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Answer to that question lies in years of therapeutic parenting, attachment based parenting and exhausted resources.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I want to share with you how this came about because for me it is important to understand triggers and ways in which I can avoid them or be better prepared in the future. This particular issue caught me off guard. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I just walked in the door, still putting down my purse, rushing to get ready for a class. (I am taking a class with a friend as mommy time--thank you hubbs!) Everyone knows Tuesday mommy has to drop and run. No biggie. Dinner is already done. Laundry is already done. Your needs are met. Mom takes extra time to make sure EVERYTHING is done so she can have peace on Tuesday night. My oldest RAD runs up to me, thrusts his report card in my face and starts waiving it. "It is important!!!!" "NOW!" Not sure how he thought that would work in his head but hey we don't roll like that. My response was simple, "I see that. Let me get my stuff put down and together and I will look at it in one second". That is all I said....</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">He thrust himself on the floor at my feet in an Oscar winning dramatic performance and started to shrill. Loud. High Pitched. Something that should only be classified and used by animals. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Was it my class? Was it my plans? Was it him feeling I was not caring for him? Was it the report card? Was it my not noticing it the very instant it was thrust in my face? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">My husband and I discussed this long after the kids were in bed and I had come home from my class. I think it was a mixture of everything. His report card was A/B honor roll. He went from failing grades to the honor roll. I should be so proud right now. I should be bragging on my kid. All I really want to do is cry for him. He should have been proud. He should have let me parade him like a genius. He should have let me have a special treat for him. He should, I should....<em>ad nauseaum</em>.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I hate RAD. I hate that I can't be the mom I want to be. I hate that I am not what I once was.</span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';color:black;" ><span style="font-size:78%;">(Picture used with permission. Clip art licensed from the Clip Art Gallery on </span><a href="http://www.discoveryeducation.com/teachers/"><span style="font-size:78%;">DiscoverySchool.com</span></a><span style="font-size:78%;">)</span></span></p></span></span>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-32644016218824793702011-03-15T07:26:00.000-07:002011-03-15T08:35:17.715-07:00Say it Don't Spray It~yet another rendition of PEE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jT8vQyF01ihP4ElXgQ42EiHSmThWD8kX38HR7sirgcUjjtPQ70Q1J9QuGHvaBJpq4WAtY6eRIIOpaURMoFJycRMUk-YdMTkWvlTO8oasPgmBPtr8RclcBrRCEiwtINl0U4w0nOdWfQh-/s1600/pee-stains-sings.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584330350993010898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jT8vQyF01ihP4ElXgQ42EiHSmThWD8kX38HR7sirgcUjjtPQ70Q1J9QuGHvaBJpq4WAtY6eRIIOpaURMoFJycRMUk-YdMTkWvlTO8oasPgmBPtr8RclcBrRCEiwtINl0U4w0nOdWfQh-/s320/pee-stains-sings.gif" /></a><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">This is one topic that I am really sick of <a href="http://mywalkwithrad.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-for-love-of-pee.html">blogging</a> about. However, it must be necessary because I am still struggling with it and I have met a LOT of moms still trying to quell the little pee monster. Parenting a child of trauma is hard enough without having to smell it. Here we are yet again and I will use my experience to hopefully (I really mean that) help someone else get over the pee issue quicker.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I am an obsessive compulsive cleaner. I will not apologize. It is what I am. I fully understand that having an immaculate house will NEVER be the case again and I don't get my feathers ruffled about it. Truth be told I am the ONLY one in the house that desires a clean environment (ok well my hubbs likes one too but he is not near as picky as I am). That being said, clean is good. Dirty is bad. (I am using my best Sesame Street voice just for you). Dirty smells are the worst!</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">My children are preparing for a fun excursion with my hubbs. They are going fishing. We will discuss the BIG feelings that emerge after a fun day later. Right now....pee. Kids leaving means mom can dive into her obsession and feel like her house is clean. We all relax in our own way. Mine may seem weird to you. I requested that all children pick up anything laying on their floors to include the comforter that was thrown off when they woke up. I was going to sprinkle some smell goods and vacuum. I told them that I would not pick anything up off their floors. (they knew this without me telling them)</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="center">Kids gone....check. Hubbs gone.....check. Music full blast...check. </div><br /><p align="center"><br /></p><br /><div align="center">Mom all alone....CHHEECCKK!!</div><br /><p align="center"><br /></p><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">The rooms looked good. Things off the floors and ready for smelly goodness. Oh wait. Nope, not all rooms. My oldest RAD had things strategically placed on his floor. DOH! No smell goods. I closed the door and went about my business. The house smelled awesome!</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">Family returns, dinner done, pajamas on, time for bed. </div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">"Hey I noticed that your floor was not picked up when I went to lay the smell goods and vacuum. You may have forgotten and that's ok. I am curious. I need some help. You know how I smell like baby powder and sometimes sweet vanilla? That is from my perfume and my deodorant but my skin kind of smells the same. I was thinking everyone has smells that they really like. It makes them happy. Mine is warm vanilla and baby powder. Maybe yours is pee. It makes sense. So, next time I am going to clean the floors you just let me know you like the smell in your room like it is by closing your door and leaving things on your floor like today. Mom is pretty busy and sometimes she needs help so thank you."</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><br /><div align="justify">The child was baffled. Jaw dropped. Confused. (happy dance in my head but not showing it) He walked off to his room to go to bed still bewildered. "But I don't like the smell of pee...."</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">***</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:78%;">(image used with permission Shure Clean Carpet Systems, Inc.)</span></div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-82226290956919457672011-03-11T08:57:00.000-08:002011-03-11T09:12:43.366-08:00Parenting Trauma-a map to support<div align="justify">When I started this journey parenting my trauma kids I felt alone and confused. Flash forward one year later.........I AM NOT ALONE! YOU ARE NOT ALONE! <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/2011/03/no-for-real-you-are-not-alone.html">Christine Moers </a>has developed a way cool map with all trauma mamas! Now we can find each other and plan mini getaways. In my case I have a survival map. This may sound silly but I have convinced myself that "if" I can get to my support link in under a days travel all will be ok.</div><br /><p align="justify">*</p><br /><p align="justify">Whatever reason you chose to add yourself, don't add yourself, stalk other moms, whatever. <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&gl=us&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=208832002670355666094.00049e22e0173a1cd9f91&ll=45.02695,-100.986328&spn=35.625307,84.375&z=4">GET GOING</a>! This is a treat. From experience I can tell you that therapy does not hold a candle to the amazing women on this map. We want you there too.<br /></p><br /><br />*<br /><br /><div align="justify">(buzz kill disclaimer----if you are a foster parent or under scrutiny from the Department I understand, we all understand. You can make a fake email, fake user name, fake city close to where you live, whatever! We do NOT want you left out because of fear.)</div><br /><p align="justify">*</p><br /><p align="justify">If you have any questions don't hesitate to email me.</p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-12134606605207652572011-03-11T07:09:00.001-08:002011-03-11T07:33:30.775-08:00Pre and Post Orlando~I knew it would be intense<div align="justify">BIG FEELINGS! Monster feelings more like it. I thought I would take a smarter approach and wait until the last minute before I told my children about Orlando. I did not want hubbs to have to be subjected to rages without me for support. Things did not work that way. The week of my trip there was a ton of issues. My violent RAD was able to kick so hard he made holes in the wall. Great. He can see physical damage from his rage. Wonderful. Now the fun begins.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">I leave. He makes sure I know before I board my plane he hopes it falls from the sky. "Love you too baby, have a good time with dad."</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">*</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I am gone, therefore, all is good. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">*</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="justify">Dad tries to plan things to occupy their little minds. They have a pretty slow weekend and seem to be happy. My bio gets excited about my return. The other kids start straightening the house anticipating mom's arrival. My violent RAD throws his foot (or shoe) through his glass closet door. Guess we did not need that closet door anyways.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 172px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582844358212409586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_LdeMZMdA_4IfmPt1SwSf65ENyyvrpO8HULFmHu5_I_eTtpYHAT_DAj9FHGqk3p18tw33kQg-xMyxFBFfLoB7tLbF5sI5lL8lyYd2BP5JkLqof-GJwQ4gbdE3BEoXbmx_GwHbPH08TMs/s320/IMG00028-20110306-1343.jpg" /> <p align="center">(how much do you love that the room is a complete mess because he has tornadoed it....and he doesn't have hardly anything in his room)<br /></p><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">My hubbs says it was not rage invoked. How was it not? He was not screaming or raging. Does he have too? Did you happen to see a trigger?</div><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">He was angry because I was hours from coming home. Make me sad that he wanted me out of the picture so much. Makes me wonder some days if I really make a difference. </p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">He did not speak to me when I came home. He refused to speak to me the next morning. He told me he loved me coming home to make him dinner, that's it. Glad to know I am a good cook.</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">I used my therapeutic parenting skills and donned a happy face. Fake it til you make it, right? (love that quote)</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">My children lead a charmed life. They have everything they need. They have what I always wanted and dreamed about as a kid. Their lives may have started rough but safety and happiness and love flow easily through our house. I wish they could see it. I wish they could breathe long enough to take in the wonderful life we have built for them. I wish that part of their brain could over power the bad. I wish I could fix this........</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">For now and until we get back into a normal swing the rages continue, they get bigger and bigger, the small and insignificant RAD traits just don't seem so important when you are on high alert non-stop for safety. Maybe this is the normal swing for now. I hate the disease. I am trying desperately to love the kid. </p>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-36467689360282830112011-03-10T09:58:00.000-08:002011-03-10T10:46:48.067-08:00Dining with the Enemy?<div align="justify">Maybe this is not the right name for this post but it fit in my mind. I have struggled with writing this and struggled more with posting it. I doubt this blog will sit well. For those that know me, you know that I MUST write this down.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">I don't think for a minute that things happen just because. I believe deep down that things, events, meeting people, etc happen for a reason. You may not have a grasp at the time as to why something happened or you met a certain person but the true meaning will reveal itself later. This very thing happened to me in Orlando. It happened to us.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Late the second night a large group sat outside sharing and encouraging by the hot tub. Drinks were flying, tears on the verge, insane laughter rolled. A young man was trying to walk past our backyard and he said out loud, "hey I don't want to frighten you just walking by". We giggled like school girls and I think comments about being intimidated by the level of estrogen in one place were made. He laughed and continued walking. Before he made it to the end of our yard he stopped and said, "I don't mean to be rude but I accidentally did overhear one of you giving advice to another. She is right. Confidence is sexy. Every woman has something about her that she can portray that gives her a sensual part her husband or mate finds attractive." Pretty insightful for a young man. We thanked him and asked what he was doing here lurking behind the bushes of back yards. He was celebrating life. His adoptive father had passed years earlier and the family had made it to a place of comfort that they could celebrate his life rather than mourn his death. INTENSE. HE used terms only someone in the system or familiar with adoption would use, bio mom, bio dad, TPR, relative placement, secure female attachment... My head was spinning. HE was adopted. HE was what I had been looking for. HE had answers. HE could help. No matter how wrong it was or who I hurt at that very moment I could not stop myself. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="center">I sincerely hope reading this you understand that <strong>I. could. not. stop.</strong> </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">He was the grown up version of my children (sometimes my enemy). Talking with him was like spying on the enemy. Inside knowledge. I did not think I acted. I (yep that would be me, all by myself, alone!) invited him to chat. Several others welcomed the opportunity to chat. This young man was grilled until we all almost fell asleep. He barely had time to respond before someone hit him with another question. I tortured him. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted hope. I wanted answers!</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Funny thing is...he wanted answers from us. I wont go into great detail because I do not want to blast his story without permission but I will tell you that he wanted validation from us (the adoptive mom) as much as we wanted it from him (the adoptive son). He had attachment issues no doubt. His relationships were awful. He to this day has never had a secure attachment to any female. He never fully attached to his adoptive mom. He would not allow himself. She continued to try and he continued to retreat into himself.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">He said that attachment issues like what we are fighting (the moms that were in the chat) were not discussed or addressed. He said his mom really didn't know. He kept pushing. She kept trying. He encouraged us to NEVER give up. He left our company feeling better about his mom. I have no doubt he finally gave her the validation she has needed for so many years.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">My take away was hope. It may be years before I get what I need and know that I made a difference but it will come. One way or another, it will come. I will keep trying. I saw a young man that was functioning despite his troublesome early years. He struggled but he was on his feet making his path. Making good choices. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="center">Hope. A 4 letter word that I came looking for and left imprinted with.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">I was selfish. I don't get that opportunity very often. I am sorry if I offended you. I took knowledge. I walked away knowing my day will come...</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-89135728664621451972011-03-07T07:16:00.001-08:002011-03-07T08:00:23.271-08:00Man I miss Orlando 2011!<div align="justify">I am quite certain words cannot describe what I felt and experienced this weekend. Talk about a support group! Now that some of you know me pretty well my blogging and ehem "adjectives" will make more sense.</div><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify"><br />I have 101 things I could blog on today but we will keep it simple. </p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">For the ladies that are headed to the midwest retreat that read this blog I want you to know a few things that I miss about my Orlando Soul Sisters.</p><p align="justify">*<br />I miss your faces. I miss the scream singing hoping you will wake me up to chat, I miss the climbing over bodies on the floor to get to bed, I miss getting lost and not panicking about it, I miss the tip toeing around like kids, I miss the divas hulla hooping in highheels :), I miss the long talks, I miss the hugs and sincerity that were endless when someone broke down, I miss the laughs, the compassion, the touch, the true feelings I saw, the gigglefests that lasted forever, I miss being surrounded by people that "got it" and "got me"........and yes I miss the raccoons and armadillos. For the record they are not friendly....some of us learned the hard way :)</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">I seriously felt a part of my heart breaking when I left. For the ones that I left it in their hand....Take care of it it can be fragile.</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">It took a lot for some of us to venture to a place we did not know, meet people we did not know and risk letting other people in to see the real us. WOW! We are all hypocrites! Go ahead and say it with me...I AM A HYPOCRITE! We would never in a million years let our kids meet people online and get on a plane and travel hours and hours to stay with these strangers! We are some crazy women and I love it! I am so blessed that we all made the jump. </p><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">You are all amazing and I hope you know that. I did not meet one mom this weekend that I could not relate too. Some of you are holding so much. You are my heros, my friends, my soul. My wish for you is that you see yourself the way we see you. If you could understand what we see when we look at you....simply breathtaking.</div><div align="justify">****</div><div align="justify">And seriously can someone explain to me why I still can't look Christine or Corey in the face when they speak to me? All I can do is giggle and try and not look like a fool! I can't call them without psyching myself up first and then trying to pass the phone to someone else to make the call! I "thought" I was a grown up! They are such little deities in our world! (much, much love for you two!)</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-91678174020345677942011-01-27T08:39:00.000-08:002011-01-27T09:10:42.183-08:00I am the one dissociating....think on that a bit<div align="justify">I have been asked "how" "dude, you stay calm?" "why can't I stay calm and collected?" "are you medicated?". The answer is yes I stay calm, no I am not a robot and no drugs here. I am a walking, talking, normal (stop laughing) mom and sober (ok the glass of wine every now and again doesn't count).</div><p align="justify"><br /> </p><div align="justify">*</div><p align="justify"><br /> </p><div align="justify">So, wanna know my secret? Wanna know how I take one seriously violent demon possessed acting child and I RARELY (not going to say never because I am not perfect) yell or loose my cool?........</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="center">wait for it........</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I am a master of dissociation. In fact I am so good I have my kid beat about 110 fold. Good for me right? I get through it, I cope I have this down pat. Not quite. By dissociating I am blocking myself off. I don't feel. This has very little to do with my child and more to do with my childhood. My RADs, the one I blog about nonstop, in particular. HE IS MY trigger. MY TRIGGER! I scour the scene looking for his triggers and about broke my neck when I tripped over my own. </div><p align="justify">*<br /> </p><div align="justify"></div><p align="center"><strong>Dissociation: Numbs the body to eliminate distress.</strong></p><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">How many of you moms do the same? I gather we don't have much choice. Sadly, this is a coping mechanism, a safety measure and honestly, one I don't think I could parent my kids without.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-80034054601933106962011-01-26T11:33:00.000-08:002011-01-26T12:11:16.110-08:00Envoke the RAGE and take their power<div align="justify">I have to throw out a bit of a public service announcement before you read this. </div><p align="justify"><strong>**Please don't try this at home unless you have adequate bandages, another adult who can drive you to an emergency room, video cameras and possible adequate witnesses**</strong></p><p align="justify">All joking aside I take my job as mom very seriously. I have had to at times be more like a prison guard and safety patrol but I guess the terms are all synonymous with mom. A rather nice violent rage took place a few days ago and of course it comes at the time of day I am tired. Tired of work. Tired of kids. Tired of life. (You know the feeling) </p><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">My RAD ran to his room, slamming doors, kicking, screaming and generally flipping out. I did my normal routine to try and check up on him and was met with some nasty names and threats. I knew in the back of my head he was feeling powerful about saying things like that and not having a consequence. He is choosing mind you. I have just about had my belly full with him choosing to be nasty and thinking he is getting away with it "because his brain is messed up". It makes my other children insane and adds to the overall feeling of regret that he is in the family.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Keeping a very close distance I began taking his voice. Taking his power from him. It lasted about 3 minutes and my husband was outside listening (I didn't know) to the ordeal. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><blockquote><div align="justify">Mom: You hate me. You want me dead. You<br />want to hurt me. You want to never have to see mommy. Mommy makes<br />you do chores. She must die. You want to cut me. You hate<br />me. You hate mommy. You want mommy dead.</div><div align="justify">***</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">RAD: His first responses were no, shut up, I hate you. <br />As I kept going he stopped. Why say those things because you think you can<br />get away with them. They are not as "bad" when mom is saying them for<br />you. (remember in his head he is bad-he FEELS bad-he is shame, he FEELS<br />shame...he will show you just how bad and shameful he can be)</div><div align="justify">***</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Mom: Pretty intense stuff huh kid? Wanna something<br />more intense? You want to do all those things to me and I am still<br />here. I will always be here. I wont leave.</div></blockquote></div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Utter silence. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I told him to think. What kind of person would be put through all that bad stuff, all those mean things said, all that pain and still want to be near you?</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">As I closed the door on my way out.......ME, your mom.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">It was intense for both of us and I felt exhausted when I was done. During these interludes I make no eye contact, I keep my head down and I pace at reasonable distance with my hands in my pocket. I give every indicator that my body language is non-threatening. I am ready if he charges mind you but I stay calm. I slump a little and keep my voice calm and soothing. It may not work for everyone but it gets the point across for me, for now.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-42544242555042612692011-01-19T14:10:00.000-08:002011-01-20T06:45:49.826-08:00<div align="justify">Ok it has been a long time since I have blogged (Christmas). If you have to ask why frankly I will kick you on the shin :)</div><p align="justify"><br />Christmas sucked. Sorry but there is not a better word to describe it. We have had some great things happen which I will have to blog on once they are legal and we have had some....well....moments.</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">I do however have something to share with you. A small token to put in your box of tricks. We all have mommy magic inside of us. Some of us use it daily. I am sure at some point you have made the comment to your RAD "mom is magic" "mom knows everything" "mom can see that" "mommy knew that" You get the idea. Its mommy magic. I use mine as often as possible.</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">I arrived home to have a house full of feuding brothers and a RAD well on the way to one serious tear down the house try to attack mommy melt. Everyone was sent to their rooms. I am but one person. Divide and conquer. What started as a fun bantering between brothers became and angry name calling match. That doesn't sound too bad, right? Wrong. Remember I have a RAD. Shame and anger are always looming and the smallest trigger will set a rage into full swing. </p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">With the masses safely in their rooms I started to make my rounds. First I went to the 2 oldest. We discussed yet again why that behavior would not be tolerated and the potential outcomes that could have been had mom not swooped in. Eye rolling was swiftly followed by a yes ma'am and with that attitude you can remain in your rooms until bed. (seriously we were 30 minutes to bedtime anyway but I got my point across loud and clear).</p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">Next stop was to quickly check on the youngest (my passive RAD). He was quiet, understood why he was in his room and was willing to talk with me after I dealt with the raging bull in the room next door. My raging bull was trying to see what his face would look like with sheetrock permanently attached. </p><p align="justify">*</p><p align="justify">I was able to get him on his bed (by his own steam mind you-that's a score one for mom). He immediately started yelling very loudly that it was so-in-so's fault. I asked him why he was yelling at me? I didn't do it I just wanted to talk to him and see what the scope was on the day's events. The banter or him yelling and me remaining calm and therapeutic continued for about 3 minutes. He finally just stared at me, blank eyes (you know the look I am referring too-SCARY). I had his attention. I sat down next to him on the bed. Not too close and not touching. Too soon to tell if he would progress to violence and he was fired up. I started to run my head. I "found something" without saying anything and started to rub. "Ahhh that's better". He looked at me like I was crazy. I love that look because that look means I have a captive and curious audience and I am about to take this melt to the home stretch. I asked him if he knew I was magical. He said "yea mom you tell me all the time!" (eyes rolling, voice elevated). I kinda have a secret I told him. I have these bumps on my head. They are sometimes small and sometimes big and sometimes they feel like a big crater in my head under my hair! They are my angry bumps. They only come out when I am getting angry. I asked him if he knew what anger felt like and he did. He said his head was angry. I told him that made perfect sense because that was where my anger was! We started rubbing our heads finding the bumps and craters and massaging them when we did. He calmed down. He said he felt a little better, not a lot but a little. I told him sometimes a little is just as good.</p><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Once regulated I explained to him that the angry is way in the back of his brain right next to his "man brain". His "man brain" is the part of his brain that is learning to grow and be a good man, a good husband, a good father, a good leader. I explained that it takes a very long time for that part of the brain to wake up and learn (stop laughing ladies). He said he understood and that was why when he raged he cried like a baby. A baby, not a young man. He was not allowing his man brain room to grow.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Now that he had this little tid bit of wonderfulness he had to keep it secret. It was mommy magic that I shared with him. Mommies have to keep their magic secret because it is special. We made a pinky promise and giggled because he had a little bit of me in his brain now. It was an awesome way to touch and interact.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">It is small steps but I am planting seeds. I am touching him daily. We are talking daily. He watches me like a hawk and hears EVERYTHING I say. I keep up with every charade and mommy magic I have. I still rub my head every now and again, he is watching, he sees me do it and when he spirals up he starts to do it. I am giving him tools for his own arsenal against these really big feelings he can't yet control.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Stay creative and practice more mommy magic!! </div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-77089203474835430622010-12-30T14:06:00.000-08:002010-12-30T14:24:55.079-08:00Yea I took Christmas down!<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMXVhqk2ApGrI-j2bAv1rOJ8tjlt2jczTfORwjdxHGGee9JDk0XQsiXUsl3q5xnOwnDxtiQtURrlKDdlBPVmho1d8d2rrrxsP8szZRngzI1zwchfxQAErKlxso15HLxCFXxb75MS8zUjh/s1600/grinch.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 153px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 120px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556600862769518450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMXVhqk2ApGrI-j2bAv1rOJ8tjlt2jczTfORwjdxHGGee9JDk0XQsiXUsl3q5xnOwnDxtiQtURrlKDdlBPVmho1d8d2rrrxsP8szZRngzI1zwchfxQAErKlxso15HLxCFXxb75MS8zUjh/s320/grinch.png" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify">Yep I took Christmas decorations, tree and all down last night. I am exhausted with the holidays. They were not too terrible but I was ready for them to be over. The overwhelming warm fuzzy family feelings were going to catch up with my RAD sooner or later. Catch up they did. The melts have started, the threats, the overall "I hate being happy" feelings have reemerged. I knew it would happen and was relatively prepared for it. Holidays = Trauma. We all have to go through it. At the onset of yet another I am over this happiness melt I decided to eliminate all of the decorations and reminders that fun times were had. Oddly enough as soon as the last box was packed up with Christmas wonderfulness the grumpy RAD was regulated and calm. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Hard for the other kids because they love the holidays. Sometimes it is hard to stop everything for RAD. Sometimes we don't, sometimes we don't have a choice. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Christmas itself was pretty good to our family. We had food, family, fun and of course presents. We do not go too overboard. We made that mistake in the beginning. We try to mute it at all costs and partake in what we feel is the true meaning of Christmas. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Family and friends don't make this time of year much easier. I love the looks I get, the stares, the questions, the unwanted comments (made in front of my RAD mind you) and snide remarks...time for everyone to go home along with their perceptions of my children and their comments. I had just started being comfortable with my own idea of normal while parenting RAD children. I am sure they all mean well but I would just rather stick to my VERY small circle of people who "get it" and "get me".</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">For those of you reading this blog that fall in the above category, you know who you are and sadly I do hear everything you say about our family. Despite your tone or your views, we are happy with our decisions and love our beautiful life. I wish you could see God's work staring you in the face. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">I hope everyone else had a good Christmas and a great New Year. I am looking forward to March.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">I did find something rather inspiring this season. I spent time looking at my kids, my husband, other people's kids, other people's spouses and I thought to myself...frustration, therapy, craziness and all...I am one lucky woman and thankful everyday for my children. None of them were by surprise. Everyone of them planned and hand picked for me. I found a small batch of peace, within myself.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Sisters, here's to finding a peace within you and loving who you are and what you mean to everyone around you.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-86017359707717803692010-12-29T14:12:00.000-08:002010-12-29T14:19:23.810-08:00Nancy Thomas~my first sign of hope<div align="justify">Nancy Thomas was my first book and quite possibly the reason I continued on. She gave me hope that healing is possible and I was not crazy. So you can imagine I was stoked when I was contacted by a great respite family in Georgia who are orchestrating a Nancy Thomas Seminar! I am bummed because it is set for the same weekend as my Orlando retreat but I want to pass on the good news to the masses. Please send this on or post it on your blog if you have time. I am going to future seminars with this family. I am excited to see more and more doors open for moms like us. We need respite. We need support. We need each other. We need understanding. Hopefully these seminars and retreats will give us the tools we need to continue on or provide us with some breathing room to revive.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Here are the links to the seminar:</div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.respiteretreat.org/index.php/nancy-thomas-seminar/">http://www.respiteretreat.org/index.php/nancy-thomas-seminar/</a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://respiteretreat.wordpress.com/">http://respiteretreat.wordpress.com/</a></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">They also have a facebook:</div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Respite-Retreat/141911862520126">http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Respite-Retreat/141911862520126</a></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So is it obvious that I am so totally jealous they get to have Nancy Thomas in there car and possibly duct tape her to a chair and rack her brain....YES!</div><div align="justify"> </div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-44853103229790634392010-12-21T14:06:00.000-08:002010-12-21T14:14:16.829-08:00Confuse them as much as they irritate you<div align="justify">This post is for you my dear hubbs! Dad went "out there" and parented with some serious style this week. He had the entire truck full of kids rolling. I am talking about the nonsense crazy talk that our RADs often come at us with. You know what I mean the talk that makes you want to pull your hair out, reconsider parenting a trauma child, locate that bottle of Calgon (where did I put that), run away...</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">UGH!</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">So this week while being trapped in the car with RAD (for many hours mind you), RAD's little brother (passive RAD), our oldest and only bio child and the teen soon to be adopted, RAD starts with the nonsense talking. It started small and then went into a grand conversation of nothingness. Mind you we are all in our own little way trying to ignore of figure some other means to redirect RAD. My brain was shot. I was not feeling therapuetic and sure did not posses my normal pizazz in parenting. Hubbs on the other hand was full of it. I don't even remember the comment that broke the camel's back but here was the response:</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Hubbs: "Son, the answer to that question it is over there standing next to the pink dragon with one wing hopping up and down."</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">He said it with a calm tone, no laughter, nothing.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">The entire car starts bursting out laughing, including RAD. Nonsense talk--dissolved!</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Now the wonderful dinosaur has become the answer to all that is nonsense.</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">Small, simple battles but won and won with smiles and feelings of love and comfort for RAD.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-3466385979061484612010-12-21T13:57:00.000-08:002010-12-21T14:03:48.130-08:00Winner Winner Chicken Dinner~not really!<div align="justify">I was shocked to say the least that I won the "<a href="http://peaceinpuzzles.blogspot.com/2010/12/winner.html">RAD antics" contest</a>! Thanks to my bud at <a href="http://peaceinpuzzles.blogspot.com/">Peace in Puzzles</a>. Thank you for all the voters. I added my story more out of frustration for school stupidity and I won an awesome set of coasters. Handmade! The absolute best!</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I received my package and my RAD started in on the questions. "Mom, where did you get that?" "Who made that?" "You really like it huh?" "Why did you get something?" I just smiled and said "it is nothing, means nothing, must have been a mistake." Trying so hard not to act excited because I did not want my little token to get destroyed. We have made it 2 days and they are still on the table! Whoo hoo!</div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Thanks again guys!</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-11289094112443960602010-12-17T12:59:00.000-08:002010-12-17T13:06:45.225-08:00Quote of the evening<div align="justify">Although I shouldn't laugh and I thought a lot before posting, here we go. I will set the stage for you. My RAD shoved a rock the size of I dont know...Delaware all the way to his ear drum to the point of rupture. He did not rupture it but came close. That's not the funny part. The funny part is taking a RAD to the hospital and then to the specialist when you are trying to downplay the event. Last time doctors and nurses made a big deal my RAD went over the top. Down play is key! This moment however, I did not expect. So here is what was said:</div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><blockquote><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Doctor and Nurse in triage room. Doctor tried to get the rock<br />out several ways, no dice. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Doc: "Sorry kiddo we need to send you to another hospital I<br />can’t get the rock out."</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">RAD: "Oh no we have to go to the hospital for the kids that try<br />to kill their mommy? Mom I did not try to kill you today!"<br />*<b>sob</b>*</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Doc and nurse’s mouths drop to the floor.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Me: No sweetheart we don’t have to go to that hospital today</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Doc and nurse’s mouths slowly resume normal position.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Doc: (with shocked expression) "Uh, No kid just sending you to a<br />specialist to get the rock removed. Don’t try to kill your mom<br />please."</p><blockquote></blockquote></span><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="left"> </p></blockquote></span>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-6895562892595160952010-12-07T14:12:00.000-08:002010-12-07T14:29:37.674-08:00Attaching with Actions<div align="justify">Despite the absolute silly way my face looks and the fact that I almost always use pics of my children that you can only see their backs, let the photo dwell on you. I am dancing......with my RAD. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 310px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548068904291576674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW958eIjhjMkDkrLdFHfSnE3kKTgr2UmEGZ_EeQ4qw-5QIiVb2vPdEimZ1Phxwjg3EOXKBWqic4_WFOI28bZ6aiQQJ0jgeXCxYsF6ofD8fp4GOqQMAkNqs9Q-1nM0Zpk8xNm5hie8zTW_O/s320/dancing.bmp" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify">Three months ago this touch and this closeness would have been an impossible feat. We have spent countless hours in therapy and with shrinks it almost seems unreal. Although we have a great therapist that is understanding of RAD, the way I parent and the obstacles that we have undergone, it is the progress that we have made that calls for celebration. The simple fact that we are touching, allowing someone to photo it and although you cannot see his face he looked at me and laughed through the entire exercise. Silly games I had to first start with his brothers to get him to trust but it worked. He actually requests to dance with me now. I don't dare turn him away. No matter how tired or beat down I feel there is always time for dancing!</div>*<br /><div align="justify">We have had a rough past few weeks. Thanksgiving--TRAUMA, family visiting--TRAUMA, Christmas looming--TRAUMA! Whew! It has been one melt, one fight, one battle over and over <em>ad nauseum</em> lately. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">I have so much to share with my sisters in March during the retreat. </div><div align="justify">*</div><div align="justify">It seems that everyday I feel happy, sad, full, scared, anxious, and hopeful all at the same time. I have no doubt I am a walking contradiction but I push through. Moments like this bring me hope. Chatting with a fellow RAD mom and being her crutch give me hope. I know the holidays are trauma filled but try for just a small second to find your hope. Sometimes mine is as small as seeing a good deed, having my dog run to the front door to greet me, listening to my children breathe when they sleep......and sometimes dancing. </div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-22598865065600164902010-11-17T07:32:00.000-08:002010-11-17T08:08:19.392-08:00RAD-have you ever seen what your rage looks like?<div align="justify">I may have made a mistake. Hence my waiting a week to post this. I wanted to make sure the coast was clear. Go with your gut mom, right? We therapeutic parent but our gut tells us where and when we can <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">push</span> those boundaries. Mine does. Mine does a pretty good job. After this episode however, my husband thought I was insane. I am either a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">genius</span> or a complete moron. Fine line really.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 183px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540542442430762754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjydrDl5aXyh2qNhsl-0kcg0I2skuRkn4VCCX03ZBNYS6MH3oYZ3JAh5vUkdnQPTTKz2_usaFuLt6utdnN8c10tCH8vEHHVdNO78NjtcoDwkSWbJVwWrqLw0ksiViDlI7QIt8gNJxlFLe/s320/angry+face.jpg" /><br /><br /><div align="justify">RAD. We all know the term. We all know the various stages and types of RAD. Most of you here know I have the violent one in my house with my first diagnosed RAD. The little guy is more the passive aggressive style. Violence prevails and violence gets the attention at this point. We have had it get to the level where he must be held to keep him safe as well as other around him, including me. For those of you that have never had to hold a child in the mist of what I feel is a psychotic break I envy you. For those that have been on the floor, on the side of the road, in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">grocery</span> store, beaten and bruised along side of me I cry for you.</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify">If you have never seen a RAD violent rage I you can check out <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">YouTube</span>. Its not pretty and you don't need to see it to know what I am explaining. We have rages about 3-4 times a week. Some bad, some catastrophic, all seriously handled. We have safety plans with the kids, dogs, etc. We are a pretty prepared family. Safety is ALWAYS the main goal. This particular night I was exhausted. I mean really beat to the ground exhausted. I was alone with the 3 boys (no biggie) and a RAD rage ensued. This one caught me off guard because I still do not know what the trigger was. I am usually pretty good at looking back and having that "ah- ha" moment. Not this time. I know I know time in instead of out but I was whipped. I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">asked</span> him to go to his room and have a few minutes alone and think about why he was so mad all of a sudden. He refused so I helped him to his room. Not pushy, not violent "if you have forgotten how to walk to your room I will help you". I never leave him alone in his room. I am always listening at the door or right there with him. He has nothing in his room that he can hurt himself with. His room is the safest room in the house for him. He became quiet <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">unnervingly</span> fast and I was either making HUGE progress or I was about to get attacked. I slowly opened the door and said "did you call me?" (<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">that's</span> what I do to check on him so he doesn't think he is manipulating the other children's time <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">because</span> he likes to do that--<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">ooo</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">that's</span> another blog). He ran at me full force, he was waiting for me. Arms out, screaming, black eyes, blind rage and I was the target. While he ran at me it was almost in slow motion "I am gonna kill you, I hate you....." I grabbed his arm all at once, spun him around and flopped on the ground with him in a therapeutic hold. I have never moved so cleanly and efficiently. Good thing too because he was scary. I had been holding him for awhile while he is detailing how he is going to kill me. "you are safe, I will keep you safe" I repeat, nothing more. I love you would only enrage him more. I know I have been there. "You just wait, when you <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">don't</span> know I am there I am going to kill you. You will bleed" he snarks back. I doubt I have even described this in detail to where my husband understands just how scary this all went down. I was so close to calling the hospital again. I didn't because the hospital is an hour drive away! An hour for the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">kiddo</span> psych ward. I had my other 2 children with me and a demon in my lap. I couldn't risk it. I felt desperate and my heart began to race, I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">loosened</span> my grip (stupid Brandy, stupid), he bit me hard but I did not flinch. I started to look around while he screamed and laughed, it was so evil. I couldn't even pray. I was. that. scared. I did the only thing I could think of. </div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">I picked up a raging child who is more than half my weight and plopped down with him in front of his closet mirror doors. He looked in the mirror and leaned forward and screamed. It was almost inhuman. I got brave. "look at him. look at <a href="http://http//mywalkwithrad.blogspot.com/2010/07/lonely-kid-vs-family-kid.html">Lonely kid</a>. See his face? See how mean? He wants to hurt everyone. Look at him. LOOK!" He stopped squirming and looked in the mirror. His brows were in a nasty V shape and his eyes were solid black he did not want to look and he was still going to kill me. "I am going to hurt you mommy" He said it over and over and over. I got brave again. I am tired of this charade. I looked at the raging child in the mirror and with all the strength I had I said "Do it then. Kill me and get this over with. The only way you are going to stop me from loving you and being a good mommy is to kill me. I am tired of fighting so get it over with."</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">Stupid huh? Probably.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">He stopped raging and looked at me in the mirror. Not <a href="http://http//mywalkwithrad.blogspot.com/2010/07/lonely-kid-vs-family-kid.html">Lonely kid, Family kid</a>. He said "Lonely kid is ugly mom. I don't want you to die" We continued to look in the mirror (I was no longer holding him) and we made faces replicating the facial difference between Lonely Kid and Family Kid. We moved our eye brows up and down. It was a good chance to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">regroup</span> after the melt.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">I was dripping in sweat. Literally soaked. This lasted a good 30 minutes. He went downstairs and I sat in the hall for a minute trying to reflect. My oldest son came up and put a hand on my shoulder, smiled and said "you are a great mom". Profound words for a 12 year old.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">We have actually used the facial expressions to distinguish between which "kid" our RAD is at different moments. When the brows start to crinkle I ask him. "Hey man your eye brows are getting wonky, we taking a lonely kid visit or can we catch him?" More <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">often</span> than not lately we do catch him. Beating Lonely Kid is a big deal. We stomp and squish him every chance we get.</div><br /><div align="justify">*</div><br /><div align="justify">So, was it a mistake to let him see what we see?</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-57353746653670510782010-11-03T07:22:00.000-07:002010-11-03T08:02:32.595-07:00<div align="justify">Manipulation, Craziness, Drama, Whiny, Demanding, Mean, Aggressive....</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">That was/is October. We had a rough month. I posted earlier about traumaversaries but did not elaborate too much. October has been intense for everyone. We have made breakthroughs in therapy, breakthroughs at home all coupled with some serious issues that need resolution. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">School has been the beast as of late. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I am frustrated to the nth degree at RAD's school. I am sure someone out there reading this is shaking their head yes. You know when you finally realize that your RAD's teacher is done? She doesn't like him? He has successfully manipulated her? The triangulation king has come to pass? That is where we are. Year 3 friends. Year 3 of trying to educate people and show then he needs a chance and has some education special needs. (mind you I have been fighting since prior to the adoption and long before the acronym RAD entered my brain). I am truly at a loss. I have gone back and forth with other RAD moms on this issue, used some of their ideas (<a href="http://goldtorefine.blogspot.com/2010/08/school-meeting-idea.html">Diana's was awesome</a>). Nothing gives. We have reached the point where "I" am crazy and the school will not listen.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Some of this post is done for purposes of CYA so please forgive me if I give more detail than needed. My RAD is in school number 3. Repeated the 1st grade. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">EDUCATION ISSUES:</div><div align="justify">I am not going to go into too much here because I have already established the fact that he needs a do over in school. Pre-adoption, pre-foster care, I can't help what he did not receive. I can help him moving forward. This school he is in has one job, teach. If he is behind test him. When he fails the test I can get the much revered IEP and *poof* he is off to private christian school with his brothers. He needs to be there. Anything church or God related calms him. My only issue is that because of his special needs his tuition is more than we could ever afford (even on a good farm season). School tested him, in math only and using a test that was below grade average because he is "special" (their words, not mine). So the rub is that we do not get to have an IEP. These are the same people I have fought with for 3 years. It is a countywide thing. School Shrinks (with degrees) that I have to explain what RAD is and why he acts the way he does. That part really gets old after awhile.</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">BEHAVIOR:</div><div align="justify">So I get a note that my RAD has received ISS (in school suspension). News flash, that was last week. I did not even know! No one called me, emailed me, sent a carrier pigeon, nothing. We have provisions in place (or I thought we did) with the school. My RAD is violent, has shown what he is capable of before. School has provisions for a reason and for the safety of other people's children! So I do not get a phone call about this (I got that teacher on the phone the minute I found out). I was fuming mad. I had no idea why he was placed in ISS. No wonder we had a melt extravaganza last weekend! It was not just Halloween!</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">BOYS WILL BE BOYS AT P.E.:</div><div align="justify">So bullies have not been a problem. P.E. however is. Boys will be boys. My RAD will not stop once he reaches that level of stimulation. I can't control it at school and feel helpless. Last week he was kicked in the face, bloody nose and lips, the whole nine. Again, No ONE CALLED. I did not know until my Nanny picked him up from school. This could have been catastrophic. Apparently they (random children) were playing wrestling smackdown at P.E. and no one was watching them. These children were using MMA moves on each other kicking, etc. Awesome right? Sure kid slap my kid around. He will get you back but it will be when you least expect it! CRAP. I am going to be that mom on the Discovery Channel if I don't get him out of there. He has no impulse control and once he is aroused it is all over.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">IS MY CHILD SAFE?</div><div align="justify">So you go to the school to check your child out early for a doc appt. Easy enough right? Your child, you have your ID, you filled out all he paperwork, you check in on the little computer thing......No child listed. Curious. Maybe I typed his name wrong? You ask the clerk. She bites your head off and treats you like you are stupid and don't know how to use a computer. You explain that the child is not listed. She comes to the computer...you look at her "you don't know how to use a computer?" He is not in the system! Panic mode! Not only is he not in the system, they have not file on him. He has been attending this school since August. You had special meetings with the administration to ensure safety. You have a safety plan in place for meltdowns and psych breaks! Nothing is there. Panic, revamp the system on it is fixed. Problem solved, right?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Next time. You go again to pick up your child. He is in the system but no one is authorized to pick him up! The nanny calls you from the school steaming mad because she is "not authorized" to have the child. All the paperwork was done, we have been through this before. Same panic, same evil people telling my nanny she is an idiot. One rational person finally steps in and saves the day. Problem solved, right? </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Next time Nanny goes to check out RAD for a doc appt, same thing. Over and over and over <em>ad nausuem</em>!</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">On the ramp for car riders. My RAD is quiet and withdrawn. No one is around him, no teacher, nothing. He stands on a ramp while cars pull up and kids load in. He could be taken or get into a strange car and no one would know. They don't see him. Don't care.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">So there it is my I hate school vent. I can't home school. I have to have a full time job. So what do I do? Every time I make some noise it gets worse for my son or they start sending him to the nurse. I was getting calls 2-3 times a week to pick him up. FOR NOTHING! He was not sick. I need help. What is all of this teaching him? I work so hard at home to set a good foundation and boundaries, structure, all the things HE needs. They are broken down the minute he walks out the door.</div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-92116909641127040882010-11-02T11:18:00.000-07:002010-11-02T11:28:44.827-07:00So maybe I was quiet because it was October!<div align="justify">October....HALLOWEEN....traumaversary! Boo! It was pretty scary alright. This was a scary holiday for RAD. For starters Angel-fish (caveman below) was at his dad's house for the weekend so we had to trick or treat with my ex. I doubt I have to elaborate on the fun that is. Also, not such a good situation for my RAD. We keep RAD (the illness) away from extended family. A warm reception is not really any option there. Best left quiet. They just think he is "special". Let them think that. (can you hear the sarcasm and disgust pooling from my fingers?)</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Cat, RAD (Dracula) was hyped up to the max the entire month of October. We went from the 2nd anniversary for the adoption (late in September) into candy, people, scary things, bad dreams, monsters, gonna get me.... You all get the idea. The actual trick or treat was one panic after another. His little body was so tight, so intense. I held his hand most of the night. I was not sure if he would run off or fight. He has been known to do both.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Puppy (cowboy), this kid is too cute for words huh? Can I get a 'passive aggressive RAD holla?' WHOOP Whoop! This little guy has enjoyed October. He has used it to torment Cat behind everyone's back and laugh. See Puppy finds it to be very funny. He has been downright mean. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 296px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535020175740725042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSw3Kx7WztK26DJVozap7W_BGjJUb7LhbVy6lVsVVr5vsZFLAwTQQEKJ2kpAb28RAKcbu1ec185nmQ84khaych1ho-YEY2jZupnNp8UF4efHUEaSuAQPR6yEdzSdAwjAbhecbIpNJW1ld/s320/halloween.jpg" />Sometimes they can't help themselves. They really are cute. <br /><br /><br />When they are sleeping!Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830052562543113528.post-54503608985699657152010-11-02T07:24:00.000-07:002010-11-02T07:37:35.343-07:00Break the Silence<div align="justify">It has been a month since I have blogged. I went from daily to nothing. I have been in a funk. No other explanation other than blah. I felt alone. I still do. Stupid that as a RAD mom kicking butt and healing with my sons while being the perfect Betty Crocker dinner mom, sports mom, etc, etc, etc, I lost myself. I felt like I had no one to reach out too. All these new found Internet friends that live my life everyday as I do and I refused to reach. I would rather sit alone and feel defeated and sad than reach for someone to talk too. Stupid, I know but I think we all get that way sometime. I have a support group unlike any other, they are real and although we have never met, we will.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><div align="justify">So this blah "poor me" has taken over me. Most of you reading this have never met me. Those of you that do know me know that "poor me" is NOT something I do. It is not only out of the ordinary, it is scary to see me being raw and showing emotion. I am the rock for the family, everyone cries to me. I fix, I show, I do.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><div align="justify">Damn RAD. </div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><div align="justify">So last night I started getting emails from the RAD moms I was going to be bunking with in Orlando. Thank you <a href="http://www.watchingthewaters.com/">Corey Waters </a>for being amazing. This trip, those emails, they came exactly when I needed them. I have to start learing to accept the fact that "I need" other people. I don't feel sorry for me today. I have something fun to look forward too. The girls in my house have been sharing emails telling about themselves, their families, their kids, being honest and open and I found that refreshing and exciting.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><div align="justify">So to all the moms out there that do feel alone, don't. Call me, email me, call a friend or send them an email...or be really crazy, find a lady on the internet that you have never met before and cyberstalk her til she starts telling you the secrets of being a RAD mom. That's how I started. (Thanks <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/">Christine</a>) </div>Brandy-new rad momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16312863176518999375noreply@blogger.com5