Friday, June 19, 2009
It Helped
Follow-up: My "pep talk" about next school year helped the kids very much. They have been their usual sweet selves ever since. When asked, they say they feel good about next year. I won't be surprised if they cycle back to the fear or anger, but I am glad that there's something I can to do help them feel better.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Regressing
It had to happen: Each kid, in his or her own way, is responding to the end of the school year by regressing.
K has let her imagination take her back to when she was younger. She has for weeks been demanding to put her head under my shirt to make me look pregnant. She will then drop on the floor and go "Goo bah!" as my new baby. If we let her, she'd have us carry her everywhere and spoon-feed her. She freely admits that she wishes she were a baby so she wouldn't have to think about first grade. She has a constant stomachache and is constantly finding new ways to test old rules to make sure her home life isn't changing. Just now she told me she didn't want to go to school today; when questioned, she said she didn't want to say goodbye. (Her last day is a week from today.) FWIW, I responded that her teacher knows hows she feels because every kid feels that way. I explained that learning to say goodbye is part of kindergarten, and her teacher would teach her how.
M is back to wetting his bed and fearing abandonment. He feigns tears several times a day as a bid to get his way. Most heartbreaking, he cried last night when I put away his "loot bag" after he'd eaten his customary after-dinner piece of candy: he is regressing to remember privation, or maybe unjust punishment, or anyway something very sad. For 21 months we have rationed Hallowe'en and birthday candy by giving each kid his or her own bag to keep it in and permission to choose one piece per day. Last night, M wouldn't let me put his bag away in the usual spot until I raised my voice, and then he started to cry. Not sure what was going on, I asked him why. The answer: "You took my candy!" He wouldn't stop even when I reminded him that it's his, that I was putting it away for him like I always do, that nobody but him was going to eat it, that he would see it the next day. Even K couldn't console him.
Here's something that I hope helped. When I put M to bed a little while later, he wailed when I attempted to leave the room. So I invited K in and had conversation with them that I'd planned the night before while lying awake worrying.
The main points:
1. The end of the school year might be hard for them because it's a big change. Their move from Russia was a VERY big change, so they might be reminded of it even though the end of the school year is small in comparison. ("We're still your family, we're not moving, you don't have to learn a new language," etc.)
2. Because they made that huge change, they already know how to make changes. Even though they might feel scared or sad or angry sometimes, they are strong and brave. (K flexed her muscles here.) Everything they need is already inside them.
3. They will not feel this way very long. (K pointed this out. M denies it.)
After this conversation, they both slept like rocks.
I got maybe 3h, myself.
K has let her imagination take her back to when she was younger. She has for weeks been demanding to put her head under my shirt to make me look pregnant. She will then drop on the floor and go "Goo bah!" as my new baby. If we let her, she'd have us carry her everywhere and spoon-feed her. She freely admits that she wishes she were a baby so she wouldn't have to think about first grade. She has a constant stomachache and is constantly finding new ways to test old rules to make sure her home life isn't changing. Just now she told me she didn't want to go to school today; when questioned, she said she didn't want to say goodbye. (Her last day is a week from today.) FWIW, I responded that her teacher knows hows she feels because every kid feels that way. I explained that learning to say goodbye is part of kindergarten, and her teacher would teach her how.
M is back to wetting his bed and fearing abandonment. He feigns tears several times a day as a bid to get his way. Most heartbreaking, he cried last night when I put away his "loot bag" after he'd eaten his customary after-dinner piece of candy: he is regressing to remember privation, or maybe unjust punishment, or anyway something very sad. For 21 months we have rationed Hallowe'en and birthday candy by giving each kid his or her own bag to keep it in and permission to choose one piece per day. Last night, M wouldn't let me put his bag away in the usual spot until I raised my voice, and then he started to cry. Not sure what was going on, I asked him why. The answer: "You took my candy!" He wouldn't stop even when I reminded him that it's his, that I was putting it away for him like I always do, that nobody but him was going to eat it, that he would see it the next day. Even K couldn't console him.
Here's something that I hope helped. When I put M to bed a little while later, he wailed when I attempted to leave the room. So I invited K in and had conversation with them that I'd planned the night before while lying awake worrying.
The main points:
1. The end of the school year might be hard for them because it's a big change. Their move from Russia was a VERY big change, so they might be reminded of it even though the end of the school year is small in comparison. ("We're still your family, we're not moving, you don't have to learn a new language," etc.)
2. Because they made that huge change, they already know how to make changes. Even though they might feel scared or sad or angry sometimes, they are strong and brave. (K flexed her muscles here.) Everything they need is already inside them.
3. They will not feel this way very long. (K pointed this out. M denies it.)
After this conversation, they both slept like rocks.
I got maybe 3h, myself.
Monday, June 15, 2009
"Mad" and Other Feelings
M is mad. Angry, that is. Angry that preschool is over, that he may not see some of friends next year in school, that the adults in his life make the big decisions. He takes it out on all of us, but especially K. I asked him this morning, "If you go downstairs and get dressed, do you think you'll be able to keep your hands to yourself, or would you like me to come down and help you remember?"
(A pause) "I need you to help me."
One of the many ways Peter and I are blessed in raising these two particular children is that they are good at expressing their emotions. They talk to us honestly, telling us as much as they know about what they're feeling and why they think they're feeling it. Within days of getting custody back in 12/06, Peter and I began teaching them the English words for emotions; within weeks we began telling them that it's okay to feel more than one thing at a time.
So what do we do when they express emotions that are difficult to cope with?
First, we validate. For example: "Good job telling me. I know you don't feel good right now, but there's nothing wrong with feeling sad." Or, "I understand you're angry with me. I'm angry with you, too. But I'm still your mom and I still love you." Or, "Lots of kids make that mistake. What you're feeling is called 'embarrassed.' I used that potty word I was your age, and I was embarrassed, too."
Second, we witness. We might have to wait until the child is calm enough--and we usually give the child the choice of staying with us or leaving the room to get control--but then we do whatever it takes to live through the feeling with the child. We ask the child to draw what he or she is feeling, or we put on loud music and ask to watch a dance about it, or we supply pillows and soft toys for throwing, or we just offer to hold him or her.
Third, we respond to whatever we've been shown and ask for more. The idea is to help the child understand that we have the capacity to embrace as much as they can feel. "Wow, you must be pretty angry!" or "That picture shows me how sad you are. Can you draw me an even sadder one?"
Fourth, we let them lead us to whatever they need next. K usually wants to cuddle with or groom us. M usually wants to go back to playing or grubbing for bugs.
This morning, M got over his funk on his own. Maybe it helped him to know I was willing to back him, maybe not. I am about to pick him up from daycare/secondary preschool and we'll get about 45 minutes together before K comes home. I'll see how he is.
(A pause) "I need you to help me."
One of the many ways Peter and I are blessed in raising these two particular children is that they are good at expressing their emotions. They talk to us honestly, telling us as much as they know about what they're feeling and why they think they're feeling it. Within days of getting custody back in 12/06, Peter and I began teaching them the English words for emotions; within weeks we began telling them that it's okay to feel more than one thing at a time.
So what do we do when they express emotions that are difficult to cope with?
First, we validate. For example: "Good job telling me. I know you don't feel good right now, but there's nothing wrong with feeling sad." Or, "I understand you're angry with me. I'm angry with you, too. But I'm still your mom and I still love you." Or, "Lots of kids make that mistake. What you're feeling is called 'embarrassed.' I used that potty word I was your age, and I was embarrassed, too."
Second, we witness. We might have to wait until the child is calm enough--and we usually give the child the choice of staying with us or leaving the room to get control--but then we do whatever it takes to live through the feeling with the child. We ask the child to draw what he or she is feeling, or we put on loud music and ask to watch a dance about it, or we supply pillows and soft toys for throwing, or we just offer to hold him or her.
Third, we respond to whatever we've been shown and ask for more. The idea is to help the child understand that we have the capacity to embrace as much as they can feel. "Wow, you must be pretty angry!" or "That picture shows me how sad you are. Can you draw me an even sadder one?"
Fourth, we let them lead us to whatever they need next. K usually wants to cuddle with or groom us. M usually wants to go back to playing or grubbing for bugs.
This morning, M got over his funk on his own. Maybe it helped him to know I was willing to back him, maybe not. I am about to pick him up from daycare/secondary preschool and we'll get about 45 minutes together before K comes home. I'll see how he is.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
End of School Year #3
It's the end of the school year, which is hard on every kid. It can be especially hard on adopted kids. These kids may have memories of losing everything; If they don't have memories, then they may have feelings of being cast off.
Our kids are reacting more or less in the way we expected, maybe a little better.
K, being 6, is behaving--well, like a six-year-old. She is two ways about everything. She is the tender big sister to M, ready to forge ahead to first grade and talk him through his transition behind her to kindergarten, but she is also snappish with him as a mask for her sadness about leaving her own kindergarten. She is excited about her growing independence, but she also hides her head under my shirt several times a day so she can be "born" as a baby. She proudly tries out new, obnoxious behaviors but is remorseful and even embarrassed when we don't like them. She defies us and, the next moment, clings to us. She has so much difficulty deciding between any two options--say, whether to eat an apple now or later--that I am doing a lot of teaching about how to make decisions. (One of my depression symptoms is difficulty with decisions, so I have some heuristics.)
Other mothers tell me, "She'll be a handful when she's a teenager." Oddly, I don't feel as worried about her teen years as I used to be: She is proving to be a compassionate person, eagle-eyed to aid the young, the small, the weak, and the lonely. Although she can hold her own in verbal "girl fights," she never instigates them and prefers not to associate with those who do. She could probably whip any kid in a physical fight, but she won't. She likes the company of kids of either gender with a good imagination, a happy outlook, and a kind family. K has a hard head, yes, but I think we've managed to turn it toward us: she seeks to please and emulate us more than anything. She likes to lead and to know what's going on, so we're trying to evolve family tasks that will allow her to do so. She's a strong person, but so am I. I tell people, "We try to help her use her superpowers for good instead of evil."
M, at 5, is ending his career as Big Man On Campus at preschool. He feels genuinely sad. Last summer he was so sad at school year's end that he dictated a note to leave for his teacher. This year he seems less concerned about leaving the teachers but more sad about leaving his friends. We've been talking for some months about how he's made lots of friends since arriving from Russia, and how some of his friends will surely be in his class next year, and it seems to help. We can tell something else is bothering him, or he's forgotten, when he starts bedeviling K: she seems to represent SCARY THINGS ABOUT KINDERGARTEN to him. Interestingly, M admits to being afraid that everyone in his class will be bigger than he is. He's average sized and rather stronger and more agile than his classmates. We wonder whether his fears are usual "boy" fears or whether they come of his having been so powerless during the previous important changes in his life. When prompted, he says he's angry that grown-ups get to decide what's happening to him. Peter and I have always found that he responds well to being given choices; I expect we'll figure out how to help him cope.
I have never been worried about M's teen years because I think he's essentially a kind and reasonable guy. Even as a rowdy three-year-old, he blossomed as soon as we made it clear that we considered him a good person who could learn rules. From then until now, he has asked what the rules are and will articulate his confusion when they are not followed. He is unusually interested in and tender with younger children and animals; we take pains to compliment him on his empathy. He loves to tussle with his playmates, but they say he's not as "fighty" as some other kids, and girls find him gentle enough to play with. He is always coming up with creative ideas for play, so he is always at the center of whatever fun is going on.
That's it for now. I have to run and pick up M, then K.
Our kids are reacting more or less in the way we expected, maybe a little better.
K, being 6, is behaving--well, like a six-year-old. She is two ways about everything. She is the tender big sister to M, ready to forge ahead to first grade and talk him through his transition behind her to kindergarten, but she is also snappish with him as a mask for her sadness about leaving her own kindergarten. She is excited about her growing independence, but she also hides her head under my shirt several times a day so she can be "born" as a baby. She proudly tries out new, obnoxious behaviors but is remorseful and even embarrassed when we don't like them. She defies us and, the next moment, clings to us. She has so much difficulty deciding between any two options--say, whether to eat an apple now or later--that I am doing a lot of teaching about how to make decisions. (One of my depression symptoms is difficulty with decisions, so I have some heuristics.)
Other mothers tell me, "She'll be a handful when she's a teenager." Oddly, I don't feel as worried about her teen years as I used to be: She is proving to be a compassionate person, eagle-eyed to aid the young, the small, the weak, and the lonely. Although she can hold her own in verbal "girl fights," she never instigates them and prefers not to associate with those who do. She could probably whip any kid in a physical fight, but she won't. She likes the company of kids of either gender with a good imagination, a happy outlook, and a kind family. K has a hard head, yes, but I think we've managed to turn it toward us: she seeks to please and emulate us more than anything. She likes to lead and to know what's going on, so we're trying to evolve family tasks that will allow her to do so. She's a strong person, but so am I. I tell people, "We try to help her use her superpowers for good instead of evil."
M, at 5, is ending his career as Big Man On Campus at preschool. He feels genuinely sad. Last summer he was so sad at school year's end that he dictated a note to leave for his teacher. This year he seems less concerned about leaving the teachers but more sad about leaving his friends. We've been talking for some months about how he's made lots of friends since arriving from Russia, and how some of his friends will surely be in his class next year, and it seems to help. We can tell something else is bothering him, or he's forgotten, when he starts bedeviling K: she seems to represent SCARY THINGS ABOUT KINDERGARTEN to him. Interestingly, M admits to being afraid that everyone in his class will be bigger than he is. He's average sized and rather stronger and more agile than his classmates. We wonder whether his fears are usual "boy" fears or whether they come of his having been so powerless during the previous important changes in his life. When prompted, he says he's angry that grown-ups get to decide what's happening to him. Peter and I have always found that he responds well to being given choices; I expect we'll figure out how to help him cope.
I have never been worried about M's teen years because I think he's essentially a kind and reasonable guy. Even as a rowdy three-year-old, he blossomed as soon as we made it clear that we considered him a good person who could learn rules. From then until now, he has asked what the rules are and will articulate his confusion when they are not followed. He is unusually interested in and tender with younger children and animals; we take pains to compliment him on his empathy. He loves to tussle with his playmates, but they say he's not as "fighty" as some other kids, and girls find him gentle enough to play with. He is always coming up with creative ideas for play, so he is always at the center of whatever fun is going on.
That's it for now. I have to run and pick up M, then K.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The Parenting Belt Ranking System--a start
If parenting were a martial art with belt rankings like karate, what tests would we experience for each level?
Here are some of my ideas, organized by challenge category. There are plenty more categories, of course. I welcome, and will post, your suggestions. I'd especially appreciate input from parents who have more experience than I do with babies and teenagers.
ILLNESS
White: Child has fever
Yellow: Child has cold
Green: Child has vomiting or diarrhea
Brown: Multiple children, and not all are sick
Black: Multiple children, not all are sick, and you are sick yourself
INJURY
White: Child sustains injury with bleeding, tears, blaming, and mess
Yellow: Child has surgery
Green: Child has allergic reaction, head injury, animal bite, or other trauma
Brown: Green belt test with added challenge of parenting other children at the same time
Black: Brown belt test with added challenge of children not speaking the same language you do
SCHOOL
White: Homework assignment needs completing on short notice
Yellow: Homework assignment conflicts with home culture
Green: Parent-teacher conference
Brown: Volunteering in child's classroom
Black: Volunteering to introduce your home culture to the class
SHOPPING
White: Grocery store with one child and a budget
Yellow: White belt challenge with a time limit
Green: Yellow belt challenge with more than one child
Brown: Green belt challenge in a toy store, all kids are boys
Black: Brown belt challenge with at least one girl
TRAVEL
White: Child is awake in car for more than 20 minutes
Yellow: White belt challenge plus child is carsick
Green: Flight, boat, or train ride of more than an hour
Brown: Green belt test plus added challenge of multiple children or illness
Black: Brown belt test with both added challenges plus not speaking a shared language
Here are some of my ideas, organized by challenge category. There are plenty more categories, of course. I welcome, and will post, your suggestions. I'd especially appreciate input from parents who have more experience than I do with babies and teenagers.
ILLNESS
White: Child has fever
Yellow: Child has cold
Green: Child has vomiting or diarrhea
Brown: Multiple children, and not all are sick
Black: Multiple children, not all are sick, and you are sick yourself
INJURY
White: Child sustains injury with bleeding, tears, blaming, and mess
Yellow: Child has surgery
Green: Child has allergic reaction, head injury, animal bite, or other trauma
Brown: Green belt test with added challenge of parenting other children at the same time
Black: Brown belt test with added challenge of children not speaking the same language you do
SCHOOL
White: Homework assignment needs completing on short notice
Yellow: Homework assignment conflicts with home culture
Green: Parent-teacher conference
Brown: Volunteering in child's classroom
Black: Volunteering to introduce your home culture to the class
SHOPPING
White: Grocery store with one child and a budget
Yellow: White belt challenge with a time limit
Green: Yellow belt challenge with more than one child
Brown: Green belt challenge in a toy store, all kids are boys
Black: Brown belt challenge with at least one girl
TRAVEL
White: Child is awake in car for more than 20 minutes
Yellow: White belt challenge plus child is carsick
Green: Flight, boat, or train ride of more than an hour
Brown: Green belt test plus added challenge of multiple children or illness
Black: Brown belt test with both added challenges plus not speaking a shared language
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Marriage Strain
Not what you think. We're getting along fine. The problem is that we never see each other. Peter works long hours and some nights and weekends; I take most meals with the kids, manage them without him, and must go to bed not long after he gets home because I need more sleep than he does. He is more absentminded than he wishes he were, and I scold more than I wish I did, but our affection has not been diminished by parenting--if anything, it's been strengthened. We're just sad that we don't have the time or energy to show it. Lately, we've been getting out alone together maybe once every couple of months. We've had privacy, time, and energy at home all at the same time very seldom. I miss the man I married.
I have read a bit about marriage changes during the early parenting years, but of course all I can find is about parenting from birth, not parenting from the age of mobility-but-no-sense. Anyone out there, are you aware of anything we might read about marriage changes during older child adoptive parenting?
I have read a bit about marriage changes during the early parenting years, but of course all I can find is about parenting from birth, not parenting from the age of mobility-but-no-sense. Anyone out there, are you aware of anything we might read about marriage changes during older child adoptive parenting?
Time, But No Time, to Let It Out
This week I am down to 7.5 child-free hours because M's after-school program is over. I love being with the kids, so that's not the problem; the problem is that I have so much other stuff to do. But the good news is that I am going to a writer's retreat over the weekend, so I'll get to sleep, I mean write, while I'm there.
The pace of life so far this week amazes me. You might recall that M has morning preschool and K has afternoon kindergarten. And that it's the end of the school year, when fund-raising and teacher appreciation events happen, as well as spontaneous outdoor play dates requiring supervision ("Do you have sunblock on?" "NO! Do NOT touch that three-leaved plant!" "If you need my help to get up there, you should not climb it." "Please put your shoes back on....Oh, dear; let me get the splinter kit.")
I am able to write this entry now because Nancy is covering for me. I'm on my way to therapy in a little while. I have been crying a lot lately, after having dreamed about crying for a few weeks prior--my usual harbinger of a depressive episode. The crying feels good, necessary, as though I'm unburdening myself of long-held-in emotion. I guess moving, getting married, gutting my house b/c of water damage, leaving my job, adopting, and moving to a new house has been a lot of hard soldiering in the last five years.
While writing this, I've been texted by a teenage member of another adoptive family. Their kids are older than ours. The entire family has been working hard and well to overcome some tough obstacles. The parents don't use chat clients or Facebook, and I do, though I'm rarely at a keyboard long enough to indulge--but when I am, I check up on the kids. I do not know why this one texted me, so I'd better go see.
The pace of life so far this week amazes me. You might recall that M has morning preschool and K has afternoon kindergarten. And that it's the end of the school year, when fund-raising and teacher appreciation events happen, as well as spontaneous outdoor play dates requiring supervision ("Do you have sunblock on?" "NO! Do NOT touch that three-leaved plant!" "If you need my help to get up there, you should not climb it." "Please put your shoes back on....Oh, dear; let me get the splinter kit.")
I am able to write this entry now because Nancy is covering for me. I'm on my way to therapy in a little while. I have been crying a lot lately, after having dreamed about crying for a few weeks prior--my usual harbinger of a depressive episode. The crying feels good, necessary, as though I'm unburdening myself of long-held-in emotion. I guess moving, getting married, gutting my house b/c of water damage, leaving my job, adopting, and moving to a new house has been a lot of hard soldiering in the last five years.
While writing this, I've been texted by a teenage member of another adoptive family. Their kids are older than ours. The entire family has been working hard and well to overcome some tough obstacles. The parents don't use chat clients or Facebook, and I do, though I'm rarely at a keyboard long enough to indulge--but when I am, I check up on the kids. I do not know why this one texted me, so I'd better go see.
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