Adulting

Primero wants his privileges back. He wants me to resume paying for his music and PlayStation account and GameFly, etc. I’m reluctant to jump right back to where we were. I feel like I was too trusting and I opened myself up for greater pain and hurt because I allowed Primero to have such free reign with certain things. He does not see the correlation between his behaviors and loss of these things and he is insisting the stipend I get from adopting him should be spent on his entertainment and $150 sneakers, plus spending money at his discretion. I’m trying to not start a fight again, but I feel like this needs to be a wake-up call to the reality of adulthood. You can’t take on that mantel whenever you like and discard it when it doesn’t get you what you want. If you are an adult and don’t need someone telling you what to do, then you should be adult enough to pay for the things you want. I feel like this thing will never end, like we will keep circling back to this same issue again and again and before long I’ll be in the same boat with the younger two.  

A Reprieve

I was dreading the three-day weekend after all the difficulties of last week. Despite trying to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Primero, despite ending the conversation with a hug and affirmation that he is still very loved and wanted, even when he acts like a turd, I still felt a sense of dread with a long weekend looming before us. Luckily, it seems like things might actually be settling down with Primero. He stayed home most of the weekend and even helped me with a construction project that involved some serious manual labor. I was grateful for the reprieve and hopeful that we are righting the ship that had gone askew this past month. It was so hard letting go of the doubt and distrust formed from Primero lying to me and then lying to me about lying to me, but if it means we can get back to normal, so be it. Fingers crossed this time it sticks.

 

The little ones and I spent most of the weekend outside. The children have made friends with two neighbor kids and enjoy running around playing together. It has been nice for them to have friends to play with, but it has also presented some problems. Love Bug is much younger than the other kids and they get easily frustrated with him. He had to be called home early on Monday because he was spitting on one of the older kids. There is also a safety issue with the kids running back and forth across the road. I have been scolding them and showing them how to look both ways before crossing since stopping their crossing proved futile. Our street isn’t particularly busy, but accidents can happen quickly. Chica Marie had gotten a free bike from CHOR and we had some issues getting the training wheels on it. Then, because the wheels are cheap plastic, one is already broken. Sigh.

 

I feel like I did a lot of work over the weekend but have little to show for it. Primero and I replaced the back fence in the backyard. The old one was falling apart and the dogs were able to get out. Unfortunately, removing the old fence proved problematic because the trumpet vine I planted years ago had grown into the fence. So, in order to get the fence down, we had to hack apart the very large, tree-like trumpet vine bush. We did manage to get the new fence up, but it was a little shorter in length than our old one and still not 100% complete since we have some more finagling to do with it. I managed to clean out the side flower garden, which was no small feat. I need to buy mulch to prevent the weeds from coming back. The backyard is the real issue. It is a mess from the kids and the dogs. My flower bed has been razed from the dogs running through it. Most of the grass is dead and what is not, are mostly weeds. I want to put in a patio and build a wall around the flower bed. I feel like I lack the skills to do this. I am thinking about paving in half of the backyard, but I’m fearful we will miss the grass. Still, I need to do something because it’s such a hot mess at the moment. I also need to replace our back porch because it’s in sad shape from the wear and tear. I will need to have that done professionally because I’m fairly hopeless when it comes to building things. I wish I could, I wish there would be a way for me to learn how to do it, but until then I will have to rely on professionals. Hopefully next year I can afford the back porch replacement. In the meantime, I’m going to work on getting the other things in order, bit by bit.

The Parent's Fault

Parents are dammed if they don’t and dammed if they do; we are simply stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. In trying to come up with new strategies to help Primero and our seemingly never-ending saga of disrespect, disregard and lying, I had been reading various articles online. It seems there are two schools of thought when it comes to teenagers who are legally adults. One school of thought is, if the parent(s) have done a “good job” raising their child(ren) then they should have no trouble handing over the reins to their new “adult” and if said adult rebels or acts disrespectfully well then clearly the parent is at fault for whatever was done or not done in the previous 18 years. The other school of thought is that a young adult still needs parental guidance, steering and advise and should be expected to comply to household rules until or unless they can fend for themselves financially. The stance is, this is my house and you must live by my rules, period. I find both sides lacking, especially when it comes to a young adult who was adopted as a teenager. So, totally unhelpful for me and Primero.

 

I waited up for him last night. He came home after midnight. We talked. Again. I’m trying to let go of a lot of things, like him lying about lying to me and his inability to see what a douche he’s being, because I want us to move forward. I’m pretty sure I’m working on an ulcer with all of this stress. I haven’t been sleeping well, which is nothing new to me but it’s at an all-time low in terms of restlessness. Sometimes the stress makes my stomach ache and I simply cannot eat – which is new to me! Usually, I over-eat when I’m worked up. I like to feed my emotions, a la fat girl style. I feel lost and scared and hurt and worried and I don’t want to keep this up. Keep doing the same things, keep getting the same results, right? So, I want to try to work on rebuilding my relationship with Primero. A few days ago I had taken the stance that it was Primero’s job to mend fences between us, but he seems both unwilling and incapable, so I’m working on it.

 

For the first school of thought regarding parenting teens and young adults, I call bullshit. My own family is a perfect example of how two parents can have drastically different results parenting three children. My sister and I were fairly easy teenagers. Not that we didn’t have our moments, but nothing we did held a candle to my brother. He was one of those horror story teenagers and his antics negatively affected the entire family. My parents didn’t treat him any differently growing up or if they did it was because he was a boy. He has self-imposed estrangement from the family and has no relationship with anyone, barring my father and even that is minimal. My parents tried the second school of thought to some extent. I know they expected my brother to follow the rules and contribute to a harmonious household. My brother refused. Now, where does that leave you Custer? Are you willing to die on this hill as your last stand? Because a particularly defiant young adult will push you to that point and then shove you right over the cliff. Could I have thrown that ultimatum at Primero? Sure. But, I doubt very highly that it would have gone well. And, if my ultimate goal is to have Primero become a responsible, contributing member of society, how does tossing him out into the streets achieve the desired outcome? It doesn’t.

 

I have been trying to determine what is really going on here. Clearly, we are in some “grown up” growing pains. We are both caught between trying to let Primero fly but also holding him accountable and staying on the path to success. I know a lot of this has to do with his co-dependent unhealthy relationship with his friend. But, I don’t understand his sudden contempt for me. And I really don’t understand why, after four years together, he has started lying to me about everything. Big lies, small lies, lies he won’t confess to even when I confront him about them (He actually demanded proof! He wanted actual physical evidence, like he’s some detective!). There is some underlying issue that I clearly don’t understand. I have tried digging it out of him, but he is very resistant. It hurts me that he has made me out to be his enemy when I am squarely in his camp. Team Primero all the way!

 

Earlier this week I was so upset at his blatant disrespect that I actually contemplated issuing the get-along or get out ultimatum. I never thought I would get to the point where I wouldn’t want my own son living with me, but I was just that upset at all the lying and defiance I didn’t know what else to do. Fortunately, I managed to not shoot off an angry text (although, to be honest, I did type said text and delete it about 4 times). That is not how I want this story to go. One thing that steadied my hand was thinking about how my parents managed the nightmare that was my teenage brother. Never once did I hear them talk about kicking him out. And he did a lot more awful things than Primero. I know it was my dad, my mother told me in later years that he would never dream about kicking any of his children out of the house. I know Primero is cavalier about finding a place to stay if I were to ask him to leave, but deep down I think it would crush him. Thinking back on the life he has lived, he had been kicked out of every other home he was in until now. I could not do that to him. And, as I mentioned above, it really wouldn’t help him. He needs a home, a steady home with firm boundaries and forgiveness for his teenage folly and hubris. It might make my life easier to not have to wait up until midnight and talk until 2 am with a surly young adult. It might make my life easier to not have a screaming match over the phone about coming home on a school night. It might make my life easier to not have to call the school and see if he attended any classes on a given day. It might be easier to not change the keycode or hide the car keys. But, hey guess what? No one in the history of ever said parenting was about taking the easy route. Primero will learn a lot more if I hold fast and push him to be mindful about the rules and go to school than if I dump him in the streets. Might he learn to be more grateful for what he has if it is suddenly taken away? Perhaps. But, at what cost? Thinking he is disposable, like he did when he first moved in? Thinking he didn’t matter so it doesn’t matter what he does? That doesn’t seem to be the makings of a responsible member of society, now does it?

 

So, I make my own school of thought on parenting an adopted legal adult. And my school of thought is this. My son is his own person and I will not be held accountable for the choices he makes as an independent being. His poor choices are not a reflection of me as his parent. I am not totally off the hook because he does need guidance and he does need consequences and that is my job right now. He will not be forced to leave the house before he is ready to do so, but he will find a lot of privileges have been revoked until he is able to follow the household rules, of which there are few. I hope we find a way to reconnect and I will keep trying until the day that I die because that is unconditional love. I might not like him right now, but I do and always will love Primero. And, my hope is I am making decisions from love and not anger. I am choosing to let go of the pain I feel from him lying to me, in hopes that it can help us renew our relationship and move forward positively. Please, dear God, let this work!     

Needing Understanding

When Primero didn’t come home Tuesday night, I changed the keyless entry code and the master code. I realized, for too long he has had power over too many things. He controls the Netflix account that I pay for. He controls his Tidal and GameFly accounts, that I pay for. He knew the master code to the keyless entry. He can access the cell phone account and he used to be able to move money from my bank account to his own, but I stopped this a few weeks ago when he took off because he got angry at me. I am slowly taking away these privileges because he clearly cannot be trusted to have so much control. He hasn’t spoken to me. He left his school shoes on the floor and the dog chewed them up while I was outside playing with the children last night. I’m sure he blames me. This morning he left the house early and lied to me that he was going to school early. On the drive into work I was listening to a representative from the local animal shelter talk about this dog named Moon. He is only 5 years old but Moon has been in and out of the shelter all his life. He is scared, even though he is a very large dog, and so he reacts negatively when people approach him. As they described how great this dog is and how he just needs someone to understand him and work with him, I started bawling. So many people are fearful about giving a home to an adolescent in foster care. So many people wouldn’t put their heart on the line to go through what I am going through right now. It’s hard and it’s scary and I don’t know the final outcome. I’ve poured my heart and soul into Primero these last four years and I love him dearly. I won’t stop loving him. But, at the moment I simply don’t like him. I don’t know why or how he has become this irrational, angry young man who thinks he can do whatever he likes to do with no repercussions. In the past, when he got in trouble, he would take the consequences and while he might not like them, he seemed to realize it was his own fault. Now, everything is my fault. It’s like he is growing backwards, in terms of maturity, instead of forwards. He is regressing to a young teenager rebelling just for the sake of being able to rebel. I feel like I can’t reach him and not just because he isn’t talking to me at the moment. We have talked several times since things started getting hairy a month ago, and yet almost immediately after our talks he went right back to the bad behavior. And each time it seems worse. How do I get him to stop lying to me? How do I get him to turn this around, to stop running off, to go to school, to work his summer job and just be his kind self again? It seems the only person he is willing to talk to is his toxic friend. I wonder what his friend has been telling him? To leave and come stay with him? Primero is used to the creature comforts of our home. How long would he last without them, I wonder? I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to make this all better. I wish I didn’t feel like it’s my brother all over again.  And I won’t relive that experience.

Grown-up Temper Tantrums

Primero is consistently throwing “grown up” temper tantrums. He seems to think he can do whatever he wants to do, and since he is legally an adult, I can’t stop him. He chose to not come home last night, after fighting with me when I told him he needed to be home by curfew. He was at his friend’s brother’s place doing Lord knows what. Two nights ago, he drove the van in the middle of the night, without permission after I told him the brakes weren’t good. And he lied to me about doing it. Just like he lied to me about sneaking his friend into the house after I asked the friend to leave. Just like I’m sure he has been lying to me about so many things. He has become a person I don’t even know, much less like. Last night with his antics, I came very close to simply kicking him out. He can’t live by my rules (which I think are reasonable) then he doesn’t need to be in my home. Anyone who knows me knows it would take a lot to get me to this point because the last thing I want to do is lose Primero. But, I’m tired of how he is treating me and I done with putting up with his cocky arrogance and childish defiance. We keep talking and talking and talking but it never seems to penetrate his thick skull. He is getting to the point where it seems he needs to learn this lesson the hard way. He think the stipend I get for adopting him should be his spending money. No matter how many times I explain the money is used to keep a roof over his head, lights on in the house, food in his stomach, and gas in the car, he seems to think I mismanage the money and should be spending more on him and the things he wants. Like the GameFly account I already pay for, or his Tidal music account and iTunes account, or the Amazon Prime membership so he can buy things using my money and have them shipped for free, or his gym membership and accounts to Hulu and Netflix. He wants for nothing. He has plenty of fun gadgets and I agreed to give him $40 a month spending money (he chose to spend $20 of it on his gym membership). My parents stopped buying my clothing when I got a job. They never paid for me to go to the movies or go out with friends or order pizza whenever I wanted. They kept a roof over my head and paid my car insurance, but if I wanted to drive their car I needed to put gas in it. And they only paid my car insurance while I was in school and getting good grades. Primero has had summer jobs but he spends the money almost as soon as he makes it and doesn’t have much to show for it. I don’t know why he has become so irrational. I asked if he was doing drugs because his personality is so different and he seems to angry all of the time I believed his brain chemistry was altered. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get my sweet, understanding Primero back. He blames me for his lying, telling me he can’t talk to me because I just throw things back in his face. I am hurt. I am disappointed. I never thought this would be how he would act. I keep hoping something will shake him out of this. Last night, before I went to bed, I changed the code on our front door lock (it’s a keyless entry). I don’t know what else to do to impress upon Primero that his behavior is unacceptable. He doesn’t know it yet, but if he returns to the house he will find out that he no longer has van privileges and I don’t know when he might get them back because I can’t trust him. I don’t have much power, but there are some things I can control and I guess that is where I need to make my last stand. Mostly I feel like my stomach is being slowly torn out of my body and my heart hurts so bad I’m always on the brink of tears. I don’t want to keep living like this and I won’t. My beloved Primero feels lost to me and the pain is nearly unbearable. Like so many, many things in my life, this too shall pass.

Life is Hard

Life is hard right now. I’m sitting here, typing with my sunglasses on because I have a migraine developing. Many times my migraines are tied to stress, it’s my body’s safety valve when the stress gets to be too much. A migraine forces me to stop, rest, and reboot. It is most likely going to become an on-going problem. There are a lot of things stressing me out at this point. Life just feels so hard…

 

• Primero and I continue our roller coaster of friction and irritation with one another. He has lied to me and told me half-truths so much I hardly trust him anymore. He seems to always be angry with me, even when I’m not upset with him. We are dry kindling just a match away from an inferno. We talk, we try to settle things and put it all to rest, only to find another flare-up almost immediately after quashing the first flames. I worry there is something more going on with Primero, something I don’t know about that is really getting to him. I wish I felt like he was telling me the whole truth, but I fear he is not. I don’t know what to do, other than keep trying. It’s hard.
• I’m still trying to process the events of the weekend with the kids and their grandmother. I just wish things weren’t so hard and complicated. I wish we had better communication and that I didn’t worry so much about the children visiting and what they were allowed to do that I wouldn’t permit. Love Bug was doing something disturbing to a doll yesterday that had me worried about what the kids might have viewed on their sister’s tablet….
• Things have been rough again with Chica Marie. Last week she was defiant with her teacher, refusing to comply to even simple requests and burning through a whole host of activities while not giving one single f*uck at losing privileges. She was caught gyrating in front of a group of boys and allowed another child to take her earring out and lose it.
• Love Bug has gone a few days without peeing on himself but I’m not holding my breath. He has been acting in ways that remind me of his sister and it’s hard to see him being defiant in a way he never was before.  
• The rescue seems to think I’m not doing enough for our foster dog, Skye. I’m not socializing her enough or whatever. Skye does fine in our home with our dogs. I don’t have other dogs at my disposal to have her spend time with them and I would worry too much to take her to a dog park because she is half pitbull and looks like a pitbull and if she so much as growls at another dog it could be a problem for her.
• The pathology came back on the lymph nodes the doctor removed during my mom’s surgery two weeks ago. The doctor said he wasn’t overly concerned about them but he was wrong. The pathology showed cancer. My mom was in the hospital for nearly three days for an impacted bowel. My dad is worried she has cancer in her stomach. Other than the three rounds of chemo she already has planned, I’m not sure what more they are going to do. I know my mom was adamant about not wanting to continue chemo therapy if her time is limited. I feel like my world is falling apart.
• Work is hard with this new program we have started. Work used to be my steady thing, the thing that didn’t cause me stress. That is no longer the case. It’s hard.
• The daycare handed out fliers last week regarding their financial woes. They might raise the rates. My rates already increased because the children are no longer in foster care and, while we still qualify for a subsidy, it has increased by $84 per week.
• I think my grandmother is depressed. She misses my grandfather and the other side of the family has been squabbling with her. She isn’t as active as she had been in the past. I wish I could do more to help her.
• There are more projects around the house than I know what to do with and it’s hard to find time to get them done. Not only that, but I feel like I lack the proper skills to accomplish the tasks and so many of them I cannot do without help and, since things aren’t going well with Primero, help is not something I have much of at the moment.

 

I just need a break, a small one, a moment in time where things aren’t broken and I can breathe. It does not seem forthcoming. Lord have mercy on me.

Control Issues

The little ones spent the weekend with their grandmother. She invited them over to watch their sister run a 5k race. While they were visiting, Primero and I drove six hours to upstate New York to move Esperanza back home. It was a long grueling trip because we returned the same day (so, six hours up, six hours back). We did spend a hot minute at Niagara Falls, which was pretty cool. When we dropped the kids off, Grandma took a picture of them and posted it on Facebook. Their older sister (who is pregnant) posted that she wanted to see them. She has seen them two, maybe three times in the nearly 4 years they have lived with me. Last year, when we had the sibling picnic, I finally had a chance to meet the older siblings, except two who were not allowed to attend. I gave out my phone number, I suggested the other family contact me to develop a relationship with the little ones. No one took me up on the offer. It seems, from my perspective, that Grandma wants to control who gets to see my children and when. And, I’m not really ok with that. Grandma took the kids to see their older sister. Chica Marie thinks it’s so awesome that her sister is pregnant, she bragged about rubbing her tummy. The last thing in the world I want is for Chica Marie to think it’s cool to have a baby before you can drive a car. Grandma also bought the kids fancy new shoes because their shoes got muddy. It’s mud. Clean them off. I put the shoes in the washer since they are canvas shoes. She bought Chica Marie shoes that light up, which she will want to wear to school but I will not let her because they will be a distraction. Grandma mentioned to me they are thinking of going to Disney World next year and wants to take the kids, or maybe just Chica Marie. Um, no. Hard no. I feel like she does not respect me, she clearly has no issues doing what she wants when she wants to do it. There is no way I would let her take my children out of state. Especially not after the whole incident last fall, with her wanting to take Chica Marie and refusing to talk to me about it. What makes you think I’d be willing to let you just whisk my children away, so far away? Clearly I am angry. I’m trying to determine what is at the heart of my frustration with Grandma. I am trying to mentally see how I would feel if it were my mom doing these things and how I would react. I mostly wrote this to try to mentally work through it. I thought about texting Grandma that I’m not happy she took the kids to see their sibling without contacting me. Am I just going tit for tat on a control issue? Am I being unreasonable? I want to refuse to let the children sleep-over and just have visits where I’m present. This way there won’t be any surprises…..

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Disconnected

With all the up’s and down’s with me and Primero I half expected him to flake on the TV segment for CHOR. He agreed to do it a few weeks ago, when my family worker first contacted me about it. The plan was for me to take him there and be in the background as moral support. There was another young man who had been in foster care when he was 16 and is currently a firefighter with a local department. I knew the CHOR PR woman, since I had been on the same segment with her a few times and when we arrived she delightedly cried, “Oh good! You can be on today too!” Oh great. I was not having a good hair day and was totally unprepared to be on the air, but sure why not? Yolo amiright? I didn’t have time to think it all through as we were ushered in front of the cameras. Primero said some very nice things about me as he told the tale of us becoming a family during the taping and afterwards I bought him lunch on his way back to school. When I got back to work I text him, saying I was sorry for getting injected into the taping when I didn’t feel like I should have been there. I was surprised by his response, “Being there honestly opened my eyes a bit and made me realize again why it was that something told me you were the one that should be in my life…. I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate how much you do for me, you do go over and beyond for me and I know I take that for granted and I apologize for being suck a dick… I’m working on that honestly I am.” It’s a start. I feel like we have a lot of healing from this recent spat. As I told Primero, “The beauty of having a parent is knowing you can take them for granted and yet they will always be there for you. That is unconditional love. Part of growing up and maturing is realizing you should appreciate your parents and other adults who help you become the person you want to be. You don’t need to be grateful for being adopted, that isn’t something you asked to happen to you. But, you should recognize and be thankful for what you have in life. I do for you what I can because I want you to be successful in life, in whatever way you define success. I love you.” Hopefully, we can start mending fences and reconnecting….

The Weight of the World

Have you even felt so overwhelmed by life things that it became a feeling of physical weight on your chest, pushing down on your shoulders, bowing your back and crumbling your knees? This was my experience this past weekend and I am still struggling to put down this heavy load. What could be causing such crushing feelings of defeat and anxiety you wonder? After all, most American moms were basking in the glow of Mother’s Day glory this past weekend…. Here are all the things….

 

1. Even though the surgery for my mom went as well as possible and the indications from the doctor all seemed positive, we are still waiting on the pathology results and she still has three more grueling rounds of chemo. So, she is in the clearing but not yet out of the woods. Her body has been through so much these past four years that she is struggling to recuperate at the pace she is accustomed to and this, plus all the pain (both physical and emotional) is taking its toll and her spirits are rather low. It’s been hard. And being unable to do anything to help, sitting by and watching this unfold, is also hard. Fingers crossed the pathology backs up the doctor’s belief that things are going ok and hopefully once she completes the chemo she is done with cancer for good.
2. Primero and I have been dealing with on-going issues. We are disconnected and my attempt to reconnect us was a dismal failure. I feel like I am losing him. Friday evening I wanted him to watch the kids so I could visit my mom in the hospital and go to dinner with my sister, brother-in-law, and father afterwards. Primero wanted to go to his friend’s house. I wasn’t asking him to not go, I was asking him to postpone going until I got home. But, he refused and his unwillingness to compromise, especially given where I was going, hurt me. Even worse than the fight and my tears as I marched the kids from the house, was coming home and finding a note from Primero. He was angry, he thought I was being unreasonable, he had his clothing and school clothes and I shouldn’t bother looking for him. That note, the threat of him leaving for the entire weekend or longer, it cut me so deep I felt the pain physically. I ugly cried as the weight of the world descended on my shoulders and the crushing mass squeezed me into mushy goo. I could scarcely catch my breath. I had written a 4 page note to Primero, then tucked it away and simply wrote, “Dear Primero – I love you. Love, (My Name). P.S. We need to talk….” And I laid the note on his bed.
3. Love Bug has been surly lately. I don’t know if it is growing pains or what his deal is, but his latest trick is to urinate on himself when he gets angry at someone. He has done it at home and at daycare. At daycare he has hit two of his teachers. He has also been defiant in a way he wasn’t before. It was hard taking them everywhere with me over the weekend. I hate grocery shopping and I really dislike grocery shopping when I need to take both the kids with me. They were acting wild, not listening, running, yelling, and it was unbearable. It was hard keeping them quiet in the hospital, thus why I didn’t want to take them. It was hard when I took them to the bank and Love Bug wanted candy and I didn’t have a quarter but even if I did it was only 10:30 and not time for candy. It was hard. I don’t like how hard it is, I don’t like how miserable it makes me to be around the children. I don’t know how to stop the madness. I almost left Love Bug at the hospital because he wouldn’t walk down the stairs.
4. In addition to how unpleasant our errands became, the children pulled a prank at home that made me livid. They found a tube of lipstick in the bathroom. It was handed to me on Saturday and I wasn’t that upset about it being destroyed but I should have been more instant on learning what was done with it. Chica Marie insisted she did not take it, did not touch it, had nothing to do with it. Until I discovered on Sunday that she used it to draw on her wall, on her bed, on her bed sheets. I made her clean it up and I was so angry that she lied to me I told her she was grounded for the rest of the week. As I was preparing them for their baths, I discovered they also scribbled on the window screen with the lipstick and when I was inspecting the screen I noticed they had managed to open the screen (the window was open because we hadn’t turned the AC on yet) and toss toys into the backyard. This was not only a problem because of the mess but also because it was incredible unsafe. What if they had fallen out of the window onto the basement door below? They could have been really hurt of worse. I was so angry I exploded all over the kids in the bathtub and sent them crying and sniffling off to bed.
5. Before the above happened on Sunday, Mother’s Day did not go as planned. My mom thought she was going to be discharged from the hospital, which is a good thing, except my sister and I planned on bringing her some muffins and celebrating Mother’s Day with her in the morning so my sister and brother-in-law could hit the road on their long jaunt back home. So, when she text us before 8 am saying she was just waiting on Dad to get there to take her home, we scrambled to come up with another plan. Ok, a quick muffin breakfast at home! Only….. Have you ever been discharged from a hospital? It takes an exceptionally long time to happen and so while my sister, brother-in-law and two rowdy kids and I drove my grandmother batty, my mom was “being discharged” for several hours until she made It home around 1 pm. We spent some time with her at my grandmother’s house before heading home. Primero did not go along with us, he stayed home and text me off and on throughout the day. I decided to make chicken noodle soup for dinner when I got home around 4. I thought Primero would eat with us because, you know, it was Mother’s Day and all. I had done a good job of not having any expectations up until that point. The dirty dishes were left unwashed in the sink, just like any regular Sunday. The laundry dutifully waited for me, just like any old Sunday. The house was in its usual state of disarray, just like most weekends. But, this one small thing. Dinner. I thought it could be spent together as a family. Primero chose to clean his room instead. Ok, maybe he will come upstairs and spend time with me when he is done. He did. For about 20 minutes while he ate his soup. And then he declared he was tired and went to bed, giving me a hug and saying, “Oh by the way, Happy Mother’s Day.” Later, when I was still doing the laundry, he came out of his room to ask me what was wrong. I told him it would have been better if he had kept his mouth shut because then I could pretend his didn’t realize what day it was, rather than the off-handed mouth-service to the day. The rawness from Friday evening came pouring back over me, washing me in it’s painful grief once again. And I was mad at myself for letting it hurt me because I spent a lot of time telling myself there were no expectations for the day. I guess it’s too much to ask for a little appreciation.
6. While we were visiting my mom at my grandmother’s place (they live in separate houses on the farm) my sister and mother commented on how rambunctious the children were being and how they were exceptionally disobedient and inattentive. I tried expressing how ADHD affected their behaviors but my sister insisted she had ADD and my mom interjected that my brother was hyperactive and yet they were not as misbehaved as my children. Coming on the tail end of the rough weekend I was having, why not a little mom shaming? So, it’s me? I’m the problem? Not the trauma they faced during their formidable years? Oh, ok.

 

I’m glad the weekend is past us now. I’m glad I have a year to recuperate before next Mother’s Day…..

Give Grace Today

The concept of Mother’s Day is lovely – a day set aside to recognize Mom for all she does in the lives of her children and family. It is a very nice gesture and at face value one would be hard-pressed to find any fault in this line of thinking. Except…. It’s exclusionary.

 

Mother’s Day is a hard day if…..

 

                …. You have lost your mother and spend the day wishing she were here to take to brunch or give her a card, or at the very least a hug

                …. You have a rocky relationship with your mother and find it hard to celebrate or are estranged and not connecting at all

                …. You are infertile and the simple act of becoming a mother alludes you, leaving you in the murky limbo world wondering if….

                …. You are a mother who is not with her children, either by choice or by force, the day will leave you aching for what could have been

                …. You are not with your biological mother and struggle to connect to the woman who is now parenting you or perhaps find it difficult to walk the fine line between your two mothers feeling like any choice you make will make one or both of them unhappy

                …. You wanted so badly to be a mother but life had other plans and so you are living without the child(ren) you thought you would have

                …. You have experienced the loss of a child or pregnancy miscarriage

                …. You live far away from your mother and won’t be able to see her on this day (or your children live very far away from you and won’t be able to see you on this day)

                …. You are a single father (or two fathers) and finding a way to make this day relevant for your children can be challenging        

 

So, for me Mother’s Day is a day I just need to give grace. Grace to myself for feeling so many negative things. Grace to my mom for all the things. Grace to my kids – one who finds it a hard day and two who are too little to know. Grace to all the well-wishers chirping a “Happy Mother’s Day” and not knowing the baggage that it holds. Grace to the advertisements (why has this years theme been finding a way to make mom cry? Why must Mom cry?) touting their wares as a way into Mom’s heart and good graces. Grace to the other women out there struggling with this same day. I hope everyone is able to find the space to grieve what they need to grieve, leave what they need to leave, and be thankful for the joys great and small.

Stages of Grief

Anticipation is often much worse than whatever thing is being anticipated. The feeling of dread the reminder pops back into your head, giving you a jolt of fear and zing of anxiety is often times much worse than enduring the event itself. I’ve been dreading Mother’s Day since I remembered last week this day is coming. It pushed me back into the beginning stages of grief – shock, denial and anger. This day, again? The memory of dashed hopes and dreams paraded through my mind like a bad TV flash back. I felt the weight on that old worn-out path, the self-pity and self-loathing. Coming into this week I moved into the bargaining phase, thinking I could avoid the day if we just went away somewhere. I tried to make the day not about me, but about my children, my mom, women in general, but quickly fell into the depression stage. And this is where I sit. Just plain bummed that Sunday is just two days away and I cannot stop it. Currently, we have no plans. If my mom is feeling up to visitors we will go to see her in the hospital, take her a card and some flowers and pray the children can keep quiet and calm for just a few minutes. Primero only discovered last night that Mother’s Day is this weekend. It seems like he might be making plans with a friend. I am training myself to have zero expectations, to think of the day as just another Sunday. Perhaps this is my form of acceptance?

Tenth Anniversary

Ten years. It seems like a life-time ago. It feels like a different person who was walking down the aisle ten years ago today. That other person had a very different take on how the past ten years were going to play out. She could not have been more wrong. It seems nothing went as planned. Life got messy and difficult in an unexpected way.

 

Ten years ago I had no idea I would be marking this day alone, no longer tied by the vows made in my parents front yard with the birds serenading us. On that day, infertility was just something that happened to other people. Divorce was not on the radar. Foster-adoption was an entire unknown. The day was beautiful, I was in love and that is still evident in the pictures, the ones I hide in my closet keeping that past life in my past. Ten years, it would have been such a happy milestone. I wonder if he even remembers the date? I don’t really care. He is a thing of the past.

 

I’m not exactly sad today. I’m not totally indifferent either. I feel more resigned. This is it, this is where my journey has taken me. I glance back, acknowledge the path, but I’d rather focus on the future. I might never find another man I’d be willing to vow to love forevermore. I haven’t had much luck in that category. It’s better to be alone than miserable with someone, at least this is what I tell myself. I wasn’t miserable with my previous boyfriend but I also wasn’t falling in love with him. I thought I had a chance with someone else until I discovered he was definitely uninterested in anymore children, miracle biological baby nor adopted. I’ve been alone long enough that it doesn’t scare me anymore.

 

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In other news, my mom’s surgery went well. According to my dad, the small nodule on her lower bowel was dead, so the chemo did its job. There were a few curious lymph nodes but the doctor wasn’t too concerned about them. They removed her peritoneum but didn’t have to remove any bowel. She still has a long road to recovery, including three more rounds of chemo. But, in a bad situation, this is the best news.

Users Gonna Use

This thing with Primero’s friend has still not died down. I knew that Primero was too involved in this friendship in an unhealthy way but I didn’t realize just how toxic it has been on him. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about not having his friend around but I didn’t realize how nasty he would become, how hurtful standing firm by my boundaries would cause Primero to nearly come unhinged. I know in the past Primero professed having romantic feelings for his friend, but he swears up and down that they are just friends. His friend is a user; he does not reciprocate in the friendship as I know my friends do. Rather, this young man is always needing something from Primero; a ride, food, shelter, someone to talk to about his issues, help fixing his romantic relationship. Primero eagerly provides these things, only he doesn’t really, I do. Primero doesn’t pay for the gas to run his friend around, he doesn’t pay for the food, he doesn’t provide shelter, all of these things come from my pocket, thus the reason I’ve put the kibosh on the whole deal. And, since Primero can no longer provide for his friend he sees the friendship waning. Just the other night he thought I would be ok with him waking up at 3 am every morning to drive his friend to work over 30 minutes away. Um no. But, he will pay! Yeah, I’ve heard that before and he never ponied up the cash, so no. Not to mention that Primero has the shittiest attitude about school and is failing several classes and doesn’t care, so no. Just no. Last night Primero was angry because I wouldn’t allow him to have his friend over while the little ones and I attended the foster care banquet at CHOR. No, I don’t want this kid around, not at all. I want my Primero back, I want my son who has turned into this monster because I won’t play along with his friends exploitation. I don’t know how to get Primero to see that this young man is not a true friend. He readily admits that his friend uses him and he’s ok with it. He wants to be needed by this friend. I keep hoping if I keep the friend at arm’s length he will find someone else to exploit. I feel like a rotten mom for allowing this young man to gain such a hold over my son, but at the same time Primero is implicit in allowing it to continue.  I keep hoping it will all soon end. Fingers crossed.   

Trust Issues

Grandma has invited the kids over for a visit next weekend. Mini Momma is running in a three mile race and Grandma thought it would be nice for the little ones to be there cheering her on. She asked to have the kids sleep over the night before the race. This is the same weekend I will most likely be driving an excruciating 6 hours (one way) to fetch Esperanza and her things to move her back home. I need to make up my mind about what to do with the kids, yet this decision feels very hard to me. I don’t want to be so far away from the little ones when they are visiting Grandma. Especially when my travel time depends on so many things out of my control. As the family therapist said, “It’s telling that you trust the 18 year old more than Grandma.” But, it’s true. Not only because of what happened in the not so distant past, but also from what seems like lack of structure and supervision, plus the sense that Grandma tries to cut me out of things, like developing relationships with siblings and whatnot. So, yeah, I do trust Primero to watch the kids when I’m not there versus sending them to Grandma’s. And, while I do think having the kiddos there is a nice gesture, in reality Love Bug will hate it and Chica Marie will most likely whine, a lot. I assume Grandma will take their older cousin along because it seems she spends a lot of time watching Love Bug. He likes her, so that’s a good thing, it’s just standing around watching a race really isn’t his thing. Chica Marie might be excited to go along, but her excitement will soon turn into annoyance when she is left sitting and watching others run. Unless she is given some form of screen entertainment, which I use so sparingly. It is effective in distracting the children, which is precisely the problem.  If the kids are sleeping over and their past sleep-overs are any indication, Mini Momma won’t be getting much sleep the night before her race. The girls are known to stay up watching movies on the iPad, making for some sleep-deprived girls. Love Bug is not given a nap when visiting, so he often returns grumpy as well.

 

As it stands right now, I told Grandma we might be away the weekend in question. I would honestly rather not spend the majority of the weekend stuck in a car with the two kids, so I would be hard pressed to bring them along. Due to some issues with Primero and his unwanted friend, I’m hesitant to leave him home alone, without the kids being there. He would be a better ride along buddy, but I think it’s a hard sell for him. Grandma demanded dates the little one’s might available and I told her, at the moment my life is kind of on pause because it depends on how my mom’s surgery goes on Thursday. I need to keep myself available to help her recuperate and keep fighting this awful disease. Grandma offered to take the kids, if need be, and I said thank you, but in my mind that would only stress me out more, so um no. It’s not going to happen. So, I still owe her some dates for the kids to visit because I don’t want there to be an issue, although I don’t know what could become of it since all the kids are now officially adopted. I wish things weren’t so strained between us, it would be nice if I could trust her, but it is what it is.  

It's a Small World Afterall

We have lived nearly four years in the same town as the little one’s mother and have never accidentally bumped into her. Until this past weekend, that is. I took the kids to the local Cinco de Mayo festival and we weren’t there long when we encountered a familiar face. Their mom confessed she was nervous about approaching us, which I can understand. The kids haven’t seen her since the summer of 2016. I had tried to connect with her a few times, but she changes her phone number so often, it’s hard to keep up. I snapped a few pictures of her with the kids, mostly for Chica Marie because she craves information about her mom. But, when I asked her how I could get them to her, she suggested I ask her mom. At one point, I thought she had flaked out on us, since she insisted on going to buy the kids a snack (Love Bug was hangry at the time and since he saw someone with an ice cream cone, he was demanding one), but we waited for what seemed to be a much longer time than it should take. We tried walking to the CVS to find her, only to see the CVS was closed. I really started worrying, thinking she left and now I needed to explain to the kids. But, just after I bought them shaved ice, she popped back up with a bag of goodies. She explained she had to walk 2 blocks to find a bodega to buy some goodies. Love Bug was mostly unfazed by seeing her, he doesn’t really have a memory of his mom. Chica Marie was soaking up the attention, having her mom hold her and dance with her. I thought Chica Marie might have a reaction after the whole exchange, but she didn’t seem phased by it all. One thing she seemed stuck on was when she kept calling her mom “Mommy V” instead of just saying mommy. I told her she could call her mom mommy and she thought that was strange. I explained to her it was fine to call us both mommy because we were both her mom’s and she seemed satisfied with that explanation. Love Bug, living in his own little world, was mostly just excited to have snacks.

 

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Parenting is Hard

Primero and I had a disagreement with one of his friends staying at our house and popping up when no one was home. I was adamant about the friend leaving and Primero was just as adamant about the young man staying. We squared off, each taking a corner. I tried to be reasonable, I have the kid a choice. He could re-enroll in high school (he recently dropped out), enroll in a GED class (I gave him the information about two programs), or get a job. I made it very clear that sitting on my couch and playing video games all day every day was not a life style choice I was supporting. I gave him two weeks, setting a firm date. Week one went by and he did nothing, made no visible effort. As week two was ending I asked him about how his job search had been going, giving him the information again about the GED program. The day his time was up, he messaged me stating he was expecting a call about a job in two days. I guess he thought I would give him more time. But, I was firm, this was not ok with me not to mention the fact that having him home and on the TV/PlayStation all day long was really driving my electric bill through the roof. This in addition to an extra mouth to feed and whatnot. So, he left. Except he didn’t. Primero was letting him come back to the house behind my back. And *DING* we are knock-down, drag-out fighting. No holds bar. I tried to remain calm, tried to remain reasonable, tried to get Primero to see reason. He was so angry, spitting angry. And so he spit at me the harshest things, the things he knew would cut me to the quick, deep and painful. I tried telling myself he didn’t mean it, he was just angry. But, I physically feel the pain from his tongue lashing. My soul hurts from him telling me we don’t have a mother-son bond, demanding I stop calling him my son because he wasn’t my son anymore. He threatened to leave, to walk out and not come back. I reigned myself to his absence. I don’t know what changed his mind, but thankfully he decided to meet me at home after work to talk about everything. There was still a lot of anger, but it seems we are over the hump at the moment. I still worry the next shoe will drop when I tell him I don’t want his friend back over for a long, long time. Parenting is so hard!

Mother's Day PTSD

My mother is scheduled to have her major surgery on May 10^th. This date would have been my tenth wedding anniversary, in a life where my husband wasn’t a cheating jerk. But, if you are living in the U.S. and not under a very large rock, you happen to know May the tenth is awfully close to the dreaded Mother’s Day celebration. Ugh! Every year I think, “I’m going to get through Mother’s Day gracefully” and every year I’m the total opposite. This year, I feel like I have Mother’s Day PTSD, especially after last year’s ordeal. I would gladly eschew the entire holiday, except that is not an option with my mom/family. Usually I just grin and bear it, then sob later when I’m alone. It has never occurred to my family to do anything for me, since my children are young and I don’t have a husband. I think my sister got me a card once. This year, because my mother will be in the hospital, I feel like I am free to do whatever I want. What I would really, really like to do is go away. Go anywhere but home. Go and forget that it’s the dreaded day. Go and just reconnect with the kids, somewhere without cell service and social media interruptions. Alas, this is not possible, but a girl can hope can’t she? If I had the equipment, I’d take the wee one’s camping (there’s no way on this earth Primero would go camping. I don’t even think he’d be down for glamping). I still feel the obligation to visit my mom and take her some flowers. I’m sure it would hurt her feelings if I didn’t do a little something. My sister had talked about visiting for Mother’s Day weekend, but I don’t know if she will now that my mom will be recuperating. For me, just realizing that this date is fast approaching is making me feel anxious and depressed. I’m dreading it, wishing it was already over. Intellectually, I know I should do something for myself, practice some self-care, but this feeling of impending disaster makes it hard for me to think clearly and logically. I wish I had a fairy godmother who could wave a magic wand and amazing things would appear. But, I’m not Cinderella and magic isn’t real (sorry Harry Potter fans), so I will have to decide to find a way to celebrate myself or get out my blinders and totally ignore the day.

Know Better, Do Better

I posted the following on Facebook, just gently pointing out how I felt,

"I wasn’t going to say anything, I was going to keep quiet, keep it to myself. But, in light of National Infertility Awareness Week #flipthescript, I’m going to try to voice something, hoping to not offend anyone. You see, I think when we know better we can do better and so I’m putting this out there, hoping we can develop some traditions that celebrate non-traditional ways of becoming a parent and creating a family. Where I work, we like to celebrate things. We have a chocolate fest/contest on Valentine’s Day, we recently hosted an international food day and we celebrate one another when happy things happen, like people retiring, getting promotions and having babies. In the past 6 months or so, there have been 3 baby showers at work. Now, I have personal issues when it comes to baby showers, so I don't attend because ugly crying is frowned upon at such occasions of joy. Still, I support celebrating a mom-to-be and her pending little one. I think it's a lovely thing to celebrate to shower the new momma and baby with necessities and adorable baby clothes. Two weeks ago I also became a mom, although I had no swollen tummy to show for it. Still, it was a happy thing, an official addition to our family. Sadly, it went wholly uncelebrated at work, barring a few hearty congratulations. Perhaps, the adoption wasn't very well known, since there were no outward signs of the impending addition to my family. So, I get it. There aren't any traditions regarding adoption like there are for biological children. But, maybe shouldn't there be? Is my motherhood less than because I don't have stretch marks and a birthing war story? Are my children less deserving of celebration (please note, I'm not trying to get things. A simple card would have made my day) because they didn't grow inside of me? Couldn't the finalization of our adoption be "showered" just like an impending baby? My point to all of this is to get you to think. In the fertile world there is tradition to celebrate adding to your family. Why shouldn't adoptive families have the same recognition? So, if you know a parent or parents-to-be waiting for that day when they officially become family, find a way to make them feel special, just like you would for a biological family. Because we all deserve our happiness to be celebrated."

I was worried it might offend or upset someone, because I'm friends with various co-workers on Facebook. I was pleasantly surprised when I got positive responses, thanking me for helping them to see things differently. And, two co-workers went together and got us a card and gift card to a local mini-golf and ice cream place. Apparently, they have a friend who is in the process of becoming a foster-adoptive family and what I said resonated with them. They never thought to recognize adoption in a similar vein to a biological child. As they said, it wasn't on their radar. So, I'm glad I didn't hold back, I'm glad I posted something even though I felt uncertain and worried. I'm glad that there are two more people in the world who "get it" in a way they didn't before. As I said, if you know better you can do better. Kudos to them!