Adopted: Betwixted and be Tween

My son Builder is adopted. He has known he was adopted ever since he can remember. He knows his brother Bounce grew in my tummy. At three, he told me clearly, I was not his mother. I quickly informed him, although he grew in another Mommy's tummy; (f.y.i., much better toddler word choice than "birth parent" which I had used earlier with him...) I was his mom and his dad and I were very much definitely his parents. Throughout the years we have made a life book, talked about his birthparents, and written letters to them. It is a closed adoption so there are no replies or answers. I wish there were, to give Builder some more information about his "relatives." Maybe as a tween trying to figure out who your are, it would be helpful to have some extra people around to relate.
He is twelve now. Builder is full of ideas of who should be the boss, not us. Who should care, not us. And the daily "Why should I's" or "That's not my problem." He vocally states he doesn't want a brother, his actions reveal he doesn't want a mother, he recognizes he needs a father or perhaps just some adult to help him on his way to independence.
This incredible bravado is hard on the brother, mother, and father. And often the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We just want him to sort of like us and enjoy being around us. Is it really that hard? I do wonder. I know this is completely normal adolescent behavior. Tweens are trying their best to separate from their parents and childhood roles. But sometimes it seems amplified. Is it because of his Asperger's, ADHD, or being adopted? I am not adopted. I don't know how it feels. Tons of research and testimonials say it can be difficult. Maybe I should ask my younger sister. The sister, a year younger than me, that I didn't so much enjoy at my heels growing up. The one I often told, she was adopted, even though she wasn't. After all, there were no pictures of her until she turned two.

How to Handle Birthday Bullies? Or My Child’s Frenemies.

Unfortunately, I know my son is bullied at school. I also know much of the time he probably doesn’t even know he is being bullied or made fun of by his “friends.” He has Asperger’s and ADHD. Understanding social cues and subtle facial gestures is difficult for my sixth grade boy.
I know fully that my son is often inappropriate with the words and actions he uses. However, my son is never mean spirited. He may be callous, cold, and unthinking. He may be insensitive and unresponsive to someone else’s pain, but he never tries to purposely cause it.
Through conversations with my other son, who is neurotypical and a year behind his brother in school, I am informed of the hostile acts and words said to my older son at recess or in the lunch room. Amazingly, my older son believes these other children in his grade are his friends. Ironically, the school staff also believes these other children are my son’s friends.
Well, I don’t. I know some of the children in my son’s grade are bullies. Their acts are planned out, cruel, and intended to be mean. I have seen my son’s face when he knows the Number One bully will be at an event he is going to attend. His face shows extreme fear even as he says hello to the other boy. He thinks they are still his friends. It has become apparent to me they are actually frenemies. By acting as friends, they can further target their acts.
Today, the bullies left the school yard and came to our home. Today was also my son’s 12th birthday. His “friends” decided to put shaving cream in our mailbox, on our cars, pumpkin decorations, and on the driveway. They had made an X, but after some internet research, I think they might have been trying to make a much darker symbol. Because we live in a small town, my husband managed to track the boys down quickly, report their “mischief” to their parents, and have the boys clean up the mess. Mostly.
The two offenders couldn’t erase the mess they had made of my son’s birth day. They couldn’t clean up my younger son’s dismay when he found out who did it and why he thinks they did it. The boys also were not able to get rid of the disgust I feel when I see them on the street skateboarding away.
I wonder if I should follow up. Do I call or email to let their parents know how glad I am the boys did make an effort to make reparations for their actions? Do I also call to say; by the way, what your boys did is vandalism? They could pay a fine up to $250,000 or spend three years in prison. Of course, they would not at this age, too many people are looking the other way when children misbehave, including my son, and often the bullies’ parents.

His Bark is Much Worse Than His Bite

So if you are parenting a child on the autism spectrum, you know your child perceives minor wounds as extremely serious and major wounds as insignificant. Well, parenting the Asperger’s child, you might also know they perceive minor insults as astronomical and major insults as nothing.
Example: your child smashes into doorway head first, gashing open head, remains calm and is fine. Your child accidentally trips on rug, no injury, and is devastated, crying hysterically. As the children get older, it is even more mind-boggling. Nope, the bloody wipe out on the skateboard didn’t hurt; but the imaginary bee sting he didn’t really get is killing him.
As a parent of such child of conundrums, I prepare. He loves bandages, band aids, and medical tape. He often sports medical aids found at Walgreens including ankle supports, wrist bands, and the occasional eye patch.
I am always on a first name basis with the school nurse. I know he uses her office as a refuge from the assault of school life. My little sister always did when she was younger . Apparently she needed the support and break from the classroom. For me, a germaphobe, I would really rather die, than lie on one of those scary cots in a room with no windows. Not my son, I fully expect the daily 10am call. Sure, He can have an Advil, Benedryl, and Calamine. It is the ABCs of nursing a needy child.
However, last week, he actually gave me cause for concern. Almost. He was skateboarding at a nearby park. Within minutes he had returned, crying, yelling, and swearing. A dog had bitten his wrist while skateboarding. Scary, right? Except he was wearing a fleece jacket. And when I checked “the bite” there wasn’t one. But he was very upset. He told me he swore at the dog and told the dog he was going to tear its ears off if he bites him again. He also told me he swore at the owner who had let the dog off leash.
I remained calm. I asked if he was OK first of all. Second, I checked the non-wound and acknowledged its alleged presence. Next, I asked if he truly said those things to the owner of the dog. I admit I crossed my fingers behind my back and thought, “surely not.” He replied, “No, but I thought them.” Hallelujah. Progress.
Progress. Therefore, I felt a need to make sure the dog had no rabies, had its shots, even though there was no wound. I wanted to acknowledge Builder’s obviously scary event. But not build it up or give the incident too much power. On the condition, Builder would stay in the car, we found the owner, or actually the owner’s friends and all the facts were cleared up. Including the bite and the bark.

New Year, New game plan

1. I can't believe my last post was in November.
2. But really I can. It seems like the boys haven't been to school very much in the past 8 weeks with all the vacation days and holidays.
3. I don't really like to write about when things are challenging to me. Who wants to just complain and rant?
4. Things have been challenging around here.

I have decide there is a definite ebb and flow to my Builder's mood swings and behavior. But that is as far as I have gotten. Does it correlate with the moon stages? Does it more correlate with his diet and increased wheat intake? Is he just a terrible tween right now? Is the pressure of behaving at school too much for him that he comes home and we all who love him unconditionally get to be sprayed with his frustrations with life in general? Either way it isn't pretty and doesn't make good copy.
Luckily, I have been taking care of myself and reading lots of books for me. I love memoirs of any sort and read them by the truckload. Because the secret of a good memoir is your life has been hard and full of characters who really were selfish. Plus, these authors have made it out of their life trenches and gained wisdom they are now freely passing on to you! It is a beautiful thing.
This month I have learned, the less you control others, the more control you get and you are responsible for your own happiness. Pretty powerful statements. And the best thing about them, these tidbits of advice are pretty easy to implement into your own life. I do not need to depend on the moon stage, my diet, my students' lack of turning in homework, I just need to breathe and realize my child is who he is. He can go to school looking like Pee Wee Herman (a botched attempt at a home made Mohawk) and still live amid the taunts of his classmates. He can swear at me when he is angry and I cannot take it personally and realize he is frustrated by not understanding his world. I can hold him accountable when he is less angry hours later. I can also give myself credit for being the best mom I can be even if I don't always deserve the title.

Guilty as Charged

The problem with writing your thoughts down on paper or computer, is someday, someone might read them. Or in the case of a blog, you either really want many people to read it or you at least, like myself, kinda want someone, at least one, to read it and relate. However, you are fully aware it is writing being made public on the Internet for anyone to see. It is the exact opposite of my sixth grade notebook writings that were carefully hidden under my mattress. The only audience of those twelve-year-old laments was supposed to be me. Except for the time my mom found it and she cried.

Now, dear reader, you will see what I have been charged with in my latest writing class. A veteran, published author of personal essays has suggested that perhaps my essays, "share the beginnings of real emotion...but stop short of real disclosure." Hmmm...well, maybe. She suggested, "Have I always been a self-sufficient person and therefore asking for help is hard?" Well, I haven't spent much time thinking about that until she asked...but, yes, guilty as charged. Getting feedback on a personal essay gets pretty personal awfully darn fast. I think, I feel, if I ask for help, then I am not succeeding. Or upon further thought, I am not perfect. Not perfect as in perfection, but my all is not good enough. And as a parent of a particularly challenging child on a daily basis, I almost always feel like my all isn't good enough. Now, isn't that the truth?
I wish I could ask my mom if all parents feel like "giving their all" isn't good enough on a lot of days. I know she felt it, the day she read in my notebook, I didn't like her.

1-2-3 magic

The title of this post makes me smile because it is also the title of one of the first books I bought to help me parent when I had an eighteen month old. I had actually ordered three books in a desperate attempt to add some positive discipline and order to the daily rebellion. I was embarrassed enough having to order the books. As an experienced elementary teacher and veteran babysitter, I had believed this parenting stuff to be a walk through the park. And it had been. Until Builder started walking and talking. Strong-willed and spirited child is what the experts like to call these children. My mom and dad would call it payback for my teenage years. But really, I was desperate. The days were getting harder and harder. So, I ordered up some books that were promptly delivered to my neighbor, who opened them, and then delivered them to me. "I think these are yours"...they couldn't possibly be for me , I have 3 girls. Great, I thought, the whole 'hood knows I can't parent. As if they hadn't seen my desperate actions in stores or at the park. At any rate, I read those first books, tried it out, and quickly ordered more heavy duty tomes. My early favorite, quickly dismissed, was the 1-2-3 Magic book...all you really needed to say was 1 - 2 and by the time you got to 3, why gosh darn if the child wasn't supposed to be behaving. Ha. As a teacher, I already knew to count DOWN from three because, the clever kids knew you could count up forever, but always knew you needed to end at zero. I then ordered more books and consulted more experts. The prescription from all of these professionals was usually the same. Add more parent to the child. Play their way. Five positives for every correction. Empathy, then read them the rights. Advice much more constructive and understanding to combat their ferocious need to control their world. However, I have recently gone back to adding some 1-2-3 magic my way. If we need to clean Builder's room, I "pre-clean" it. (Think toss one garbage bag worth out before cleaning the room together) Adding a reference source to help him finish some super hard homework..I supply it. (Think 15 words that have "war" in them) And of course the best way to use 1-2-3 magic is to count them in your head very, very slowly as you decide to turn and walk away from the arguments, defiance, or mess.

Building Strengths for Builder

I am usually seeking, finding, investigating the next step, therapy, or group my son needs. But not anymore. I am looking and finding activities that suit his personality and interests. He is now eleven. Well, not really, but that is what age he tells he is to everyone he meets. I am trying to be attuned to his interests and wants. It is a teeter-totter act. I think. Negotiating with these independent thinkers, we call middle schoolers. It is the fine balance of suggestion and knowledge of your child. Some suggestions will be met with rolled eyes and an "OMG." And some will be met with a "really? cool." But it is up to us as parents to present these opportunities to our kids so they can find a strength, a stress outlet, a friend. This week it is a create and skate class...paint and individualize your skateboard. It's cool.

What It Is

Last month, I had my car window smashed in and my purse stolen. I know better than to leave my purse in the car; but I thought I was in a safe area. I thought, of course it could happen- but it won't. But it did. I was upset and shocked.
However, you quickly get over it. Simply because you have to. There are phone calls to make and cards to be canceled. You just deal and ride home a little bit more breezy than you might have liked.
Thinking more on it...it is very similar to how we deal with a diagnosis of autism or ADHD or whatever else is thrown our way. You deal with it. You start making phone calls. You deal with it immediately and the many months after.
You are upset and a bit dismayed that this situation has happened to you. It is not what you expected to deal with at all. You have always taken every precaution so this type of situation wouldn't happen.
But it does. And it did. And it has changed you. It changes how you interact with everyone else in the world.
You view the world differently than others. You take nothing for granted. You understand when parents talk to their children what they are really thinking and feeling. You know why children are behaving certain ways and why they are not. You have examined every parenting book known to mankind. Your knowledge base is extreme parenting. You want to offer advice, help, and encouragement. But only in small doses so as not to seem obnoxious.
In an effort to help you understand your own child, you now understand most children; yet still not always your own. However, you get it. You understand the others now. It is what is.