Letters - easier than words

This morning was all about letters. We started the day at 5.23 am with a knock on my door saying Snoops wet the bed. After doing the usual things I put him back to bed saying 'it's still early so you should sleep and even if you don't go back to sleep for the love of everything please DO NOT wake your brother'. Of course in 5 minutes I heard both boys were up and being more noisy than usual. When I asked him why he woke his brother Snoops told me it was because 'I don't love you'. This led to a long discussion between him and I and it culminated in him looking angry with me and running into his bedroom slamming the door shut. While I was talking to the little one he passed the first letter to me. 'My heart is broken'.

When I went downstairs to prepare breakfast he marched down the stairs with another letter that said 'I hate you mummy!' (funny though, he only calls me 'Mummy' when he is cross with me, in any other times I am merely 'Mom')

I don't remember now which one of you, lovely adoptive dads wrote on his blog a while back about a similar note, but I remember well his actions so I did the same. I commented on how brave he is to say that to me and expressed my delight that he feels so secure and safe here that he can discuss his feelings with me. I put his note on the fridge door and secured it with some of his favourite magnets. Obviously he was very puzzled and just continued mumbling about how much he hates me. I told him 'that's fine, but I still love you.' 'No, I know you hate me!' Before I could respond Goofs chipped in 'if Mummy really hated you she would kick you out of the house for good'. Well, thanks kiddo, that's technically true, but not a helpful comment at the moment...

Snoops was so terrified of the possibility that his suspicions (I hate him) were correct that he was covering his eyes and could not even look up, let alone look at me. I went through the whole therapeutic damage control of  'of course I don't hate you, I love you very much, you are safe here, you are not going anywhere, you are having some big emotions at the moment, it's ok to feel cross or upset, it doesn't mean you don't love the other person'...etc - the usual stuff I am sure you all know and use on a daily basis.

He kept on saying 'what you say is not true, I know you hate me and I hate you back'. I told him that makes me sad that he feels that way, but that's ok. He then dropped his spoon and ran upstairs. I didn't go after him as I suspected another letter is coming soon.

This latest note said 'I love you so much, but that is not true, I just say it to make you happy.'  Again, taking another deep breath and 'oh, that is a lovely note! I really appreciate your honesty and you are such a kind boy who wants to make me happy, that's very thoughtful of you, I love you and I love this note so thank you so much'. I put this letter next to the other one on the fridge.

Goofs felt left out of the morning drama so he told his brother 'now which one is it, really? You can't hate and love Mummy at the same time. Look at me, I love Mummy so I kiss her <demonstrated> and she loves me back <looking expectantly at me>. After I kissed his cheeky little face he continued 'Mummy, he needs to choose one, right? The other letter should go to the bin!' If I wasn't in the middle of this I would smile at his comments; he clearly wants to fix the problem and doesn't get it that it's not his task, but mine...

Putting on my best therapeutic voice I asked him to go brush his teeth and turned to his brother. We went through the same routine as above and I tried my very best to look at him with love and a smile on my face. He stole a few glances at me and you could almost see the cogs going overdrive in his head. He wanted to believe what was said, but he knew better! Grown ups always lie, they always hurt little ones, nobody likes me, everybody leaves me and there is no way out of this. Ever. EVER!

I kept on talking about the too many big feelings that will make his stomach sick and the 'I wonder if you are feeling...' guessing conversation to show I know how he feels and let him know there is a way out. We eventually got to the point where I could look him in the eye and say 'maybe deep down you love me and you are upset and you feel ashamed and now you worry even more and a good solution would be if you said you are sorry for saying hurtful things to me, I would say it's ok, I would tell you I am not angry, I love you and I forgive you, we would hug and suddenly your big feelings in your stomach would go away...' 

Boy thinking hard if it's worth the risk...
Hours (seconds really) pass by silently...
Boy looks at me over his shoulder...
'Mummy, I am sorry...'

We hug for long minutes, when he sees it in my eyes that I truly am not angry/sad/upset/cross the floodgate opens and he jumps back into my arms sobbing like never before. You could literally hear this heavy burden roll off of his heart and absolution taking over! Then suddenly he ran away again, which was good timing as I was about to burst out crying myself. These are the moments I am reminded again and again why we chose to adopt children. With love and determination it IS possible to change their stories!!!

A minute later he returned with this note: 'I love you Mummy very much and I hope you will have a lovely day (lots of hearts), I love you so much!' And I know this time he meant it with all his heart!

And it's not even 8 am yet!

3 months into Placement...

I have not been blogging for a while and I am sure most of you can relate to me when I say it wasn't because nothing post-worthy happened or I had nothing to say; just the opposite! So many things happened on so many different fronts that my head is still spinning so this post might be a bit of rambling. Blogging sometimes helps me to organise my thoughts and feelings and I am hopeful it will do the trick again...

So, today we passed the 3 months mark - exactly twice the time the boys have spent with their previous adopters before they have given up on them. Is it a success? The SW seems to think so. Most of our friends agree. The boys are still too young to appreciate what a 3 months time period really means (for them a 5 minutes time-in is already 'fooooooreeever'). For us? Well... we are still alive. The boys are still alive. They still live here. Success?

It is impossible to capture what we have been through in the past weeks so I will not even attempt to do that. I was debating with myself while in the bathroom (yes, that is the only place I can get a few minutes of peace, though they still shout 'muuuuuuuuuum' through the door every 15 sec) what structure should I use for this post and for starters I thought stats with comments will do.

Number of times 'Muuuuuuum' was shouted in the house: 135*24*30*3.

The plus side is that both boys refer to us as Mummy/Mum and Daddy. Just the other day we were looking at some of their old photos, all 24 of them! Let's just pause for a second and imagine your 6/7 year old child and the number of photos you have taken of them over the years. Now throw away everything from the first 3 years, select one standard photo with a birthday cake for each year (never mind the different people who stand around them each time), pick a picture with each school uniform and classmates, pick 1-2 blurry shots where their other siblings are there too and a few happy moments from 2016 and THAT IS ALL YOUR MEMORIES. (for those in the know, their Life Story Books are still not done so here is hoping we will have some more pictures later)

But I digress; back to us looking at their pictures. There was one blurry picture of their birth father. Goofs was telling me the misadventures of that one photo and the fights he was in to keep it. So, that was 'dad'. Snoops was confused and asked 'which is daddy? This one (pointing at my husband) or that one (pointing at the photo)?' Umm, yeah, about that, kid... We agreed to refer to the man on the picture by his first name and hubby remained 'daddy'. This is convenient for us, it will make everybody's life easier in the future, but it also stripped away another piece of their past.

Number of pictures taken of them - mostly by me: ca. 1000.

I know it does not make up for the missed past, but maybe with time they will appreciate my good intentions. Out of these we used 24 to fill 2 big picture frames and put them on the wall next to our pictures - apparently nobody has ever done that for them before!

Number of meltdowns in the house (because that is the place both boys feel safe to have one! When others are around or we are out and about they are terrified and 'save it' till it's safe): 23*30*3

This also means some of our friends probably think we are liars or constantly exaggerating about how difficult our daily life is, because they only see 2 little angels...

Number of night terrors: 3*30*3.

Yes, that means we have them almost every night, often 2-3 times a night. Poor little boys developed a sad rhythm; Snoops would wake up screaming around 9 pm; by the time we get to him he is sitting up on his bed, face and pillow wet from a flood of tears, but he himself is not awake. We put him to bed, stroke his face till he settles down. Around 11 Goofs would cry in his sleep, which wakes Snoops up who comes to our room to complain about his brother and demand that we 'make him stop'. Again, I go back to help both boys to settle by stroking 2 faces with my 2 hands simultaneously. Usually around 3-4 am we get a loud knocking on our door; it's always a gamble which boy is there. Either Snoops wet his bed (and here I mean soaked it through completely as they both wet themselves every night but the magic DryNights pullups usually keep it all in) and he can't sleep until we change him and the bedding or it's Snoops again sleep-walking while crying.

Number of useful help/comments we received from professionals regarding the point above: ZERO

Number of fist fights and bruises on bodies (combined score of all 4 of us): 100+

Goofs is a very aggressive little boy with massive control issues and according to the play therapist he wants to punish every adult for his parents' mistreating him. CPV (child to parent violence) suddenly became a daily reality for us. I remember when a friend of mine was talking about it I seriously struggled to believe him, not what he said per se, but the helplessness he felt every time. Now I fully understand it and imagine MY friends going through the disbelieving bits. When Goofs attacks my husband (usually for something simple as 'brush your teeth') we all feel powerless. Me watching this little piece of xxx hitting my husband, his brother as he is just stands there being confused, Goofs as he doesn't do it because he is evil and wants to hurt somebody, but because he feels his control is taken away and his natural flight/fight mode kicks in and also mu poor hubby, who could stop the kicking/punching/biting with one swift hand movement... That would probably diffuse the situation, confirm in Goofs' mind that 'all adults are evil' and it would cause this adoption to break down as well. Naturally, we don't do it. But we can't do either what the play therapist suggested 'why don't you just keep your cool and in a calm and controlled manner tell him you love him and reflect back to him that he is sad and afraid now that is the reason why he behaves this way.' Riiiiiiight! :(

Goofs is also jealous of his brother who seems to have a slightly easier way of settling into his new family and again, his way of dealing with the situation is to punch his brother whenever he has a chance. His latest proof included slamming the car door onto his brother's hand - it's only by God's grace that Snoops' hand is not broken!

Number of play therapy sessions: 1.

20 min with each boy. Nothing to say at this stage except we are sure we will be seeing her face for the next many many years...

Number of times the 'A' word was mentioned: 200+

I am not referring to the general ones, rather to the 2 most common themes: 'Are you ready to put in the adoption order request?' and 'Mummy, when can I have my passport with my new name?' Naturally the first one is from the LA and SWs who keep reminding us that the placement is 'past the 10 weeks mark and is progressing so well that this is the next obvious step'. The second one is much much harder to dodge! The truth is, we don't know when; we don't know if ever (and yes, I appreciate what I am saying here and all the implications). We also don't know what should change that would make us say 'Now we are ready!'  

Number of times we were told 'we are doing sooo well': 3-4*30*3.

Depending on our mood and on the number of fights we already had that day our response varies between 'thanks', 'if only you saw the other 95%, which is usually ugly' or just a quick eye-roll then smile and exit left.

Number of arguments between hubby and me: uhumm.... loads!

They usually start from having slightly differing views on how to raise children, which I suppose is a daily struggle in any birth family, too. But agreeing on how much therapeutic tolerance is too much when he is stealing your money, when he is knocking down your favourite flower pots on purpose, when he threatens to call the police with an allegation because you told him no bedtime story tonight for bad behaviour... Let's just say we disagree a lot and add to this mix a healthy portion of lack of sleep and work related stress and you can understand our predicament...

I have so many more numbers to share with you and hopefully in time you'll get to hear about the number of happy moments that lasted at least 1 hour - I promise as soon as this happens I will write about it!

Whose life is it, anyway?

A month was enough and we are exhausted, depressed and broken (physically, emotionally and financially). I keep asking 'Who is in control here?' We foolishly thought that we would be. The reality is that we have two emotionally disabled children with horrible pasts who keep dragging us back into their terrible early life, they project their bad experiences of grown ups onto us and keep pushing the correct buttons to turn us inside out.

Hubby and I keep looking at each other. The pain and silent cries are visible in both our eyes: 'We can't do this anymore! This is not what we've signed up for...'

I have to drag myself out of the house; make a conscious effort to pick some nicer clothes and get onto the metro that will take me to the city. At 9 am most cafes are not open yet and before I know it my feet take me back to the well known Uni cafe. It's a familiar place with people from familiar walks of life. I recognise the surroundings, the students, the books, the smells... I vaguely remember my life as a student; the carefree lifestyle, the freedom, exam time stress (and believing that passing the next exam is the greatest challenge in life ever). If I had known it back then...

Students thinking about their bright future; graduating - job hunt - interviews - job - salary - freedom - meetups with friends after work - counting the minutes till Friday 6 pm when the fun can finally start... Yes, I vaguely recall that my life used to have fun...

On my way to the cafe I saw well dressed people pass me by; getting on with their lives and daily jobs and I try really hard to recall the last time I had my high hill shoes on (not very practical when you have to run after a misbehaving child). My business clothes are packed away in a box; they sit next to the box that contains fragile or precious objects dear to my heart (hard to keep your cool when they fall victim to the outbursts of  disregulated and angry children).

My gran used to tell me 'when I was your age I already had 2 children' and I would respond 'yes, and I have 2 Masters Degrees'. Now, in this cafe I turn my eyes towards heaven and think: guess what, gran, I caught up with you! You were way too young and inexperienced to know how to parent your children. Me on the other hand...?

The boys managed to reduce me and hubby into depressed zombies who function on leaking batteries and without any will power left to think clearly or to choose life. Joy, my long lost friend, I said goodbye to you, too! I hear you say Post Natal/Adoption Depression. Perhaps you are correct, I wouldn't know...

What I do know is that 5 weeks into this placement I still have to keep reminding people that in many ways what we are going through is the same as having 1 month old twins! They can't understand/accept/imagine of course; what they see is a 6 year old and a 7 year old boy running around the house nonstop...

I don't want to do parent today. I want to do adult only today. But I can't! I have to go and pick them up from school...  

When the Honeymoon is over...

Technically it's only been 2 weeks since Snoops and Goofs moved in with us permanently, but I am fairly certain the Honeymoon period is long but gone forever!

We were told this 'will definitely happen soon' (professionals), 'might not happen for a long time' (fellow adopters) and 'it might never happen' (naive, but well meaning friends and birth parents). Well, it's safe to say the Pros won this round!

On one hand the Pros (Social Workers, School, Play Therapist, Clinical Psychologist) keep saying it is a good thing, because it means they are settling in well and feel comfortable enough to drop the façade and be themselves not to mention they feel safe to express their feelings...etc. And we are expected to rejoice over this!

What they conveniently forget is that they see the boys for an hour every week, but I have to spend the other 23 hours with them every day! I have to pick up the pieces of a challenging day in the new school, I have to stand between them when they are having a full on fist fight or when they are still not asleep at 10pm.

As they settle in more we gradually get to know them better and we are now seeing some patterns and occasionally we recognise a trigger BUT recognising a brewing meltdown and actually being able to prevent it are 2 very different things as you can imagine.

Yesterday started off on a bad note; one kid attacking the other for seemingly no reason. After the cries and shouting stopped we tried to have a civilised breakfast. Snoops wanted to go to Breakfast Club while Goofs didn't. Together we reached the compromise that we will go for the last 10 minutes so both boys can have their wishes at least partially granted. I was walking them to school and from the moment we closed the door Goofs was running away. Snoops was playing well his coping mechanism of  'I am good today so you will have to love me and hopefully you will not send me away' by holding my hand and chatting happily about everything and anything. On the surface it looked like an idyllic picture of a well behaving child, but his over compliance comes from feeling insecure and terrified about his future with us. It breaks my heart every time he does this! He keeps painting things I LIKE and present them as HIS favourites only to see me smile then he asks if I am pleased with him and no amount of reassurance is enough to let him know we will love him even if he hates the things I like...

But back to yesterday morning. Goofs is presenting a 'naughty boy' behaviour by running away from me and doing the opposite of anything I suggest or ask. The school is on the same side as our house so there is no reason to cross the road, but yesterday it did not matter to him and before I could blink he crossed the road without even looking. Naturally my heart stopped and did what every parent would do in this situation: lost my cool and shouted after him to come back. By this point Snoops was getting agitated saying 'it's not fair he can run freely and I can't' and wanted to jerk his hand out of mine to run after his brother. In the meantime Goofs was looking at me with a dare in his eyes and ran across the road a few more times and because he was looking at me he ran in front of a car!

Me (while fighting back a heart attack and an unhappy boy) tried to get closer to him but each time he ran away even further. Thank God in that very moment Hubby appeared from nowhere with a car. He jumped out and went after Goofs while I walked Snoops safely to school. On my way back from school I saw Daddy and Goofs walking hand in hand towards the school. As soon as we got closer Goofs was hiding behind Daddy and refused to even see me or hear what I wanted to say. The shame/embarrassment was so visible in his behaviour that all my anger flew away and all I wanted was to hug him and kiss everything better. But naturally he didn't want to have any of it! I even offered the option of going home with me instead of going to school, but he chose the school and went in. We both kept our cool and in a warm and quiet tone we explained that we have been worried about him, that we love him and that we are not angry with him. He even managed to look at me for a second or 2 and was able to accept a hug from 'his evil new mother', but you could see in his head he was so confused about our reaction. He genuinely expected shouting and physical punishment and if I am honest he wasn't far from receiving the formal from his terrified mother...

Hubbs and I walked back to the car while he filled me in. Goofs ran off into a side street and was hiding there. We already knew that he doesn't like me or accepts my authority (or care for that matter), mainly because in his head it would make him unfaithful and disloyal toward his beloved Foster Carer, while he adores his new Daddy since he never really had one. But we know the Honeymoon is definitely over when he is rejecting Daddy as well and runs away even from him! It took hubby a good 10 minutes to reassure Goofs that he is not angry and will not hit him or shout at him if he stops running. In his little head he figured 'I didn't want to go to school so I disobeyed her so there is no point stopping now and wait for the punishment so I just keep running.' It's actually very logical and makes perfect sense if you think about it... Except that is not a safe solution for anybody, but of course when he is in that stage you can't reason with him!

Fast forward to 3.15 pm he was so happy to see me when I went to pick him up from school. I grabbed his hand and said that from now on this is how we will walk on the street. He just looked at me and asked 'is it because of what happened in the morning, right?' Damn right kiddo! In the house we tried to have a conversation with him about the morning but he would not have any of it. Following the instructions of our SW we made sure he can't leave the room and we tried a non threatening way. We knew it failed when he was using all his force to hurt us as he tried to escape so Daddy had to restrain him, which resulted in him shouting how much he hates us and this house. When hubbs let go of him he ran and hid under the table, but he kept on peeking to see how we react. We stayed on the floor and eventually he calmed himself down and came back to sit in Daddy's lap so we could have a chat. After much nudging he told us he didn't want to go to Breakfast Club because the day before a boy had been nasty to him. THERE! Finally we knew what the real issue was! It only took a whole day of freaking out on both his and my side, an hour on the phone with the SW and lots of tears and punches!

We agreed that 'tomorrow we will not go to Breakfast Club but have a nice family breakfast in the house'. Guess what was the first thing he said to us this morning...

Yup! Daddy walked two very happy kids to Breakfast Club!

THE Day has come! Intros day 1

The day we have been waiting for has finally arrived! I don't think you need to be in our situation to appreciate how nervous we both were! I have had a few share of exams, near death hospital memories, met a few heads of states and royals, had pre-marriage vibes...etc but nothing comes even close to the level of nervousness I felt all day. It culminated during the drive to the Amazing FC house!

(From now on I will refer to her as the Amazing FC because she goes way above and beyond her duty in everything she does for us and for the boys! A few nights ago she recorded a short video on her phone: she made the boys say good night to us and that they are looking forward to meeting us soon! As I said: AMAZING FOSTER CARER!)

We were supposed to meet the SW outside the house and go in together. We both arrived sooner (guess SW was apprehensive too!) and the kids were not back from school yet, so we waited patiently in our car. Hubby even said that the boys have seen our car in the DVD so they might recognise it, but by the time we figured we should park elsewhere the FC's car pulled up. We tried to hide, but those clever little monkeys did recognise the car and practically jumped out of their car and ran towards ours. The excitement on their faces!!!! Those huge smiles!!! Their wide eyes!!! Their silent shouts!!!! (ok, I wipe my tears again and continue in a minute)

That's NOT how we intended the first meet to happen; on the streets, in front of other people! But once they spotted us there was no turning back! So we quickly locked the car (managed to leave all my stuff including phone and tissues inside), quickly grabbed the flowers, cake and the 2 soft toys and walked over to them!

Snoops (7) could not speak; he was just smiling at me with mouth hung open. It was an awkward moment. I managed to say 'Hi' before he said 'hello mummy, it is so nice to meet you'. Hubby just came over and by then Snoops recovered so he ran to him and hugged his legs saying 'hello daddy!' We both swallowed our happy tears and ushered them into the house.

Goofs (6) was inside, a little more apprehensive, nonetheless he blocked the entrance and would not let us in without a hug! Both boys were soooo excited they literally could NOT contain themselves. We expected this... when I say 'we expected this' I mean we were told this might happen; we paid attention during the trainings; we understand their difficulties in regulating themselves, but it's one thing to know in your head and an entirely different thing experiencing it! We were excited too - no question about that! But nothing like them!!! We tried to match their level of excitement; we jumped up and down with them, ran around the rooms, tried to speak louder than them (if possible).

They didn't even realise the SW was there, too, she had to ask for a hug! SW managed to take a few pictures of us for the Life Story Book, it was incredible how easily they cuddled up with us for a photo! Snoops is a quiet and shy little boy - or so we were told. In reality he was in my face and could not shut up! :) He wanted to say soooo much all at once he really struggled to say the words; it was utterly cute! Goofs, the extrovert took an instant liking at the introvert daddy and within minutes he was climbing up on him, pinning him down to the floor and engaged in play fight! Poor hubbs has bruised ribs already!

We of course had to watch the DVD together. They were over the moon, kept on saying to us 'wait for it, daddy will show up in a second!'or 'look, there is you in the kitchen' or 'pause, look, this is my bedroom!' as if we have never seen it before! It was quite endearing!

Our original 1 hour stay flew by in no time. I didn't even notice when the SW left; apparently she said 'we were all so natural together that she didn't need to stay'. I asked the Amazing FC if we should leave; she encouraged us to stay for tea. It was difficult to get the boys to calm down a bit to sit down around the table to eat!

Goofs already started to push the boundaries. The Amazing FC told her to put his feet down; his response: 'I  have a new mummy now, you don't tell me what to do!' I tried to intervene and said to him 'I agree with her, you need to put your feet down!' Surprise, surprise, he disobeyed me too! Dinner was quite chaotic; they were utterly goofy, mischievous and often straight out silly. The Amazing FC had to tell them off quite a few times. She said 'you both have lovely manners, stop showing off now!' This worked for about 2 minutes then it started again!

During dinner we went from 'new mummy' to first name basis to 'hey you' to stepmum (where did that come from???) and back. We are completely OK with this! Poor kids, it must be so confusing to them! The Amazing FC is doing a superb job; she prepared them wonderfully and on the surface they are able to call us Mummy and Daddy, but we are unsure how deep their understanding goes at this point. In the heat of the moment we are back to first names, until a grown up refers to one of us as Mummy or Daddy, then they slip back. We expect this to be the case for a while...

After dinner it was time for the daily reward chart and stickers. They tried to convince me they deserve stars for 'eating breakfast nicely', but when the Amazing FC coughed from the kitchen they both quickly changed their version to 'OK, maybe not today' :) We looked at the calendar together. The Amazing FC wrote onto the calendar what we will do each day and together we counted down the next 10 days at which point they will move in permanently! On the surface they seemed excited about it...

As a matter of calming them down we tried to suggest we play with Lego. Snoops was happy to comply and ran upstairs to pull out the box. Goofs thought that was silly and wanted to play a different game, but he wouldn't say what. He ran out of the room upset, then came back after a few minutes and spilled out that he wants to play 'Tickling'. I was amazed how openly and honestly he is asking for a human touch! Sadly we didn't think it was a good idea so close to bed time and eventually he joined his brother and Daddy in building a Lego car.

Before we left we asked them if there was anything they wanted to send to their new house. We ended up taking a bike (my goodness, they ARE big!!!) and a scooter. Without me prompting both boys told me they will be 'good boys tonight and will go to bed nicely!' (I suspect the Amazing FC had something to do with this!?) Will see tomorrow!

We said our goodbyes, we were back to Mummy/Daddy and 'look forward to pick us up from school tomorrow'. We managed to crawl back to the car, closed the doors and just sat. Daddy's only comments: 'Wow. I have 2 children!'

On the way home I opened a dictation app on my phone to record the day> 'This is Captain Mummy on stardate 23rd May 2016: Today we...' We discussed the day, the feelings, emotions, little things we picked up on, already some concerns we might need to address soon. When we got back home we recorded a few "supplimentals' (all hail Star Trek!) and were ready to crash into bed around 7.30pm.