DEAR EVERYONE

This note in Z’s handwriting was in the last round of paper recycling:

“Dear evryone,

how know me

my family thinks that I don’t beylong on this family.

they hayt me”

I brought it up the day after I found it. Obviously lots to talk about. But the first item of discussion regarded the top line(s).

“So…with ‘Dear everyone’…do you think you meant everyone on earth?” I wondered.

She shrugged. Knowing Z, that was quite possible.

We pored over the next line, which neither of us could decipher. And since Z did not remember writing the note, we were left to speculate.

Suddenly Z figured it out: she meant 

“Dear everyone

who knows me”!

Oh, right. That’s all.

“When do you think you might have written this?” I asked.

“When I was mad?”

“Why were you mad?”

“I dunno.”

“Do you think maybe it was because you did something you shouldn’t have done and got busted and had consequences?”

“Maybe.” (Reluctantly.)

“Maybe?”

“Actually…Yes.”

“Do you think you got in trouble because we hate you and don’t think you belong in this family or because of something you – who we love and who belongs in this family - did?”

“Because of something I did?”

“Yes! That’s right!” Then, to be sure, I asked, “Do you ever feel like we hate you or you don’t belong when you are not angry…like if you are sad or even just on a regular day?”

“No!”

But is getting mad really the key issue here? I thought not: “…Honey, do you ever feel upset because you were adopted?”

“No!!!!”…expressed with No hesitation.

“Oh.”

That was a few days ago.

Last night, Z was sent to bed after dinner because of Fresh Attitude toward her brother and mother, despite several extra chances. She had a giant tantrum, with lots of banging and throwing, and then she fell asleep. Later, as I went upstairs to tuck in her brother, I found this note on the landing:

“Dear Mama and [G].

i am relly sorry that I have been Bad for a long time.

i going to triy to be good but i don’t thik i can.

i love you both

[Z]”

The note was heartrending. No one has to my knowledge ever told Z she was BAD! Plus, we always tell her she can do ANYTHING! It didn’t seem to me that she was making excuses  either – she genuinely thought she might well be unable to “be good.”

A thoughtful reader JUST sent me this timely link: http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/07/31/i-do-not-want-my-daughter-to-be-nice/?emc=eta1&_r=0 . We love and celebrate Z’s power; we never ask her to be “nice.” We only ask that she treat the people around her with basic kindness (different from niceness!) and respect. Sure, sometimes this doesn’t happen for a variety of reasons, some of them “normal” and some of them “disordered.” Nonetheless, she’s a terrific kid! How has she come to believe – at least in that moment – that she is fundamentally and irreparably “Bad”? 

Into the night, while practicing meditation, while trying unsuccessfully to sleep, I kept asking myself, “What does she need? Does she need me to be kind and encouraging? Strict and boundary-setting?” I thought of different people I know and how they might approach the situation. Wise people. Clever people.

And then I thought of all the people I know who, like Z, question their place in the world and their own abilities.

For so many of us, the worst struggle we encounter is that with ourselves. I see it with my students all the time: some students start strong and then lose steam without family support or the confidence that they can follow through; others begin with resistance, with the attitude that they lack whatever it takes to learn. It’s not always possible for teachers to reach students in these positions, hard as we may try. Feelings of trust (of self and others) and belonging can be elusive in ways that are positively debilitating, especially for people with questions about their place in their families and peer groups. Ideally, the basis for healthy self-acceptance and –confidence and trust is established at home and in those early relationships

If only I could figure out how to approach Z’s notes and her feelings of not being able to be good, not belonging, being “Bad,” maybe I could spare her the persistence of some of these grueling conditions into adulthood. Unconditional love and acceptance are always the way, right? But does Z need “cut-the-malarky-and-just-be-good-y” unconditional love or “I-acknowledge-your-deep-inner-pain-y” unconditional love? Both? Something else?

…these are among the many questions I asked myself before finally nodding off…

Wouldn’t you know it, all our energy this morning went to getting out of the house, so what I did after all that ruminating was: nothing.

Then, moments ago, I got an email from a family member* suggesting the CTFD Method, which seems enticing (http://jezebel.com/the-ctfd-method-is-the-greatest-of-all-parenting-trends-816536389?utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pulsenews).

Dear everyone

who is reading this 

if you have The Answer, 

please do let us know. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

* Who is currently still alive, having sent the link in an all-inclusive group email.

First Anniversary Lists IV: The Complaint Department

Our Guest Writer, Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona from The Complaint Department, has been working hard to bring you this list.  Warning: Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona, or PiMP for short, has compiled and macro-infested the bitterest and snarkiest elements of Full Spectrum Mama’s first year, many of which Full Spectrum Mama might not even have noticed, saintly as she is.

1.     The Make-Your-Own-Problems Division.

We make most of our own problems. The Complaint Department suggests you unmake – or contend gracefully with – such self-created problems.

Therefore, The Complaint Department maintains a strict non-acceptance policy in its Make-Your-Own-Problems Division.

2.     Bullies.

Yuck.

Can you believe bullies are real? Grown-up bullies, too! Solo-style, as well as Group Models, including Mean (Old) Girls (and Boys), Institutional and Family-Pak…

Children who bully often learn to do so at home. Watch out for their parents.

Those in the school-disability-“special education” worlds who bully often do so from budget and staff frustrations. See if you can get through the armor to the love of children that brought them there in the first place. Bonne chance!

But, okay, sure. Complaints about bullies are acceptable during regular business hours.

3.     Sorry.

Say you’re sorry. No, PiMP does not care what happened OR whose fault it is and don’t Make The Complaint Department have to Pull This Car Over.

Oops! Sorry, wrong medium.

4.     Help.

If you have a partner, if you have a babysitter once a week, if you have a choice between working and not working (vs. those who must work), do not complain about not having any help. The Complaint Department knows far too many struggling single working parents to accept complaints in this area.

      a. Have some perspective, people.

5.     Snacks.

There is a required ten-minute minimum time-lapse between the asking for of the snacks.

Furthermore: If, sequentially, you have asked for and received, a banana, a cheese stick, a clementine, a yogurt squeezer, a bowl of cheddar bunnies, a granola bar, baby carrots and hummus, and raisins and nuts and an apple, that is enough.

6.     Money.

If you have never spent weeks worrying over running out of toothpaste, or had to choose between

a.     raiding those expired bags and cans at the back of the cupboard and paying for heat, or

b.     going grocery shopping,

do not complain about money.

Except, perhaps, to others of your ilk - but definitely check their ilk to be sure.

Yes, we at The Complaint Department know that you say things like, “We’re all struggling right now” to express a sense of, “Wow, I get it,” but that’s just trifling.

You know who gets it? PiMP and her friend over here who both just bought one bag of cotton candy even though we each have two children because those bad boys cost FOUR DOLLARS.

Please see 4.a.

                  The Complaint Department will only accept complaints about money from those with a  
                  generously allotted income limit of $30,000 and below. (F.Y.I.: it is remarkably easy to
                  join this select group, albeit exponentially harder to leave.) Most other complaints about
                  money will be deemed to fall under Rule 1, above.

7.     Children.

                  If you have mentally and physically healthy, neurotypical children, do not complain about them under most circumstances.

In particular, you shall not complain about them to people who have no children, whether by choice or via “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."

Nor shall you complain about them to people who have children who have issues of health, learning differences, disabilities, sensory or social issues or other significant differences or impairments…

If you must complain, then kindly preface your complaint with, “Praise the universe, I am very lucky to have such an easy life compared to the lives of those with harder lives” (which will probably be answered with “Praise the universe, I am very lucky to have the child/life etc. that I have…” BUT the preface should still be uttered as a preventative measure).

And please see 4.a.

8.    Speculation and Normalcy.

The Complaint Department thinks everyone is REAL SPECIAL. How did they get that way? We do not know. How should you act around them? Ditto.

Our affiliate, Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg has formulated some great models around dealing with people. Here’s one: http://www.disabilityandrepresentation.com/2013/01/28/how-to-talk-to-normal-people-a-guide-for-the-rest-of-us/

9.     Special Dispensations. 

True Friends, Wise Ones, Elders, Those Who Get It, Family Members from Group A,* and, generally, people who don’t take themselves all that seriously or are seriously cute (such as some children) are not subject to the above Complaint Department Guidelines.

Now that The Complaint Department has brought you this exhaustive list, The Complaint Department is closed. The Complaint Department will re-open on the 32^nd of Nevruary.**

Sincerely,

Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona

* Family Group A is a generic term for certain members of all families and consists of non-offensive family members.

** Thanks to Uncle G. Fullalove (Family Group A+) for introducing the Full Spectrum family to this convenient date.

Tools

…In which I expound, dear readers, upon a small spectrum of handy-to-la famiglia FSM tools that might be useful and/or laughable in your rainbows.

The “My Bad”

We all aspire to the wielding of copious quantities of positive tools like respect, patience, unconditional love and consistency.

My favorite progressive tool, though, is more negative.

My mother’s generation – whether traditional or hippie-mama – often felt pressure to act as if mothering felt happy and easy at all times, as if motherhood was totally fulfilling and came naturally to all mothers. Parents, especially fathers, were deemed omnipotent and all-knowing.

As our culture has become – however incrementally – more open and less sexist, we have gained some additional tools at our disposal. We are now free to admit to each other that parenting is sometimes hard, and often baffling, and that – even as we fiercely, fully love them Every Second -- we sometimes don’t entirely like our kids at a given moment.

It may be even more important that we are able to admit to our children (friends, family, partners…) that we ourselves are human. So, I celebrate the following three phrases:

“I don’t know.”
“I messed up.”
“I ‘m sorry.”

The use of these phrases demonstrates that parents (friends, family, partners…) are fallible human beings who will try to figure stuff out and do better next time. Just like kids can be – if shown the possibility.

The “My Bad” is liberating, but by no means a license to ill. At its best, though, it offers possibilities of redemption, learning, healing.

The “Locked” Door

Among other things, Z’s agenda includes using the stovetop and oven at 2am. Because of this, I have had to confine her to her room until I officially get her up in the morning. This involves keeping a chamber pot in her room and my “locking”[closing] the door every night after I put her to bed. Somewhat paradoxically for Miss Independence – but well within guidelines set by the aforementioned therapist -- this has been a very comforting process for Z herself.

The first (initially) unknown-to-me reader of FSM -- and someone I think of as a real live guardian angel -- has degrees in Education of Young Children, Child Assessment and Development, and Psychiatric Social Work (with specialty in the field of children and families).  She also has decades of experience working with children. She keeps me on track and within the bounds of my knowledge while still tolerating, even celebrating, my flights of fancy. Any errors, of course, are all mine.

She recently asked me,  “How do you as a mother create a safe home for Z while still feeling your home is as you want it to be?” My answer was…I don’t. I used to wear a lot of jewelry, for example, until some of my most precious pieces disappeared. Some did reappear, only in different and unsalvageable forms.  Now my jewelry is so hidden away that just getting to it is way too much trouble for a busy mama.

Some other nighttime concerns, besides stove on-house fire-gas explosion and jewelry-ruined-gone include:

food-hoarded-infestations-grody stuff-smears-rot-botulism

lotions/creams/polishes-ingested-poisoning thereby

pets-tied up-enslaved

Z has her own jewelry and creams and an array of dolls and stuffies, but they are never quite enough. Her night machinations made this very clear. Admittedly, with her high level of competence we might teach her how to use the stove, etc. in the not-so-distant future.  Until then, we say that Z “isn’t ready to get up on her own.” We try to meet her where she is on the developmental spectrum, protecting and nurturing the baby inside, while allowing for her exceptionally high acumen on mental and physical spectra by essentially baby-proofing the house for a really, really advanced baby.

Oppressing Z was a concern, but her “locked” door liberated her from her compulsion to do verboten “projects” in the night and allowed her to sleep soundly, thereby enabling her to not only feel better but to feel better about herself.

Humor

Also from my children’s therapist-angel reader came the suggestion to use humor. She reasoned that with all the progress Z had been making I might begin to use wit in our interactions. Instead of sticking firm and strong to my “put the dish in the sink” order, for instance, I might -- according to therapist-angel -- say, ”Put the dish on the floor.” Essentially, I should continue to contain Z's actions -- but with a light touch.

Yeah, I am not ready for that yet. The therapist Pardner and I go to who specializes in attachment disorders suggested the same thing. He thought, for example, that when Z looks at one of her adoring aunties and haughtily points to her plate to indicate that more food must be provided I should say “Oh…is that a plate?” I told him,  “Please. Just tell me one thing to say for all situations. Funny is too confusing. In those moments I can’t remember more than that.” Someday I do very much want to be funny. For now, I aim for functional.

Ripping Bag

Z likes to rip. She likes to rip Everything. She rips paper into tiny strips, all of a size. She rips clothing -- seam from seam, or expanding upon a pinhole or snag.  She rips horns off beloved childhood unicorns saved especially for my some-day daughter. (I’m not bitter about that one.)

One day, after yet another ripping disastrophe, it occurred to me to fill a bag with stuff that Z not only could but Should rip. It was a great success and has substantially reduced free-form ripping.

Feel free to riff on this: what about a smashing bag? A coloring-on box? A food-hoarding bunker?

One Battle a Day

G has the typical aspergian penchant for obsession. Pokemon has been a focus for almost six years.  In order to make time for other activities and foci, such as eating and sleeping, we have devised a system in which we have one extended, all-out Pokemon battle a day, after which we have some time for discussion. A potential additional benefit to this system is that G begins to get the notion that other people have interests of their own.

When he raises the subject I can say, “Is this Pokemon time? Oh, you want to talk about Gyarados’s hit points? Good. We’ll talk about that during Pokemon time.” Ideally in this context, I don’t squish G’s interests, just corral them.

One battle a day is enough for anybody.

You flick, I tick

From time to time, G begins to develop a tick. The latest has been a sort of flicking of his fingers that seems to happen when he gets excited or anxious. Hoping to help him (and not his neurological hiccups) be the one in charge of his body I started a policy of “you flick, I tick[le].” That is, whenever he starts flicking his fingers, I tickle him. 

It is probably somewhat annoying, although he tolerates me.

“You flick, I tick” is also related to my “you flap, I clap” policy, for when G starts flapping his hands compulsively. These are intended as neither punitive nor judgmental; they should be merely observational. And, as I tell him, hey, if you love to flap, just keep on flapping…and I will keep on clapping. I like to clap -- and I love to tickle.

Tickling seems to be a good tool, also, when either child gets Stuck in a mood or thought process. Of course, this assumes a certain base level of receptivity to being tickled at a given moment.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could tickle ourselves out of being stuck?

 

And, finally…

The “Mombulance” (also available in “Dad” and “Person” models)

“Wheee-oooh, Whee-oooh…” You hear the siren in the distance. It approaches…closer and closer. To your surprise, it pulls up outside of your door! You venture onto your stoop. A hunky paramedic steps out (gender – up to you).

“Ma’am,” s/he orders, “Step away from the residence. Put down the crayon, computer, dishcloth, phone and banana peel.”

Several other paramedics roll a stretcher toward you. As you climb onto it you note that a nanny and several fun, inclusive kids are headed toward your house, loaded with healthy, delicious snacks, games and educational yet entertaining dvds.  You see a special caddy full of trashy magazines affixed to the side of the stretcher. You wave sweetly to your children, who don’t even notice you are leaving. As you are rolled into the ambulance you see that you are surrounded by clean, uncluttered, chic-yet-soothing décor.

Hunky Paramedic hands you a beverage, informs you that en-route massage is available by request, and closes the back doors of the Mombulance.

You are All. Alone. Ahhh.

Ok, I made that one up.

If anyone has suggestions about moderating random sounds that seem to sound good to G Inside his head but sound really bad to those Outside his head and/or on curbing jewelry appropriation and repurposing please to inform.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama