Comfort

I always struggle with how to write about what is happening within our family.  To be exposed and raw with people.  To put our personal and private lives in such a public forum can be terrifying.  But what has happened over the past two weeks has prompted me to write from a place I didn't know existed until now.

Holland has been living in a residential facility for about six months.  This was one of the longest placements he had had.  Other placements he was removed from for unsafe behavior, or the foster mom couldn't handle him (I never understood why it wasn't a foster family instead of a single parent for these kinds of placements).  He had made progress.  Measured, real progress that you could see on his face and in his eyes when we saw him for an hour every Saturday.  He spoke differently to us and about us when we had parent ed meetings and family counseling.  He seemed genuinely concerned about improving himself so he could come home.

Two weeks ago we were at my nephew's birthday party at a park and I got a phone call from him.  The day before he had sounded so depressed and sad.  I was hopeful because on Sunday he sounded much better.  We talked about what he wanted me to bring for the big Luau that was taking place the following Saturday.  He asked me to bring the gluten free pizza I make him.  And sneak in some candy for him, too, he said.  We laughed.  He sounded so much better.

That's why on Monday night at midnight, when my mom called me and said that someone from Holland's house was trying to get hold of me and it "wasn't good", I was completely thrown.  The night staff called me a few minutes later and told me that Holland had run off with another boy during the staff change.  He didn't have any more information for me, except that they were gone and the police had been called.

I didn't understand.  We just spoke the night before and he sounded great.  Over the next few days, I got bits of information, mixed in with a whole lot of nothing.  The boy he ran with had taken off a month before by himself.  Holland had actually planned to run with him, but chickened out.  The entire facility was placed on a lock down while the boys had to earn their privileges and trust back.  Then, I believe, the worst thing possible happened:  this young man was allowed back into the program.  Holland was drawn to him for whatever reason.  And this boy knew it.  He took advantage of Holland's "differences" and even told staff he targeted Holland to get him to run away.  Apparently Holland was still taken with the idea of getting the hell out of Dodge and the night after I spoke with him, he and this boy ran.  There was some thought put into it:  they both had clothes on underneath their pajamas.  They had no money, no cell phones and no transportation.  They just ran, hoping to find their way into Portland.  And they did.

Over the next 12 days Super Hero and I and my parents spent time downtown looking for Holland.  But what stands out the most, is who were the people that helped us look for Holland.  Not one person from my church family helped me look.  Sure, lots of people posted "I'm praying for you" on my Facebook wall.  I got two phone calls from Holland's Sunday School teachers asking about him.  But the people who took actual time out of their lives to physically help us look for Hunter were people that I normally don't count on for support.

When Romania was at the Charter school, I made friends with several moms.  One of those moms called me up and said "I will drive you around Portland.  Just tell me when".  Here was a person that I hadn't seen in over a year.  We kept in touch over Facebook through pictures, but our lives hadn't crossed paths in awhile.  We printed off some flyers with Holland's info and drove into downtown.  I passed out the flyers to food carts and a few homeless people and she would drive around the block and then come pick me up.  At one of my stops, I spoke with a homeless couple and asked if they knew where a kid might find food and shelter.  He started to explain several places and the addresses. I told him I had no idea where those places were.  He looked through his backpack and pulled out a booklet that had a list of all the places where people downtown could get a meal, a place to sleep for the night, emergency care or help finding a job.  It also had youth services listed.  I thanked him and wished I had something to give him.  He promised he would keep an eye out for Holland, as he didn't want such a young kid to end up on the street. My friend and I were able to find a church that was serving a meal to youth and connect with the director who passed out Holland's picture.  One girl said she recognized him.  Another said he had heard his name.  I felt relieved that we had some information.

Another night, a deaf friend of Super Hero's offered to go downtown with him and look around.  They went to many of the places in the booklet that I got.  I had people (that I had only met on Facebook) contact me and say they had driven around Portland and had not seen him.  I had another friend from Romania's charter school say he had spent 4 hours downtown and had not seen him.  Another friend that I met about 4 years ago on a mom's chat board, that lives in California, was so heartbroken for us, that she contacted her brother in law that lives in the Vancouver area.  The wife emailed me and got a lot of information.  They had connections all over the Portland area and she was going to try to see about helping to look for him.  I was amazed at all the help that I was getting from people that I barely knew.

And I was saddened by the lack of help from the people that I've known for over 20 years.  People that are called to "comfort one another in any affliction". (2 Corinthians 1:4).  I've read this passage many times.  What does it mean to comfort someone?  Sometimes words are enough. Saying "I've been praying for you" makes that person feel the comfort of the Lord.  Sometimes in order to comfort someone, it means taking action.  It means you get in a car and you drive around Portland and help them look for their son.

You know who else I got help from?  The homeless people on the streets of Portland.  Every time I walked up to one or a group, they wanted to help.  They wanted to know if he was my son and how long he'd been missing.  "That's so sad that he's gone.  We really hope you find him."  They asked to keep the flyers so they would be able to recognize him and call police if they saw him.  Police.  They were the biggest surprise of this whole story.  One time when my dad and I were out there looking, I pulled over the car because we saw several officers talking to a group of homeless guys.  I thought, "perfect!  I can tell them about the sighting we had this morning from a person that was walking the Portland to Coast race."  I walked over to them and waited.  Wanna know why I waited?  Because one of the cops was having his PICTURE TAKEN with one of the homeless dudes.  Thats right.  Photo op happening.  I waited.  Then one of the homeless dudes came over to me and saw the flyer and asked if he could help me.  I told him that my son was missing but had been spotted that morning by the Steele Bridge.  He was genuinely interested and then turned to the cop with the camera and said, "I think she needs your help."  I have never seen a cop be more uninterested in anything in my whole life.  He was more interested in capturing his buddy with the homeless dude with dreads than he was in listening to some white girl ramble on about her missing son.

"Yeah.  I heard that come through this morning."

"So?  What are you doing about it?"

"Our precinct is pretty big."

"What does that mean?  Somebody saw him.  Aren't you going to go look for him?"

"We'll keep our eyes out for him."

I wanted to shout at him that he should not be wasting his time taking pictures with homeless people, but should be out there searching for my son.  But I was afraid of getting arrested for disorderly conduct.  I turned to the homeless dude and handed him the flyer and asked him to please keep an eye out for Holland.  He promised me he would; "He's too young to be out here!"  Got that right!

With the help of many family and friends and lots of conversations with the homeless youth on the streets, we were able to find Holland.  It's almost too unbelievable to believe.  One tip from a nurse at a facility he stayed at and that recognized him, who called 911, who referred her to non-emergency, who felt the family needed to know so she called a co-worker to make sure we knew from her that Holland was seen at 7 am near the Steele Bridge.  All that brings comfort.  People DOING something to make sure they are helping out another person.

So the next time you think about how you are going to comfort someone, think about what that person needs.  Prayer is always a must.  Take everything to the Lord in prayer.  But do not leave out action.  Do not abandon the person who is suffering; go alongside them and suffer with them.

God of All Comfort
2 Corinthians 1:3- 7
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.  If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer.

He's Too Concrete

The other day, Super Hero and I were driving home from errands.  It's always a risk to have any sort of conversation in a moving vehicle with a deaf person.  Not only can they miss very important signs, they can veer off the road. ;-)  Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode with Kramer as he's "interpreting" what Marlee Matlin signs?  Marlee's character can lipread and signs what she sees this couple across the room saying.  Her character gets the information correct, but Kramer totally screws up the "interpreting" part.  The hilarious part is, although "sweep together" and "sleep together" look similar when spoken, the signs look nothing alike.  So only a person that knows both languages understands how stupid it is that Kramer gets it all messed up.

That's kinda what a conversation with a deaf engineer looks like.  I want to give you context for our conversation, but it really ruins the true beauty of how illogically concrete our conversation was.

Me:  What's your interview for?
Him: A job.
Me: I Know that.  But where?
Him:  At home.
Me: No.  I know it's a PHONE interview.  Where is the JOB?
Him:  I have no idea.
Me:  You have no idea?  You're interviewing for a job and you have no idea where the job is?
Him:  Yes.  I'm tired of interviewing.  So I figure when I finally get a job, then I'll worry about where it is.


This conversation happens  in bursts of two or three words because he has to watch the road.  Which becomes even more frustrating because then I'm not sure which signs he has seen.  So, do I repeat myself, or keep going?

As we're driving home (the person was supposed to call at 1 p.m., ), he keeps pointing to the clock on the dashboard.

Him: It's 12:56!

We keep driving.  I notice him looking at the clock some more.

Him: It's 12:58!  We're going to be late.

More driving.  I think the slowest person in the world is in front of us.  Super Hero points that out, too.

Him:  (Pointing to the clock, in case I wasn't paying attention before) It's 12:59!
Me: Yes, it is.

Drive.  Drive.  Drive.  We haven't pulled into our house quite yet, and....

Him:  (pointing to the clock) It's 1:00!  We're late!  I KNEW it.  I KNEW we'd be late.
Me:  I doubt this guy's waiting by his phone to dial it at 1 p.m.  We're fine.

He runs into the house to where the video phone is set up.  Phew.  No missed calls.  He sits there for the next 20 minutes waiting for the phone to ring so he can answer his TV.  Nothing.  He decides to get up and make lunch.  I'm sitting in the living room, looking at my phone.  He's making himself lunch and all of a sudden yells "shoot!" and runs into the schoolroom.

Him:  Why didn't you TELL ME that the phone was ringing?!!
Me:  Because I didn't HEAR the phone ringing.

See that wonderful logic happening here?  I'm the hearing person.  I'm supposed to hear everything.
So, like most problems in the house, the wife/mother gets blamed and she doesn't even have to be in the same room.   It's all good.  He got his phone interview.  He got his lunch.  And he might get an in person interview.  He finds that out next week.

Oh - and the job is in Vancouver.  So.  Now you know.

Things Fall Apart

A little over a week ago I got a call from Holland's residential placement.  His team was on "shut down", which meant that all the boys in his group (about 8) had been put on a status that required the strictest supervision.  The staff had determined that the boys had not been following the peer feedback and accountability.  There were also boys that were teasing Holland, causing him to react inappropriately and then they would call him out on his behavior.  He would not accept their feedback and the cycle would repeat.  The team had to go through three stages in order to rebuild their accountability to each other and be able to work together again.  They lost a lot of privileges and were not able to make any phone calls until Stage Three.  They had to make amends with each other and each boy had to call his parents and explain his role in the breakdown of the group - "take accountability" for his part in the group's behavior.

I was so excited when I heard the boys had made it to Stage Three.  It sounded like they had pulled it together and were a team again.  On Thursday night I got a call from Holland.  He started his call with, "I'm taking accountability for my part in a member of my team running away."  I was all confused.  I thought we were past Stage One and here he was apologizing for something.  I asked what he was talking about.  His phone calls are limited to five minutes, so I knew I wasn't going to get much information out of him.  He said that he and another boy had planned on running away from the program.  He didn't do it, but the other boy had.  He made it into Portland and was caught (I later found out the boy had turned himself in), and was back in detention.  I asked if Holland would have to go back in detention.  He said he didn't know.  I had a million questions.  I had zero time to ask them.  I wanted to talk to a staff person.  I couldn't - the other boys needed to make their phone calls. 

The next day I was able to get hold of his former PO and find out more of what happened.  She was going out to visit him and discuss the seriousness of his situation.  With Holland's recent diagnosis of autism, I wonder if he has to go in front of a judge again, that his medical diagnosis will be taken into account.  I'm afraid of what will become of him if he is incarcerated.  He will not get the kind of therapy he needs.  If you are reading this, please pray that he does not get removed from his current placement.

I got another call last night and I'm afraid that his time may be over.  He barricaded himself in an upstairs room with a foosball table.  He threw something out a window and when he finally did come out, he ran outside the house.  He said he never left the property, but he still had staff chase him outside.  They discussed his options and I'm doubting that they will want to keep him after this.  I know the program wants to work with him, but when he keeps getting physical like this, he'll be viewed as too much of a threat to the other boys and their safety.

THE resume

I just finished writing my resume.  It's not your traditional, boring, typewritten resume.  This thing has got Class.  A friend from my church developed this online, uber-cool way of writing up a resume. It's called Sumry.  You start by answering a bunch of basic questions about yourself and the answers are plugged into a preset form that helps you develop a very unique resume.  It's not just about your skills - it's about who you are.  Why type of person are you?  Your qualifications are as important as your life story.  I love the set up - and I loved writing it.  I wanted to keep writing.  I had to stop myself from writing more.  Geez.  I need to write a book or something.

Here's a link to my Sumry resume.  I'm also working on one for Super Hero.  I figured a year and a half of no job ought to warrant a new kind of approach to job hunting.  Let's freak out all those engineers out there with this new kind of resume!

Perspective

What is it about perspective that allows us to form opinions about our situation?  If we are experiencing trauma, our perspective can be fraught with pain.  If we are looking at another person's situation, perspective can elicit feelings of empathy, or jealousy or pity.  When we arrive at the other end of that journey, our perspective has now become that of someone arriving at a destination. 

My perspective has changed.  I had a beginning - lots of beginnings.  That's my perspective now.  I look and see there were lots of beginnings.  How did we make it through those beginnings?  There were lots of very difficult places to be in.  Why was there so much trauma?  And pain?  I always think that we somehow got the short end of the stick.  People always say "he was so blessed to get parents like you.".  That's very kind.  I don't feel blessed.  I feel tortured. My perspective in those beginnings was that it was never going to end.  He was never going to get better.  He was going to beat the hell out of our house and our family unit.

I'm in the middle now.   But there are constantly new beginnings in this middle. My perspective now is that there are still beginnings in this middle.  Some are good and some not so good.  We got the dreaded call that he might be sent back to detention (that's juvenile hall for you newbies).  That's not a place you want your son to be.  He's being well taken care of right now.  There are people that understand his neurological and medical needs.  He's watched 24 hours a day and he's held accountable by his peers in the program.  No other placement will have that kind of set up. 

Super Hero and I were on our way to visit him this morning.  We get one visit a week - an hour of time.  We were about 15 minutes early, so I said we should stop at a Starbucks and get him a hot chocolate with a gift card I had.  The store I thought was there had closed, so we had to pull into the parking lot of a nearby mall.  I noticed a message on my phone.  "Your visit has been cancelled.  He's on a safety plan."  We were five minutes from the residence.  I could not get hold of anyone on a Saturday.  We started to drive back home when someone finally responded to a message I left.  Holland had "gone from zero to one hundred in a few seconds.  He responded to a peer about something and threw a glass across the kitchen and picked up other things and threw them as well."  I will not get any more information until his therapist calls me on Monday.  He was able to call and talk to me for his five minutes of allowed phone call time.  He sounded depressed.  He didn't think he was going to last another week.  Didn't see the point of it.  How do you encourage a child that sees no point of continuing such a hard path?  He made bad choices.  He is paying for those choices.

We have another new beginning.  Super Hero got a part time job.  He has been without a full time job for a year and a half.  No engineering job.  He had to take a part time job as an "inventory specialist" at a car rental place at the airport.  I feel it must be so degrading for him to have done that.  And yet I'm so proud of him for doing it.  I want him to be honored for his choice to work to support us.   And my new beginning is going to be finding a job as well.  I've applied for an interpreter job for Portland Public Schools.  With every ounce of my being I do not want to do this.  I don't want the stress of working on top of homeschooling the kids and getting them to church and sports functions.  Worrying about doctor appointments and grocery shopping and therapy appointments with Holland.  Laundry will become something that gets put in a pile, not put away.  I won't be able to work with the kids on school stuff the way I wanted to.  Dinners will be crazy with Super Hero working 3pm -11pm 3 days a week.  

To end all these beginnings, Holland had some testing done by an excellent psychologist.  She has worked with over 300 kids affected in utero by meth.  We finally got an 18 page report from her describing in detail the testing and the results.  Her conclusion was the Holland is Autistic.  The DSM has changed the language in how it diagnoses children.  His is more a social aspect of autism.  But reading this report was like reliving all the moments we had when he was growing up. 

So what is my perspective now?  How do I adjust my thinking from all those years of parenting a child that was improperly diagnosed as bipolar?  What do I think when people complain that they can't have a "normal" life?  What is normal?  Not having hole punched in your wall?  Not locking up remote controls or the pantry so your child doesn't get up at 3 in the morning to play the wii or steal food with gluten in it?  What about not being afraid of your child?  Or not having your other children afraid of that child?  What about being able to go to a store without having to leave a grocery cart in the middle of an aisle because he couldn't handle the word "no".  And he was 12 (and threatening to hit you?)  What about having to change plans - the whole family - because your "bipolar" child refuses to get in the car and go sightseeing?  He wants to stay home and wait for a friend that might call.  I have a hard time with perspective.  Our lives are definitely "easier" now that he is not living with us.  It's calmer here.  There's less tension of feeling like someone is going to get physically hurt.  But how can that perspective be good?  I have a child that doesn't get to live at home.  Other families get to eat dinner together.  Or go on trips together.  I have a hard time even taking a family picture.  My perspective is that someone is missing. 

I raised three children and now I only have two.

I'm done

I've decided that someone else can have my job.  I'm giving my notice. I quit. No need for severance.
I'm tired of the fighting. The yelling. The name calling. The broken things. The holes in the walls.
Throwing things at me when I don't make the right thing for dinner.  The "I don't care what consequence you give me, there's nothing you can do about it."  The "I don't care if you say I can't do __________,  I'm gonna do it anyway."   The breaking into my room and taking whatever he wants.

I am no longer an effective employee.  If there's any question about this, look no further than the other two charges in my care.

Jasper

This is the text I received yesterday, "We need u to babysit a cute stray dog.  We took it to the vet.  No microchip.  She's too sweet to take to pound.  Or he.  Put out a Craigslist ad.  No reply.  If she is still at our house when we get back"  Before I even finished reading this, the phone rang.  It was my sister asking if I had read her text about the dog.  She said the dog wandered into her yard when one of the kids left their gate open.  They had just driven to Bend to pick up a rescue Border Collie and couldn't keep another animal.  So she asked if Egypt could look after him.  Just days before this, I had been scouring the internet looking for an Australian Shepherd rescue dog.  Even rescue dogs are very expensive (more so when you don't have a job to buy one in the first place!).  I had found an adorable mini Aussie in West Linn and emailed twice about him.  But no answer. 

I guess we were waiting for God to drop Jasper into our lives.  I keep telling the kids not to name him.  He's just the sweetest animal - obviously was cared for at one point.  He knows several tricks, is very friendly and doesn't bark at us and follows Egypt everywhere.  But Australian Shepherds have really thick fur and it's really easy to let it get matted.  He loves being brushed and smooshes his face into your lap wanting to be petted.

I'm praying if the owner comes forward, that it happens quickly because the kids are already attached to him.  They are convinced that this dog was meant for us - how else would  we end up with a stray
Australian Shepherd?

What If

Things just keep getting progressively worse.  How is that even possible?  I thought we had hit the lowest point in this journey when we drove down to Springfield and dropped Holland off at a residential facility?!  Now it looks like we are going to be doing the same thing again.

It doesn't seem to matter how much we love this kid.  It doesn't seem to matter that we have tried doctor after doctor; countless medicines; diet changes; behavior modification treatment plans; various forms of punishment and praising of good behavior.  His damaged brain just will not learn that we love him and his actions beget consequences like calling the police.  We are working with Catholic Community Services.  We have a mental health team in place at school.  We are working with a psychiatrist.  He has all these skills that he's supposed to have learned from his stay at the treatment center in Springfield.  And still.....

He is becoming so dangerous and violent that the only way to keep the family safe is to get him into Treatment Foster Care.  And the only way to get him in that placement is to first get him admitted into a residential facility again.  This is what we were trying to do when he first was released from Safe Center.  The recommendation was for Treatment Foster Care.  But because of all the insurance tie-ups, there was no way to get him into that.  Plus, DHS was not backing that recommendation.  So his transition from a very structured residential placement to back home took place and we are now looking at getting him into another residential placement so he can enter the Treatment Foster Care system.  Because he is considered in a "safe" placement being at home, DHS will NOT place him in a foster care home right from here.  So we have to get him into residential, and then get him placed into a Treatment Foster Home.  We are talking a MAJOR traumatic event in this child's life.

And there's nothing left to do about it.  We are out of options.

He doesn't trust me.

Every time I say we're going to a doctor's appointment, he doesn't want to get in the car.  And why would he? 

This week is shaping up to be one of the worst in the history of our family.  And to top it off, I was reminded yesterday, the Mother of all Days, that I have failed in this one job I have been given.   On the way to church, I made the boys get out of the car and walk back home.  They had been arguing all morning and I told them they had until 10:30 to get themselves ready.  I was going to leave at that time, whether or not they were ready.  I sat in the car as they ran with shoes and still yelling at me that I didn't wait.  I pulled over the car, and said "get out.  You've made me late and I don't want you with me."  So they did.  How's THAT for a mother's day treat?   Then I had Egypt crying that I wasn't buying the family a dog, because their cousins just got one.  I almost turned the car around and dropped her off at home as well.  To top off the best of all days, there was a baby dedication at church.

I saw myself fourteen years ago, standing up there with Super Hero, as we were dedicating our lives to raising our son to follow Christ and praying for protection from Evil.   We have had many prayers surround us, but Evil has not tread lightly on us.  All I could think about was how I felt those prayers had escaped us these past years.  I believed that we would be protected and I pictured raising children to follow a Godly path. 

It is incredibly hard not to feel the sadness that goes along with this kind of life.  When we were first trying to start a family, it was always the "what ifs", when we we couldn't conceive children.  Now, it's the "what ifs" that go along with raising a child with severe mental deficits and the unknown outcome of his disabilities.

The Mental Health System is Broken

Ever since Holland came home from the residential treatment facility, we've had access to really good services through the Oregon Health Plan.  It's really sad that it took Super Hero losing his job to get good health care.  Everything else about him losing his job has been horrible (not enough money for food; standing in line at churches to pick up food every week; barely being able to pay monthly bills; not being able to buy nice gifts for the boys' birthdays.)  But the health care has been the one plus of this whole situation.  I don't like depending on the government to "take care" of us.  But I'm really glad that there are programs set up like this - otherwise I really don't know, or want to think about, what we'd do if we didn't have this available to us.

We have a really great therapist that comes to our house.  That's never happened before.  Anyone who has been involved with therapy knows that there are lots of doctors involved and you are constantly driving all over the place.  With this insurance the therapist comes right to our house for family therapy and also therapy with Holland.  There are also "skills trainers" that come twice weekly.  So far we've had about 6 different people come out and take Holland into the community.  They've gone to parks, the library, out to grab ice cream, walks with their dogs, Goodwill to pick up computer parts and today the guy took him to Subway to grab lunch before our meeting with the psychiatrist.  Too bad he didn't eat anything except chips.  He said he didn't like their bread - even though they have gluten free, he didn't even want to try it. 

So there's what's good about our healthcare so far.  Here's where the breakdown happens.  In Oregon, some idiotic government people decided that at age 14, children have become competant enough to make decisions regarding their mental health and whether or not they should take medications.  At age 14 you're not allowed to: vote; serve on a jury; buy property; rent property; sue; be sued; sign legal documents; open a bank account; apply for a credit card; drink; drive a vehicle; get married (in most states!).  So by comparison, my child can tell whether or not he needs medicine that will help his dopamine levels even out, but not that Barack Obama will screw up this country for another 4 years.  Thanks for clearing that up.

When we went in for our first appointment with the psychiatrist since getting our new insurance, I had no idea that Holland would be signing for his own prescriptions.  In my mind, as the mother you go to the doctor, discuss the problems that are happening and decide on a treatment and get whatever medicine you decide together are appropriate.  What happens when he has pneumonia and refuses treatment for that?  This is just totally screwed up in my mind.  When the doctor was explaining what the medications were for (to help him be more calm and to sleep better), he said "no, I don't want you to give me medicine that will make me not like the computer.  And I also don't want to sleep in, in the morning."  He gets up at 3:30 in the morning and roams around the house doing the wii and the computer.  He doesn't want to sleep anymore because he'll miss time on the computer.  Yep.  That sounds like a totally competant person to me.  One that can appropriately judge how he may or may not need to take medication to regulate his mood and sleeping habits.  I now understand why his residental stay ended at age 14.  Because the state can no longer give him medication after age 14 without his consent.  And guess what?  NO ONE told me that!  Not ONE person on staff there mentioned that when we got home, Holland would be able to refuse treatment.  If they would have done that, I would have pulled him out of there before he turned 14, and gotten him on this insurance.  Then we would have at least been able to get him started on medication that would be regulating his mood and helping him sleep.

This is how the mentally ill in the country are getting swept under the rug.  The government is making it impossible for families to help their own children get treatment.  They declare children competant at age 14 (and in Washington state it's 13!) so they can refuse treatment without even understanding what a drug's benefit can actually be.  This is pure insanity.

Basketball Camp

A couple weeks ago, I jokingly posted on my Facebook wall, asking if anyone wanted to contribute money to help get Egypt to a basketball camp this summer.  I only did it because we don't have $200 to get her there and the camp is hosted by the former coach of Oregon City High School, Brad Smith.  He led the Pioneers to numerous State and National Championships, which date back to when I was in high school, over 20 years ago!

Two things happened:  people commented that there was actually a website for starting your own fund raisers; and I set one up!  I've posted several updates and included photos of Egypt playing in her second season of basketball.  She even has a nickname from the other parents:  "The Intimidator".  I love that she doesn't back down.  Even when they've played all-boys teams.  Her age group is currently set up for co-ed, but she's been playing soccer for several years with three other girls and we wanted them to continue to play together.  Then Egypt subbed on another soccer team last fall and I got to know that coach as well.  So we formed an all-girls team and we love it.  Last year when she played with boys, they never passed the ball to her, but expected her to pass the ball to them.  She's a very aggressive player and is the best defensive player on her team. 

Last week a friend from Egypt's arthritis camp shared her goal to get to basketball camp on her own Facebook wall.  And by morning we had two donations!  It was so exciting to know that people wanted to help her get to camp.  I've sent in a deposit to reserve her a spot - so I'm hoping that we can get all the money raised to send her to this two-week camp.  I've set up the widget on the side of my blog.  Check out the updates and even a couple bucks would help us get toward our goal!

 

 

Egypt - #6

Life With Pepper

I'm finally getting around to posting about Egypt's new pet rabbit - Pepper.  Such an adorable little guy.  So friendly and curious.  Loves to be held and have his forehead rubbed.  She's done an awesome job taking care of him.  I've added "taking care of Pepper" to her list of chores, but it isn't really a chore!  She would do it whether I wrote it down or not.  She feeds him first thing in the morning and exercises him twice a day.  We finally got a play area set up for him on the patio under the deck where he can hop around among hay bales without roaming too far.  Our yard is too big and he'd get lost or squeeze under the fence and be gone forever.

Here are some pictures of the newest member of the family in all his sweetness.

The Tumble

Egypt has been playing basketball for a couple of weeks now.  She's a force to be reckoned with on the court.  I would NOT want to be the person she is guarding.  She is totally serious and focused.  The coach told her to guard her person (they follow colored wristbands) and she does not let that player out of her sight.  I had been taking her to practices because Romania still had a few basketball practices left and they overlapped.  Plus, I wanted to know exactly what the coach said and sometimes when Super Hero goes to practice, I don't always get all the information I need.

But on February 7th, Romania had a Lacrosse meeting.  Mandatory.  That's what the email said.  And like all mothers that pay attention to sports emails, I decided to go so I could get all the information I needed.  So I sent Super Hero off with Egypt for her basketball practice and finished getting ready so I could drive the 5 minutes to the old high school for the Mandatory Meeting.  As I was walking down the stairs, I somehow missed the bottom two steps and my right foot went underneath me and I fell to the landing at the bottom.  I won't lie that I screamed.  Like a girl.  Romania came over.  I have never felt such physical pain.  Not even from childbirth.  Both my pregnancies ended up with c-section deliveries and me being put under.  I remember none of the pain (except when I woke and from having had surgery).  But this pain was horrendous.  Both my ankles had been twisted and jolted.   Romania got ice and put it in a bag and for some stupid reason, I got up, hobbled to the car, and drove to the stupid Mandatory Meeting in horrendous pain.

I couldn't even park close.  We weren't even sure where to go in and I hobbled all over the place with Lacrosse moms haggling for space at the uniform table, trying to get their kid's favorite number.  I love my kid so much, I grabbed #47 and said "Here.  Here's your favorite number now."  The place was packed with all levels of players and not enough seats for even half.  They had equipment for loan, but I was in so much pain, we just sat down at some tables, me with my swollen ankle flailing on a bench in front of me, waiting for the Mandatory Meeting to be over.  Romania had grabbed a bag and filled it with ice and I kept that on my ankle for most of the Mandatory Meeting.  At one point I looked down to survery the damage, and I swear it looked like my ankle was growing crooked.  This mom sitting next to me about fell off the bench when she saw it and asked me what happened.  I explained that I had fallen down my stairs, but for some stupid reason had still driven to the meeting.  You know.  Because it was required to sign in, and get my kid's uniform. 

By the end of the meeting, it was clear I would NOT be driving home.  I texted Super Hero and said he needed to drive down and pick us up.  I don't know how I hobbled to the car.  I had to lean on Romania, who is a good foot shorter than me.  There should be some online course for how to help an injured person walk.  Because my family is no good at it.  Super Hero came and he was on the other side and neither one of them was any help.  I felt like I was on a trampoline.  They weren't walking in sync and I couldn't stop them to sign to Super Hero to tell him how to walk.  I gave up and hopped to the car.   Every jolt felt like someone was knifing me in the ankles.  Little sharks biting at me.

I took some Vicodin that Super Hero had left over from his shoulder surgery and camped out on the couch downstairs.  By morning, I texted him and said "take me to the ER."  I really thought I had broken it.  The pain was so bad.  The swelling made me look like The Elephant Man.  There was so much bruising.  The ER actually got me in right away to a room, but the wait was long.  They did several x-rays and the doctor said he was concerned about one area near my ankle that looked like it could be fractured.  Also, because there was so much swelling and bruising, torn ligaments is always a concern.  I was supposed to call the orthopedist when I got home to make an appointment.  But by the time I got home, their office was closed.

I was able to see the orthopedist on Thursday.  I called around to many places, trying to find a cheaper way to see someone and get further treatment.  Having no insurance makes even the people treating you nervous.  They're afraid you're not going to pay for service.  I had to pay for everything up front at the orthopedist - $158 to see the doctor and then another $76 for the x-rays.  Even though the appointment lasted way too long (we were there almost 3 hours from start to finish), I had a really great doctor.  When he came in and saw my leg all bruised up, he said, "who beat you up?!"  I laughed and said, "my stairs!"   He had looked at the x-rays from the ER and said it didn't looked like it was fractured to him, but he also wanted to x-ray a little higher up, near my knee.  He said oftentimes a break can occur when there is trauma down near the ankle from how I fell.  I told him right then that I had no insurance.  That my husband had been laid off.  He said he would do his best to keep my cost down.  He had no idea what my treatment would be and said if in fact I needed some sort of boot, he would do his best to find me one.

The x-rays showed no fractures, either at the ankle or near my knee.  So he said I would just have to wear this big ugly boot for 6 weeks.  He even said unless I have problems, that I didn't need to make a follow up appointment.  That would save me money as well.  Just goes to show you that there are still good doctors out there.  The nurses had a little trouble locating a boot for me.  I had to stick my head out of the door several times to remind them I was still alive and needed my parting gift before I left the game show.  They didn't have one my size, so we had to drive to their other office in Tualatin.  My mom and I and the kids stopped for lunch and then popped in the office, where I was fitted with a snug sock and a big ugly boot, all in 5 minutes.  My mom joked that if we combined both appointments, that about evened out the time it should have taken.

So, my down time on the couch, when I'm not sleeping from the Vicodin, is being spent reading and knitting.  I just completed my first project.  I'm calling it "knitting in the boot".

Aren't you glad I didn't post any pictures of my swollen, disgusting foot?  My doctor said it "looked angry", so we'll just leave it at that.  I have more pictures to post of the kids and their sports.  I'll do that in the next post.  Oh - and a new member of the family.  His name is Pepper.  Egypt has the best names for animals - the three hummingbirds that visit our feeder are called Lime, Flasherdash and Honeybelle.  So, you'll get to meet Pepper tomorrow.

This is Life

When I started blogging several years ago, it seemed that I could write something new every day.  Now I seem to go weeks, if not more, between posts.  It's not that there's nothing to write.  It's that I don't have the time to write it all down.  I also starting posting more and more on Facebook.  That gave me the satisfaction of writing short blurbs about what was going on without spending a lot of time writing every detail of what was happening here at Casa Marineau. 

Somehow I think I'm destined to write a book.  Not just because of all the things that have happened in my life.  Or that I have some great story to tell.  But because I can't stop writing it all down.  I have this problem that when I write emails to people, I go on and on explaining things.  I used to write letters a lot when I was younger.  Hand. Written. Letters.  Do people still do that sort of thing?  I still love writing on paper.  I love feeling the words come off of a good pen or a sharpened pencil.  But typing is just faster.  More precise.  Easier to change a thought or correct a mistake.  My thoughts come out of my head so fast, that my hand could never keep up with that momentum.  Here's a dumb little confession.  When I was learning how to type in high school, I would type what I was saying in my head.  I could type pretty fast, too (both in the real world and in my brain!)  Then, when I was learning sign language, I used to fingerspell everything.  I still do that.  When my kids ask me how to spell something, I have to spell it with letters on my hand.  Maybe that's why I'm such a good speller - or why I can't stand it when people have spelling errors.  Grammar Nazi.  That's me.  (I bet right now, you've gone back to see if I've misspelled anything!)

So with all this talk about writing, it seems I'm going to announce I'm writing some sort of how-to book.  How to be a good mother.  How to parent a special-needs child.  How to cope with a spouse being out of work.  How to not be depressed when it looks like everything around you is going down hill and everyone else's life looks like a joyous coaster ride.  How to deal with the school system that will not listen to you and place your child/test your child where you believe to be the most appropriate school setting.  How to argue with insurance companies about getting the best coverage for your child that needs to be removed from the home so he doesn't do more physical harm to family members.  How to homeschool your children in the midst of all the chaos of residential treatment for a sibling.  This list has been going on for some time.  I haven't really figured out what my job is at this point.  Does that sound crazy?  I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing.  I'm not writing a book.  Not now, anyway.

All along the way, God has provided for us.  There is not a doubt in my mind about that.  It does not erase the fact that this has been the most difficult, the most stressful and most depressive time in my life.  I see things happen that are very good.  And at the same time, wonder why other things can't be worked out in a similar way.  Super-Hero lost his job in the middle of Holland's residential treatment stay.  We were dumbfounded, thinking, why would He open the door and allow Holland's placement there and then have Super-Hero be laid off?  Then, after I applied for OHP, we found out that for some unknown, unexplained reason, OHP was making the coverage retroactive.  It would mean double coverage for all of Holland's treatment at the facility.  We went from thinking we had thousands of dollars in bills, to probably owing nothing.  Then there's the food boxes from local churches.  Not only did they provide canned food and fresh food, we also received an organic turkey one week, and lots of bakery goodies that the kids love.  And a week before Christmas I got a card in the mail from one of the churches with $40 in cash and a $50 gift card to Fred Meyer.  I was blown away.  With some other money I had, I was able to buy a Wii console for the kids.  Ours has been broken for about two years and they had just been watching Netflix on it. 

I have nothing insightful to say.  Nothing very profound or earth-shattering.  Just a lot of confusion as to why this is all happening.  I look at Holland and just love him so much.  And hate that he has turned out this way.  It just kills me that I can't have a normal conversation with him.  Laugh with him about something without fear of him getting angry or misunderstanding me.  He has a good heart.  I've seen it many times.  Genuine concern for other people.  Remorse when he's done something wrong.  I don't understand why he does so well in residential and then comes home and everything implodes. 

My mom and I drove down on Thursday and took Romania and Egypt with us to visit Holland.  It was the first time since Christmas we had seen him.  We took some games down and some fun snacks - Monster Cookies.  Gluten free cookies with peanut butter, brown sugar, oatmeal, chocolate chips and m&m's.  They are a big hit with all three kids.  We ate those while playing Scattergories and had a great time.  Holland usually doesn't like playing board games, so I was surprised when he went along with this plan.  The kids came up with some great (and sometimes very insightful answers!)  One time when the letter was L and the clue was "something you keep hidden",  Holland answered 'lame underwear' and Romania said, 'love'.   The kids did fairly well for being in a small room most of the afternoon.  I took a short rest since it's a two hour drive there and back.  They watched a movie and Holland read a new book he got for Christmas during most of the movie.  Before we left, they all got to play outside in the covered play area.  It was good to see them all together having fun.  Just as it should be. 

Today Holland had another special visit.  My cousin lives down in Eugene, about 20 minutes from where Hollands is living.  My cousin had Facebooked me and asked if it was okay to visit him.  He took his son over to visit and they stayed 2 1/2 hours, playing on the computer, playing UNO and watching a movie.  Holland was already planning their next visit.  We spoke on the phone tonight and usually the first thing he asks is for me to read to him.  Every night I read him a couple chapters from a "Ranger's Apprentice" book we're reading together.  (Sometimes he calls me twice a day if he's bored).  Today, he didn't even mention the book.  He went right in to describing the visit, playing Roblox on the computer and how my cousin brought Life Savers and how they ate "almost the whole bag".   He even set up another visit in the next two weeks, wanting to take Holland to Red Robin.  I'm blessed with family.

This and That

It's been an interesting several months with no job.  We've been busy with resumes, cover letters, job applications and countless phone calls.  It's a full time job looking for a job.  Super Hero has had one job interview.  It took about a month to finally find out he didn't get the job.  It was a really good company and he was disappointed.  He's only had one other interview and it was over the phone (on the video phone) and they said he wasn't what they were looking for.  He's applied to the top 10 firms in the area, and now is working on smaller firms and branching out farther geographically.

Meanwhile, I've been working hard with homeschooling and keeping the house intact.  Which isn't easy with Super Hero home.  You'd think having an extra body at home would be helpful, but it actually makes our school schedule more confusing.  We'll be in the middle of something and he'll want the kids to empty the dishwasher or help him with yardwork.  I tell him to act like the kids are phsyically gone at school.  He is also on the computer most of the day looking at job postings, or filling out applications so it also makes our schedule more complicated having to work around that since we use the computer quite a bit throughout the day.  Sometimes it seems like school can stretch to 8 hours!

We've also been driving down to retrieve Holland almost every Friday and bring him back home for a weekend visit.  They have not gone well for the most part.  I have seen improvements in many areas of his behavior - he is not as violent as he used to be.  But he still has that potential for rage and the littlest things can set him off.  The weekends are stressful and tiring from driving four hours on Friday and again on Sunday and all the fighting and arguing that happens in 2 1/2 days.  We spend all weekend trying to keep everything peaceful and then are exhausted at the end of it and enjoy very little, if any, of it.

There have been some amazing things happening though.  And I have to include those here.  Because although we are stressed, we've also been blessed!  We have been able to pick up food boxes from local churches for the past several weeks.  I found a listing of local churches that offer food boxes to those in the area, designated certain days and times of the week.  Usually you can pick things up every other week, or once a month, depending on the church.  We've had some pretty yummy things given to us (and some interesting things, too!), and each time Super Hero comes back with a box, I feel likes it's Christmas and Thanksgiving rolled into one day!  There is fruit and veggies, meat, bread, snacks for the kids, canned food, day-old items from local bakeries or Starbucks and sometimes even shampoo and facial soap.  One time there was even two rolls of toilet paper, and it was perfect timing, because I was completely out!  God provides.  It was amazing.

The other wonderful thing that happened was I had emailed my church about getting a Thanksgiving basket this year.  In the past, I knew that they had put together food baskets for those in need in the community.  So I asked if this year we could be included in that.  Unfortunately, they had such a low number of people request them last year, they decided not to do it this year (which is unfortunate).  But they said they would be happy to give us a gift card to a grocery store to help us purchase the items we needed.  Yesterday the secretary called me and said that she had the gift card and also an envelope that someone had dropped off with some money it in.  I said that Super Hero was out running errands and he could come by and pick it up.  When he came home with the envelope, there was $200 inside!  We all just stared at the money! (Well, Romania wanted to inspect it to see if he could see the clock on Independance Hall on the back of the bill!). 

Oh, and one more thing.  I called Oregon Health Plan to find out what kind of coverage the kids have for their medical plan, so I know what doctors to choose.  I was told that Holland's care had actually started on August 15th.  I had to ask that to be repeated.  I said, I didn't even apply for it until September and we won't be out of our private insurance until the end of this month.  Are you sure?  Because I don't want to be paying something back later on!!  I had two different people check it.  And yes.  They back dated his coverage.  Guess what this means?  This means that his entire stay at the residential facility has had two insurances covering it.  Primary insurance paid quite a bit and then we were going to have to pay for the rest.  And after Super Hero was laid off, we worried so much about how we were going to pay for his treatment.  Then, out of the blue, comes this information that OHP has backdated our insurance and now they can be billed as a secondary insurance to pick up the rest of the bill for his treatment.  I was just floored.  So I started asking questions about getting him approved to stay longer since the private insurance had terminated his treatment.  Still have not heard about that.  We picked him up today for an extended home visit.  I'm completely expecting him to come home for good.  That's been our plan and I didn't even inquire about this until this past Tuesday.  There is a lot of information that needs to be passed around and looked into and we probably won't get an answer until after the long weekend.  But I'm confident that Holland will end up where he's supposed to be.  I felt that every week when we were approved for that additional week of treatment every Friday.  Our therapist was completely floored every Friday when he would come into our room and say, "well, they've given him another week.  I've never seen anything like this before!"  When I called and told him yesterday that OHP was now our secondary insurance and could possibly be paying for additional time at the facility, his first response was to swear under his breath.  I don't think he's ever seen the hand of God in anything before and he seriously does not know what to think of it.  So glad that we were able to help him see that wonderful work!

Now pray for us for this very long, and probably not very happy weekend together.  Pray that Holland will WANT to change.  Pray that he will RECOGNIZE his misbehavior before it occurs and want to change it.  Pray for enough sleep for me and no migraines.

ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah

La la how the life goes on.  It's that song from "The Wonder Years."  Yeah.  I know it's a Beatles' song.  But this is how I remember it.

Hard to believe it's been one week.  One week ago I was doing school with the kids and was checking email.  Got one from Super Hero with the subject "bad news".  He's sent me emails before with that subject and it's usually something about 'don't spend any more money until next paycheck', or 'I don't get to play golf like I wanted.'  But this one actually was bad.  He got laid off from his job.  No warning.  No two week's notice.  In thirty days we lose our insurance.  In thirty days we have no coverage for the massive bill we're going to get for Holland's medical care at the residential facility.

He came home with about 10 huge boxes of his stuff, several large framed pictures and lots of stuff the kids had made and pictures of us as well.  It was so sad.  When he left his other job, he just moved all his 19 years worth of belongings to the new office. 

Two days after he was let go, we drove down to see Holland.  We had another family therapy session and an annual review IEP meeting.  Talk about a full weekend.  Then the next day was the kids' meeting with our ES for school.  It is just so crazy around here.  Plus I helped Super Hero rewrite his resume; write several cover letters; fill out job applications and look at job openings online.  He's under so much stress that people on his FB wall are telling him (and he's actively thinking about it) that I need to go find a teaching job.  They're telling him that he can stay home and teach the kids, while I go work.  Not only does it frustrate me that he wants me to go back to work, he couldn't even do my job if he wanted to.  Get Holland to school; go to IEP meetings; cook all the meals (including gluten free ones); teach all the subjects I do; doctor's appointments (not to mention he couldn't even communicate with the doctors without an interpreter).  Sometimes I don't understand why all this is happening.  I try not to ask "why me?"  But seriously.  Why is ALL this happening?  Don't we have enough of our portion of learning God's grace going on?

Last week during church, my pastor was telling a story of how his daughter got sick on a Disneyland trip (it related to his sermon, believe me!).  Afterwards, he spoke to me for just a minute saying how sorry he was that Super Hero lost his job.  And that he was praying for us.  "What an adventure you're having!"   I said, "I'd rather be having it in Adventureland!" 

So I'm still taking one day at a time.  I'm trying not to think about all we have to do.  Which is hard to do when your husband tells you if he doesn't find a job in two weeks, you will have to find a job or we will lose our house.  When was the last time he looked at the salary of a teacher?

Safe Center

Holland has been at the Safe Center for about a month now.  We go every weekend to visit him and to have counseling sessions with the therapist there.  He is doing very well.  Which can be good and bad.  We WANT him to get better, but the insurance will look at his behavior and say, 'why are we paying for this if he doesn't really need services?'  He doesn't have the same triggers at the Safe Center that he does at home.  So it's like they have to create situations for him to practice calming himself and not getting angry. 

We've spent the night twice, which he loved.  And was actually easier for us because the drive is so long.  And this past weekend, we were finally able to bring Romania and Egypt for a visit.  I can't tell you how excited Romania was.  All week long saying, "I get to see my brother in 5 days!"  It was so nice to hear how excited he was! 

Here are several pictures from the past few visits.

Little Boy Lost

Yesterday I met a dear friend at the park and shared some personal information with her about our family. She's one of the few people I can share this kind of thing with. She won't judge. She won't condemn. She won't say "it's about time you did something". She held my hand and said, "I'm sorry." and wanted to know if I was going to share it on my blog. In truth, I did not plan on it. I didn't want to. I have been sharing so much of our struggles with Holland. And yet keeping so much hidden because it's embarrassing and hurtful for me and the kids to have people look at you and wonder what in the heck you did wrong with this kid to have him turn out this way.

I guess I could start with why he's at a residential facility 2 hours from home. He has become unsafe for me and his brother and sister. And the three times I've called the police, they've either looked to the wrong kid for blame (yes, they actually called out Egypt one time), two separate times, they basically chalked it up to 'brothers just rough housing' and 'not getting along'. The therapist we were seeing said to make sure any time I had to call the police, to make sure they understood that I didn't feel safe with him in the house. Wanna know how horrible that feels to say about your child? But that is the only way to get any attention from "the system". Then when I started getting attention from "the system", they kept calling and asking why I wasn't pressing charges against Holland and having him arrested. He physically hit, punched, kicked and threw things at all three of us; he has broken three windows in the house; he has punched holes in the walls; he has slammed doors so hard they have come off the hinges; he has physically tried to jump out of a moving car; he has thrown himself on a moving car when he doesn't want me to leave; he has pushed me down the stairs and has bruised all three of us. I've had to physically remove him and restrain him so he doesn't hurt his siblings.

My therapist told me about a place called Jasper Mountain. It seemed like the perfect fit for him. It's the only place in state that dealt with adoption and attachment issues. It's also not on our insurance. With phone calls becoming a full time job (between keeping the kids safe and the house from falling down), I was able to get the insurance to say they would allow Jasper Mountain to be an in-network facility if a few guidelines were followed to meet their criteria. The only catch was, the facility ages out kids at 14 years. No exception. We have until March. They didn't have an opening until mid to late October. They do have several other facilities which are either day treatment or shorter term residential facilities. We were referred to the Safe Center and a week ago found out that there was an opening on the 15th.

Super Hero and I drove Holland to what I told him was a doctor appointment, Wednesday morning. Knowing his behavior from past experiences, this was the only safe way to transport him to the treatment facility. He was pretty groggy from meds and not much sleep, so I think that contributed to his reaction of just sobbing when I told him. As opposed to the normal hitting and kicking and screaming that usually happens when he doesn't like what's happening.

  I will write more later when I have had time to process everything that has happened. I've been sleeping a lot - this has been a very draining experience. And the hot weather is not helping at all. I've spoken to him twice. He said he's refusing to eat and then in the next sentence asked me to buy him a laptop when he gets home.

Mr. Chore Chart Shines Again

The Chore Chart has made its reappearance in our house. It's not like I haven't tried this before. I've given tokens for jobs done, or marked things off on a chart, but the problem always is on my end - remembering to remind them. So in the end, the chore chart just ends up being a chore - for ME!

Enter the new therapist. She's had some great ideas. The kids have dubbed her the "repair doctor". And it's not uttered in a nice way when they find out where I'm going for an appointment. They say things like, "I don't like her! She tells you things like we have to start doing YOUR work!" (that's why I love this lady). Or, "she is always getting us in trouble!". So her idea of a chore chart works like this: I give each kid chores every day and they must be done by a certain time. I typed them out and posted them on the fridge. When they're done, they put a little check mark by the job. The beauty of this is.....I say NOTHING to remind them. That's right. And it's not as easy as it sounds. I'm used to nagging, reminding, scolding and harrassing them into their chores. We started this on Spring Break, so it was easier because they had all day to do something that probably should only take about 30-40 minutes total. Holland thought it would cease once he went back to school. It took them about a week to get into the rhythm of it. The chores had to be done by dinner time. ("I'll be happy to get you dinner, just as soon as your chores are done!") That did NOT go over well when I did that. But the next night, Holland had his chores done before dinner. We were all sitting around eating while he was cleaning the floor under our feet. NOT a happy camper.

The other thing about the chore chart is they can earn $5 a week for the chores if they're done on time. And an extra $2 for having their rooms clean. At the end of each day, I come in and swoop up everything they've left lying around (shoes, socks, toys, whatever that belongs to them) and stuff it in a bag. On Saturday, they must buy back everything that belongs to them for 10 cents per item. (It's called "The Saturday Bag". Kinda catchy.) They also have the opportunity to lose money by lying, being disrespectful, not completing the chore on time. They also get more chores by not finishing the chores. I had a meeting after doing the chore chart for a couple weeks and mentioned to the therapist that Holland had decided that it wasn't really worth it to him to do his chores for $7 a week. She just laughed and said, "Well, you tell him 'that's fine. You can do them for money during the week, but I'm just as happy to have them done for free on Saturday!' " She's so clever I just can't keep up.

So we are plugging away at the chore chart. I can tell it's having the desired affect on Holland (even if it's painfully slow). He came home from school, after having a horrible morning getting ready for school and getting on the bus. He walked right in the door and wanted to know his repair work. He had committed some pretty serious offenses, and wasn't able to finish all of the repair work that day (it was Grandma's birthday and we were going out to dinner), so the next morning at
8, he showed me a small bucket of weeds he had pulled to finish off his repair work. I was quite impressed and said he had completed his work and I felt blessed. Gave him a hug and let him get back on the computer.

Geez this parenting stuff is hard.

Mrs. Stretchy

Today it's Saturday. It's one of those days where you are being stretched in 8 different directions, but there are only 5 people in the family and you are thinking 'how is that even possible?' I do a lot of that kind of thinking because the sanity is being sucked out of my brain. And if I don't talk to myself, then it's proof that I've lost my wits.

A few weeks ago I had planned for a haircut and to get my hair colored. Romania was having his last basketball game and pizza party. That was it. My appointment was at 8 in the morning and Romania's game was at 11.45. Plenty of time to do both things and then come home and relax in the afternoon. *snort* Why would I EVER think that would happen?! Within the last week, we added a photoshoot for Egypt and two funerals. We also had to contend with Holland not wanting to be doing any of the things we needed to do. I postponed my color and kept the haircut. Came back and picked up Egypt for her photoshoot at 10. Meanwhile, Super Hero got the boys ready for Romania's game and pizza party and Holland was dropped at my mom's house where (unbeknownst to him) he was also attending a funeral for a dear friend who died last Sunday. Super Hero went to the game with Romania and got back about an hour after I arrived home from the photoshoot. My mom then called and said the funeral was over, but Holland didn't want to ride the tram in Portland, so they would just bring him home. Romania didn't want to go to his pizza party so he stayed home and my parents took Egypt on the tram ride.

Confused yet? Yeah. Me either. I've got it all figured out. Also, my sister is gone for the weekend and I have to bring all her teaching stuff to the co-op on Monday. Plus bring (and MAKE snacks) and I'll probably make something for her, too since she had snack but didn't realize she was going to be gone. Egypt has basketball practice Monday night. I have another appointment with the therapist on Tuesday. Wednesday it's Awanas. Thursday I have to pick up Holland early from school and we both have doctor appointments. Friday is a special Bunco night for a friend who moved to the east coast a few years back that used to be in our group. Somewhere in there I need to plan meals, organize the school week, actually TEACH school and conquer Holland's horrible defiance and disobedience.

Currently I'm interviewing for positions available. The pay is minimal (none). But when you're done you can write a book on your experience and there'll be nothing like it out there.

This is for you, Kris

This is for my friend Kris, who says I never update my blog. I'm updating RIGHT now.

So I'm seeing a new therapist for Holland and I have to say I'm loving all the housework I'm getting done. I just put my feet up and, BAM! three little punks argue with each other and then are sucked into the housework vortex. The new rule is if any of them argue, fight, hit, don't do a chore or something they're asked to in a timely manner, or general naughtiness, I assign "repair work". They have to repair our relationship by performing housework or chores for me. They all love it so much. Each one has complained that it does nothing for them. I say so sweetly that it's not meant to help them, but to repair my relationship with them.

The first time Holland really broke the rule by hitting me, an automatic hour, he had to pick up everything he had trashed and then do his repair work. I made a list and just propped my feet up on the couch and played on my phone. See, the key is delivery. The therapist says my reaction plays a huge part in getting Holland's behavior to improve. Now, I already knew this, but it's getting to that point that was the hard part. When you are faced with a kid who complains and yells from the moment he wakes up until he goes to bed; who you are in constant fear of him hitting you or hitting his siblings; or destroying something in the house, then it gets really tiring trying to stay calm and pleasant in that kind of environment. My reaction is supposed to be "oh, honey, first you need to do your repair work, and then I'd be happy to let you do the computer." It was interesting, though, this first time he had an hour's worth of work. By the end of the hour, he was chatting pleasantly, asking me things, crossing the jobs off the list. I was totally ready to give him the priviledges back.

Still, he gripes and complains every time we start a new repair work session. He's adament he's NOT going to do it. I just let him wander around and when he tries to do something like the computer, or tv, I physically block him and say sweetly, "remember your repair work and then you're free to do the computer". He gets so mad and tells me to stop talking in "that" voice. It makes me want to laugh because he's totally noticing the difference! I've had to also make him wait to eat dinner because he had done something and of course that meant me stopping eating as well. That's the fun part. I get to suspend whatever I'm doing and make sure he's doing the work. He can get very controlling over meal time. With the gluten free diet, my cooking has changed quite a bit. He doesn't always like what I cook and many times I've just let him make himself something to avoid the argument. The new therapist probably wanted to crawl out of her skin when I told her that. "No, no, no, dear. He eats what you all eat." "I know, but he physically pushes me around and tries to eat something else." "Then you stand in front of him and prevent him from getting it." So here I am in the kitchen, trying to wrestle away food from an almost 13 year-old who won't eat chicken tortilla soup! It's nuts. But, after a few times of this, he did sit down and munch on a few things. Cried the entire time. Made dinner so pleasant. What chef doesn't want their patrons to cry over their meal as a way to thank them?

My favorite repair work was the time he had to sweep both the kitchen and nook floors. Then I had him on his hands and knees mopping just the kitchen floor. When he was done, he asked what he should do with the water. I said, "oh, just leave it on the counter. You'll probably need it later." Sure enough, he needed it. When he had to clean the nook floor, he picked up the bowl of used soapy water and said, "is it okay if it's cold?" " Oh SURE!", I said. Then today, his repair work involved washing all the doors, inside and out. Then I had him wash every single post going up the stairs and the whole molding from top to bottom. Nice and shiny now.

Just waiting for who'll mess up tomorrow so I can get something else cleaned.