In my daily life, I try to focus on balance. Balance good nutrition with ice cream, a late night with a next day nap, sadness and grief with some joy and laughter. If you pay attention enough, you'll recognize the ebb and flow of each day and then when things feel really bad for whatever reason, you can hold onto the knowledge that the balance of it all will return. It helps me to get thru those tough times, to know that something smoother is just around the corner. However, I tend to forget that when things are smooth and pretty, there's usually some storms brewing ahead. Thank you universe!
Saturday night at dinner I served meals to two of my own kiddos (G and H) and the two that I'm nannying, plus J (G's dad). Six people total. And, let me remind you, this was not some special planned dinner party! It was one mom feeding a rotating cast of offspring on a hot, summer night. I pulled off two vegetarian plates, one gluten free/salicylate free plate, one picky eater plate, and food enough for all. We all sat at the table together and ate and talked and shared and there was a moment of absolute completeness in my heart (save for the fact I was missing two others of my own, plus a couple of J's kids) but it just felt full and sweet and safe and like it was supposed to be exactly the way it was. I said many many words of gratitude in my mind. And my imagination is running wild with this joy and with how to recreate it in the future.
and then there's the balance...
I have been frustrated with some of G's behaviors lately. They mostly seem to be when the nanny-kids are around. One person said maybe it was a jealousy issue. I don't think so, but I'm not discounting it entirely. I feel more like it's related to trust and safety - about how much G trusts me and feels safe with me overall, and somehow when I am in charge of more children, he begins to feel threatened somehow, or maybe his inability to be flexible creates conflict and THEN he feels fear about how that will play out without trust in me to navigate it appropriately? This ultimately manifests in behaviors where he argues with everything I say and really tries to be in control of everything he can and then gets irrationally upset when he is not in charge. Also? Everything in life is nooooot fairrrrrrrr; just in case you were wondering. It's not fair that sometimes he can't be in charge of who is allowed to talk and what the topic is. The sky isn't blue, its not, it's not at all. And it isn't only 2:00 in the afternoon, it isn't, no, no it's not at ALL, the clock is wrong, it's NOT FAIR. It is mentally exhausting, for both of us. Honestly, it exhausts me and makes it really hard to enjoy any time with him because its such a barrage and onslaught of negativity that when he IS being the sweet and tender boy that I know, I'm still seething and irritated as hell. Oh Universe, are you still laughing? Of course you are... This nanny gig is one loooong stretch.
These behaviors are only obvious and having an impact when the nanny kids are around, the rest of the time he is his usual sweet, funny self. And thus, I remain perplexed.
The reason I think it has to do with trust and feeling safe is because these kinds of behaviors were new to him and popped up after he'd been in the daycare center where he was mistreated. The Child Protective Services program (where I was directed to once I figured out he was being hurt) said that those kinds of oppositional behaviors toward a parent are typical in abuse situations and can stem from a child losing trust in the adult who sent them into the situation where they were hurt. Ugh. So, yes, my son lost trust in my ability to keep him safe. I am a loser. The truth hurts. As soon as I pulled him from that place, however, I saw a distinct lessening of those behaviors and he started getting calmer, sweeter, and more cooperative, and more affectionate. It was a sweet time, although it was very brief. Once I'd found a new place for him to go to, a lot of those behaviors began surfacing again. I do temper my observation with the fact that he is often easily overwhelmed, gets tired and over stimulated quickly, and needs a lot of 'alone time'; however those negative and distrustful behaviors went beyond the exceptions.
I took him to a therapist. I talked to his pediatrician (for the record, she is the same pedi ALL my kids have had, a very trusted female, mom, and professional whom I've had positive difference of opinions with and highly value/trust her opinion; and is someone who knows me and my family). I talked to friends, and non-friends, and I researched mental health issues in preschoolers, and in abused kids, and in average kids. I researched my own parenting, my triggers, my habitual responses, how to change my parenting/triggers/habitual responses... and Cheezncrackers!!! Nothing shed light on these particular behaviors then, or now.
So if you have a suggestion, or opinion, or some sort of outside insight? Please... please speak up. Maybe it's just jealousy. pffft.
Anyway... balance. It was awesome, and then it wasn't... and everyday that I nanny these sweet kids, it's the same. There is laughter, and there is frustrated growling. There are battles for control, battles for authority and position, and subdued, penitent cuddles and apologies. There is intense connection tempered by animalistic separation. Oh universe, trusting you is the hardest thing...and when I think of how much I personally believe in and trust my own God, it's even more of a challenge to just throw my hands up and say, "It's all up to you, cuz I have NO power here at all!" But what else can I do that I haven't already tried?
And maybe, somehow, that is in fact the essential point that I need to embrace. Trust. Hope. Believe. Honor. Accept. That's a lot for day 16...and for a 4 year old...
Showing posts with label Mistreated. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mistreated. Show all posts
August 29, 2016
August 24, 2016
Wednesday 8/24; Day 13
I don't really want to talk about Tuesday. It was not a good day. G really broke down under the pressure of having the other kids around and there was a travel issue that resulted in us keeping the kids for another full day instead of just a few hours. G full on was wetting his pants and even pee-ing all over the floor and wall in the bathroom...twice. The last time he did that was over a year ago when he had just started the daycare where he was mistreated, and after I had gone away for a week to see my brother and G had to stay with his dad for the first time ever. He just could NOT cope. Not then, and not now. It was a very long day. The 5 yr old pee'd in G's car-seat late Monday night after our Chinese food dinner. I don't mean he wet his pants a little cuz he couldn't hold it, that seat was soaked through and half way up the back. The kid flooded it! I took it in stride in the moment, needing to buy another car seat soon anyway, but from late Monday night thru Tuesday, there was just so much pee.. I might have cried a little.
Today, on the other hand, was such a good day. The universe graced us with something to treasure after that hard stretch. I am so grateful.
I had an interview at my old job for a per-diem nights position which would be perfect. G would sleep while I was gone, either at his dads or at home with big sister H, and about 6 shifts a month would keep me afloat financially. It was in a department that is closely tied to the one I just left so I already know about 1/2 of the staff and as I was touring the unit with the manager, I got to exchange 'hello's' and 'good to see you's' with several doctors/nurses/admins. It was fun. Then I spent another hour visiting my friends from when I worked there. I miss those friends so much. Their support for my decision to leave and take care of G was really heart warming and helped me feel really good about my choice.
When I got home, G was still chillin' in his pj's and watching tv with H. I had left strict instructions that he could just do what he wanted, no need for getting dressed or limiting tv and H took me at my word. She hadn't gotten dressed either! G and I had some lunch together and then we took a nap together. I was a little worried about him, his face looked kind of drawn and pale and his eyes looked heavy. He was either getting sick, or was still stressed out from the past few days. He giggled and talked and snuggled and kissed his way thru the first 10 minutes of laying down with me and then he passed out and snored for almost 2 hours. I slept too - as I said back on day 9 - social interactions can drain me and a nap is usually in order afterwards.
When we woke up, I could see that G looked so much better. He just needed the nap and the snuggles. I figured some fun time was in order so we decided to have an adventure. We got dressed in play clothes and decided on a "hike". Some of you might see small kids hiking actual mountain trails but for me and G, a walk on the nice flat paved rail trail is more our speed, especially when we planned for an ice cream afterward! We drove to the local rail trail head and G carried his 'stuffy bear' and the water, and a couple of important toys in his bat man string bag because...well, you never know when you might need your stuffy bear or your blue marble or your transformer guy.
Walking hand in hand with my sweet sweet boy was such a healing activity for us. He chatted and chatted and chatted and I let his voice wash over me in waves. His little hand in mine was like a weight that grounded me to reality, and purpose, and intention. The solid crunch - crunch - crunch of our feet on the gravel road was a backdrop to some other music being made by our conversation. It was awesome. We collected some acorns and decided they looked like little heads wearing caps. Later on we drew faces on them and made a family. We found a large strip of white beech bark that was cool and we added that to our collection. We saw little hidey-holes at the bases of some trees where chipmunks (or snakes or alligators or dinosaurs maybe!) lived, and listened to the different sounds of crickets and cicadas and birds all around us.
Underlying all of this beautiful time though, was the increasing fear prickling at my senses. A few weeks ago a woman was murdered in broad daylight, on a sunny afternoon, a few miles from me, and all in about a 3 hour timespan of when she went missing to when she was found. It was a horrible horrible crime and I've been sort of irrationally fearful ever since. As soon as G and I started walking I started thinking about it. Started thinking about this woman, abducted in broad daylight on a populated road where she'd been jogging, and how alone I was, there with G. Also, I had inadvertantly chosen a side trail, a dirt bike trail, and not the paved and populated walking trail so it was deserted, which I didn't know until much later. While I felt a little creeped out, I was ok until a bicyclist came by. I made eye contact with the guy, and had my 'serious' face on, and kept my eyes on him the entire time but G was all smiles. "Hi guy! Hiiii!" and waving. Biker guy smiles and replies. All I can think is: he's not sweating, shouldn't he be sweating?why isn't he sweating?what if he's not really a biker? But he kept going up the hill and all I could do is start praying. I prayed for protection, but also for peace of mind. I do not want my happy friendly boy to start being fearful of strangers. I want him to be cautious, but I want to keep that spirit of open friendliness in him. Its not my nature really, I am naturally fearful and cautious, so I adore and value his enjoyment of others. I like that in his character. But as a single woman alone on a deserted trail, I was scared. As G and I walked, my inner alarms were going off like crazy but I still felt really responsible for creating a sense of peace for G. It was exhausting to do that much battle internally. I wonder if that is a feeling he used to have everyday at daycare (or even during our time with the nanny kids): the struggle of knowing how to behave, and the fear of what could happen if he didn't behave, combined with not always knowing how OTHER kids were going to behave and therefore change the circumstances, and how little control he had over it. It take a tremendous amount of energy to carry that. As we reached the start of the trail, I saw the actual paved trail off to the left and had a moment of "duh!". G wanted to explore that one too, so off we went. I might be scared, but I'm also brave. I think the concept I adhere to is that being brave is being scared but doing something anyway. I also like to think that everytime I'm brave, I'm setting an example for G.
When we finally made it back to the car. I asked G what was the best part of our walk and he said two things: walking along the 'clifft' (yep, cliffT!) and seeing the bike riders. He particularly liked the "three wheeled bike" we saw, a recumbent bike being ridden by an older man who did NOT look like he enjoyed it.
An ice cream was our next stop and sitting outside in the sunshine while G became progressively covered in chocolate ice cream was probably my favorite part of the day. Being safe, being happy, being together, sharing something so simple and just watching my son greet every person that walked by us on their way to get their own ice cream was such a treasure to my heart. Thank you universe, and God, and angels, for keeping us safe.
My boy went to sleep tonight after dinner and a long warm tubby, and said, "this was my bestest day in forever!". Mine too pal, mine too.
Today, on the other hand, was such a good day. The universe graced us with something to treasure after that hard stretch. I am so grateful.
I had an interview at my old job for a per-diem nights position which would be perfect. G would sleep while I was gone, either at his dads or at home with big sister H, and about 6 shifts a month would keep me afloat financially. It was in a department that is closely tied to the one I just left so I already know about 1/2 of the staff and as I was touring the unit with the manager, I got to exchange 'hello's' and 'good to see you's' with several doctors/nurses/admins. It was fun. Then I spent another hour visiting my friends from when I worked there. I miss those friends so much. Their support for my decision to leave and take care of G was really heart warming and helped me feel really good about my choice.
When I got home, G was still chillin' in his pj's and watching tv with H. I had left strict instructions that he could just do what he wanted, no need for getting dressed or limiting tv and H took me at my word. She hadn't gotten dressed either! G and I had some lunch together and then we took a nap together. I was a little worried about him, his face looked kind of drawn and pale and his eyes looked heavy. He was either getting sick, or was still stressed out from the past few days. He giggled and talked and snuggled and kissed his way thru the first 10 minutes of laying down with me and then he passed out and snored for almost 2 hours. I slept too - as I said back on day 9 - social interactions can drain me and a nap is usually in order afterwards.
When we woke up, I could see that G looked so much better. He just needed the nap and the snuggles. I figured some fun time was in order so we decided to have an adventure. We got dressed in play clothes and decided on a "hike". Some of you might see small kids hiking actual mountain trails but for me and G, a walk on the nice flat paved rail trail is more our speed, especially when we planned for an ice cream afterward! We drove to the local rail trail head and G carried his 'stuffy bear' and the water, and a couple of important toys in his bat man string bag because...well, you never know when you might need your stuffy bear or your blue marble or your transformer guy.
Walking hand in hand with my sweet sweet boy was such a healing activity for us. He chatted and chatted and chatted and I let his voice wash over me in waves. His little hand in mine was like a weight that grounded me to reality, and purpose, and intention. The solid crunch - crunch - crunch of our feet on the gravel road was a backdrop to some other music being made by our conversation. It was awesome. We collected some acorns and decided they looked like little heads wearing caps. Later on we drew faces on them and made a family. We found a large strip of white beech bark that was cool and we added that to our collection. We saw little hidey-holes at the bases of some trees where chipmunks (or snakes or alligators or dinosaurs maybe!) lived, and listened to the different sounds of crickets and cicadas and birds all around us.
Underlying all of this beautiful time though, was the increasing fear prickling at my senses. A few weeks ago a woman was murdered in broad daylight, on a sunny afternoon, a few miles from me, and all in about a 3 hour timespan of when she went missing to when she was found. It was a horrible horrible crime and I've been sort of irrationally fearful ever since. As soon as G and I started walking I started thinking about it. Started thinking about this woman, abducted in broad daylight on a populated road where she'd been jogging, and how alone I was, there with G. Also, I had inadvertantly chosen a side trail, a dirt bike trail, and not the paved and populated walking trail so it was deserted, which I didn't know until much later. While I felt a little creeped out, I was ok until a bicyclist came by. I made eye contact with the guy, and had my 'serious' face on, and kept my eyes on him the entire time but G was all smiles. "Hi guy! Hiiii!" and waving. Biker guy smiles and replies. All I can think is: he's not sweating, shouldn't he be sweating?why isn't he sweating?what if he's not really a biker? But he kept going up the hill and all I could do is start praying. I prayed for protection, but also for peace of mind. I do not want my happy friendly boy to start being fearful of strangers. I want him to be cautious, but I want to keep that spirit of open friendliness in him. Its not my nature really, I am naturally fearful and cautious, so I adore and value his enjoyment of others. I like that in his character. But as a single woman alone on a deserted trail, I was scared. As G and I walked, my inner alarms were going off like crazy but I still felt really responsible for creating a sense of peace for G. It was exhausting to do that much battle internally. I wonder if that is a feeling he used to have everyday at daycare (or even during our time with the nanny kids): the struggle of knowing how to behave, and the fear of what could happen if he didn't behave, combined with not always knowing how OTHER kids were going to behave and therefore change the circumstances, and how little control he had over it. It take a tremendous amount of energy to carry that. As we reached the start of the trail, I saw the actual paved trail off to the left and had a moment of "duh!". G wanted to explore that one too, so off we went. I might be scared, but I'm also brave. I think the concept I adhere to is that being brave is being scared but doing something anyway. I also like to think that everytime I'm brave, I'm setting an example for G.
When we finally made it back to the car. I asked G what was the best part of our walk and he said two things: walking along the 'clifft' (yep, cliffT!) and seeing the bike riders. He particularly liked the "three wheeled bike" we saw, a recumbent bike being ridden by an older man who did NOT look like he enjoyed it.
An ice cream was our next stop and sitting outside in the sunshine while G became progressively covered in chocolate ice cream was probably my favorite part of the day. Being safe, being happy, being together, sharing something so simple and just watching my son greet every person that walked by us on their way to get their own ice cream was such a treasure to my heart. Thank you universe, and God, and angels, for keeping us safe.
My boy went to sleep tonight after dinner and a long warm tubby, and said, "this was my bestest day in forever!". Mine too pal, mine too.
August 11, 2016
Day Four(ish) - and the story of why...
Tuesday was day two. At some point it ended, as all days eventually do. We didn't get to accomplish any of the important things on our list, but we acquired a lizard. Accidentally. Sort of. Its a long story involving Amazon Prime, UPS, an electronic delivery for H and a rush to leave the house for a last minute call to work, and G screaming, "A Lizard! A Lizard!" It culminated in a trip to Petco. Because...well...because G named it Liz and then what else could I do but buy it a cage and some crickets? And then we went to bed. When we woke up, it was Wednesday, Liz was still alive and in captivity, and everything seemed right with the world. And that is how it goes I think, this thing called "life".
Wednesday was day three. Day three was a day it was too wet to play, so we stayed in the house all the humid, hot, day (thank you Dr. Suess) No, not really, not ALL day...but kind of. It rained hard, which we desperately needed, and so we played with playdough and made messes, and played in the big boxes that Amazon and UPS had delivered the previous day (no more lizards thank goodness!) and then finally we clambered into the car so H could practice driving.
Practice is a funny word to use for driving. I mean, its not like you can make a mistake, like, say, get in a wreck, and then just "undo" it and start over. No, no, driving doesn't work that way. Just saying. But we did it. I mean, we practiced, not got in a wreck...so we practiced not getting in a wreck? H drove and I breathed and it was fine. We shopped at a far away Trader Joes (because momma needed a little "Two Buck Chuck" after that drive) and then dropped G off to visit with his daddy, and then H drove home again, in a torrential downpour complete with blinding sun glare and rush hour traffic. We were very glad to get home. Both of us equally. When G came back later on, we were both deep in our own electronic devices just decompressing from the "practice". And then we went to bed. When we woke up it was Thursday, Liz was still alive and captive, and everything seemed right with the world. I'm sensing a pattern here.
Today is Thursday. It is (was?) DAY FOUR. My fourth day of being a stay at home mom. I've been here before, but just not with THIS kid. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's entirely different all at the same time. This is the story of why...
I have 3 other kids, the youngest of whom is 18 and I was at home with her all her entire elementary school years before I started working, at home with her and her two older siblings. I was home, married, driving a minivan and going to play dates and PTA meetings, and running kids to soccer and karate and tee-ball. Until. Until I wasn't.
When G came along, I was a single mom, working hard at two jobs for minimum wage. I utilized a food bank. I had food stamps and WIC. I got assistance for heat and utilities. He was 16 months old when I finally got a good, stable, well paying job. I was so grateful for that job! I was proud of my work, of my employer, of how well I was doing, proud of paying my own way and not using assistance of any kind. When G was just turning 3 I moved him from the small home daycare he was at because I thought he was bored... I found a great preschool with a science and nature based curriculum with outdoor trails and a really good balance of social skills and academics. The director had been running it for so long, that I actually knew her from when my older kids had gone to some summer camp programs she ran. How much safer could it get? Apparently a lot. I'm not really sure of the whole story, but as best I can tell, that person had a problem with G and began to take out her frustrations with him physically. I know she used her fingers to "thump" or "flick" him on the head, I know she grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair, to bully him into her office, to pull him... I know she shook him, by his shoulders. I know she bent down and got right in his face and made a "mad face"...and I know she used her hand to grab my baby's cheeks in between her thumb and other fingers and "pinch" or "squeeze". G used the word "punch" but he demonstrated a "pinch"... I hope it was only a pinch.
For seven months my boy was there - seven months before I understood what was happening, seven months of being mistreated by an adult, of being told by ME to "try harder buddy" and "you have to listen to your teacher" and "you just have to behave". Seven months before I actually HEARD my boy and understood what he was trying to tell me. I will never stop hurting for those months.
I pulled G out of that center in one swift moment - it was a dark winter night after picking him up as usual, but when he relayed some instance from the day it was like a light bulb switching on for me. One moment from the back seat, safely snug in his $300 European carseat (because no expense was too great when it came to keeping him safe - oh the irony...) and he was done there. I left a message on their answering machine, cancelled the check I'd just written for the 'two weeks in advance, payable the Monday prior to the two weeks time frame', called the licensing board, and never looked back.
It was a rocky 3 weeks before I found him a new place. My boss was accommodating and patient, but I could see her generosity running out by the last week. The new place was fresh, and bright, with open rooms and a director/teacher who had also had her own child mistreated somewhere...surely she would 'get it'. And I think she did, to the extent she could. But my G? He was a little too bruised in the spirit. A little broken in the feelings of "trust" and "safety". And he wasn't gonna take shit from no one!
It took another 7 months of hard times, of behaviors and infractions and modifications, of being sent home...before I could choose to listen to the fact that he needed ME. He needed me to be with him all the time, to be the one to set the limits and enforce them. He needed me to show him, tangibly, that he was safe. That he was a good boy, a loved boy, and that he could make friends and have friends and that he could trust his momma to BE there to keep him safe, even when he didn't behave appropriately. Because when you are 4? Sometimes you don't behave appropriately. Sometimes even when you are an adult you don't behave appropriately...but I need to be the one to be there when that happens, because even if I get frustrated, even if I yell, I will always keep him safe. I will not hurt his body, his trust, his faith. So I quit my job and am staying home to take care of my son. He is hurt in the deepest place inside and there is nothing that can heal it save love...and patience...and the every day efforts of rebuilding trust and a deep faith in safety. That's what I'm here for.
So on today, day four, we hung out in our pj's. We had pancakes for breakfast because G asked for them. We ate cheese-sticks and crackers with pink lady apples for lunch and G tried snow peas and decided they were pretty good. Almost as good as carrots, maybe. We sat outside, zipped up inside our mosquito netted canopy in the sweltering humid New England evening, safe from mosquito's, and played Old Maid by the light of citronella candles and our own love. We ate peanut butter sandwiches and read The Cat In The Hat. He was on his Kindle too much, but thats ok. There is a balance to everything and today was a day for electronics and carbohydrates and simple entertainment. Tomorrow is another chance to do bigger things. Today? Today was just perfect.
Wednesday was day three. Day three was a day it was too wet to play, so we stayed in the house all the humid, hot, day (thank you Dr. Suess) No, not really, not ALL day...but kind of. It rained hard, which we desperately needed, and so we played with playdough and made messes, and played in the big boxes that Amazon and UPS had delivered the previous day (no more lizards thank goodness!) and then finally we clambered into the car so H could practice driving.
Practice is a funny word to use for driving. I mean, its not like you can make a mistake, like, say, get in a wreck, and then just "undo" it and start over. No, no, driving doesn't work that way. Just saying. But we did it. I mean, we practiced, not got in a wreck...so we practiced not getting in a wreck? H drove and I breathed and it was fine. We shopped at a far away Trader Joes (because momma needed a little "Two Buck Chuck" after that drive) and then dropped G off to visit with his daddy, and then H drove home again, in a torrential downpour complete with blinding sun glare and rush hour traffic. We were very glad to get home. Both of us equally. When G came back later on, we were both deep in our own electronic devices just decompressing from the "practice". And then we went to bed. When we woke up it was Thursday, Liz was still alive and captive, and everything seemed right with the world. I'm sensing a pattern here.
Today is Thursday. It is (was?) DAY FOUR. My fourth day of being a stay at home mom. I've been here before, but just not with THIS kid. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's entirely different all at the same time. This is the story of why...
I have 3 other kids, the youngest of whom is 18 and I was at home with her all her entire elementary school years before I started working, at home with her and her two older siblings. I was home, married, driving a minivan and going to play dates and PTA meetings, and running kids to soccer and karate and tee-ball. Until. Until I wasn't.
When G came along, I was a single mom, working hard at two jobs for minimum wage. I utilized a food bank. I had food stamps and WIC. I got assistance for heat and utilities. He was 16 months old when I finally got a good, stable, well paying job. I was so grateful for that job! I was proud of my work, of my employer, of how well I was doing, proud of paying my own way and not using assistance of any kind. When G was just turning 3 I moved him from the small home daycare he was at because I thought he was bored... I found a great preschool with a science and nature based curriculum with outdoor trails and a really good balance of social skills and academics. The director had been running it for so long, that I actually knew her from when my older kids had gone to some summer camp programs she ran. How much safer could it get? Apparently a lot. I'm not really sure of the whole story, but as best I can tell, that person had a problem with G and began to take out her frustrations with him physically. I know she used her fingers to "thump" or "flick" him on the head, I know she grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair, to bully him into her office, to pull him... I know she shook him, by his shoulders. I know she bent down and got right in his face and made a "mad face"...and I know she used her hand to grab my baby's cheeks in between her thumb and other fingers and "pinch" or "squeeze". G used the word "punch" but he demonstrated a "pinch"... I hope it was only a pinch.
For seven months my boy was there - seven months before I understood what was happening, seven months of being mistreated by an adult, of being told by ME to "try harder buddy" and "you have to listen to your teacher" and "you just have to behave". Seven months before I actually HEARD my boy and understood what he was trying to tell me. I will never stop hurting for those months.
I pulled G out of that center in one swift moment - it was a dark winter night after picking him up as usual, but when he relayed some instance from the day it was like a light bulb switching on for me. One moment from the back seat, safely snug in his $300 European carseat (because no expense was too great when it came to keeping him safe - oh the irony...) and he was done there. I left a message on their answering machine, cancelled the check I'd just written for the 'two weeks in advance, payable the Monday prior to the two weeks time frame', called the licensing board, and never looked back.
It was a rocky 3 weeks before I found him a new place. My boss was accommodating and patient, but I could see her generosity running out by the last week. The new place was fresh, and bright, with open rooms and a director/teacher who had also had her own child mistreated somewhere...surely she would 'get it'. And I think she did, to the extent she could. But my G? He was a little too bruised in the spirit. A little broken in the feelings of "trust" and "safety". And he wasn't gonna take shit from no one!
It took another 7 months of hard times, of behaviors and infractions and modifications, of being sent home...before I could choose to listen to the fact that he needed ME. He needed me to be with him all the time, to be the one to set the limits and enforce them. He needed me to show him, tangibly, that he was safe. That he was a good boy, a loved boy, and that he could make friends and have friends and that he could trust his momma to BE there to keep him safe, even when he didn't behave appropriately. Because when you are 4? Sometimes you don't behave appropriately. Sometimes even when you are an adult you don't behave appropriately...but I need to be the one to be there when that happens, because even if I get frustrated, even if I yell, I will always keep him safe. I will not hurt his body, his trust, his faith. So I quit my job and am staying home to take care of my son. He is hurt in the deepest place inside and there is nothing that can heal it save love...and patience...and the every day efforts of rebuilding trust and a deep faith in safety. That's what I'm here for.
So on today, day four, we hung out in our pj's. We had pancakes for breakfast because G asked for them. We ate cheese-sticks and crackers with pink lady apples for lunch and G tried snow peas and decided they were pretty good. Almost as good as carrots, maybe. We sat outside, zipped up inside our mosquito netted canopy in the sweltering humid New England evening, safe from mosquito's, and played Old Maid by the light of citronella candles and our own love. We ate peanut butter sandwiches and read The Cat In The Hat. He was on his Kindle too much, but thats ok. There is a balance to everything and today was a day for electronics and carbohydrates and simple entertainment. Tomorrow is another chance to do bigger things. Today? Today was just perfect.
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