Attachment.5

Before I start in on today's post about attachment, I'd like to give a shout out to a bloggy friend of mine named Denise.

Denise is author of the blog Fostering a Blessing, and she is a single foster Mom to two boys. And she is struggling. She is new to parenting. She is new to adoption issues and trauma issues and attachment issues. It has NOT been a walk in the park for her.

When I write my pieces on attachment, she is right there in the front of my mind as I write, although I wasn't sure if she was reading them or not.

But last week, I was catching up on her blog, as I had missed a few posts, and I saw this:

On Tuesday mornings I so look forward to reading my friend Anne's blog. On Tuesday she writes about a topic that is near and dear to me...attachment. Today I love her post...love it. It is about parenting a kiddo with RAD. I could have written it...except for the part about how to parent through it. My natural instinct is the type of parenting where I throw gas on the fire. I am learning...slowly learning.

Here is Anne's post....Attachment.

Thanks Anne for enlightening me every single week. For being a constant reminder that these kids need something "different". God....thank you for bringing Anne into "my life". I hope to one day meet her in person. Through you all things are possible.


Wow. Denise, I'm so glad that my blog has been helpful to you. Having never met you, this will sound strange, but I am so very proud of you. I think you're doing an amazing job with these boys. Please know that even if you don't hear from me (I often have trouble commenting on your blog), you are always in my thoughts and in my prayers. God bless.....

Now then. Today's post on attachment. I'd like to touch on the cyclical nature of attachment with traumatized kids.

When parenting a child with attachment issues, you go through some pretty tough, very intense times. Times that make you question whether you can continue in this role. Times when you wonder how much longer you can make it the way things are. And then suddenly, it's better. And you think, "I MADE IT!!!!" You crossed the finish line and you're lying in an exhausted heap, but your child is lying next to you and you're both breathless, but you hold hands and your heart rate begins to return to normal. And you think that easy days are stretched before you and you can breathe again, and you pat yourself on the back for having made it.


  Cue sound of needle scratching across the record.

Sadly, this is NOT the way of it. With attachment disorders, it's two steps forward, one step back, and parents need to be prepared for this. Because generally speaking, the timeline goes a little something like this:
1) Adopted or foster child joins family.
2) Everyone enjoys a nice, comfortable honeymoon period.
3) Child starts to feel safe enough to scare himself.
4) Child begins to act out and push away. There is an "epispode".
5) Everyone is stressed and things unravel a bit.
6) It ends and things settle a bit. The calm after the storm.
7) Parents feel a false sense of security. Child begins to feel safe and secure, b/c he just went through the Tunnel of Stress with his parents, and yet he's still with the family, and there are still feelings of affection.
8) The safe and secure feelings scare the bejesus out of the kid. When he's felt this way in the past, it hasn't ended well for him, so yeah, he gets scared.

Numbers 4 - 8 get repeated on a loop. Hopefully, if things are going well, and learning is taking place, there will be more and more time in the calm after the storm phase, and fewer and fewer incidents, with less intensity.

With any luck skill and patience and love and support, the acting-out behaviors will eventually be extinguished.

So. Bottom line: when you hit a smooth stretch, enjoy it, but don't let your hair down. Appreciate it for what it is, and turn up the volume on the attachment activities, but don't fool yourself into thinking you've hit the homestretch. Chances are, that's still a long ways off.

If you'd like to read the other posts in my series on attachment, you can find them here:
Attachment The Attachment Tree
Attachment.2 I Love You
Attachment.3 Keck and Kupecky
Attachment.4 Control







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Adoption Tuesday - Attachment.3

For today's post on attachment, I'm going to share part of an article written by my heroes in attachment, Gregory Keck and Regina Kupecky. The full article, with many more ideas, can be found here in Adoptive Families Magazine, but I'm going to share two of their suggestions for helping the adopted child understand his life story and where being a part of your family fits in.



Adoptive Families Magazine article by Gregory Keck and Regina Kupecky



7 Ways to Give Your Child a History

When a child is adopted at an older age, he needs to understand his story up to placement and the significance of his joining a new family forever. Here are hands-on activities you can use to start this conversation.
by Gregory C. Keck, Ph.D., and Regina M. Kupecky, LSW



All of us spend at least some time wondering who we are and why we are. For a child who has faced many moves and a chaotic life before adoption, these are difficult questions to answer. But as elusive as the answers may be, they are vital as the child matures into adulthood. Parents can use the following techniques, from our book, Adopting the Hurt Child, to help any child adopted beyond infancy, whether from U.S. foster care or another country, to understand and integrate his past.

As for the correct time to start this conversation, the answer is now. Ideally, the talks should begin before a child's adoption, but it's never too late to start. In fact, it is wise to revisit some of these activities over time as a child's mental, emotional, and cognitive abilities evolve. A parent's response to the question, "Where do babies come from?" would differ if asked by a two-year-old or a 16-year-old. The same should be true when discussing adoption, the child's past, and his resulting emotions.

THE TIMELINE

This exercise can help a child (and his new parents) visualize the moves he's been through, and reinforce the security of his place in his forever family.
•Take a few sheets of graph paper and cut them into two or three horizontal strips. Tape enough strips together to make a row at least 300 squares long. Each square represents one month in your child's life, from birth until age 25. This will help to dispel the 18-and-you're-out mind-set that many foster children have.
•Have your child select a color for each of his placements. If, for example, he chooses blue for his birthmother, and was with her for eight months, he colors eight squares blue. If he was removed and returned, he uses the same color for each stay.
•Underneath the boxes, you or your child should write who lived there, why the child was moved, and any other available information. Continue coloring and writing notes up through the time he's been in your home.

Sixteen-year-old Barbara, adopted at age eight, began acting out as a teen. After making a timeline, she sat back and said, "I've lived here longer than anywhere. I don't need to act like them anymore," pointing at the time she spent with her birthparents and in foster homes. "I need to act like them," she said, indicating the 96 squares that represented her time with her family. Her tumultuous behavior did not smooth out overnight, but it was a way for Barbara to start a new way of thinking.

You can use the timeline as an ongoing ritual. Take it out periodically, so your child can color more time spent with your family. This provides an opportunity to discuss the past and an affirmation of the permanence of your family.


THE WATER EXERCISE

This activity can help a child age five or older to integrate his past with his present. If it’s performed before adoption, it can help a child understand why adoption makes sense for him. After an adoption, it can help relieve a child's anxiety that falsely links acceptance of his new family with rejection of the other families he's known.


To perform it, you'll need a large pitcher, several glasses in varying sizes, and water. Your conversation will probably go something like this:

PARENT: This water pitcher represents you at birth. What's inside?

CHILD: (peering inside) Nothing.

PARENT: That's right. We are all born needing food, clothing, love, and lots more. Now, when you were born, you went home from the hospital with your birthmom, right?

CHILD: Right.

PARENT: And you lived with her for three years. That's a long time. (Choose a large glass and fill it with water.) Your mom gave you food, changed your diapers, and loved you -- she gave you all she could. (Dump the glass into the pitcher.) But are all of your needs met? Are you full? (Indicate the partially filled pitcher.)

CHILD: No.

PARENT: You're not full because she couldn't keep you safe (or feed you -- give some details from your child’s story). So you went to the Smiths and stayed there for two months. (Fill a much smaller glass with water.) They gave you all they could. (Indicate the glass and dump it into the pitcher.) Now, which part is the Smiths and which part is your birthmom?

CHILD: (Looks into the pitcher and registers amazement.)

PARENT: You can't tell because it's all mixed up inside of you. (Continue to fill glasses and add water to the pitcher for any subsequent placements, talking about the length of time the child spent in each home and the positive and negative aspects of each move. Be careful not to fill the pitcher completely.) We don't want you to forget any of these people. We love you and know that all of these people made you who you are. We want to add to this, not replace it, and fill you up with love (fill the pitcher under the kitchen faucet), so you have enough to fill you and more for everyone you care about (let the pitcher overflow).




Gregory C. Keck, Ph.D., is the founder of the Attachment and Bonding Center (ABC) of Ohio and the author of Parenting Adopted Adolescents. He is a psychologist and the adoptive father of two. Regina M. Kupecky, LSW, is a therapist who treats children with attachment disorders at ABC and the co-author of the therapeutic workbook A Foster-Adoption Story. Keck and Kupecky co-authored Parenting the Hurt Child and Adopting the Hurt Child, from which this piece was adapted. © 1995, 2009 by Gregory C. Keck and Regina M. Kupecky. Used by permission of NavPress, Colorado Springs, CO. All rights reserved. For copies call (800) 366-7788 or visit navpress.com.







Hope this helps. I strongly recommend anything written by Keck and Kupecky.






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Adoption Tuesday - Attachment.2

Last week I began a series on attachment that I thought I would continue every Tuesday. At least for awhile.

Sometimes I will feature an article, sometimes provide a tip, and at times I will just share my experiences and thoughts.

Today?

Just a quick tip.

In last week's post, I made the analogy of the parent being like a tree, with the roots being the underlying love the parent has for the child, and the leaves representing the parent's emotions:

The leaves are emotions, and they change as the weather and the seasons change: sometimes happy, sometimes sad, or angry, or frustrated. Regardless of the leaves, though, the tree remains stable, and firmly rooted to the ground. Children with RAD have difficulty with this concept, and will mistake the parent's current emotion for his underlying feelings towards him. In other words, if the parent is angry, the child feels that the parent does not love him.

Because of this, I feel it is important to let your RADish know that even while you are feeling angry towards him or her, there is still love.

What works for me and my son (with RAD) is that while I am angry with him, and talking with a raised voice or more intense tone, I will hold my hand up in the sign for "I love you". In this way, he is getting the message that I love him even though my face and voice and words are telling him I am angry. He has had a lot of difficulty knowing that both can occur simultaneously, and this is a very visual reminder for him.






















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Adoption Tuesday - Attachment

Attachment.

A difficult thing to understand.

A difficult thing to instill when its roots weren't grown in infancy.

To those not in the know, when a child has needs, and those needs are met by his caregiver, attachment takes place.

For example: Baby is hungry (need). Baby expresses that need by crying. Caregiver meets that need by feeding the baby, even if it's 2 in the morning. Attachment occurs.

But when those needs are not met, over and over and over again, attachment issues are likely to ensue.

Not surprisingly, about a tenth of adopted children will be diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) and will have difficulty attaching to their adoptive parents. In fact, going beyond this, without treatment, the RAD child may have difficulty forming love-based relationships throughout his or her life.

Since I have a son with RAD, I'd like to explore this issue a bit further from time to time on this blog.

Mind if I start things off with a sappy metaphor?

The Attachment Tree...





















OK, so the attachment tree.

Here's the way I see it:

The parent is the tree that the child turns to for its needs.
The leaves are emotions, and they change as the weather and the seasons change: sometimes happy, sometimes sad, or angry, or frustrated. Regardless of the leaves, though, the tree remains stable, and firmly rooted to the ground. Children with RAD have difficulty with this concept, and will mistake the parent's current emotion for his underlying feelings towards him. In other words, if the parent is angry, the child feels that the parent does not love him.

Now, remember when I mentioned those roots of attachment? Those roots are the underlying love that the parent feels for the child, and they are vital. Without the roots, the tree can't stand.

With luck, even when the tree is gone (ie, the parent has passed on), the roots still remain under ground. Not visible, but present nonetheless as the child continues to feel the love of the parent.

Unfortunately, it generally takes a good long while for the RAD child to be aware that the tree is indeed rooted to the ground. He tries to knock it down, push it over. He waits for the wind to blow it away, as so many other caregivers have gone from his life. Slowly, after many many many attempts to push the tree away, the child becomes aware that the roots hold it in place, and give permanency to its structure.

And he begins to take comfort from the tree. From time to time, since he cannot see the roots, he begins to doubt this permanency, and attempts again to knock the tree down, or to run from its embrace. He may strike it, curse it, but if the tree is strong, it will stand. Over time, the child's doubts in what he cannot see will diminish, and he will strike out against it less, and fold into it for comfort more.






(Tune in next week for more in this series)






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Argh.

Argh.

Attachment.

Urgh.

Why oh why oh why does it have to be so hard?

Progress, progress, progress, progress......

And then some steps back.

Little steps.

Big steps.

GIANT STEPS.

(Pep talk in my head pep talk in my head pep talk in my head)

Argh.

RAD Much?

We were all sitting together watching a TV show a couple weeks ago.

Spoiler alert: if you haven't watched the premier for Terra Nova, but plan to, don't read this.

And in the show, this family is trying to pass themselves off as a family of four (futuristic population control thing). So the Dad has the baby of the family, a little girl about 5 years old, in a backpack to hide her. Well, things go wrong, the police are on to them that something's up (drugs or weapons are suspected), and the backpack is ripped off the Dad's shoulders and is about to be torn open with like a bayonet or something. The parents throw themselves in front of the blade to keep their little girl from being harmed. It's one of those slow-mo moments where they leap between the police and the backpack, screaming "Nooooooooo".













Just then, the backpack is unzipped, and the little girl peeps her head out of the bag, looking all around her at all the chaos.

And James says,

"I don't get it, what's so important about that baby?"





Sigh......






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Can I Get a Woot-Woot?!

Huh. Unbeknownst to me, my blog has been entered in some sort of contest.

Parents (magazine? website?) is running a blog contest and someone threw my blog's hat into the ring under the category of Best Special Needs Blogs.

I am honored and humbled.

I am also just about dead last.

There are 37 blogs in this category and I am currently ranked at 34.

But as the losers all say, just to be in the race with all these fine contestants is such an honor and blah blah blah.

I'll not stand here and lie to you. I would love a few votes thrown my direction so I can make it to the top of the heap. OK, how about the top of the last page?

Sadly, it's not as easy as voting for me on Top Mommy Blogs
[insert reminder here: just click the brown button at the bottom of this post. One (click) and done.]

No. Sorry to say you might have to register or something before your vote can be counted.

I know, right?!

The nerve.

But if you have, like, just ONE extra minute in your day to leap brilliantly through their hoops so you can simultaneously cast a vote and boost my ego, I will love you forevermore.

And think of all the good you'll be doing for all the RADishes of the world by raising awareness of kids with Reactive Attachment Disorder! Don't do it to feed my ego. Do it...

for the children.




Anyways, here's the link. Should teleport you right on over.
Parents



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Attachment

My friend Lori recently posted this, and since I'm all about education and support in regards to Reactive Attachment Disorder, I thought I'd repost here.

I know just yesterday I said I'm all about providing a petting zoo for the relations, but I'm also all about education and support in regards to Reactive Attachment Disorder. I'm very multi-dimensional.







In addition, I also just learned (again through Lori, or maybe it was a FB fan of hers, I can't remember) that there is an upcoming conference on the topic of attachment. For anyone interested, the conference is in Nashville, Tenn on Sept 23rd and 24th and is called Empowered to Connect.

Check it out. I'm hoping to go myself, so maybe I'll see you there!









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RAD Will Hunting

Like everyone else, I watched the movie Good Will Hunting back in the day. Great movie.

I maybe watched it once more on TV a couple years later. Still enjoyed it.

So when I saw it on sale for 5 bucks at WalMart not long ago, I picked it up, stuck it on the shelf when I got home and forgot about it.

But a few nights ago, for some reason, I remembered I had it and felt the urge to watch it.
More to the point I didn't feel like getting off the couch and I was able to sweet-talk one of my spawn into fetching the movie and starting it for me.

So I watched it for the first time in years.
I watched it for the first time since experiencing the joys of parenting a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder.

And as it turns out? That's what the movie is about.

Will (Matt Damon's character) is a young adult who was a product of the foster care system. As a child he moved through many placements, and was repeatedly, violently abused.

Sean (Robin William's character) was the therapist court-ordered to cousel Will. He had a keen understanding of issues such as PTSD and RAD. Although those diagnoses were never mentioned, it was clear to me during this watching (though I had been oblivious to these issues in the past) that this was exactly what was at play.

Though I began the movie watching from a reclined position with half-closed lids, all full of equal parts cozy and lazy, I ended it sitting fully upright, eyes wide, emotions in overdrive.

OH MY GOD he's been hurt by every adult who was ever supposed to have his back!
OH MY GOD he's severing relationships at their first sign of turning into something meaningful!
OH MY GOD he's a scared little boy lashing out at the world!
OH MY GOD he's self destructing!
OH MY GOD he's frightened he's hurt he's angry he's been betrayed he's been let down he's trying to stay in control the only way he knows how he's shutting out thoughts of his past he's not allowing himself to feel loved!

In true Hollywood fashion, he was "fixed" by his therapist in the end and set off to win back his girl, with strongly hinted promises of a Happily Ever After ending.

In real life, of course, such endings really are rather fairy tale, with very few lightbulb epiphanies that set a person right with the world instantaneouly. More accurately, such a person plods along through life healing slowly, and usually only then with the help of a good therapist and loving supportive family in his corner.

While I would love for there to be such a "just add water" fix, I'll remain content with the 'slowly healing' approach, and be glad for it.

And I know of a good movie I'm planning on watching with my boy the moment he returns home.....








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I Miss Him, I Miss Him Not .....

For the past couple days, my son J is no longer in the house.

But only for a week.

The long awaited day came that he got to fly off to sunny California, tagging along with his Dad, who is off to yet another conference.

He had been planning and hoping and dreaming of this day for months. It is J's dream to one day live in CA, and when F knew he had this trip coming up, we told him he could go if he earned it.

And earn it he did. Sort of.
His grades improved. Marginally.
He earned no more notches on his Detention Belt at school.
However, the effort of keeping it together at school left him with no reserves to hold it together at home, so he's been kind of miserable to live with lately as the pressure mounted.

Still, the furniture was neither upended nor broken. Nobody has been hurt (unless feelings count), and his chores have been completed (though I dare not look in his closet for fear of what I may find).

So now that he's gone, do I miss him?

I Miss Him
His creativity pouring forth as he makes toys and planes and beautiful artwork

I Miss Him Not
His constant knocking down of every syllable uttered by his brothers and sisters and yes, his parents too

I Miss Him
His many hugs every day, from sun-up to sun-down.

I Miss Him Not
The countless faces J makes at his siblings every day, from sun-up to sun-down.

I Miss Him
"I love you Mommy"

I Miss Him Not
Mercilessly teasing his brothers and sisters in his often mean-spirited way

I Miss Him
Sigh. I just miss him.

So bottom line, do I miss him?
If I'm being honest, I will admit that many of his behaviors I most certainly, hands-down will NOT miss.

But my son? Him, I miss.


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And That Brings Us Up To Speed

So the last few days I've had you all put on your bloggles to look back in time at what passes for my life. And you've seen.....

3 years ago
My outrage at a system that would have orphans sing and dance and put on a Mother's Day celebration.

2 years ago
The beginning of me losing my grip on sanity as a new Mom to 6.

1 year ago
My life seriously messed up: Taking kids to the ER when push came to shove (and shove came to fist fights and beating each other with bats) and losing (even fleetlingly) some of my children.

So where does that leave us today?

Depends on the day.

Some days I feel actually ....normal. For the most part the kids are getting along, doing OK in school (cough - most of them), and doing their chores without grumbling (much).
Sprinkle in some smiles and laughter and it almost looks like the after-view of an antidepressant commercial.

Other days I don't fare so well.

Like lately.

J has something huge coming up. A trip away with his Dad. He has been looking forward to this for a long time and he knows he has to earn it with good behavior, especially in school.

So now he's all pressured, b/c the trip is like days away, and he knows if he gets a detention for not putting a sock in his smart mouth, he will sit home while Dad flies off for the sunny west coast next week.

That kind of pressure means he falls apart with those closest to him even more, b/c whatever energy he's using to behave at school, it's all spent by the time he gets home.

Which translates to, 95% of what comes out of his mouth is negative. No matter how lightly and innocently someone phrases something, he finds something wrong with it. He insults, he gets in people's business, he accuses, he refuses, he lies.

In short, he's driving me insane.

When he can really tell that I've had all I can take with him, he then turns on the charm and smiles puppy dog eyes at me and leans down to hug me and slathers a schmear of "I love you Mommy" on top of the whole mess.
But then he gets right back to it.

In fact, here's a typical day:

J: mentally poke siblings with sticks all morning
Siblings: whine and cry and complain
Me: talk sweetly to everyone about how we're a family and kindness and respect and getting along and blah-blah-blah
All: repeat cycle several times while getting ready for school
Me: explode
J: apologize
A few quiet hours to run errands, get groceries, prep dinner, clean, do laundry, write, etc.
Then the houligans return home.
J: mentally poke siblings with sticks all afternoon/evening
Siblings: whine and cry and complain
Me: talk sweetly to everyone about how we're a family and kindness and respect and getting along and blah-blah-blah
All: repeat cycle several times throughout the afternoon/evening, while I prepare and serve dinner, supervise who has what homework/studying to do, and oversee who needs showers, who has what chores, whose turn it is for the good spot, who needs to do their laundry, whose socks need to be picked up
(insert little infinity sign here)
Me: explode
J: apologize


I know it's just the PTSD at work (see page above if you think this means Petulant, Trouble-making Son-of-a Derelict). I may be crazy but I'm not stupid. He can't handle any change, even if it's good change. And trying to keep respectful to his teachers that are
"Soooooo anNOYing"
takes a lot out of him.

So I get it, I really do.

But it doesn't diminish my secret desire to

a) throttle the child
b) be taken away by Calgon or a York Peppermint Patty
c) run away from home
d) lock them all in the basement and open up the liquor cabinet
e) all of the above



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Category: Adoption Blog

This blog is first and foremost an Adoption Blog.
But it seems I haven't written a scrap about adoption-related stuff in some time.
It's all farm-stuff or Amish-stuff or these-kids-are-driving-me-insane stuff.

In a way, that's a good thing.
A really good thing.

Why?

Because that means that adoption "issues" have taken a back seat to large family issues. They are not the squeaky wheel they once used to be. They're still there, to be sure, but in a lame analogy, they have gone from an hysterically screaming three year old throwing himself to the floor in the middle of the toy store, to a mannerly seven year old in the check-out line asking if he could please have a candy bar.

There's stuff there I still have to deal with, but those dealings are easier to manage and with less fallout than used to accompany them.

These days? I feel something akin to Sane.

I had actually been musing over the fact that I am long overdue (like my books at the library) for writing a full-blown adoption dissection post.

But it's Saturday morning and there are seven kids here and I should probably go feed them.

So for today at least, I will take the path of least resistance (and more Saturday morning breakfast yumminess) by cutting and pasting. I looked back a year and found this post I wrote last February.

To me, it speaks volumes about progress made......


RAD: It's the "New" Pregnancy



I've decided that dealing with an RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) child is a lot like a pregnancy. When you're going through it, all you can focus on is the negative.
Oh, once in awhile you have those "becoming one with your baby" moments when you get the kicks and wiggles and such. But for the most part, it's swollen ankles, achy backs, peeing 4,000 times a day, and stretch marks popping up in new places every day. And the actual labor/delivery? Please, I don't even want to go there.

But of course, once your little peanut is born all is forgotten. You certainly don't hold a grudge against your baby, not when they're newborn, not when they're a teenager. Seems all the wonderful parts about being a Mommy simply sweep away all the horrific parts of being pregnant and delivering a 9 pound baby through an opening that is normally the diameter of a pencil.
But then you get pregnant again and it all comes flooding back and you think to yourself, "am I a cotton-pickin' lunatic?!"


And so it is with an adopted child with Reactive Attachment Disorder. We have so many wonderful moments. Times at night when he's lying on the sofa with his head on my lap and I'm patting his face and smoothing his hair. He closes his eyes and looks like a puppy getting a belly rub. If he ever had a loving mother's caress, I'm sure it has faded to a distant memory by now, and so he just soaks it up.

Or times he helps out because he wants to help out, or asks for a story while we're out driving somewhere. I need to hold onto those thoughts with all the fortitude I can muster, b/c when things get bad I feel miserable.

Like last night. He was mad at me because I wouldn't allow him to use my computer b/c of some disrespectful and obnoxious behavior. So in retaliation for me taking the mouse and hiding it away somewhere, he took my keys. Yes, my car keys, and he hid them and wouldn't give them back till this morning. He thought it was tit for tat, though I explained to him that though I hadn't taken anything of his, he had taken something of mine.

Times like those, all you want to do is throttle, but all you can do is try to have the patience of all the saints in Heaven. I have long since learned that threats and loss of privilege don't work with this kid, which goes against all my experience. Time and space and not getting drawn in are the only things that seem to eventually bring us right again.

But it ain't easy. I'm used to having the upper hand. I don't very much care for the lower hand.

I'll take stretch marks over this anyday.


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So much goin' on .....

When I look at the date of my last entry, I find it hard to believe that it's been nearly a month since I've posted. There have been so many things that have kept me busy, including:
*new round of dentist appointments for all the kids, two at a time
*Bella's birthday
*James beginning therapy
*Rosie's confirmation
*chaperoning field trips
*a minor surgical procedure (don't worry -- nothing serious)
*school meetings regarding my youngest (can you say Problem Child?)
*redecorating Rosie's room including assembling not one but two nightmare pieces of Ikea furniture
*Halloween
*soccer games
*2 1/2 new horses (a mare, her 6 month old colt, and her foal in-utero)

Normally I would have been all over the one year anniversary of Fred and I leaving for Kazakhstan and meeting James and Julie. That's something in slower days I could write volumes on (aren't you glad you've been spared?). That has come and gone without so much as a nod to the event.

If you read and wondered about the above "James beginning therapy", allow me to elaborate. James has RAD.

(brief pause for the collective gasp of the adoption community)

Yes. James has Reactive Attachment Disorder, as well as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We're doing this textbook style. We enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon period, followed by some hard-to-understand emotional moments, then moving on to out-and-out rebellion/disrespect, even some limited violent behaviors. Every adoptive parents' worst nightmare, right?

Well I'm glad to inform you that we are all alive and well and pulling through this. We have seen tremendous progress by James and so he continues to impress me in yet one more way. I am trying to resist the pull into a false sense of security since our ride has been bump-free for a couple weeks now, but I know in my heart as well as my head that this will be a long, slow process of two baby steps forward, interspersed with baby to giant steps backwards. That's OK. We're in this for the long haul.

I think they should have parents of all kinds, biological, adoptive, foster, take parenting vows, akin to the wedding vows of marriage. You know, for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

Since many adoptive parents prefer not to talk about RAD, but all of us are afraid of it, I'm going to put a side-bar in this blog to timeline what we're experiencing. I know everyone who deals with RAD will go through something very unique, but maybe this will help someone gain some perspective.

For anyone going through tough times with their kids, RAD or not, one small bit of corny advice before closing:
Don't let the bumps in the road knock you out of your car. Just buckle your seatbelt, watch the road signs, and don't be afraid to pull into the gas station to ask for directions.