Four Feet More

It's been a bit unsettled here lately, and a lot has been going on.  Chalk it up to Spring Fever, or March Madness, but I feel as if we've taken a few big steps back in our household.  I haven't posted in a while, so this one's going to be long.  You have been warned.

It began a few weeks ago when Vika casually mentioned at dinner that she had to turn in her Endangered Species report by Friday or else she would get a D-.  This was the first time Jeff or I were even hearing about this report, so a tiny, yellow flag began to wave in my mind, encouraging me to investigate further.  Vika explained that her teacher has assigned the report the day before and that she only had 3 days to finish it.  By this time, the yellow flag had been replaced with a wildly flapping red one, and I knew that I was not getting the truth.  Vika's teacher generally gives them weeks to complete a report, not days, so I voiced my confusion over why she changed this pattern.  I offered to e-mail her teacher to find out why she wasn't giving them as much time on the report and see what we could work out. A look of panic crossed over Vika's face, and she came up with one excuse after another why I shouldn't contact her teacher.  Finally, I put an end to the game and told her that I didn't think we were getting the truth and that I would like to have it now, please.  It turns out that the report was overdue and that Vika had not only lied to us about it, but to her teacher as well.   While helping Vika look for the report rubric in her room, I also found several incomplete homework assignments in her garbage can.   It was incredibly disheartening, because I thought we had conquered this problem.  Vika has had trouble with homework in the past, but she really seemed to be on it this year, and I thought those days were behind us.

Our new "I'm Sorry Steps" were put to the test when we had Vika write a letter of apology to her teacher.  This consequence seemed to affect Vika more than the restriction from TV and computer (to help her better focus on her school work).  She really likes her teacher and wants Mrs. M to have a good opinion of her.  She asked me several times if I could just e-mail Mrs. M to explain what happened and set up a homework checking system.  But I held firm, repeating that it was her school work and her responsibility, not mine.  And while our trust in Vika has been pretty well eroded by this, I have to say I am proud of how she handled things with her teacher.  She arranged a homework recording system that has to be initialed by both us and Mrs. M, and delivered a well-written note of apology.  Vika seems to be back on track, and hopefully this time, it will stick.

Last weekend, we had another incident occur that threw me for a loop.  On March 10th, Jeff had knee surgery to repair a meniscus tear.  He came through it OK, but has been hobbling around like an old man ever since.  The kids aren't used to seeing him like this (Jeff's very active), and I think it's made them a bit nervous.  On Sunday, things got worse when I became sick.  In a fit of Spring Cleaning, I had scrubbed down my shower with this new tile cleaner, and began to feel quite woozy.  By lunchtime, the room was spinning and I couldn't get out of bed, I was so dizzy.  We desperately needed groceries, so while I took a rest, Jeff limped off to the grocery store, leaving the kids pretty much unattended for an hour.  We all know how that goes, but Vika and Eamon had assured us that they would be safe and take care of me while he was gone.  When Jeff got home, I was feeling a bit less dizzy, so I made my way downstairs for a snack of Saltines and peppermint tea.  Jeff and the kids joined me, and while we ate, Vika, the master of casual asides, mentioned that Eamon had peed in the litterbox and cat area. 

Jeff and I looked at each other in stunned silence.  I mean, really?  We were having urination in the household thrown at us now, more than 4 years after bringing the kids home?   Fortunately, we managed to keep our cool (most likely due to the fact that neither one of us had the energy to get angry).  I looked at Eamon and said, "Wow.  That's surprising.  Well, no worries.  You'll have plenty of time to clean up the cat area before dinner."  A temper tantrum ensued - Eamon was really upset (ashamed?) that he had been caught, and let us know in no uncertain terms how "mean" we were being to him.  All the drama took it's toll, and I began to feel dizzy and nauseous again.  I barely made it upstairs to find that my bedroom door had been closed and locked.  I laid down in front of the door, trying not to get sick again, as Jeff got the key to open it.  Only the key didn't work.  Eamon had tried to pick the lock with a pencil and the lead had broken off in the keyhole.  At this point, Jeff's calm evaporated and a display of anger which has rarely been seen in our house ensued.  Between the pain in his knee, me being so sick, Eamon's misbehavior, and Vika "stirring the pot", it was all just too much.  The kids were sent to bed while I threw up and Jeff regrouped.

Let me just say at this point that ours' is not usually a dramatic household, so Sunday was definitely a wake-up call.  As a parent of children with traumatic backgrounds, I find myself constantly questioning whether their behavior is typical kid stuff, or indicative of lingering issues from their time in the orphanage.  How much is related to attachment or post-traumatic stress, and how much is just kids testing the limits?  I'm not sure I'll ever really figure that out.  This is the only reality I've ever known, and I've got to take it as it is.  One thing is certain though.  As things have seemed to move backwards, Jeff and I have definitely fanned the flames with our increasingly angry reactions.  We've got to work to be more consistent with the Love and Logic approach, even when behaviors catch us off guard.  That's the challenge we now face.

After writing this post, I asked Eames, "So, what was the deal with that whole peeing in the litterbox thing again?"  He replied that he and Vika were playing "cats."  So, I'm feeling better that this was an instance of kids being kids, rather than a PTSD reaction to Jeff and I not being at full capacity.