Four Feet More

Time to wipe off the dust and sweep away the cobwebs hanging around Four Feet More.  I've wanted to post oh so many times in recent weeks, but life keeps getting in the way.

A constant distraction is my little student (we'll call her Jane), who I believe has Oppositional Defiant Disorder.  I've begun playing a covert game of "opposites" with her, just to get through the day.  If I want her to stand I'll say, "Jane, can you please sit over there?  Thanks!"  Then she'll come and stand by me.  If I want her to sit, I'll say, "Jane, I need you to stand over here.  Please do NOT sit in that chair."  Then she'll go and sit in the chair, looking quite smug about defying me.  This of course sends the rest of the kindergartners into a tizzy, "Mrs. ____!  Jane is sitting in the chair!"  I just sigh and say, "Jane's going to do what she wants, I guess."  So far, this game has been working, but it's a bit tedious and exhausting.  And I'm not sure if it will last through the end of the school year.  Fingers crossed, it will, and hopefully next year's teacher will have more success curbing her ODD than I.  We've got just 18 days left until Summer Break - I think I can make it!

About next year... I've been told by both my principal and the union that because there are so many surplussed tenured teachers (due to education budget cuts), the chances of temporary (non-tenured) teachers getting hired back next year is, "slim-to-none."  Here we go again.  Another summer of uncertainty and that unsettling feeling of "will we make it financially?"  Part of me is looking forward to being laid off though.  I can maybe do substitute teaching, and help Jeff with his real estate business.  Or perhaps I'll homeschool Eamon (Vika would not be a good homeschooling candidate, for a variety of reasons).  With the increased class sizes, no prep time, and 10% pay cut teachers in my district are facing next year, it might be a good time to sub.  Maybe by the Fall of 2011, the state of California will open it's eyes and start making education more of a funding priority.

On the homefront, May has been a bit unsettled too.  Perhaps because of the stress I'm dealing with at work, I don't have the patience to deal with the stresses at home.  Jeff and I have been very conscious of our reactions and trying to remain calm, but the kids definitely do test us.  One such moment came last weekend.  Eamon's PTSD was in full swing and he was in a rage about something so minor,  that now I don't even remember what it was.  The rage took on a scary form though, kind of like those we saw during our first months home with the kids.  I actually had to do holding time with Eames, something we haven't done in years.  For those of you not experienced with therapeutic parenting, "holding time" is essentially when a parent holds a child through their rages, both to keep them and the people around them safe, but also to show them that even when their behavior is at it's ugliest, we are still there, helping them through it and loving them.  And Eamon's rage was ugly.  He was screaming at me, yelling hurtful things and trying to hit me.  It was almost as if I was exorcising a demon.  You have to know Eamon to understand how bad this was. He is such a sweet, affectionate child who would give up his favorite toy if it would make someone happy.  He is constantly telling me he loves me and saying "Cheek!" - my signal to give him my cheek to kiss and then kiss his cheek in return.  For him to act like this, something had to be really wrong.  The frustrating thing is, I have no idea what it was!  He has no idea what was causing him to behave that way either.  It's a problem with no clear source and no clear fix.  So, I held him through his rage, breathing calmly, telling him I loved him in a soft voice and encouraging him to calm down.  Which he eventually did do.  Then I got up, went into my bedroom and cried. 

I was so drained, both physically and emotionally, and it was incredibly painful to see my son acting that way.  While I was hiding, Eamon burst into the bedroom, perhaps ready to initiate another fight.  But then he saw me crying, and his little body just deflated.  He sat down beside me, kissed my head and began rubbing my back.  I hugged him and then asked if I could have some time alone to collect myself.  He said yes, and left the room.  About 5 minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Eamon came in carrying the drawing below.  I asked him what it showed and he said, "That's you, Mama, being calm and showing love, and that's me being angry.  But you're still holding my hand."  On the back of the paper was written in big green letters, "I am sory mama."


Poor guy.  I didn't mean to make him feel guilty, which is why I went into the bedroom to cry.  But he saw me and felt guilty anyway.  However, since that day, it seems that Eamon and I have come to a bit of an understanding.  We're almost back to the relationship we had before he started school, and he seems much happier this week than he's been in months.  So, while this incident was one of the worst ever, I think it was good that it happened.  Hopefully we'll soon get to the bottom of what's been eating at the boy so that we can deal with the problem and move forward.

On a positive note, Vika's progress report from school came back with outstanding marks!  She has struggled a bit academically, so it was wonderful to see her success.  She even received and A+ on a science test (an especially impressive achievement to her science-challenged mama)!  The girl's been devouring chapter books and really seems to be coming into her own academically.  In a month of "steps back," this was a very satisfying "step forward."  Go Vika!

So, there is it.  My month so far in a rather large nutshell.  Hopefully once school gets out I'll be a more regular blog poster and reader.  Thank goodness for Facebook, or I'd be out of the loop entirely!

Many of you have seen the news that Sandra Bullock adopted an African American baby boy, and is going to proceed with the adoption as a single mother.  To this I say, "You GO girl!"  However, from other people I am hearing far different words.  Words like, "Why did she adopt an African American child instead of a white one?"

This is a bit of a sore spot with me, and I'll tell you why.  When we adopted our kids, I was asked on more than one occasion why I chose to adopt from Russia instead of adopting an American child in need of a home.  While I know this is slightly different from Bullock's case, it is similar in that other people cast judgment on the children that we chose to adopt.  It shows an ignorance about adoption that I thought I would take a moment to address here.

When I was asked why we adopted from Russia instead of America I always responded that we felt the international adoption process better suited our needs.  We would not have to wait to be chosen by a birthmother to adopt her child, and once the adoption was final, it would be FINAL.  In California, a birthmother can change her mind and take back her child up to 90 days after the adoption.  Then there was the sticky case where a birthfather didn't realize he had a child until the boy, which had been adopted by another family, was around 10 years old (the particulars of the case escape me at the moment).  Because he was the biological father and had not given his consent to the adoption, he had the right to take back that child.  These were risks that our family simply didn't want to take. 

Those are reasons I usually site when asked why we didn't adopt from America.  However, this is how I really want to answer: A child in need of a family is a child in need of a family.  Period.  It doesn't matter where that child is from, they are still entitled to a loving home.

I feel the same way about the comments made regarding the transracial nature of Bullock's adoption.  Is her son any less deserving of a loving mother because he is African American?  It may be true that culturally and emotionally, it would be better for him to be placed in an African American family.  He might feel more secure because his skin is not a different color from his family members, and he may feel a greater connection to the African American community.  However, the sad reality is, there are many more African American children in need of homes than there are African American families waiting to adopt them.   

The same is true of Russia.  There are hundreds of thousands of children in orphanages across the country, but adoption by Russian families is still relatively uncommon.  This trend has changed in recent years, when The Russian government began offering financial incentives to Russian families to adopt, but the fact remains that the majority of children in Russian orphanages will not be adopted.

Another reality is that the majority of children available for domestic adoption are not the white, newborn babies that many people think of when they begin considering adoption.  They are older children in the foster care system.  They are babies born to incarcerated or drug addicted mothers.  They are biracial children and sibling groups.  Don't beleive me?  Go here and check out the photo listings for your state.

Now, I'm not saying that children on the photo listings are not entitled to a loving family, because I firmly believe that they are.  My point is that adoption is not about bringing the youngest, most-like-you child you can find into your family.  It is about bringing a child to LOVE into your family.  And all children deserve to be loved, whether they are African American or white, babies or pre-teens, Russian, Chinese, Ethiopian, or born right here in the U.S. of A.   The race, age and nationality of a child are irrelevant in that child's right to a loving family. 

For those of you out there who have not added to your family through adoption, please remember that it is not all like the movie "Juno" (which I loved, BTW).  The faces of adopted children are as varied and diverse as the families who adopt them.  And that is a beautiful thing.

As a side note to Sandra Bullock, when someone says to you, "Wow.  Your child is so dark.  Does (he) look like (his) father?"  You can respond as I did when presented with this question about Vika a while back: "Nope (he) looks like (his) mother!"  It's fun to see the confusion wash over peoples faces.  ;)

Eamon's in a contradict-everything-I-say-in-a-high-pitched-voice phase, and it's extremely tedious.  During one loud episode, during which I childishly held up a "What do we want?  COOPERATION!  When do we want it? NOW!" strike sign, Eamon yelled, "What do you mean by cooperation???!!!"

Ah, yes.  I guess it would be a good idea to clarify that, wouldn't it? 

The teacher in me took over and I grabbed a piece of chart paper to begin my mini-lesson on cooperation.  At the top I wrote, "COOPERATION" and underlined it.  Below that I made two columns, one headed with a drawing of an eye an the words "Looks like" and the other with a drawing of an ear and the words "Sounds like."  As an afterthought, I inserted the word "Family" before the "Cooperation" title.  This chart is a trick I learned in my GLAD training, an I do it every year with my students.  I'm not sure why I didn't think to do it with my kids.  Chart prepared, the four of us sat around the table and began brainstorming what cooperation in a family looks like and sounds like.  These are the things we came up with: using kind words, asking "How can I help?," teamwork, and encouraging each other.  Another interesting idea that came up, which wouldn't have occurred to me, is "Walking together."  When we are out in public, Vika generally walks far behind us and Eamon walks far ahead.  The kids and Jeff noted that when we all walk together, we are cooperating and being more of a family. 


It was a good lesson, and I think the kids have a better understanding what we mean by cooperation in a family.  I've spotted both kids standing in front of the chart (which we've hung by the kitchen), reading over the bullet points on their own.  We are also able to refer to the chart when someone needs a reminder about cooperation.  This worked against me the other day, when I was feeling irritable and Vika pointed to the chart with the reminder, "Is that a kind voice, Mama?"  Oh brother. 

Things have been a little tough here lately, and it seems that Jeff and I are making far more negative comments to our kids than positive.  It must be a burden on their self-esteem, so we took a step back and did another activity to remind everyone of the good things we see in each other.  I took some photos of the kids' faces and put them in the middle of a square piece of paper.  One page was for Eamon and the other was for Vika.  Around their picture, we wrote the good qualities and things we love about each child.  Eamon's page says things like: loving, caring, funny, affectionate.  Vika's says words like: determined, helpful, adventurous and loving.  The kids ate this activity up.  It was good for them to hear the things we love about them, and to remind them that despite the rough patch we're going through, they are great kids and we feel lucky to have them in our lives.  These pages have an added benefit for Jeff and I as well.  When the kids are driving us nuts and we're reaching our breaking point, we can look at the page and remind ourselves of the good things about each child.  It kind of helps put things in perspective and helps us focus on the child as a whole, not just the bad behavior he or she is currently displaying.

I knit a lot this Fall.  I may have only completed two projects, but they were pretty big projects - two sweaters that I absolutely love and wear all the time.  However, that last cardigan kind of did me in.  After it was completed, I simply lost the desire to knit.  I thought about knitting something else, but my heart wasn't really in it. 

During the Winter Olympics, I began to feel inspired to knit again.  Team USA's Opening Ceremony hat was awesome, but since Spring was approaching, it seemed a bit to wintery of a project to begin that late in the season.  I also absolutely loved Team Sweden's crocheted hat, and really wanted to make on for my friend J9's new baby (J9 lived in Sweden for a while, so I thought she would dig it).  Only problem is, I don't know how to crochet.  I tried several times, but it didn't work out so well.  It's like I have a crocheting mental block or something.  A friend finally gave me a tutorial, and while I think I could now crochet a fairly decent scarf, the Sweden hat is still beyond my capabilities. 

So I set aside my yarn and needles for a while and took a hiatus.  I've enjoyed watching TV without counting rows and doing nerdy things in my free time like working on puzzles.  But there is one pattern that has been on my mind since the fall - the Slanting Gretel Tee.  Last week, my fingers began to itch for the knitting needles again.  I also got the new Knit Picks catalogue in the mail, and wouldn't you know it, there was the perfect yarn in the exact color I was thinking of for the Slanting Gretel Tee.  It was a sign! I ordered the yarn and it came in the mail today.   Perfect.  Now I can begin a new project while watching "The Power of Madonna" episode of Glee!  Sounds like the perfect evening.

Really, these little Eamonisms come out on a daily basis.  The kid cracks me up with his earnestly delivered observations on life.  You may need to know my son personally to fully appreciate these quotes, but since this is my blog, I'm posting them anyway!

• Commenting on my brother Joe's "goatee" (I use the term loosely since it is really more of a scraggly patch of hair on his chin and lip) at Easter:  "Joe-Monkey (the kids' name for my brother), I think you should get rid of that beard thing."  Joe:  "Why, you don't like it?"  Eamon: "No.  I can't tell if you're the real Joe-Monkey under there!"

• Said when his cousin jumped between us while we were playing catch:  "Hey!  Let's play 'Middle in the Monkey!'"

• When eating a good dinner last night:  "This meal is stantabulous!  I mean, it's scrumtilicious!"

• Being susceptible to advertising:  "On the radio this man said this month, since it is Spring.... wait a minute.  When's Spring again? April?  He said that we need to get pork chops!  Because he likes to grill outside in Spring, and right now we can get them for $1.99... (dramatic pause)...a pound!" (said with eyebrows raised and a dramatic flourish of his hand.

• Said when tucking him in at night:  "Mama, if your house burns down and you're lost with no place to go, you can sleep over at my house.  But I just wonder how I’m going to get the money (for a house).  I’m not used to doing real work!"  

By now, I'm sure many of you have heard about the Tennessee woman who sent her adopted son, Artyem, alone on a plane back to Russia.  As a parent of two children adopted from Russia, I feel compelled to comment on the situation.  From the title of this post, you can probably tell how I feel about this woman's actions.  For those of you who have not adopted children from traumatic backgrounds, there are some important things, which I believe the media is missing, that you need to understand.

First of all, many (if not all) of the children living in orphanages in Russia have experienced abandonment from the people on whom they most depended.  In my kids' case, it was their Russian Mama.  Some, like Eamon, were only abandoned once and at a very young age.  Others, like Vika, were taken back and abandoned by their parent multiple times before finally being placed for adoption (for clarification purposes, Vika and Eamon have the same Russian Mama, but their experiences with her were very different).  When a child loses the care of a parent at a very young age, it can cause them to become distrustful of adults and learn that there is nobody on whom they can depend except themselves.  This lesson serves them well in an orphanage setting; however, it doesn't work so well when they join a family.  If you add neglect and abuse by caregivers into the mix,  you wind up with a very confused child who is distrustful of any adult who tries to take care of him or her.

In Russia, there are many, many orphanages, and they are very crowded.  The last estimate I read was that there are over 700,000 children living in Russian orphanages today.  These kids are regarded as second-class citizens and many Russians believe there is something wrong with them (either something that made their birth-parents not want them or "bad blood" passed on from irresponsible parents).  There are not a lot of Russian families vying to adopt these children.  In fact, once they leave the Baby Home and move into a Child's Home (around the age of 3 or 4), their chances of being placed in a loving family drop dramatically.  In an orphanage, the children live with multiple caregivers who are inconsistent, both in their presence and they way they relate to the children.  My kids have told me stories of being hit with shoes and being locked in dark closets as punishment.  And I believe they were at one of the better orphanages in Russia.

Kids who are adopted often have a hard time adjusting, especially if they are adopted by a family from another country.  When we brought our kids home, they had to leave everything they knew behind.  They flew for hours in a plane to a far away place with strangers who spoke a language they did not understand (we were only allowed to visit them 4 times before the adoption was finalized).  Things sounded and smelled different, the food was different, and they no longer had a bunch of children around them all the time (I've heard the experience described as "being abducted by aliens").  They had to adjust to all these changes, in addition to learning how to be part of a family.

I'm sure it was the same for Artyem.  He was even older when he was adopted, and we don't know what kind of situation he lived in with his birth family or how he was treated at the orphanage.  What is clear is that he had difficulty attaching to his new mom.  He'd only been home for 6 months, and attachment can take a year or longer to occur.  Plus, it seems that his adoptive mother did not ask for help from either her agency or social worker.  She had not taken him in for counseling, and as of January, she reported that everything was fine.  I find myself confused at how all this could happen.  Did the boy say he was going to kill her?  Maybe.  Heck, Eamon has said that to me when he's angry!   Did he play with matches and threaten to burn down the house?  Maybe.  My kids have done and said some pretty scary things too.  Was this mother educated about the many ways attachment disorder can manifest itself, and was she prepared to deal with those issues?  Certainly not.

There are support groups out there for people who have adopted older children who come from traumatic backgrounds.  There are groups specifically designed for people who adopt from Russia and Eastern Europe.  There are plenty of places to seek advice and counseling.  It seems to me that this "mother" gave up on her son too quickly.  I'm not sure what her expectations were, but I've heard many pre-adoptive parents talk about how they just know they will instantly connect with their child and that there will be love between them from the first meeting. They have this fairy tale idea of what it will be like to bring this child into their new home, and many even think the child will be grateful to be adopted by them.  I always cringe when I hear such statements because I know that the prospective parent is most likely in for a huge disappointment.  They are not thinking about this adoption from their future child's perspective and are not considering how what was done to the child in the past will affect how he/she views their future. 

Torry Hansen clearly did not have reasonable expectations for her child, or for herself as a mother.  Would she have treated a biological child so callously?  The fact that she would send a 7 year old child alone on a plane, with him most likely not knowing what would happen when he arrived back in Russia is horrendous.  I can't imagine how scared he must have been or what was going through his head.  I can't understand why she didn't seek to disrupt the adoption in America and try to have him placed in a family better prepared to deal with his needs. It's almost as if she viewed him as damaged goods and wanted to return him to the store!  Her actions only added to the abuse, neglect and abandonment that Artyem has already suffered in his short life.  And she made his attachment to a future family even more difficult.  I hope Torry Hansen is prosecuted to the full extent of the law and that her planned adoption from the Republic of Georgia (yes, she was planning to adopt another child!) is dropped as quickly as she dropped her responsibilities towards her son.

Remember these stupid essays you had to write whenever you returned to school from a vacation?  I hope Vika and Eamon aren't given this assignment, because their essays would be very boring reading.  Poor kids.  They were cooped up inside practically all week while Jeff and I worked on redecorating our bedroom (a project that was supposed to take one day, two tops, but wound up stretching through the entire week and beyond.  It's still not done).

It all started with our old duvet cover and shams.  Jeff is one of those people who, when he buys something, he really wants to get the most out of it.  Which is why he still drives a 1991 Honda Civic.  But I digress....  He bought this duvet cover the year before we started dating, making it 15 years old.  It was kind of this funky, Middle Eastern style of print, and I always liked it.  But the thing was OLD.  The shams started tearing about a year ago, to the point where I could not sew them back together.  Finally, I convinced Jeff that it was time to buy a new duvet and sham set.  We found a great one on Amazon, and with our Amazon Prime shipping (thanks mom!) we got it in two days.  Love that.

However, the duvet did not match anything in our room.  Nothing really matched in our room.  It was a mish-mosh of things we'd each had since before we knew each other, and random art work that followed no particular theme whatsoever.  In fact, the room was a bit anxiety-provoking, and whenever company was over, we would close the door so no one would see the mess of a hovel in which we slept.

Well, that was all about to change.  We painted the walls a nice, neutral khaki color that went well with our new duvet.  Then we repainted the bed (it is a bed we inherited, which we actually love, but had been painted when we got it, so now must be either repainted to match the room or completely stripped down to the wood - a project much more daunting than either of us wanted to tackle at this time).  Since we didn't have the funding to buy all new bedroom furniture, we decided to tie our existing furniture in to the new decor with accent pieces that pulled out the color in the furniture and the darker brown on the room fixtures and duvet.  The duvet is kind of a tropical print in dark brown and sea-blue that reminds me of this travel show I saw on Bali.  So, we decided to decorate the room with pieces from Indonesia and South East Asia.   It was a great excuse to shop at Cost Plus and Pier One!  I also found some images of Bali and Thailand and printed them out in black and white to hang on the walls in black frames with white mats.   The room is coming together pretty nicely, if I do say so myself.

Now, we just need to finish the closet doors (they are original from when our house was built in the 70's and are much in need of updating).  We're recovering the off-white contact paper that covered the doors with a grass-mat pattern which ties in nicely to the room.

Unfortunately, we did not take any before pictures of the room to show you a comparison of how it has changed.  The room was just too awful before, I couldn't bring myself to document it.  Here are a few "after" pictures I shot, even though we're not done redecorating.

 Here's the new bedspread and the wall hanging we bought.  not sure what to put on either side of it yet, but hopefully we'll find something.

The new wall above my bookcases.  My favorite thing is the elephant teapot, which probably shouldn't be in a bedroom, but I love it!  Also, notice the picture of the Buddha face up above?  I took that on the Jungle Cruise at Disneyworld.  :)

Despite being cooped up in the house all week, the kids did surprisingly well.  There were a few rough patches, to be sure.  But for the most part, it was smooth sailing.  They hung out in our room with us, Vika reading and Eamon tinkering (with legos, transformers, Hotweels, etc.), and in the evening we watched movies to unwind.  It was kind of like a week-long "time-in" for them, and may have been just what we all needed.  Hopefully now that Spring Break is over and we have to get back to our regular school day routine, things won't start getting crazy again.  And hopefully we'll get this dang room done before Summer Vacation!

As you know, things have been a bit rough here lately.  With the weather getting a bit nicer, Jeff and I decided to take the kids to the beach for the day.  We haven't been in a while, and it was a much needed break.

We started out early, tired but excited.  Jeff packed his fishing gear, the kids brought some "beach toys" (including 4 lightsabers - a sand hill at the beach looks like something out of Tatooine), and I brought my knitting and a book.  We hit the rocky side of the beach first, where Jeff imagined himself catching a cabezon, eel or some other tasty fish to cook up for dinner that night.  He was not very successful.  But the kids and I were!  Not 5 minutes on the beach, Vika spotted a red starfish laying among the gravely rocks, just outside of the shore line.  At first we thought it was dead (things washed up on the beach generally are), but nope, it was still alive.  After taking a few pictures, Vika decided to "rescue" the starfish by gently placing it in a tidepool with direct access to the ocean.  There it sat, doing whatever it is that starfish do, for the next 4 hours.

In the tidepools we also found several small hermit crabs, some of which would come out and walk on our hands.  The bigger ones, older and more wise, lived up to the name of "hermit" and refused to come out and play.   Eamon soon became bored with the hermit crabs and went off to climb the cliff walls framing the beach.  At one point I saw him scaling a nearly vertical wall, looking for his next foothold about 20 feet up.  "Eamon!"  I shouted, "You're not Bear Grylls! Come down from there before you fall and crack your head open!" Thank goodness the boy actually listened (I probably have Vika's recent head injury to thank for that), and decided to explore the tidepools and caves instead.  He found a dark brown spider crab on the beach, which while still alive, probably would not be for much longer. it was kind of cute though, in an alienish sort of way.


Around noon, we moved to the sandy side of the beach for lunch and fun.  Vika set to work immediately digging a big hole.  She always does this at the beach, and I never knew why until this outing.  Apparently, laying in the hole makes her warm.  Eamon headed into the surf with a lightsaber to practice his Jedi moves.  The beach wasn't very crowded, but those walking the shore were quite amused by the scrappy kid attacking waves as if they were some oncoming invasion of battle droids.  And, not to brag or anything, but the boy's got some moves.  If there really were battle droids attacking our beach, he totally would have vanquished them.

I snuggled up on the blanket and read a book while Jeff continued fishing.  He actually caught a tiger perch later in the day, which he and Vika crammed into Eamon's beach bucket filled with seawater (we didn't bring a fish cooler - apparently Jeff's expectation of catching dinner was as low as mine).  The poor thing didn't look comfortable at all.  Jeff put the bucket in a hole in the sand, and much to the fish's relief, a rogue wave hit the shore not much later, washing both it and the bucket off to freedom!  And, I didn't have to eat perch for dinner (bony things). It was a win-win all around. 

The four of us had a great day together and were able to reconnect after the clashes of recent weeks.  Spring Break is here now, so hopefully this dratted rain will go away and we'll be able to enjoy some more family outings in the week to come.

Recently, Maggie of AmeriKid asked me to write a guest post on ChatterKid.  You can check it out here. 

While you're there, check out some of the older posts and the AmeriKid site.  They've got some great information and cool toys for kids of all ages.

Jeff and I have been working really hard to stay on track as far as discipline goes.  We've been allowing our kids to make choices and deal with the consequences, without giving them countless reminders about what is the right thing to do.  They know the right thing to do.  We've told them often enough!   But it is really hard to bite my tongue and not say anything when Vika and Eamon don't follow through on doing what we ask.  I've been in the habit of giving repeated reminders and warnings, and I get frustrated when the simplest of requests is ignored.

Adding to my frustration is the fact that things are not getting better, they're getting worse.  This afternoon, for example, the kids gleefully ignored their evening chores, playing loudly upstairs to make sure I knew they were not doing as I asked.  A relatively minor request to put away the chess game was met with groans, name-calling and threats (all directed at me).  There seems to be a lot of anger brewing in our kids right now, and it's definitely taking it's toll.  As I keep my cool and do not react with a raised voice or threats, their anger seems to get worse.  Logically, I know this means that the discipline is working.  They are trying to get me worked up so that they can regain control of the situation.  But emotionally, it's tough.  I've had this knot in my chest all week, and it is hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Some people might say I should just spank my kids and get it over with.  But they have not seen Eamon cower in fear, hiding under his blankets and crying when Jeff raises his voice at Vika.  They haven't heard the matter-of-fact way that Vika says the mamachkas (caregivers) at the orphanage used their shoes to beat kids who misbehaved.  Spanking might produce short-term results, but at what cost? 

And, lest any of you get the idea that we have "bad kids," I assure you that couldn't be farther from the truth.  We have amazing kids!  Kids who survived things in their first few years of life that would bring many adults to their knees.  It's the survival techniques that brought them through those early years that we are dealing with now - many of them just don't work in a family.  So, despite the feeling that we have taken two HUGE steps backwards, Jeff and I are pressing on.  Hopefully we'll figure out soon what has caused this recent downward spiral in our kids' behavior so we can address that underlying issue as well.  It's tough, but I believe the end results will be worth it.

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.

It's that time of year again.  The time when school districts across California lay off teachers in an effort to save money.  You may have seen something on the news last Thursday when protesters shut down a major freeway near Oakland in an effort to raise awareness of the educational crisis.  I'm sure their actions raised a lot of sympathy with the commuters who were stuck in gridlocked traffic for hours as a result.  *sigh*  Anyway, traditionally, we get our pink slips on the "Ides of March" (March 15th for the less Shakespearean of my readers).  This year they came a week early.

On Friday afternoon I received a call from the secretary asking me to meet with our principal in her office.  I immediately stopped what I was doing and headed out (it's rarely a good thing to be called to the principal's office).  As I was leaving my class, one of the women who works at our after school daycare, said, "Are you going to the office?"  At my affirmative answer she warned, "Well watch out!  Jenna's mom is down there and she's FURIOUS!"  To provide a little background, Jenna (name has been changed) is an extremely bright student of mine who has the misfortune of having a mother who is less-than-pleasant, thinks of school as free daycare, and rarely gets her daughter to class on time.  Oh, and she's got a major chip on her shoulder.  Like a Rock-of-Gibraltar-sized-chip.  But back to my story....  In alarm I asked, "What's she mad about?"  Apparently Jenna had an accident (pooped) in her pants at daycare, and mom was mad that she had to take time out of her day to deal with it. 

In growing dread, I walked down to the office, ready to fend off any attack this woman might throw at me.  Past history has shown that she's the type of person who believes a good defense is an offense and will try to blame anyone else but herself for failures on her daughter's part. 

As I approached the office, I saw my friend, T, another temporary teacher, heading there as well.  She mimed something about signing papers, but I still expected a confrontation with Jenna's mom.  When T explained that we were probably getting our pink slips, I felt tremendous relief!  As the principal asked me to sign for my lay-off letter, I said, "Oh good!  I thought I was going to have to deal with Jenna's angry mom and poop pants!"  We all laughed and then T and I merrily went on our way.

That's the way things are now.  We've been laid-off so much that we've become desensitized to losing our jobs!  And this year is even more dire than last year was, with class sizes increasing across the board and all prep classes going away.  Unless there is a huge wave of retirement (which some people think is likely), there simply won't be positions available for the laid-off teachers to fill in the Fall.  It's the same old story.  But after three years, it's getting less interesting.

Let's face it.  Tiger Woods has made some horrendous choices lately and has more than his share to apologize for.  If you watched his live apology (I didn't) or read about it later (which I did), it may have been enlightening to you how he apologized.  Not the exact words, per se, but the format.  As if there were rules he was following when composing his mea culpa.  This is what I learned from Tiger's apology:

A sincere apology must have 3 parts:

1. Honestly admit what you did.
2. Explain why it was wrong (including who it hurt and why).
3. Give a "plan of action" to show that what you did will not happen again.

I'm told this is classic 12-step-program procedure, but never having gone through such a program, I hadn't  really thought about it before.  It seems so logical though.  I know when someone simply says "I'm sorry," I often don't feel that they really understood why what they did was wrong.  With my kids especially, the words "I'm sorry" are more of a way to get out of a lecture or move on from a situation, rather than a sincere acknowledgment that what they did was wrong.  So, we have now instituted the 3-step apology rule in our house.  Vika and Eamon groan about it, but you know what?  I think it has made them much more reflective about how their actions and words affect others.  Hopefully this will eventually result in them thinking about potential outcomes before they act, rather than atoning for them afterward.

I know.  Best of luck with that.  But at this point, I'll try anything to get them past their "It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission" mindset.

I had another post scheduled for today, but after reading the news this morning, I decided to bring this to your attention instead.

Generally, I try to keep politics away from this blog, but as someone who's suffered a miscarriage, this scares the bejeezus out of me!


http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/01/us/01abortion.html

While I can understand a bit of what prompted such legislation, I think they are going about it all wrong.  During my time working in neonatology, I saw quite  few cases that horrified me.  One was very much like the case mentioned here, where a pregnant, teenage couple, in an effort to abort their fetus, took a bunch of drugs and then the boyfriend kicked the girlfriend repeatedly in the stomach.  Their efforts did not being about the desired results, and the baby was born prematurely, with severe problems.  I'm not sure what happened to the child after she left the NICU.  Were these kids wrong in their actions?  Absolutely!  But do they deserve life in prison because of it?  I don't believe so.  Instead, shouldn't we examine a system that makes some people so desperate that they feel the only way out is to endure the pain of a brutal beating, thereby causing the death of their unborn child?  What social programs are in place to help these girls obtain legal abortions (which are still allowed in the Utah bill)?  Or perhaps support them while they put their baby up for adoption?  As Christine said (a blogger I was recently introduced to by Michelle), are there programs to financially assist these teenage girls who chose to be mothers to their babies while they finish high school and college?  It just seems that there is a greater issue that is being overlooked while people focus on the act of obtaining abortions through non-medical means.

However, putting the issue of intentional abortions and social programs aside, there is something else in this bill which is even more alarming.  A woman who suffers a miscarriage due to "reckless behavior" can also be punished by life in prison.  The thing that scares me so much about this is, who determines what constitutes "reckless behavior?" (and I admit, I haven't seen the entire bill to read line-by-line)  The examples given are drinking alcohol and driving recklessly while pregnant.  But what about me?  I ate at a sushi bar while pregnant.  Sure, I didn't consume anything raw, but maybe some of those California Rolls touched a bit of sashimi and that resulted in my miscarriage.  Is that reckless behavior?  And even if it was reckless, was my intent to satisfy my craving for sushi or to harm my unborn child?  I think every woman who has suffered a miscarriage ought to think about this issue very carefully.  Most of you reading this blog were devastated by the loss and went on to either conceive or adopt another child.  I'm sure all of us questioned what we may have done that caused us to lose our child.  Many of you, like me, may have even had people tell you why you were to blame for the loss of your child (in my case, I was "too stressed" about having a healthy pregnancy).  It seems that lawmakers in Utah, while they may have good intentions, are completely missing the mark with this one.

What are your thoughts?  (and if any of you are tempted to leave inflammatory or disrespectful comments, I warn you in advance, they will be deleted).

Yesterday, Eamon gave me the journal he's been working on in school, and since I shared some of Vika's writing, I thought I'd share some highlights of Eamon's as well. For ease of reading, I won't type it verbatim because reading words that are spelled phonetically (by a first grader) can be tedious.

• Oct. 12, 2009: "I can do a back flip. I can jump. I can't jump in outer space. I can't stay alive forever." (this one made me a bit sad - the boy thinks about dying way too much for one so young).
• Nov. 19, 2009: "We saw a REAL rattlesnake in the science lab today. Of course, it was dead and in a jar..."
• Dec. 17, 2009: "What would happen if my toy Russia Mishka became real? I would hug him and pretend he is a big monster and pretend he is a USA army person and call him Captain John William. He is the best stuffed animal..." (I wonder how he came up with "Captain John William"?)
  
• Feb. 4, 2010: "I love the way Mama cooks. I love the recipe for hot dogs my Mama makes for me. My Mama makes a lot of food for me." (for the record, I almost NEVER cook, and I don't believe I've ever made the kids hot dogs. That's Jeff's department. I wonder if Eamon wishes I cooked more?)
  
• Feb. 5, 2010: "I would love to go on a long journey to a far away place. I would go to Hawaii and race my sister on a camel. I really, really want to go to Hawaii." (I think he might be disappointed by the lack of camels on the islands.)

It's funny that Eamon writes much the way he talks - kind of a stream of consciousness type of thing. I can hardly wait to see what he writes in his next journal!

Vika has been interested in writing for some time now. Normally her writing covers the events of her day, and sometimes will be a retelling of a story she's read before. But lately, she's been getting into writing poetry, and I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised. My practical little girl (remember "It's George Washington, dead, in a box"?) has now become a bit more fanciful. Maybe her recent bump on the head has lead to an increase in creativity (other than a nasty scar hidden by her hair, she's all recovered, BTW)? Last night during the Olympics, Vika had a little pad that she was scrawling on in between events. Here is what she wrote:

"Imagination Is."

Imagination is not something bad.
Imagination is creation.
Imagination is your friend.
Imagination is a unicorn dancing in the air.
Imagination is not a chore.
Imagination is a simple book or two.
Imagination is music.
Imagination is in you.
Imagination is not a bully.
Imagination is three beautiful starts shining like 3,000 diamonds.
Imagination is what you dream in your sleep.
Imagination is not whether you need time for it.
Imagination is always with you.
Imagination is what everybody has.
Imagination is what people carry in little luggage in their brain.

Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I especially like the part about the unicorn and the image of little suitcases in people's heads carrying all kinds of fanciful ideas. It's fun to hear her voice come through in her writing.

This morning, while Jeff was out on his run, I dismantled the dang Christmas tree. The kids helped me haul the pieces back into the garage, where we shoved them back into the box. It's not a pretty put-away job, but at least it's done.

Jeff's birthday was this weekend too, on Saturday. We put his gifts under the tree and his cards in the branches. It looked a bit festive, if I do say so myself.

Strange post title to have in February, isn't it? Well, I have a confession. Our Christmas tree is still up. Wait! Before you get all disgusted with me, let me explain. On January 2nd, I took down all the Christmas decorations while Jeff was out with some clients. I even took down the ornaments. However, tackling the 9 foot artificial tree was a job I just wasn't feeling up to doing on my own. So, when Jeff got home later that day, I asked him if he could take down the tree, and naturally, he said yes.

That was 39 days ago. And yet the tree still stands. At this point, it's become an issue of stubbornness with me. I'm interested to see just how long that tree remains in our living room, and whether or not I will cave in and take the dang thing down! This week, there was some progress, however. Jeff unplugged the tree, so it no longer clicks on at 5pm, warming us in it's cheery (if no longer seasonal) glow until 10 pm.

If I didn't hate Valentine's Day do much, I'd probably drape pink and red hearts over the tree. Perhaps I can find some of those egg ornaments for Easter?

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been sick with a cold for the past week. Yesterday afternoon, I decided to take a hot shower to relieve some of the congestion in my head. Jeff was out with some clients, so during this 5-10 minute period the kids would be unsupervised. No biggie, right?

I had just put conditioner in my hair when I heard Eamon shouting outside the bathroom door, "Mama! Vika hit her head!" "What?" I asked. "Vika hit her head and there's blood on her shirt!" he replied, this time more frantically. "WHAT??!!!" I screamed now, panic setting in. "Tell her to get up here if she can!"

I quickly scrambled from the shower, threw on a robe and met Vika on the stair landing. She was holding a paper towel to the back of her head, but didn't look too bad. Until she turned around. The entire back of her tank-top was covered in blood. "Oh my God!" I said, gently parting her hair to see the damage. There was so much blood that it was hard to see, so I had her sit down and push the cloth to her head while I asked Eamon what on earth had happened.

We live in a three-level townhouse, where you can look down on the living room from the dining room. There is a rail separating the two spaces, and Eamon thought it would be fun to jump from the rail down into the living room (about 6 feet). After a successful jump and landing, he encouraged Vika to give it a try. Her jump was also successful, but the landing...not so much. Basically, she hit the couch, bounced backwards and knocked her head on the coffee table, creating a gash in the middle-back portion of her scalp.

In anger and shock I yelled, "That's why we tell you not to jump off the railing!!!!" I grabbed the phone and called Jeff. "Jeff," I said, "I need you to come home NOW. Vika cracked her head open and there's blood all down the back of her shirt." He told me to call 911 next, which I did. However, I was still in a bathrobe with conditioner in my hair, and began to freak out about paramedics coming into the house while I was practically naked. Seeing that Vika was alert and sitting quietly, I managed to pull on some clothes while on the phone with dispatch. In the meantime, Eamon, who was completely distressed by the situation, was hiding in his bed with the covers pulled over his head, whimpering that he hoped Vika didn't die. "Calm down Eamon!" I said, "Vika's going to be alright!"

Moments later, our home was flooded by firemen and paramedics, who efficiently checked out Vika while I told them what happened. They got the bleeding to stop and said that the wound wasn't as bad as it looked, but that it might need stitches (producing more whimpering from both Vika and Eamon). After some discussion, they felt it might be more stressful for Vix to go to the hospital in an ambulance, so we agreed to drive her to urgent care. They applied a bandage and ice bag to her head, and we put her in a clean shirt (couldn't have her going to urgent care all covered in blood!). Then we headed out to the hospital.

Fortunately, since it was late afternoon and urgent care was about to close, we had no wait. They got Vika in right away and cleaned her wound. After some close examination, the doctor decided that staples would be needed to hold the wound closed. Vika nearly broke my fingers, she squeezed them so hard when she heard this. But she was a trooper and about an hour later, we headed home with a girl who was all in one piece (even if it was held together by 3 staples).

After we got home, I began to notice other things about the house. Like the blood trail that went from the living room, up the first flight of stairs and through the dining room into the kitchen. In the kitchen, there was a pool of blood in front of the sink and red smeared down the cabinets. There were also large smears of blood where Eamon had clearly tried to clean up so they wouldn't get caught. I saw a bunch of blood in the downstairs bathroom as well. Apparently, after the fall (which happened very soon after I got into the shower), the kids tried to clean the wound and all the blood on their own so they wouldn't get in trouble for jumping off the railing. They must have been in a complete panic about getting caught. Upon realizing that the blood wasn't stopping and the mess was getting bigger by the moment, Eamon decided to come and get me for help. Dang kids. I was in the shower for less than 5 minutes! I really should be able to trust that they are not going to kill or maim themselves in that short amount of time. Silly Me.

This is the second time we've had to call 911 for Vika in the last 6 months. My mom joined us at Urgent Care, and when she asked Eamon what happened he replied, "Vika isn't as good of a monkey as me." In his simple way, he kind of summed it all up.

The past couple of weeks have just flown by! In between work and the kids, a few other things have occurred which are worth mentioning.

• I am sick. AGAIN. Darn, germy kindergartners. The upside is that all this coughing is giving my abs one heck of a workout! The downside is that I have no creative energy at the moment, which means you get this: a bulleted list of the marginally interesting things that happened since my last post.

• My nephew Tyson turned 1 year old last week! We went to his birthday party last weekend, and hoped to get a photo of him with cake all over his face. However, he just daintily dipped his fingertips into the frosting, keeping very clean and tidy, so I finally told my brother to push the piece of cake in Ty's face. Which he actually did! After a moment of stunned silence, Ty thought it was fun and began smiling through the layers of blue frosting covering his cheeks and mouth. Photos were taken all around.

• I received notice of new budget cuts coming to our school district next year. Proposed cuts include 105 teaching positions (in Elementary Ed), P.E. for elementary students, the elimination of class-size reduction in all elementary classes, custodial services, etc. The list goes on and on until $35 million is cut from the budget. *sigh* Looks like it's going to be another summer of uncertainty for me.

• And, to end on a high note, I finally finished my Rosamund's Cardigan! I got the pattern from Interweave Knits' Fall 2009 issue and used worsted weight yarn purchased from Knit Picks online. There are a few problem areas in the finished sweater (which probably would be eliminated if I blocked it), but overall, I'm happy with the results! Now, on to my next project (whatever that will be...).