Friday, March 1, 2013

The Art of Listening….

Today was a glory day.  It did not start out the way.   It started out with my eyes bugging out of my head while the therapist talked me down.  It started out with K. riding with his hands WHERE I CAN SEE THEM AT ALL TIMES! which generally means straight up in the air because although I am not exactly sure what he was doing in the back seat I am sure it involved his hands and spit.   Hey, at least it wasn’t pee.   AND THEN(!) we sit in the waiting room (waiting rooms are battlezones for RAD moms everywhere).   “Do we need to go over the rules?” I ask.   He answers no and smiles.  I glance at the stranger two seats again and decide what the heck, let him do his worst, Carrie is in the next room after all…she will vouch for me.  

*a bit of explanation: these peanuts are desperate for attention and control and strangers are fun to manipulate.   I have been accused of hitting them, slamming heads against beds, refusing food and water….you name it.

Anyway, K. then says in his most pitiful voice.  “Mom (insert dramatic pause and does eyes) thank you so much for my…..coat.” (this is a favorite tool of K.’s mention a basic necessity like a coat, shoes, underwear, water, whatever and ham it up so that it appears as if he is so deprived that he is thrilled that this one need has finally been met.)  And then looks pointedly at the aforementioned stranger waiting for the shocked expression of pity.   I don’t know that man’s name or anything about him but I kinda love him cuz he just.sat.there.    Score one for team mom!!  Let the battle begin!

Of course this all is relayed to Carrie (our attachment therapist) who then had a conversation with K. explaining the rules of waiting rooms and moms and all that kind of stuff.  We talked about mom and how she loved everyone and in the midst of the conversation K says:

“David and Jed have a mom”

Ouch.   No wonder we have been acting out.   Notice who he doesn’t mention having a mom?   Yeah, when you are a little peanut not having a mom to call your own is a scary place to be.

Sigh.   I wasn’t listening.again.   Oh, I heard the screams and the crying but I totally missed what he was desperately trying to say….

So we drove home (and drove and drove….an hour is a looooong time) and he had to put his hands up again but this time when he glared at me I listened.  I did not react.   I smiled my love at him and said “hey, lets see who spots the first hawk!”

Tonight I am not a loser, I am a winner Smile


Oh!  and I love our adoption worker!   She is going through the adoption process herself and we swapped white mom + black kids + Walmart stories.   Funny stuff, guys, funny stuff.

1 comment:

  1. Love your entries. As someone who has been in this battlefield before, it is wonderful to see the support you have. 20 years ago support was extremely difficult to find. People have often encouraged me to write a book about our journey. I did not keep a journal of those times and to relive those moments again is something I do not wish to go through. I'm glad you're finding good amongst difficult times. God bless!


Thanks for letting me know you're listening! Your comments mean so much!

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