Something about bad parenting, I think

It's been a bad day. The bad day started yesterday. Think I'll whine about it for a while.

Superman left this evening to visit his parents for the weekend. He took Twitch, leaving me here with Sproing and Diva. I've been having trouble with these two trolls, so he leaves me alone with them. OK, that's not fair. He wants to see his parents, and especially to visit his mom in light of next Sunday being Mother's Day. He'll see her this weekend so he can be with me on Mother's Day. Nevertheless, my poor broken heart feels abandoned to the trolls.

I've mentioned before that my two youngest children are not normal. Here is a recent example. Last evening Sproing and Diva were picking on each other. Nothing new there. It started as pseudo-friendly banter. They were having fun, playing, trading verbal barbs. With these two these things can get out of hand in a hurry. And of course that's what happened. I don't even know what the argument was about. One of them pushed too far (they also both have boundary issues) and made the other genuinely mad/hurt. So the angry one got nasty to the other, which made the other even meaner. You see how these things go. I was staying out of the way. My currently philosophy about their arguments is to let them have at each other and do what damage they will. In other words, I (am pretending that I) don't care.

Diva came into my room to complain about Sproing, and said she was going to "cut him" if he didn't quit this shit. Don't remember exactly what I told her. Probably something like "leave him alone, ignore him, go into your room to remove yourself from the situation." Of course she didn't.

They finally separated and retreated to their own rooms. I got up to check on things and noticed that the kitchen was still a mess, and it's Diva's day on kitchen duty. I went into her room to send her back to finish her job, and low and behold there on her chair was my largest butcher knife!!! I asked why she had it but she wouldn't tell me. The only thing she ended up saying is that she was holding it. Yeah, and I heard her threaten to cut her brother. Holy shit.

They both treat me like garbage. They are rude, disrespectful, etc. I take away privileges, lecture at them, demand that they treat me (and their Dad) with respect, but they don't. Oh, occasionally they'll be nice and do the right thing, but generally they act like trolls. I have failed them as a parent. I am so depressed. I don't have the energy, the strength to follow through. They know how to kick the foundation out from under me and weaken me to the point that I am useless. That is where I am right now. Useless as a parent to these trolls.

Quote for today, and contemplation on our current situation

"Don't be too hard on yourself. There are plenty of people willing to do that for you. Love yourself and be proud of everything that you do. Even mistakes mean you're trying." -- Susan Gale

Those words give me comfort. There's a huge wad of discomfort in my life right now, so a touch of Nice is nice. And of course I tend to be pretty hard on myself. I think a lot of people are their own worst critics.

So today I have been making phone calls to the state Department of Social Services (DSS) trying to find someone who has even heard of the idea of adoptive parents relinquishing parental rights in a failed adoption.  And it's emotionally wrenching. I haven't really spent much time on the phone. I've been redirected a few times, and left a voice mail message at the last number I called. So here we are.

I got a reference to a family law attorney in town. Don't know the guy, but he was recommended by someone I like and trust. I want to see what I can get from DSS before I call him. Maybe. Unless I don't.

Let's talk about this big failure. Work with me here. The adoption has failed. We have tried very hard to make it work. That's my point of view anyway. Maybe we could have done more, been open to more possibilities, had better attitudes and expectations for success. I don't know. As for me, I gave it the best I have. Or had. I feel bad about it, though. I know we need to legally disengage from her. I am ready to proceed. But I'm very sad about it. Even though I know we've done all we can, it still feels like failure.

And the road ahead is rough. I expect the process will not be easy. Not emotionally, for sure, but probably not bureaucratically easy either. And will take a long time. I don't know what "a long time" means exactly.

And that's about all I can say about it today.

On Being Trespassed Against

I am a very forgiving person. It's nearly impossible for me to hold a grudge. Nearly. But not entirely. To do so requires that the transgressor hurt me very much, probably repeatedly.

And she has.

Superman and I attended a meeting last Friday concerning Diva, who is almost finished with her term of probation. We met with a few service providers to revise her mental healthcare treatment plan. Besides us, the attendees included the local representative from the state department overseeing the care of emotionally disturbed children, Diva's counselor from the department of mental health, her Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ) probation "counselor"*, and the young woman who provides rehabilitative psycho-social services. To review: Me, Superman, that woman, that woman, the young woman, and the other lady. To give you perspective, we are older than all these other women. Our children, including the one who was the subject of the meeting, are older than the children of these other women. One of the ladies doesn't have children. They are all trained and educated about children, though, so doesn't that make us feel better. (No)

I'll cut to the ridiculous part. To boost Diva's confidence, it was decided around us that we should surprise Diva with a celebration for not breaking the law for these past months since October when she was released from the DJJ evaluation center. That nice woman is bringing a cake. We'll provide the ice cream. This will happen on Tuesday afternoon. The probation counselor will bring the paperwork officially ending Diva's probation. Only her counselor will not be able to attend, but all the other ladies will be there. Honestly, I'm not feeling it.

To her credit, Diva controls some of her impulses better than she did before. She hasn't struck out violently since she assaulted me in September. She'll cuss like a sailor with the slightest provocation, but she hasn't hit anyone as far as I am aware. She can't disagree with us without screaming in our faces. That gets really tiring very quickly.

Friday was the end of a very difficult week for us. On Tuesday Diva and I got into an argument about her having a cell phone. (We told her she couldn't, she bought a cheapo one anyway). I tried and failed to cook hamburgers, resulting in a visit from the nice local firemen. No flames, just a lot of smoke and a security system that alerts the powers-that-be to said smoke. Thursday I got insanely mad at Sproing for ruining my chance to go out for the evening with my lovely husband. By Friday I was convinced I couldn't parent these maniacs anymore. Cut to the meeting where well-meaning but clueless young women tell us how to parent these maniacs.

I cried. I railed. I told all of them that we just can't handle it anymore. Well, shit, they don't want to handle these little fuckers any more than we do. Their collective goal is to keep this wonderful family together. Shit. They said Very Encouraging Things. They said that much of what our 14 year olds do is fairly typical; the rebellion, the snitty attitudes, the backtalk, the lack of respect. Humph. I've already raised two children to adulthood, and neither of them had behavior this intense. Though at a very rough spot in my life when Twitch was 14 or 15 one of his tantrums pushed me over the edge (I was damned close already) and I spent a few days in the psych ward at the hospital. I am much better medicated now. Nevertheless, Twitch at his worst was nothing like this. (Light at her worst was hardly a bump in the road, but that's Light.)

Back to the point: Young Women said Diva and Sproing's behavior isn't atypical. Then one of them said "though most parents haven't dealt with this intensity for 7 years." Bingo! Diva committed her first felony at the tender age of 9. Sproing was a holy terror for his 2nd grade teacher, and I was at school more often than not. And his behavior at school wasn't much different from what we experienced at home. It's been the same shit, different day, for years and years and years.

I don't think about all of that very often. I can't if I want to survive today.

Remember that part about Diva assaulting me? When she punched me repeatedly in the chest and back, leaving bruises? And hasn't apologized for it? And doesn't show a scrap of remorse for anything? Yeah. That was the straw that broke my back. It was a big straw, yet the pile was huge before she laid that one on. She has never shown remorse for anything, for years and years, except getting caught and punished. She ain't right.

I am not the kind of person who keeps score of offenses against me. As I said at the beginning, I am a very forgiving person. But at some point my well of forgiveness runs out. I have taken into account that she is a child. That she is my child. I used to love her. I still do, after a fashion. I care about what happens to her, where she goes, what influences she is subjected to. I don't want her to be in danger. I want her to have the things that she needs. But I don't think I can provide that care for her. She is slowly killing my spirit.

It's too much. I've been told (by experts, no less**) that I need to move beyond her past behaviors, to forgive her. To wipe the slate clean and start anew. No. I have been hurt too deeply. I cannot open myself, make myself vulnerable to her in the way that I "should" as a parent. Love requires a certain vulnerability. Parenting requires patience and a "long view" perspective. Since she was 4 years old Diva has been consistently odd, and not in a good way. She has NEVER... N E V E R exhibited remorse. Almost never does she accept any kind of punishment, because she is not wrong. Rules don't apply to her, therefore consequences shouldn't apply either. So the "long view" from age 4 to 14 shows disturbing consistency. Perhaps in another 10 years she'll have matured into an emotionally healthy young woman, but I can't see that happening. I know other children (besides my own) who are now adults. Certain personality traits are consistent throughout their lives. The things I am trying to describe about Diva are the things that don't change significantly.

I feel as though I need to scream from the rooftops so that someone, anyone will hear me and understand. I. Can't. Do. This. Any. More. All of these well trained service providers just don't get it. Nothing I've said seems to have made a difference to them. They see segments of her behavior and think "that's not so bad." Maybe not, but it is for me. Or it's been going on long enough to have broken me. Perhaps I'm just not strong enough. Not good enough. Whatever. I don't care. Take her away. I can no longer stand the pain she brings. I can't turn off my give-a-shit so that she doesn't hurt me anymore. I'm too good a parent for that. And that renders me unqualified to parent her.

*Newspeak: DJJ doesn't have probation officers, they have probation counselors. Doesn't that make us all feel better? (No)

** Some of these experts are even older and more experience than I, though not experienced at living with Diva. 'Nuf said.

It starts with a grumble, peaks a bit in the middle, and tanks badly at the end.

I'm in a cranky mood, but I'm not sure why. When in doubt, blame hormones. I was doing alright most of the day, but late this afternoon I started getting testy. Diva was hanging off of me, invading my personal space. I spent a good bit of time with her today. I washed her hair, and spent a while making sure it was properly moisturized. She is supposed to put moisturizer on it every day, but she doesn't, so it gets very dry and brittle. Then she looks like a tatterdemalion*, and I feel guilty as though it is my fault that she won't take care of herself. It's not like I don't remind her, either. There are better ways to encourage compliance, I just don't do it. I don't do it because I'm worn down to a nubbin.

*Look! A new word! I didn't know this one, but it popped up as a synonym when I double checked "urchin." I like it better than "waif" or "urchin" because it's fancy and polysyllabic.

So Diva and I had some pretty good Mommy - Daughter time today. Before I worked on her hair, she sat with me as I perused some blogs (I was very careful to avoid a few of my regulars(NSFW, duh) with her beside me) and looked at a few Facebook pages. But after she leaned her hot body on my arm for an hour, I was ready for some distance. But she keeps coming in here and giving me that puppy-dog look, holding out her hands as if she's a baby wanting to be picked up. That stuff gets really irritating after a while. I could understand it if she were 2 years old. But at 11, she needs to cut that shit out.

They've been leaving me alone for a while, though. I'm happy about that. Superman is with them at the kitchen table teaching them how to play Sargent Major. He is a cut-throat game player. I'm a wimpy wuss. I don't like playing games with him. The first summer we were married he convinced me to play some card games with him. He made me cry. This sweet, funny, solicitous honeybear turned into a vengeful rat-bastard when he had cards in his hands. I took it personally. As I said, I'm a wuss. I cried. He was confused. We rarely play cards together, even now. Thankfully, 75% of our children love to play card games and board games. That's one thing I will miss when they all leave. No one else will be here to play games with the poor man. I might be forced to roll some dice and move some mice.

I have to tell you about a good day my kids had earlier this week. Sproing was at school, thus not in the house creating chaos. The other three sat in the kitchen and played poker; 5 card draw, using dry beans as currency. Black beans were 10, pinto beans were 5, and black eyed peas were 1. Twitched creamed his sisters' collective tuckuses. It was a lot of fun to listen to. I was in the next room, on the computer (aren't I always?), and laughing heartily. It is rare and wonderful when my kidlets make me laugh. I refer to the happy laugh, not that crazed lunatic laugh.

Then the three of us girls "looked" the beans, Light rinsed and soaked them, and Thursday we had bean soup. With a bit of instruction from me, Light made the soup. It was GOOD!

In other news, Sproing was suspended from his summer program for two days. He had a violent meltdown on Wednesday when the group was on a field trip to the skating rink. He ended up trying to run away from the group, going into the woods around the parking lot. When he was brought back to the group, he picked up rocks and threw them at the other students. As soon as they got back to the school, Superman got a call to come pick the boy up. He will be back at school, everything hunky-dory with the staff, on Monday. I hope he's ready for a reboot, too.

I had an excellent conversation with the program director Wednesday afternoon. After Sproing came home, I went over there to investigate. I really like that program! It is designed specifically for kids like Sproing. They do really good work with him, trying to teach him how to divert himself when he begins to feel frustrated. The director spends a lot of time with him, and has a good rapport with him. She doesn't get angry, she allows him to talk to her, she listens respectfully, and helps him figure out some good alternatives when he is inclined to fly into a rage. I hope this is immediately effective for him. I need to see some good results. I am beat down from trying and trying and trying without ever seeing any improvement.

Recently, while reading various blogs and things around the interwebz, I have read tales of misbehaving children. These stories are told from the perspective of an outside observer who watches a young child have some kind of public melt-down, with a generous side of egregious behavior. There are stories of older children who do offensive illegal things. The overwhelming message I hear/read/see in these reports is that there is something wrong with the parents. The youngsters have not been properly taught, trained, molded into civil people. It's the parents' fault. The parents are responsible for their children's behavior.

I take this personally.

In so many of these incidents I see familiar behavior. My kids (the younger two, specifically) do shit like that. It's horrific. I do not "let" them get away with it! I punish them, I talk to them, I teach them more appropriate behaviors and responses, they receive consequences. We have been doing this for years. The kids have been ignoring me for years. Sproing is beginning to get violent and more stringently defiant.

I am not perfect. I am far from being a perfect mother. My natural personality is more inclined to love and encourage than to fight. I have not been as strong, as self-disciplined, as strict as I should have been. We don't have a rigid enough routine around here. Flexibility is my strength, but I'm afraid these kids need less flexibility and more rigidity than I have provided.

I have tried very hard to do what needs to be done. The longer I try, seeing little or no improvement, the more discouraged I become. The more discouraged I am, the less energy I have to do what they really need. I get overwhelmed. I have trouble even doing what little I am capable of.

I am weak. Today I did not have the strength to stand up to Sproing when he was pushing the limits. As I reflect on the day, I see what I should have done. But at the time, I could barely process what was happening, much less call him on his attitude.

They need better. I am not good enough. They are running amok. Bad things could happen. They are still young enough that, as parents, we are legally responsible for some of the shit they do.

I'm done in. I love them, I care about them, I want the best for them. I'm afraid that the best is not me. There are things I know I should do for them. Like charts. Charts are probably a good idea. I can't get my shit together enough to make a damned chart. We've done charts before. They might work for a few days, but it doesn't last. I think it doesn't last because I can't continue to enforce it. The more beat down I am, the more they defy me and figuratively shit on me, the less inclined I am to work with and for them.

They steal. They take my things without asking. They use my things and break them, seemingly on purpose sometimes. These kids take gifts that we've provided, then misuse, abuse, and break them. They lie. Sometimes I think they lie just for sport. I can't trust a thing they say. I don't bother asking questions anymore because I won't believe their answers. When this goes on long enough, I lose my ability to give a shit. Right now I care, but seem to be incapable of doing anything about it.

I don't know what else to say. There is nothing left. Nothing.