Thursday, March 18, 2010
"Mom please let me play games on your phone," JoJo begged, being stuck in the waiting room while I tended to business. I knew he couldn't call anyone, as his friends were in school while he's serving his suspension, so I tossed it to him and walked off, not knowing for quite some time that he'd hacked into my Facebook account and amused my friends. Several caught on immediately, one lady who's not a mother, remarking that she was surprised that others had so quickly figured him out.
JoJo is a nut, slap worn out on the couch now after three days of following me around, it's not like I dawdle during the day, I have a great deal to get done and never enough time. He conked out before supper last night.
The juvenile judge had literally written an order for this therapeutic team to seek residential psychiatric placement for Paloma and one of the team members met with me yesterday, explaining that with severe budgetary cuts, it's not a guaranteed thing anymore. Since Paloma has DJJ involvement, and is acting out both at school and at home, maybe she has a chance.
It's frustrating because we all know if not in a psychiatric placement, she'll break enough laws to get a punitive placement, and again, that's not a good thing. She's not choosing these behaviors. This is what mental illness is, and there's no clear line of demarcation for law-breaking folks, between those whose inner demons drive them versus those who willfully choose to break the law. JoJo's zero impulse control issues will handicap him all his life, but he's not mentally ill.
He's such a challenge, a handful, a full-time job managing his moods and his behaviors, Allen comes in a close second for moodiness and over-the-top emotions, these are Edgar's baby brothers, now 13 and 14, and just as Edgar was such an immense emotional challenge for me, so too, are they both.
JoJo saw an email come through on my phone from Claudia about a sib group of five kids who were cute and Hispanic. "oh Mom, Puh-leeze, adopt them, I'll be good." His heart in the right place, he wants kids to find families (to rebel against, like he does) but I'd just rudely retorted, "Boy, I can see the issues in each kid's eyes, I know what the new parents will face," not reading the writeup, instead just hitting delete, end of subject.
Later that afternoon, since I'm still on the AAN line, I read that the group would likely be split up due to the severity of their issues. What a blow, my blood pressure surged, me having no easy answers for this difficult situation. Not only do I have no desire to adopt anymore, I have even less ability to talk anyone else through it, knowing the very rough road that'll be ahead for the unprepared big-hearted, naive family.
I told JoJo what I'd read, he looked at me with his large, liquid beautiful brown eyes that then nearly over-filled with tears, but being JoJo, I saw his inner anger take over, and he yelled, "That just pisses me off."
I'd meant it as a learning example, a lame attempt for him to appreciate me keeping his seven sibling group member entourage together in spite of some very massive difficulties. Interestingly enough, their initial writeup and their case workers claimed this was a delightful, loving group of seven with no major issues. Ten years later I can tell you they've been an uphill battle.
None have emotional nor mental illnesses, but all are violent, mean, lazy, and aggressive, yet all seven are also loving, athletic, very good-looking kids who struggle daily with an inability in academics, a challenge in obeying laws, and they just can't seem to get it together enough to hold down jobs and pay bills. The oldest girl texting me yesterday to pray for her at 3 during her job interview, which JoJo and I did, exactly at three.
Two early release days today, I have mountains of paperwork in front of me, phone calls to make, faxes to send, all Micky Mouse chores that bore me to tears, in ways in which weeding never does. I'm loving our new Walton EMC Security system, loving it, another layer of protection here, and while news reports about the economy fill me with anxiety, I can just go finish picking masses of daffodils, inhale my winter daphne that's outta this world, or hold a hen - all activities that calm me from within, as I falter forward again and again, striving and pushing ahead.
"Why can't you be like everyone else in the world," JoJo loudly complained in the grocery store, as I read labels and fussed about foodstuff items. I wanted to holler at the offending ingredients, rather I just stomped off and answered Jojo, "Whaddya mean? Like moms who get their nails done and don't adopt sib groups of seven?" I was on a roll yesterday.
"Ha ha, ya got me," he smirked, pulling at and touching everything we passed like any normal three year old might do, calling Paloma, "Sasquatch," for unreasonably getting out of school again, eventually telling me in the check-out line, "I'm not as dumb as you think you look," which cracked me up. Sometimes I'm afraid that I just encourage him, but he does make me laugh.
Sarah's husband actually pointed out to Ray last night at church when I stopped to get my grandbaby hug, "Bita's not wearing green," earning me a Ray Ray pinch. Well, I'm not Irish, duh, and I hardly own any clothes that are not in varying shades of black.
I'm praying for the particular sib group, for someone to step up to the plate and take on their emotional disabilities for a spell, sorry that it'll nearly ruin someone else's life, it is what it is, no one promised any of us a good time 24-7. My callous thought for today should also be tempered with a remark about the joy some kids provide, think I'll post a picture of my beautiful 12 year old, Lily, below, nurtured and loving, smart and talented, an absolute delight to raise. (see below)
But before I could hit publish all Hell broke out over a T-shirt, now I have a very angry, unreasonable Allen. More later...