Friday, January 11, 2013
Never Too Much Coffee
Lily's BFF, Jaden, had moved back to her home in Montana, sending us a weather comparison via cell phone this morning. I'd flat out die from frozen feet if I lived there, my inner wimpiness would be spectacularly evident. Who on earth is that hardy? I'd be the yo-yo sniveling in the corner, all balled up.
A balloon popped and I jumped a mile.
"Good golly mom, " CW remarked, "Were you in Viet Nam?"
Honey, do you not remember the violence we one lived with?
Uh, no, he doesn't, because I went way out of my way to protect and shield these younger children back then, scurrying them off to their rooms at even a hint of an explosion.
That said, it wasn't always possible to beat the band on that one, but I sure tried.
"Oh yeah," he agreed. "I do remember. That sucked, didn't it?"
My PTSD, my wide-eyed jitteryness is not due to too much black coffee consumption.
When I was working with Adopt America and went to Toledo, Ohio for a meeting, where I met Claudia for the first time, CW, Tony, Chuy and Allen were all first graders then. My Bubbas that I missed so much on that trip.
Now they're 11th graders, CW's nearly six feet tall and has a beard. Chuy who once ran speedily through our home always down to his super hero underwear, now dresses snappily, and is beginning to think about colleges. And wears soccer shorts over his underwear nowadays.
Because I have friends who are social workers, or maybe just because folks confide in me either through email or phone calls, I still see a lot of what goes on in the adoption world. I'm every hue of grateful that God released me from adopting anymore, when He spoke clearly within my mind that July afternoon in 2005, when I'd hung up the house phone, a now unused land line, after choosing Sabrina's sibling group as my last sibling adoption.
And what a wonderful group they've been. Gone are the days when adoptive parents had phone access to the kid's original workers, who can be a wonderful source of emotional support for both the new parents and the children. An entire slew of regulations and ridiculous requirements have made onerous the amounts of paperwork at the expense of getting the kids into homes.
And nowadays? A spate of meth addicted children? Oh my.
I think there's more violence, more aggression, less mental health services and resources.
I nowadays believe deeply that there are some kids who just will not, just cannot, do well in families. The potential danger involved blows my mind.
Shaking that off, my despair over society as a whole, looking around here. JoJo got bus left even after I'd been the one to drive 'em all up to the bus stop as it was drizzling. He fed me his usual line of ridiculous excuses, there was no legitimate excuse, simply poor time management, but he just doesn't see it.
I've tried for 13 years to demonstrate, to explain, to teach simple precepts, but I may as well have just barked at the moon for all the good it's done. I've only stressed me out about it.
Disengaging means I just drive him to school, skip the lecture parts that fall on deaf ears anyway. If I were to confront him, he'd escalate. It's just the way it is.
That's not giving up, it's just changing tactics - as the regular way didn't work.
Will this way work? Who knows? If not, I'll reevaluate. I'll keep trying. I'll push through my discouraging moments, those times in which I feel as if I've made absolutely no difference in their lives, other than to have provided food and shelter, as they reject decent behavior, education, belief in a higher Deity, morals, and all logic.
It's the minority, not the majority, and that's what keeps me going.
I'd taken Sabrina to look at a car to buy, I had an uneasy gut feeling about that one, we walked away and found another, turns out I know the seller, so we'll see. I don't move fast in these negotiations, I wanna advise her about the best options, yet cars are not my arena of knowledge. She's carefully saved her money and I want to help her get a great deal somehow.