Days like this I'm glad I started this blog. Full on vent needed.
Today was family visit day. First time taking the girls to aunt and uncle's house. I have a good relationship with aunt. As our social worker said, "they're good people". They are.
(It takes a big person to say that they'd rather the girls stay with us than be adopted by them. They're truly capable of thinking about the children's best interests and their own limitations.)
My problem is with grandma. There's a reason she has been deemed unfit to adopt.
Here's what began my day:
At every previous visit grandma has loaded the girls with bags and bags of crap. Like 3-4 shopping bags full of old clothes, used toys, cheap kiddie jewelry...and all of it reeking of cigarette smoke. I understand it's her way of showing love. Stuff = love.
At first I thought it must taper off so I kept mum. But every visit brought more bags of crap. After the last visit I sent pictures of the girls using their coloring books she'd given them and thanked grandma for her kindness but then gently asked for no more big toys since we're running out of room. I added some suggestions for small things instead: playdough, hair clips, crayons, etc. We show up at this visit and there's not only two bags of crap there is also a gigantic, cheap and gawdy, Disney character-splattered toy box. It's so big it's in the back of her boyfriend's pickup truck.
Are you fucking kidding me.
I flashed back to our first visit when Kate had been fed nonstop pop and candy from grandma's lap for a full hour and I seriously feared she was about to start vomiting from it all so I gently said, "I'm a little concerned about her tummy on the car ride home." Grandma looked me in the eye, reached into her purse, fished out another gummy worm and handed it to Kate. I had to stand up and walk away.
Here's what set me off at the end of this day:
Kate will be 2 in three weeks. This week she began such stereotypical two-year-old tantrums that we all wondered if she'd watched a tutorial on how to do it. Flop to the floor, bang her heels, shriek in anger for one minute...get up and resume playing normally when ignored. She does this 3-4 times a day and always if she or someone has to leave for some reason. (She's smart and very observant about comings/goings.)
So we get to aunt and uncle's house to pick up the girls (we'd left them without us for 1.5 hrs which was a first, big step in the relationship with the adults) and after chatting for a bit it's time to go. I start to get Kate's boots and coat on and she launches a tantrum. Kicks boots off; flails so I cannot put coat on. Not a big deal...I scoop her up and take her to the car without them (not that cold, most adults had no coat on). On the way out the door I'm trying to get Kate to say good-bye to everyone and she begins sobbing, "no leave grandma!"
Grandma comes unglued. Total melt down. Hysterical crying while collapsing into the arms of a niece as we pull away. Made for TV moment on the front lawn in full view of the girls.
Once we're home I do a long, cuddly naptime with Kate. I hold her in my lap and give her a bottle so I can talk to her about saying good-bye and being sad while she drinks it. I then wrap her in a blankie, rock her to sleep and eventually, because she's so restless, take off my shirt do the kangaroo skin-to-skin cuddle like they do in NICUs when babies are upset and need to bond and be soothed. I sit in a darkened room doing nothing but holding her for an hour like that while she sleeps. But it's worth it because when she wakes she's calm and happy.
I then sent a long email to aunt and grandma explaining that she's begun having tantrums regularly, that she was fine and playing peek-a-boo with me five minutes down the road, but that I tried to give her age-appropriate language about being sad and mad while we snuggled before a nap while she drank her bottle.
I spent some time on that email. Not minimizing the sadness we all felt at seeing Kate's tears, but carefully modeling how we adults can help the children cope by honoring their feelings and giving them language to express them.
Grandma's reply: A bottle? She doesn't take a bottle.
You crazy bitch.
This child came to us clinically obese, wearing size 5 as a 1 yr old, thanks to how you fed her. She just had a traumatic experience, again thanks to you, which I then had to cope with and unravel for the rest of the day, and you are honestly questioning whether or not I should give her a bottle?!?
Here's my conclusion:
Grandma will never respect my opinion, requests or methods. She can't. To do so would admit she's unfit to parent and we are. She will always have to push back to prove the whole system got it wrong and there was no need for the girls to be taken away and given to us.
Did I mention that she gave the girls permanent markers and they came home with stains on some of my favorite outfits because I always try to dress them extra cute for a visit? But please, do load us up with more of your broken toys. To reinforce that your stuff is more important just because it comes to you.
Well, who's having the last laugh now? Cuz I know exactly where that god-awful toy box is going and it ain't inside my house!
Next day follow up:
Wow, I was pissed yesterday! It just feels so rotten to be dismissed and disregarded when I am bending over backwards to keep this family connection. These visits are emotionally exhausting for me--I start a tension headache at least 24 hrs before the visit and it usually continues all day long. It'd be so incredibly easy to decide it isn't worth it and visits with grandma are over.
But I am committed to being the better person (with Theo's support and wisdom talking me down from the ledge) for the girls' sake. And, honestly, nothing grandma has done is that egregious. (I can see that when I'm calm.)
The problem is that I keep picturing worst-case scenarios where grandma takes the girls and pierces their ears or something like that without my knowledge. What about when they're 16 and want to spend the night with a boyfriend? Will I ever trust this woman to be a typical grandma where she takes them on shopping trips or for sleepovers? I doubt it.
But I also need to quit borrowing trouble and focus only on today. Which was lovely. (See next post.) And proves that the girls have decided what role I'll play in their lives--and they're the only ones who really matter anyway.
My apologies for the cursing. But I'm going to leave it because it's the reality of foster care, too.
Today was family visit day. First time taking the girls to aunt and uncle's house. I have a good relationship with aunt. As our social worker said, "they're good people". They are.
(It takes a big person to say that they'd rather the girls stay with us than be adopted by them. They're truly capable of thinking about the children's best interests and their own limitations.)
My problem is with grandma. There's a reason she has been deemed unfit to adopt.
Here's what began my day:
At every previous visit grandma has loaded the girls with bags and bags of crap. Like 3-4 shopping bags full of old clothes, used toys, cheap kiddie jewelry...and all of it reeking of cigarette smoke. I understand it's her way of showing love. Stuff = love.
At first I thought it must taper off so I kept mum. But every visit brought more bags of crap. After the last visit I sent pictures of the girls using their coloring books she'd given them and thanked grandma for her kindness but then gently asked for no more big toys since we're running out of room. I added some suggestions for small things instead: playdough, hair clips, crayons, etc. We show up at this visit and there's not only two bags of crap there is also a gigantic, cheap and gawdy, Disney character-splattered toy box. It's so big it's in the back of her boyfriend's pickup truck.
Are you fucking kidding me.
I flashed back to our first visit when Kate had been fed nonstop pop and candy from grandma's lap for a full hour and I seriously feared she was about to start vomiting from it all so I gently said, "I'm a little concerned about her tummy on the car ride home." Grandma looked me in the eye, reached into her purse, fished out another gummy worm and handed it to Kate. I had to stand up and walk away.
Here's what set me off at the end of this day:
Kate will be 2 in three weeks. This week she began such stereotypical two-year-old tantrums that we all wondered if she'd watched a tutorial on how to do it. Flop to the floor, bang her heels, shriek in anger for one minute...get up and resume playing normally when ignored. She does this 3-4 times a day and always if she or someone has to leave for some reason. (She's smart and very observant about comings/goings.)
So we get to aunt and uncle's house to pick up the girls (we'd left them without us for 1.5 hrs which was a first, big step in the relationship with the adults) and after chatting for a bit it's time to go. I start to get Kate's boots and coat on and she launches a tantrum. Kicks boots off; flails so I cannot put coat on. Not a big deal...I scoop her up and take her to the car without them (not that cold, most adults had no coat on). On the way out the door I'm trying to get Kate to say good-bye to everyone and she begins sobbing, "no leave grandma!"
Grandma comes unglued. Total melt down. Hysterical crying while collapsing into the arms of a niece as we pull away. Made for TV moment on the front lawn in full view of the girls.
Once we're home I do a long, cuddly naptime with Kate. I hold her in my lap and give her a bottle so I can talk to her about saying good-bye and being sad while she drinks it. I then wrap her in a blankie, rock her to sleep and eventually, because she's so restless, take off my shirt do the kangaroo skin-to-skin cuddle like they do in NICUs when babies are upset and need to bond and be soothed. I sit in a darkened room doing nothing but holding her for an hour like that while she sleeps. But it's worth it because when she wakes she's calm and happy.
I then sent a long email to aunt and grandma explaining that she's begun having tantrums regularly, that she was fine and playing peek-a-boo with me five minutes down the road, but that I tried to give her age-appropriate language about being sad and mad while we snuggled before a nap while she drank her bottle.
I spent some time on that email. Not minimizing the sadness we all felt at seeing Kate's tears, but carefully modeling how we adults can help the children cope by honoring their feelings and giving them language to express them.
Grandma's reply: A bottle? She doesn't take a bottle.
You crazy bitch.
This child came to us clinically obese, wearing size 5 as a 1 yr old, thanks to how you fed her. She just had a traumatic experience, again thanks to you, which I then had to cope with and unravel for the rest of the day, and you are honestly questioning whether or not I should give her a bottle?!?
Here's my conclusion:
Grandma will never respect my opinion, requests or methods. She can't. To do so would admit she's unfit to parent and we are. She will always have to push back to prove the whole system got it wrong and there was no need for the girls to be taken away and given to us.
Did I mention that she gave the girls permanent markers and they came home with stains on some of my favorite outfits because I always try to dress them extra cute for a visit? But please, do load us up with more of your broken toys. To reinforce that your stuff is more important just because it comes to you.
Well, who's having the last laugh now? Cuz I know exactly where that god-awful toy box is going and it ain't inside my house!
Next day follow up:
Wow, I was pissed yesterday! It just feels so rotten to be dismissed and disregarded when I am bending over backwards to keep this family connection. These visits are emotionally exhausting for me--I start a tension headache at least 24 hrs before the visit and it usually continues all day long. It'd be so incredibly easy to decide it isn't worth it and visits with grandma are over.
But I am committed to being the better person (with Theo's support and wisdom talking me down from the ledge) for the girls' sake. And, honestly, nothing grandma has done is that egregious. (I can see that when I'm calm.)
The problem is that I keep picturing worst-case scenarios where grandma takes the girls and pierces their ears or something like that without my knowledge. What about when they're 16 and want to spend the night with a boyfriend? Will I ever trust this woman to be a typical grandma where she takes them on shopping trips or for sleepovers? I doubt it.
But I also need to quit borrowing trouble and focus only on today. Which was lovely. (See next post.) And proves that the girls have decided what role I'll play in their lives--and they're the only ones who really matter anyway.
My apologies for the cursing. But I'm going to leave it because it's the reality of foster care, too.
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