After our bonding session at the cottage a few weeks ago I gave Grandma our last name and address. Seven months of getting to know her. Building trust. Her convincing us she came unattached, without her son's presence in the girls' lives.
It, truly, felt like jumping off a cliff. Knowledge given can not be taken away.
But Theo convinced me that it was in the girls' best interest to make Grandma a true member of the family. And obviously she has to be able to come to our house in order to be that.
I'm a multi-tasker. I figured out that if she came over Labor Day weekend, when we do our annual scramble to finish up yard and house jobs that'd been neglected all summer, then she could take the girls to the park to get them out of our hair while we worked. And she'd get her very first alone time with them. Win-win.
But, ugh, so much trust. I keep failing to anticipate how much emotional work will have to go into every event.
I waited to tell the girls till an hour before she was set to arrive so they wouldn't be in agony waiting. Still, Jane pined. She got as close to me as possible, though I was making dinner. She sat in my rocking chair by the window of the kitchen and sat rocking herself and looking out the window mournfully. It was like taking a step back in time to days in her past when she'd be waiting for Grandma to come rescue her after her mother had locked her out of the house.
So at last she's here and Grandma steps foot in the house and Jane pees her pants. It was like watching an overly excited dog who cannot control their bladder when their owner comes home. That girl is, honestly, still in some infantile/primal state when it comes to her emotions.
(The other day I caught her eating the rind of a cantaloupe slice because...? I'm not sure why. She was hungry and didn't think to say so? She thought this pre-dinner snack was all she was going to get? At times, when she's intensely sensory-seeking and non-communicative, she's very animalistic.)
Grandma gets a tour of our house and I don't know what to do with myself. I want to be friendly and a hostess and yet it just feels like hovering and supervising.
At last they go to the park. We have her drive our car so car seats are already properly installed and, in a weird way, maybe she won't kidnap them if she isn't in her own car? These are the thoughts that plague me.
While she's gone I get SO much done. Somehow just knowing I won't be interrupted is all I need to finally tackle annoying little de-cluttering tasks that've been nagging me for months. I'm feeling pretty good about this Grandma-as-free-nanny gig we've got going.
She returns at the time I'd asked, which I appreciated. I really, really, really wanted to meet her at the gate, pull the girls inside, and wave her off. I just wanted to be done and, one look at the girls' faces and I knew they were teetering on the edge of breakdown.
Instead, solely for her sake, I invited her inside and tried to have a calm conversation with her. Theo keeps insisting we have to normalize the relationship. (Notice who was actually doing the relationship work and who was conveniently squirreled away in the garage sorting computer cables or some such totally safe and cowardly task.)
When we're talking she makes a point of telling me that Jane asked for me every time she got hurt, or when she needed the bathroom, or at the end when she was tired. She's trying to be kind and I appreciate her acknowledging the mother/daughter relationship I have with Jane. At the same time I just do not know how to respond. I feel so awkward. Anything I think to say in response seems hurtful to Grandma so then I say nothing which also seems hurtful.
The girls are coming unglued. Nonstop bouncing between her lap or mine, squabbling, crying, etc. So, finally I have to end this. I stand up and make the motions. Grandma also makes the motions of leaving. But she does not.
What ensues is the world's longest good-bye and I suddenly realize the fly in the ointment of having her to our house. How do I make her go away?!?!? At the park when I'm done I just drive off. Here we're stuck. I swear it's 15 agonizing minutes of hugs and kisses and wailing and miss-you and see-you-again and please-don't-cry while doing all the things that would incite wailing and prolonged crying.
Finally, Jane gets to the point of hysteria. Eyes wide and unseeing, clutching at clothing, wailing in panic, "Don't go, Grandma, don't go!" I have to call Theo to come and hold her since Kate is wrapped around me--both arms and legs clinging like a baby monkey--and even James is getting into it and is now clutched onto one of my legs so I cannot walk.
We literally walk Grandma to the gate and then latch it behind her. I begin herding children inside. Grandma calls out, "Oh, I forgot to give them their stuff!" (Because she always, always, always brings them crap. Every time.) I'm clench-jawed and holding two crying children by this point. I send Theo out. He takes the bag of half-broken toys and Goodwill clothing over the fence.
(Look, I shop at Goodwill and consignment stores almost exclusively. None of my children get hardly anything brand new. No judgment. But these children do not need something every damn time they see her. Gifts do not equal love. Especially not bedazzled, Disney-emblazoned crap. Okay, a little judgy. But mostly just about the way she uses The Stuff to control how we say good-bye at the end of every single visit. She wants to bring every item out and show it to me and talk about it right at the point when everyone else is at the end of their emotional rope. *sigh* She's a very nice lady doing her best to cope with her grief over losing her grandchildren. I should be kinder. I'm trying. )
She leaves and the girls are a mess. Both are stuttering so hard they cannot get a single word out.
Kate says her tummy hurts and we have a gotta-poop-but-cannot-poop evening of fun with her. (Incidentally, she was never once constipated for nine months straight until, while at the cottage, Grandma mentioned all her poop troubles when living with Grandma from 3-10 months of age. The very next day Kate starts talking about her tummy hurting and couldn't poop.)
I suppose I should be grateful these girls express their emotions through poop and pee rather than vomit. As I write those words and think about how much vomit would be spewed all over our house every time they got upset I am suddenly very, very grateful indeed.
The girls have an early bedtime.
At bedtime both girls tell me they don't love me and they only love Grandma and they don't want to live here and they want to live at her house. Thanks.
What is brutal is that they aren't mad when they say it. It's like they're clarifying the situation for me so I can help fix it. Like I thought they wanted scrambled eggs but actually they wanted Cheerios. Jane says, "how come I have to live here if I don't love you but I love Grandma?" As if somehow I didn't know they loved Grandma but now that they've told me I'll say, oh, I'm so sorry, here let me pack you up and deliver you to Grandma's house right now. And this will put their world to rights and they will no longer have to wrestle with complicated feelings about love and safety because I'll be gone and they'll be back to the familiar.
I give it one round of attempted explanation...safe houses and unsafe houses...police and social workers.... But it didn't matter what I said. She interrupted me, "but Grandma says she does want me, she does!"
Oh dear god, what did she say to them at the park?
But if I were in her shoes wouldn't I do the same thing? You bet your ass I would. I can't even be mad at her.
The next morning the girls wake cheerful and affectionate. I kinda tip-toe through the start of the day wondering if they'll mount a huge rejection of me. Nope. It's like nothing happened. Totally happy and calm. Lots of requests, "mama, hold me!" and then smiling in my arms while playing with my hair or face or glasses or shirt. In return I nuzzle and tickle and let them climb in and out of my laps about a thousand times each. Physical reconnection; primates grooming.
They maintain until about 1pm. Then the squabbling and tears start so I enforce rest time for everyone, me included.
James doesn't sleep but the girls conk out immediately. And then sleep for 3 hours! This from the children who never nap! I tried to wake them at one point but they wouldn't even open their eyes. Total exhaustion. When they woke on their own they were once again cheerful and affectionate.
So here I am. Wondering. Is Theo really right on this? Do we absolutely have to bring Grandma more and more and more into our lives? Do we persevere believing that these hard days now are going to pay off in greater stability and acceptance in the future? I've read all the stories from adoptees who grieve the lack of relationship with birth family. We're in so deep now that I know the girls would remember and hate us if we tried to cut Grandma off at this point.
But this is brutal.
I know we are delaying their bonding with us by continually reminding them of a life and people they have lost.
I keep thinking of children who grow up in dual-language homes. They talk much later than their peers but emerge bi-lingual. It's hard for those parents to withstand worry about their child's delayed speech. They're often counseled by ignorant educators to drop one of the languages to stop confusing their poor delayed child. But the parents that withstand this pressure are right. They're giving the child a gift of two languages.
Can we give these girls the gift of two families? Can we withstand the pressure right now? Will this even work? Are we all wrong and is this a misguided belief that is only torturing them? Should we choose a peaceful home now, while they're fragile and bonding, and cut off all contact for a few months, or years, until they are older and can understand?
I don't think there's any way to know what is the right path here.
It, truly, felt like jumping off a cliff. Knowledge given can not be taken away.
But Theo convinced me that it was in the girls' best interest to make Grandma a true member of the family. And obviously she has to be able to come to our house in order to be that.
I'm a multi-tasker. I figured out that if she came over Labor Day weekend, when we do our annual scramble to finish up yard and house jobs that'd been neglected all summer, then she could take the girls to the park to get them out of our hair while we worked. And she'd get her very first alone time with them. Win-win.
But, ugh, so much trust. I keep failing to anticipate how much emotional work will have to go into every event.
I waited to tell the girls till an hour before she was set to arrive so they wouldn't be in agony waiting. Still, Jane pined. She got as close to me as possible, though I was making dinner. She sat in my rocking chair by the window of the kitchen and sat rocking herself and looking out the window mournfully. It was like taking a step back in time to days in her past when she'd be waiting for Grandma to come rescue her after her mother had locked her out of the house.
So at last she's here and Grandma steps foot in the house and Jane pees her pants. It was like watching an overly excited dog who cannot control their bladder when their owner comes home. That girl is, honestly, still in some infantile/primal state when it comes to her emotions.
(The other day I caught her eating the rind of a cantaloupe slice because...? I'm not sure why. She was hungry and didn't think to say so? She thought this pre-dinner snack was all she was going to get? At times, when she's intensely sensory-seeking and non-communicative, she's very animalistic.)
Grandma gets a tour of our house and I don't know what to do with myself. I want to be friendly and a hostess and yet it just feels like hovering and supervising.
At last they go to the park. We have her drive our car so car seats are already properly installed and, in a weird way, maybe she won't kidnap them if she isn't in her own car? These are the thoughts that plague me.
While she's gone I get SO much done. Somehow just knowing I won't be interrupted is all I need to finally tackle annoying little de-cluttering tasks that've been nagging me for months. I'm feeling pretty good about this Grandma-as-free-nanny gig we've got going.
She returns at the time I'd asked, which I appreciated. I really, really, really wanted to meet her at the gate, pull the girls inside, and wave her off. I just wanted to be done and, one look at the girls' faces and I knew they were teetering on the edge of breakdown.
Instead, solely for her sake, I invited her inside and tried to have a calm conversation with her. Theo keeps insisting we have to normalize the relationship. (Notice who was actually doing the relationship work and who was conveniently squirreled away in the garage sorting computer cables or some such totally safe and cowardly task.)
When we're talking she makes a point of telling me that Jane asked for me every time she got hurt, or when she needed the bathroom, or at the end when she was tired. She's trying to be kind and I appreciate her acknowledging the mother/daughter relationship I have with Jane. At the same time I just do not know how to respond. I feel so awkward. Anything I think to say in response seems hurtful to Grandma so then I say nothing which also seems hurtful.
The girls are coming unglued. Nonstop bouncing between her lap or mine, squabbling, crying, etc. So, finally I have to end this. I stand up and make the motions. Grandma also makes the motions of leaving. But she does not.
What ensues is the world's longest good-bye and I suddenly realize the fly in the ointment of having her to our house. How do I make her go away?!?!? At the park when I'm done I just drive off. Here we're stuck. I swear it's 15 agonizing minutes of hugs and kisses and wailing and miss-you and see-you-again and please-don't-cry while doing all the things that would incite wailing and prolonged crying.
Finally, Jane gets to the point of hysteria. Eyes wide and unseeing, clutching at clothing, wailing in panic, "Don't go, Grandma, don't go!" I have to call Theo to come and hold her since Kate is wrapped around me--both arms and legs clinging like a baby monkey--and even James is getting into it and is now clutched onto one of my legs so I cannot walk.
We literally walk Grandma to the gate and then latch it behind her. I begin herding children inside. Grandma calls out, "Oh, I forgot to give them their stuff!" (Because she always, always, always brings them crap. Every time.) I'm clench-jawed and holding two crying children by this point. I send Theo out. He takes the bag of half-broken toys and Goodwill clothing over the fence.
(Look, I shop at Goodwill and consignment stores almost exclusively. None of my children get hardly anything brand new. No judgment. But these children do not need something every damn time they see her. Gifts do not equal love. Especially not bedazzled, Disney-emblazoned crap. Okay, a little judgy. But mostly just about the way she uses The Stuff to control how we say good-bye at the end of every single visit. She wants to bring every item out and show it to me and talk about it right at the point when everyone else is at the end of their emotional rope. *sigh* She's a very nice lady doing her best to cope with her grief over losing her grandchildren. I should be kinder. I'm trying. )
She leaves and the girls are a mess. Both are stuttering so hard they cannot get a single word out.
Kate says her tummy hurts and we have a gotta-poop-but-cannot-poop evening of fun with her. (Incidentally, she was never once constipated for nine months straight until, while at the cottage, Grandma mentioned all her poop troubles when living with Grandma from 3-10 months of age. The very next day Kate starts talking about her tummy hurting and couldn't poop.)
I suppose I should be grateful these girls express their emotions through poop and pee rather than vomit. As I write those words and think about how much vomit would be spewed all over our house every time they got upset I am suddenly very, very grateful indeed.
The girls have an early bedtime.
At bedtime both girls tell me they don't love me and they only love Grandma and they don't want to live here and they want to live at her house. Thanks.
What is brutal is that they aren't mad when they say it. It's like they're clarifying the situation for me so I can help fix it. Like I thought they wanted scrambled eggs but actually they wanted Cheerios. Jane says, "how come I have to live here if I don't love you but I love Grandma?" As if somehow I didn't know they loved Grandma but now that they've told me I'll say, oh, I'm so sorry, here let me pack you up and deliver you to Grandma's house right now. And this will put their world to rights and they will no longer have to wrestle with complicated feelings about love and safety because I'll be gone and they'll be back to the familiar.
I give it one round of attempted explanation...safe houses and unsafe houses...police and social workers.... But it didn't matter what I said. She interrupted me, "but Grandma says she does want me, she does!"
Oh dear god, what did she say to them at the park?
But if I were in her shoes wouldn't I do the same thing? You bet your ass I would. I can't even be mad at her.
The next morning the girls wake cheerful and affectionate. I kinda tip-toe through the start of the day wondering if they'll mount a huge rejection of me. Nope. It's like nothing happened. Totally happy and calm. Lots of requests, "mama, hold me!" and then smiling in my arms while playing with my hair or face or glasses or shirt. In return I nuzzle and tickle and let them climb in and out of my laps about a thousand times each. Physical reconnection; primates grooming.
They maintain until about 1pm. Then the squabbling and tears start so I enforce rest time for everyone, me included.
James doesn't sleep but the girls conk out immediately. And then sleep for 3 hours! This from the children who never nap! I tried to wake them at one point but they wouldn't even open their eyes. Total exhaustion. When they woke on their own they were once again cheerful and affectionate.
So here I am. Wondering. Is Theo really right on this? Do we absolutely have to bring Grandma more and more and more into our lives? Do we persevere believing that these hard days now are going to pay off in greater stability and acceptance in the future? I've read all the stories from adoptees who grieve the lack of relationship with birth family. We're in so deep now that I know the girls would remember and hate us if we tried to cut Grandma off at this point.
But this is brutal.
I know we are delaying their bonding with us by continually reminding them of a life and people they have lost.
I keep thinking of children who grow up in dual-language homes. They talk much later than their peers but emerge bi-lingual. It's hard for those parents to withstand worry about their child's delayed speech. They're often counseled by ignorant educators to drop one of the languages to stop confusing their poor delayed child. But the parents that withstand this pressure are right. They're giving the child a gift of two languages.
Can we give these girls the gift of two families? Can we withstand the pressure right now? Will this even work? Are we all wrong and is this a misguided belief that is only torturing them? Should we choose a peaceful home now, while they're fragile and bonding, and cut off all contact for a few months, or years, until they are older and can understand?
I don't think there's any way to know what is the right path here.
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