Notice ME!

 Last week James turned 5. It's been a hard week with too much going on. (Prepping a house for sale, my grandmother dying and then her funeral, my niece's wedding, Seth's twice postponed graduation reduced to a cheesy drive-by event.)

We did the house, the funeral, and James' birthday and missed the wedding and the graduation. But, still, it was too much and I can tell the girls are feeling neglected. 

How do I know? Because Jane started singing tonelessly and incessantly to herself on the car ride home after James' birthday celebration. She hasn't done this in almost a year. Her face, when I looked back at pictures of James blowing out his candle, is pure hatred. She is so jealous she looks like she wants to scream and throw his cake on the floor. For some reason birthdays and birthday parties are a source of intense focus for her. Getting stuff is always how she feels validated and loved and the constant positive attention she receives from people absolutely enthralls her. 

So, after a whole day at the beach, followed by ice cream and cake at a special restaurant, we're driving home and Jane starts to sing. It's mindless chatter; she's making up some story she's singing about. It's loud. Her therapist says that Jane is loud to remind herself that she exists. It's sad. 

The next morning she started it again while playing. On a hunch I called her to me, wrapped her in my arms, and talked all about her birthday--coming up next month. I assured her she'd get a cake and presents and a fun day with the family. She kept saying, "I will?" as if this was a new surprise and she'd had no idea it was coming. 

Then she went off to play and hasn't done the loud, toneless singing since.

This is a lesson for me. Over a year ago she was doing this constantly every time we were in the car. It irritated the hell out of me. Sometimes she'd sing, sometimes chant, it was always incessant and mindless and something I could not tune out no matter how hard I tried. 

I tried to teach her not to do it. Over time I exhausted my patience and yelled. Then I tried to introduce replacements: car games and learning games. It was a battle. I dreaded every car ride with her. Eventually the habit faded with my constant nagging at her. Nobody was happy.

When she started it back up I groaned. Oh please, no. Not again. But then I remembered what the therapist had said about the need to know she exists and how her jealousy is triggered when James or Kate gets attention. So, the hug and talk all about her upcoming birthday. 

And it worked! Three days later and she hasn't done it once. 

It is very, very, very hard to understand and cope well with a particularly annoying behavior. It's not like these behaviors happen in isolation while I'm wearing a lab coat and holding a clipboard and I have the time to identify, assess, diagnose, and respond after consulting colleagues. No, these behaviors happen when we're all sun-burnt and over-sugared, the whole family crammed in the car while we're driving home from the beach. They happen when I'm dealing with a realtor to sell a house and in the midst of grieving for my grandma. 

This is the challenge of fostering and adoption. It happens in your home, amidst your family life. Not at work or in a lab. It happens when you're most worn out and busy and just unable to meet another demand. That's why we don't always do it well. That's why foster and adoptive parents make mistakes. I have some big regrets about the girls' first year with us. 

But at least we're learning. It is getting better. It is.