Foster Further

This morning I had to go to the middle school to pick up items from Gus's locker. The school had cleaned out every child's locker and parents were asked to do a pickup while they returned other items such as band uniforms. Parents were instructed to stay in their cars, make a sign with their kids' name and tape it to the window, roll down windows to exchange but don't make contact, etc. Very well organized. I fought tears the whole time. Everything outside of the house makes me cry these days. All these safety protocols in the grocery store. They set off this urge to wail like a frightened child. Of course I don't. I don't show a single reaction whatsoever--but deep inside I'm totally panicked. So, seeing the school principal and secretary (6 years of kids in this building and I know them well) in masks and gloves and I just wanted to break down and weep. It's so scary and real in ways that a media website's charts and graphics just can't be. ...

So I've been working with Jane, and the other two kids somewhat, on being mindful of where they play with toys. If they scatter and hide things, oh look, pick up is difficult. Same lesson--several times a day. Yesterday, after several good days of pickup being easier, I got lax. Here's all the reasons why dealing with this girl with her FAS lack of reasoning, history of trauma leading to overly-emotional responses, and personality that leads to self-victimization is just so damn hard. 1. Yesterday I got down a tub of toys. James got the item (a school bus) that Jane wanted. Jane got the baggie of people. I told them both to play awhile and then switch--standard response I always give when two kids want the same toy. I watched her face and knew she was pissed. I knew I should monitor that baggie of toy people but I got distracted and didn't. There was no toy pickup last night so we had to do it this morning. Over breakfast I told the kids that I had a special surprise ...

Today I began my grand plan to convert Jane from an ADHD-addled squirrel to a real human girl--when it comes to playing with toys, that is. I shared this description with Theo and he about busted a gut, by the way. Exclaiming: yes! That's it! I can totally see it! What finally pushed me into focusing on this area was thinking about how she plays by herself during Quiet Time. She's totally different during that hour of the day. Every kid is alone in a room with a special set of toys that only comes out during this time. Jane loves it! She takes her little doll house and its miniatures into her room and plays with great imagination. I hear her and she's so happy! Contrast that with play downstairs where she's like a squirrel/tornado scattering toys as wildly as she can, hiding bits and pieces all over the house in a perpetual attempt to hoard a stash all her own that no one else can touch. She looks unhappy and stressed and is prone to bickering and meltdowns during...

So this just happened. Jane got up from breakfast, waded into the mess of toys that were gotten out yesterday (while I was sick in bed most of the day) and never put away, and looked at me and said: "I want fancy toys. I saw them at the store. I wish I could have those kind of toys. Fancy ones like I saw at the store. That's where they are; we could go get them." It took me about 30 seconds of silence to process what she was saying. The little brat was, mere days after getting all new Christmas toys, asking for better toys. Fancy toys. Sparkly, plastic toys. Wow. I seriously wanted to burn it all down. Take every one of her toys and throw it away and leave her with nothing but sticks and dirt to play in. Teach that girl some gratitude. Instead, I calmed myself and led her through the thought process of acknowledging all she'd been given and how disrespectfully she was treating her new toys by leaving them all over the place. But, I gotta say, what a lesson...