Constantly keeping Daughter's recent 'bad decisions' to the fore at all times finally paid off, and she came sobbing into my bedroom one evening, after i'd angrily sent her to her room for some misdemenour, asking to talk to me. I took her onto the bed and sat her next to me where she told me that she's basically competing with her "best friend" for friends!
This "best friend" is the one who had been going home crying, saying all sorts of bad things to her Mother about my Daughter. The Mother who I now joyfully blank. The Mother who said that my Daughter and her Daughter need to stay away from each other. The Mother I think is a two-faced bitch. That Mother.
Anyway, that Mother also sent her daughter to the same school as mine (despite the fact that she had to appeal to get her daughter in there) and they ended up in the same class, which presumably that Mother doesn't mind or else she would have done something about it.
Well, Daughter is saying that "best fried" is ignoring her during the school day because she has made other friends, so Daughter then made friends with another girl through the buddy system. But "best friend" is jealous of this other girl and makes Daughter feel bad about her friendship. She also causes trouble after school when Daughter wants to walk with this other friend, but "best friend" has no one else to walk with and so wants Daughter to herself.
Confused? You will be!
Anyway, Daughter says she wanted the sweets to make other people in the class like her, like they like her "best friend", and one day she had to do a talk in front of the whole class and wanted to give everyone sweets before she did it, so they wouldn't laugh at her.
Ah! Now it all starts to make sense.
She was trying to sort out a problem at school, using her dysfunctional thinking, and she didn't even think to come to me for advice because her attachment is piss poor.
She remained a bit upset and clingy for the rest of the day, and whilst I am sure she's been a bit one-sided in her telling of what's going on, clearly we're getting near the truth now.
I asked her why she didn't just tell me this in the first place, after we had found out what she had taken the money for, and she said she didn't know. Oh well, Rome wasn't built in a day.
Before this confession, Husband arranged with the police woman to come around for a third time. She didn't turn up. That's pretty shit, ain't it?
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
re boot
This month marks three years since we met our children, and so we are now venturing into our fourth year.
If recent events have taught me anything it is that the job of making a family through adoption never ends, that the process of accepting and then defeating their many dysfunctions is ongoing, that the fight with your own demons never ends, that it is never Job Done. Oh and three years is noooootttthhhhhiiiinnnnggg.
Husband and I are still parenting from anger with our Daughter, but it is a good and healthy anger now. We're really challenging her, getting her to look at herself, getting her to try and understand herself. She hides from herself too much, that girl. Does stuff she knows she shouldn't and then just waits for it all to blow over. She's got to figure out another way to get through the day.
I deal with a lot of cash because of my business and now lock all my money away, as opposed to just hiding it, in a lush vintage lockable jewellery box I bought myself as a treat. I see no sign of Husband's cash either, so he's obviously sticking it somewhere she can't get too. I refuse however to turn this place into a jail. She will fit into this home, this home will not be made to fit around her.
The policewoman who was coming to speak to her? Cancelled on us twice. I don't know that there is much point in having her around now as at half-term I will declare a fresh start. We start trusting her again, with small things, with tight boundaries, with promises of more freedom, and let's see if she can handle it this time. She had just started High School and so she was bound to let her trauma out somehow. Perhaps we'll have more chance with her now.
Things with Son remain stable. I suspect he's able to keep his excesses in check because so much focus is on his Sister's problems, so he can relax. I fully expect that when we hit a clear patch with her, he'll roughen things up again. They work like that, take it in turns to make living in this family uncomfortable.
There are positives though. One big one in particular. I've realised that the claustrophobia I felt has eased up significantly. They do not now own every second of my time when they are in the house with me, and I bat off their habitual attempts to control me fairly easily now and they are accepting of it, rather than spiraling off into a rejection induced trauma. We have a lot of normal in this house these days, and I think that is the most healing thing I can create for them.
And so, fresh start, again. Here's to year four.
If recent events have taught me anything it is that the job of making a family through adoption never ends, that the process of accepting and then defeating their many dysfunctions is ongoing, that the fight with your own demons never ends, that it is never Job Done. Oh and three years is noooootttthhhhhiiiinnnnggg.
Husband and I are still parenting from anger with our Daughter, but it is a good and healthy anger now. We're really challenging her, getting her to look at herself, getting her to try and understand herself. She hides from herself too much, that girl. Does stuff she knows she shouldn't and then just waits for it all to blow over. She's got to figure out another way to get through the day.
I deal with a lot of cash because of my business and now lock all my money away, as opposed to just hiding it, in a lush vintage lockable jewellery box I bought myself as a treat. I see no sign of Husband's cash either, so he's obviously sticking it somewhere she can't get too. I refuse however to turn this place into a jail. She will fit into this home, this home will not be made to fit around her.
The policewoman who was coming to speak to her? Cancelled on us twice. I don't know that there is much point in having her around now as at half-term I will declare a fresh start. We start trusting her again, with small things, with tight boundaries, with promises of more freedom, and let's see if she can handle it this time. She had just started High School and so she was bound to let her trauma out somehow. Perhaps we'll have more chance with her now.
Things with Son remain stable. I suspect he's able to keep his excesses in check because so much focus is on his Sister's problems, so he can relax. I fully expect that when we hit a clear patch with her, he'll roughen things up again. They work like that, take it in turns to make living in this family uncomfortable.
There are positives though. One big one in particular. I've realised that the claustrophobia I felt has eased up significantly. They do not now own every second of my time when they are in the house with me, and I bat off their habitual attempts to control me fairly easily now and they are accepting of it, rather than spiraling off into a rejection induced trauma. We have a lot of normal in this house these days, and I think that is the most healing thing I can create for them.
And so, fresh start, again. Here's to year four.
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
I'm not handling this well
I'm not handling this well. I am so angry at her. I can't believe that I have fallen for the lost-little-girl act all this time when she easily found the confidence to seek out shops and steal as soon as she got her first taste of freedom.
The other night she asked for help printing something out for her homework. She can easily use the printer, she doesn't need help. First thought; she wants me close, she's lacking in confidence. Second thought; What? She can wonder around the city shoplifting but she can't press a button on her own? She has the guts to go into her parents room and take £10 notes but she can't go into the dining room without holding my hand? She doesn't care that we've called the police on her, but she cares she might do some printing wrong?
And thus...
She points out invisible cuts and bruises, looking for attention, and I shrug my shoulders.
She complains her brother's hurt her, and I tell her come back to me when he's gone into your room and taken money it took you two days to earn.
She talks about bringing a friend over for tea, I scoff and say she's not done anything to deserve such a privilege.
She gets invited out, I don't let her go.
I send her to her room for an hour every evening whilst I spend time with her brother playing on the wii.
I am crushing everything between us.
Her Dad is making her do chores at the weekend, dirty smelly, animal poo related chores, so that she can pay back something into the family.
He has put her back onto pack lunches, which she won't eat, so she'll go hungry in the day instead of having a lovely choice of hot meals with pudding.
Yet she wanders cheerily around this house, accepting all her punishments with a smile, acting her usual sunny self. Because she would rather die than show us one ounce of shame.
I have explained to her what "in the dog house" means and that she is in it. I have told her that she has broken my heart and feel mad at her. I bring up the subject of her stealing and lying at every opportunity I can, because I want her to know that such things are not easily forgotten. The police are coming to see her tomorrow and I want it to scare the shit out of her.
This isn't therapeutic. It isn't healing. It isn't even smart. But at least it is authentic, and let me just say it's the only thing in this family that is at the moment.
I want her to be authentic. I want her to crack and cry that she's sorry, that she can't stand me rejecting her like this, that she'll do anything to get things back like they were. I want her to beg my forgiveness. I want her to say she loves me. I want her to love me. I want this to hurt her so much that she will never ever steal again as long as she lives, and that instead she will cling to me and listen to me and do what I ask because she finally trusts me. Because then I can keep her safe.
But she won't do that will she? She will never crack. She will never let me in. She will never show that she cares. Never ever ever.
Never.
The other night she asked for help printing something out for her homework. She can easily use the printer, she doesn't need help. First thought; she wants me close, she's lacking in confidence. Second thought; What? She can wonder around the city shoplifting but she can't press a button on her own? She has the guts to go into her parents room and take £10 notes but she can't go into the dining room without holding my hand? She doesn't care that we've called the police on her, but she cares she might do some printing wrong?
And thus...
She points out invisible cuts and bruises, looking for attention, and I shrug my shoulders.
She complains her brother's hurt her, and I tell her come back to me when he's gone into your room and taken money it took you two days to earn.
She talks about bringing a friend over for tea, I scoff and say she's not done anything to deserve such a privilege.
She gets invited out, I don't let her go.
I send her to her room for an hour every evening whilst I spend time with her brother playing on the wii.
I am crushing everything between us.
Her Dad is making her do chores at the weekend, dirty smelly, animal poo related chores, so that she can pay back something into the family.
He has put her back onto pack lunches, which she won't eat, so she'll go hungry in the day instead of having a lovely choice of hot meals with pudding.
Yet she wanders cheerily around this house, accepting all her punishments with a smile, acting her usual sunny self. Because she would rather die than show us one ounce of shame.
I have explained to her what "in the dog house" means and that she is in it. I have told her that she has broken my heart and feel mad at her. I bring up the subject of her stealing and lying at every opportunity I can, because I want her to know that such things are not easily forgotten. The police are coming to see her tomorrow and I want it to scare the shit out of her.
This isn't therapeutic. It isn't healing. It isn't even smart. But at least it is authentic, and let me just say it's the only thing in this family that is at the moment.
I want her to be authentic. I want her to crack and cry that she's sorry, that she can't stand me rejecting her like this, that she'll do anything to get things back like they were. I want her to beg my forgiveness. I want her to say she loves me. I want her to love me. I want this to hurt her so much that she will never ever steal again as long as she lives, and that instead she will cling to me and listen to me and do what I ask because she finally trusts me. Because then I can keep her safe.
But she won't do that will she? She will never crack. She will never let me in. She will never show that she cares. Never ever ever.
Never.
Saturday, 6 October 2012
"friends"
Talking to Daughter's Review Tutor this week something suddenly became clear. The RT talked of how helpful Daughter is, how she is always fetching things for people, or lending them things, and how she likes to please everybody. It takes an adoptive parent to know why these are RED FLAGS.
It all clicked into place. I thought Daughter was stealing from me and her dad to buy sweets for her friends, but actually she's stealing from me and her dad to buy sweets to get friends.
She has zero social skills. She either needs to completely dominate another child (like she does with her brother) or be subservient to them and become their lackey. That's all she knows. She used to try and dominate me and her dad until we got the better of that shit, and now she is always trying to please us and be helpful. Her "friends" in Primary school were dominant taller older girls who readily took the cash and tuck and lunch she gave them, even though they must have known it was wrong. They treated her like crap and she let them because that way they would be her "friend".
Things make better sense now.
So next week I speak to the social-woman-thingy-person at the school whose name and number I have, and I test this school at how good they are with helping at this sort of thing, hopefully better that her Primary School who were of no help what-so-ever. Pissed off that I'm having to do this and we've not even seen a term out yet. I so believed in the fresh start. Idiot.
On the matter of the Police, Husband has been speaking to a local Bobby who will come around one night and talk to Daughter. Apparently this Bobby is "very good at that sort of thing".
It all clicked into place. I thought Daughter was stealing from me and her dad to buy sweets for her friends, but actually she's stealing from me and her dad to buy sweets to get friends.
She has zero social skills. She either needs to completely dominate another child (like she does with her brother) or be subservient to them and become their lackey. That's all she knows. She used to try and dominate me and her dad until we got the better of that shit, and now she is always trying to please us and be helpful. Her "friends" in Primary school were dominant taller older girls who readily took the cash and tuck and lunch she gave them, even though they must have known it was wrong. They treated her like crap and she let them because that way they would be her "friend".
Things make better sense now.
So next week I speak to the social-woman-thingy-person at the school whose name and number I have, and I test this school at how good they are with helping at this sort of thing, hopefully better that her Primary School who were of no help what-so-ever. Pissed off that I'm having to do this and we've not even seen a term out yet. I so believed in the fresh start. Idiot.
On the matter of the Police, Husband has been speaking to a local Bobby who will come around one night and talk to Daughter. Apparently this Bobby is "very good at that sort of thing".
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
confidence
One afternoon, after my Daughter had been going to her new school not two weeks, I noticed how heavy her bag was. Concerned for her back, because my Daughter is only a little bit, and has a half hour walk both to and from school, I told her to sort ot out that night, because whatever the hell she had in there, it was too much.
*Oh how right I was*
The next morning, I spotted her heave her rucksack across the kitchen floor and said Oh for goodness, sake! Sort that bag out now! She said she'd do it that night as she was in a rush, so I said, in the genuine spirit of helpfulness, oh just give it here, I'll give it a clean out!
I don't really know what sort of reaction I expected, but I must admit to being surprised as she dropped to her knees hugging her bag, screaming. This seemed a little bit of an overreaction to me. Almost as if there was stuff in her bag that perhaps she didn't want me to see.
I asked once again for the bag, calmly, and she clung tighter, so there then followed an undignified physical struggle over the rucksack which I won after shouting at her.
I emptied the bag in front of her.
Among the general debris, and school books, and books from home that needed not to be there, and a pencil case that was unnecessarily fat, were bottles of pop and bags of sweets.
My Daughter is not given money because she either spends it on her friends or just gives it to them. But here was a booty of stuff clearly purchased from Tesco.
I asked her how she came into possession of this stuff and she told me that she didn't know. I shouted at her to get the hell out of the house. She fled.
Fuming, I dumped the sweet stash on the kitchen counter and went off to have my morning shower, wanting a fag and glass of gin. Clearly, she had been stealing money from somewhere to buy sweets from the Tesco Express conveniently placed on her way to school.
And just to completely fuck up my morning, when I came back downstairs I noticed that one of the large bags of sweets was missing. I was sure there had been two, and now there were only one. Puzzled, I went in to ask Son if he had taken a bag of sweets. He looked at me blankly. I thought I must have made a mistake and I got us ready to leave the house for his school-run when I just happened to knock the bread machine getting him a bottle of water out of the cupboard, and saw an OPENED bag of sweets "hidden". I confronted Son and he innocently denied it again and as God is my witness I swear I would have believed him because he seemed so genuininely bemused. But I pressed him, because I knew those bags of sweets had NOT been opened. Ok, he finally admitted, he had eaten some sweets.
How I managed to drive him to school without having an accident I will never know because I felt so bloody murderous, surrounded by fucking liars and thieves.
I was still so angry when I got back that I found myself phoning a friend, whilst drawing desperately on a Silk Cut, and verbally expressing some very strong opinions. It was this friend who suggested that maybe she hadnt stolen money to buy the sweets, maybe she had just stolen the sweets.
You know. I had been so proud of the confidence my Daughter had shown in getting herself to and from school. Of all the worries I had, about her crossing roads, and being approached by strangers, and being mugged, I never once worried about her fucking taking up shoplifting. She's 11 years old and looks about 7. And she'd only been going out alone for the last two weeks.
After I had dropped my Son off and did my morning work I went to the Tesco Express and asked to speak to the Store Manager in private. Until you've had to say to a young spotty kid that you think your 11 year old Daughter steals from his shop, you do not know shame. As it happened the next day Daughter was off school for one of those so-called Teacher Training Days and she found herself, without any advance warning, up before that Store Manager being told that if she was ever caught stealing in that shop the Police would be called and her parents would be informed etc. At the time she couldn't help showing in her face that she was worried sick. Within five minutes of her us leaving the store, she was desperately cheery, showing that she didn't care in the least about what had just happened.
I'm not sure she did shoplift. She claimed that night that she had taken change that she had taken change that she had "found" in mine and my Husband's room. She was roundly put right that she didn't find she STOLE and that the next time she STOLE from us I would call the Police, and so help me God I would. In the end it doesn't really matter whether she stole from me and her Dad or stole from the shop, it's all the same - she took what she knew wasn't hers, and she knew it was wrong to do so. AND SHE DOESN'T NEED ANYMORE FUCKING SWEETS AND YET WAS STOCKPILING THEM ANYWAY. If she doesn't make an effort to try and understand her urges, as we are trying to get her to do, then she is going to be in real trouble as an adult.
On top of this, you know I mentioned earlier that I didn't give her any money because she uses it on her friends? Well, I had slipped just before this all this business happened. Daughter had mentioned to me that you could hire DVDs from school and could she please have a £1 as a deposit, which I would get back when the DVD was returned. I gave it to her without thought. Now I asked where the DVD was. She told me she had bought pop with it from the Tesco Express. She told me that she had had no intention of getting a DVD, that she got the £1 off me because she wanted to buy bottles of pop.
I don't know about you, but I just love being treated like a complete fucking mug.
All of this was a couple of weeks ago, and now I check her bag and her mobile phone regularly. She cannot be trusted. I found her Brother's 'Mario Kart' DS game stashed in her pencil case on one night. The one he had been looking for and she knew was missing. She continues to act like she is happy and confident, but I suspect her continuing need to steal and hide is the leaking of anxiety.
UPDATE:
Just found out tonight that Husband has been giving Daughter £20 notes to put on her lunch card for school. Fucking idiot. She spent all that on sweets for her friends and then stole £10 from me to put money on her lunch card today. Tomorrow, I speak to the Police.
UPDATE:
Just found out tonight that Husband has been giving Daughter £20 notes to put on her lunch card for school. Fucking idiot. She spent all that on sweets for her friends and then stole £10 from me to put money on her lunch card today. Tomorrow, I speak to the Police.
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