The Most Thankless Job

As life is wont to do, this post is in direct contrast to a previous recent post.

I always knew motherhood was a thankless job, and that was ok. The hugs, smiles, kisses were enough. And even when Billy hurls obscenities at me and says he hates me, I've learned to overlook it and know that it's coming from the disabilities that plague him and that his actions show otherwise.

But, lately my kids have been throwing new barbs at my heart. The kind that stick and make you look at them differently and wonder why you bother doing all the vast and taxing things you do for them. I'm sure I'm not the only one to feel this way.

The divorce from their dad was the catalyst. When they were young, the hurt came from their gushing about dad's girlfriend, the very one he left me for. Arrena was the only one that could see through my carefully neutral façade and refused to mention her in my presence, at the tender age of eight.

I take with a grain of salt the angry, "I'll just go live at dad's!" Because I know they're only trying to get a reaction, that it's the difference between the loving discipline designed to grow them into godly young people here and the "Disneyland" at dad's, and even if they were serious, the court prevents it at this time.

There's the little jabs when they gush about how much fun they had at dad's, conveniently forgetting that he went months without picking them up or that he forgot to call on their birthday or that he's gone six months without paying child support and we've been struggling just to put food on their plates.

There's the cruel twist of my heart when they speak glowingly of their step-mom, who was also instrumental in the break-up of the marriage. The fury of knowing they confided rule-breaking to her and she kept her mouth shut so that I'm the last to know.

And, yes, I admit that there's the jealousy of my kids having this whole other step-family that they love and talk about that I don't even know.

Kimberly talks about how she and her step-mom have this plan to move to Florida and open a wildlife park. I know it will probably never happen but the idea that she'd prefer to spend her life with her step-mom over me (she can't wait to go to college out of state and live far away) breaks my heart in two.

The cruelest torture was this week when their dad told me all the things they complain about to him, things that have just enough grain of truth in them to make me believe he didn't make it up, but enough falsehood to make me sound like the wicked witch. How did I turn into the evil step-mother in the fairy tale?

That same night, I listened to both girls talking about how they'd name their first sons after their dad. A dad who tried to kill their mother in front of them, the dad who doesn't show up or call, the dad who didn't participate in parenting even before we were divorced, the dad who followed through on his threat to purposefully get fired so he wouldn't have to pay high child support, the dad who called and left a suicidal message telling them goodbye, the dad who not only threatened to run away with them but actually took me to court to try to take custody and lied in court, and all the other award-winning dad material that makes him worthy of being made a grandchild namesake.  The guy you wouldn't even remotely think was a good man, let alone a good father. Yet, I get nothing. Things they see me do for them, the things they take for granted that I'll always be there, and the things they never saw--things they'll probably never know because I won't tell them. The things they blame me for without knowing the whole story or the motivation behind it. I don't even necessarily want any grandchildren named after me. It just hurts when he seems to win parent of the year over me over and over again.

No, I'm not like many parents that would sit there and point out all of these things to them, in an effort to make myself look better and him look worse.  In fact, sometimes I find myself trying to explain why he is the way he is, almost (almost) defending him, not for his sake, but for theirs.  I've even said that they are smart enough to one day figure it out on their own.

And, yes, I'm sure "one day" they'll see things clearly and that I did the best for them that I possibly could and that he didn't. One day, especially when they have children of their own, I might hear a "thank you, mom" or an "I'm sorry, mom." But in the meanwhile, while I'm embroiled in a fight against the school and the bus company on their behalf, I wonder why am I wearing myself thin, stressing myself out, exhausting myself when dad's the hero. And then I remember that regardless of whether they recognize the sacrifice, I love them and will still do anything for them no matter their reaction. And I bet God feels the same way when His children forget Him. He just keeps on loving us anyway.

Feeling Sorry for Myself Parenting Rant

(written 9/17/13)

I was contemplating how hard parenthood is today and trying to remember a time when it was easier.  The further I reached back into my memory, the more I realized that it has never been easy.  Then I began to wonder what am I doing wrong?  I read stories on Facebook or blogs or news outlets about moms with the perfect husband, the perfect children who always behave, the perfect house that is always immaculate, the perfect job (or if she is a stay-at-home-mom, more than enough income to make it happen), the perfect school/or the perfect temperament to homeschool, the perfect body, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect friends, the perfect family, etc.  So, why am I divorced, constantly struggling with my children whether it be a behavior issue or a dire problem that we had no control over, my house is always a mess despite the fact that all the kids are in school and I am home all day due to the fact that I had to quit my perfect job and my self-employment isn't paying the bills, my finances are always critical, I don't have the desire to homeschool yet I can't get the public school system to give my children the education they deserve without being exposed to filth and violence and can't afford private school tuition, finally on the losing weight side of the teeter totter I've been riding for 14 years, and had to suffer hellish in-laws before I was blessed with the ones I have now while being cursed with cousins who hate me for who knows what.

Being a Mom is Tough, but the Benefits are Amazing

One day when this is all behind us, I'll write the story of this debacle of my girls being assaulted on the school bus. But, tonight I'm tired. Tired from stress, from adrenaline, from talking to people all day, from documenting everything, from being the mama bear. But I had to share this one thing so I won't forget why being a mom and having to fight the fight is worth it.

We have a family routine. At dinner time, we take turns asking the blessing on the meal. Whoever's turn it is, we all have to say something we like about that person. Tonight was my turn. Arrena said she likes mom because "she stands up for us." Kimberly said, "I like mom because she takes us seriously." This mama bear sure does love her cubs.

A Broken-Hearted, Weary Mama

I'm staring at this blank screen with all these thoughts and feelings and yet I am thinking of a word that is seldom used to describe me...speechless.  I am usually capable of spilling my feelings via the written word much more aptly than by saying them out loud.  And yet, here I sit, not knowing where to start.

My son is on my mind.  He's been on my mind constantly for...well...I can't remember when he WASN'T on my mind.  I've written previous posts about him here and there and everywhere and even more.  We're right in the middle of evaluations at this point.  I quit his psychiatrist because he was condescending, offered no practical help, and the things he said didn't hold up when I researched them.  I had planned to stay with him until we had another recommendation, but when they tried to charge me $50 to write a prescription, I had had enough.  Our primary care doctor is a wonderful Christian man and is covering Billy's meds until we find a new psychiatrist.

We finished K.U. Med's testing and they concluded that he did not meet the criteria for autism (though in my heart, I really believe he does) and suggested he may have something called intermittent explosive disorder.  Again, people are only addressing the behavior, but if the behavior were the only problem, we'd have figured out something that would have worked over the course of the past several years.  WHY is he acting out?  There has to be a reason, a cause.  They recommended cognitive therapy, told us that blood work should have been done every year with the meds that he has been on (which we were never told), and advised us to monitor Billy's spacing out because it could be seizures.  We have been to two evaluation appointments at Children's Mercy Hospital and go back next week for a parent-only meeting to go over their results.  I am praying that this evaluation will yield more help and answers than K.U.'s did, but in case it doesn't, I've already been in contact with M.U. and we'll drive to Columbia for more testing if we have to.

In addition, I filed a complaint with the state about the school not complying with my request for an IEP and that is pending.  Since Billy's behavior has continued into the school year and I am not backing down, they are beginning evaluations for an IEP now.

I am thankful for meeting a couple of wonderful ladies who have autistic sons and have been encouraging me and giving me pointers and direction.  I also contacted MPACT, which is a parent advocacy group.  I have communicated with them via email and will be speaking to a representative on the phone tomorrow.  She has already given me great suggestions and gotten me spurred into action and organization.

I began compiling folder after folder of paperwork: Billy's daily school behavior sheets, his 504 plan, communication between me and the school, evaluations and diagnoses records, schoolwork that I did with him over the summer that showed his deficiencies academically, etc.  She also got me to request further records from the school.  My records are now about six inches thick.

In my research and compiling records, I was looking for behavior sheets we had filled out for Billy's former counselor to prove that this has been a long-term problem.  I couldn't locate those sheets--I am afraid they may have been lost when our basement flooded.  So, I had the idea to look through some old emails to friends and family to see if I could find any record of Billy's behaviors there.  What I found surprised me.

You see, I had deluded myself into thinking that around the age of two Billy had started acting out and by age four, he was totally out of control.  Apparently I was living in a fool's paradise.  In my memory, he had been a sweet baby.  I already knew I had a faulty memory, but I really missed the mark on that one.  I also recalled that he had been "slightly" behind his sisters developmentally, but that it was negligible and chalked up to being a boy.  As he was the third child and a difficult one and my job at the time sucked the life out of me, I didn't keep a baby book or a record of his milestones.  I found that he wasn't crawling at nine months (I didn't figure out when he actually did start crawling) and that he was barely stringing together simple phrases that were unintelligible at two and a half.  Following are some excerpts from these emails:

January 2006:

he is such an unhappy little baby and we don't know why.  he is so hard to get along with and really wears us thin.  he cries so much and about the only way to keep him happy is to carry him around all day long, which makes it hard to get anything done.  even then, that doesn't always work--he still fusses.

he has come upon his milestones a lot slower than his sisters, remaining my "baby" longer than they did. 

a few months ago, i had tried to do the "cry it out" things with him because he always had to be "put" to sleep.  you had to rock him, bounce him, feed him to sleep before you put him down.  and usually it was in the bassinet in our room or in our bed.  but, it didn't work.  he would scream for hours!  so i gave up for a while.  about a month or so ago, we tried it again.  at first he cried for a long time, but he finally gave up and fell asleep.  the next night, he cried a little less and the next night, a little less.  there are still some nights when he might cry for 45 minutes to an hour, but more often than not, he will only cry for a few minutes or not at all.  however, this only works at night.  during the day, he'll scream forever.  a couple of weeks  i was so frustrated that i was sitting in the floor crying.  i had had my fill of Billy and it didn't matter if i held him or not, he was still throwing fits.  i had reached my breaking point with him, so the safest thing to do was to put him in his crib and walk away.  at first i did it just so i could walk away and get a breather, but then i became determined to break him.  the more he screamed though, the more it frustrated me and i couldn't even bring myself to go in there.  i was sure that he would eventually wear himself out and go to sleep.  and he goes to bed on his own at night--what's the difference?  no, he screamed for 2 or 3 hours.

about the only way i get ANYTHING done is i have "stations" around the house.  i'll put him in his crib or in the floor in his room to play and i will stay in sight of him and clean in that room, folding laundry or whatever.  when he gets tired of that and gets frustrated, then we move on.  he has his exersaucer and playpen in the living room, a portable high chair in my office area, his full-size high chair in the kitchen, and my bed and his swing in my bedroom.  in all of these places, there is a stash of Billy's toys, so i don't have to carry toys with me around the house.  but everything is on his schedule.  when he's done, it doesn't matter if i am done cleaning the kitchen or writing an email or folding laundry, it's time to move on.  and sometimes he is just done playing and i have to rock him to sleep.  sometimes i can get a few minutes free by putting him in the playpen with his bottle.  i am hoping that once he gets crawling and walking, he will become independent.  

November 2006:

Billy will be 19 months old on the 15th.  he is a handful.  he is into everything, screams pretty much all day, he's a tough guy that likes to beat up on anybody and everybody (the girls, me, the cat...), yet still a mama's boy that won't allow me to leave the room without him or he descends into another screaming fit.  he tries my patience.

Billy is being a monster.  he is screaming incessantly most of the day.  he drives me absolutely insane.  he follows me around the house all day and if i don't do exactly what he wants or sometimes i think he doesn't even know what he wants, he lets out these blood-curdling screams.

April 2007:

Billy is not getting along with the twins and is bullying the baby too [his cousins that were staying with us at the time], so it is CONSTANT fighting and screaming, hitting, biting, scratching, pushing down the stairs, etc.

September 2007:

he enjoys having mama all to himself all day [with both sisters at school], but he is a pain because he wants all my attention and he follows me everywhere.  well, that's not entirely accurate--he wants me to carry him everywhere.  he apparently can't walk from one room to the next.  if i don't pick him up and carry him, he has a major meltdown.  he is talking more.  there are words that anyone can understand, but then there are words and phrases that only mama can translate.

October 2008:

Billy was acting out horribly!  Billy was downright demonic!  he was out of control.  he screamed and kicked and said he hated me.  he threw a can of pop at mom's wall, dumped perfume on her bed, knocked her earrings all over the floor, ran out in the street, etc.  i couldn't handle him.  and i was losing my temper big time.  i was stressed enough and i already felt like a burden to mom then i have this wretched child destroying her house, making it worse.  i couldn't control him.

November 2008:

Billy started calling me names.  i'd try to tell Billy to do something and he would ignore me and do his own thing.  he was acting up and when i would correct him, he'd throw a fit.  he's like a preschool terrorist.

I can't believe that I forgot all this and had this picture in my mind of a content, happy baby.  Reading these broke my heart, thinking that my son has been unhappy his entire life.  Both I and the school counselor have recently asked him what makes him happy and I am devastated to hear him say that he doesn't know or "nothing."  What is wrong and how do we fix it?

Last night, I was invited to come to our church's prayer group so they could pray for me.  I shared about Billy and was touched to listen to them call out our names at the throne of God.  One thing that really struck me was when someone said something to the extent of "God doesn't make mistakes."  Billy is not a mistake.  God made him who he is for a reason and a purpose.  In all these years of dealing with this, I have rarely let myself think of Billy's future.  For one, it's all we can do to manage here and now.  For two, I'm scared to think of Billy continuing with the same problems into adolescence and adulthood.  What kind of life will he have?  What kind of trouble will he get into?  What kind of harm could he inflict on himself or others?  I can't allow myself to go there.  But, thinking about God having a purpose for Billy made me realize that Billy does have a future.  Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  I'm not going to worry about his future, but I know that God has a plan for it.

The prayer team also took time to listen to one of my "theme songs" as of late: Lord, I Need You.  One phrase stuck out at me--a different one than what I usually hear loud and clear: "And where You are, Lord, I am free."  Billy is anything but free right now, but I know who can set him free.