a tsunami of stealing and lying and sneaking

Today he opened up the boxes containing the personal items of his late Uncle.  Seeing stuff he liked, he took it.  Confronted, he lied.

He also used a key he had previously stolen and stashed to access and pilfer from an off-limits area.

Yesterday he entered our bedroom and took out books that were off-limits.  Apparently he's been tucking in there for awhile stealing his sister's Easter chocolate which was there for safe-keeping.

Over the weekend we visited relatives and he snuck home unauthorized books* from their home. 

And the pocket knives.  Our house is chockful of other people's pocket knives.

Shoplifting is old news.  He is utterly unfazed by having to return the item and confess.  And to my knowledge he has never resisted the temptation.  That is, there has been no time that I let him go into a store without me and he didn't shoplift.

And the inappropriate computer use, both using it to look up sexy stuff and cheating on his schoolwork.  He'll convince his relations that he needs the computer for his schoolwork and then use it to google the wrong things.  And If there is the remotest possible way to cheat on his schoolwork he will find it and do it. I've spent the last two days installing spyware on the computers.

• RealTime Spy for PC
• RealTime Spy for Mac

The core problem is that he flat refuses to live under our authority.  We've talked and talked and talked about it but it comes down to "If you want to live in our home, you need to live under our authority."  Over and over again he has shown us that if he doesn't agree with our expectation, he will just ignore it, and when confronted he will lie, blame us, blame sister, whatever.

He won't comply, so we gave him a sleeping bag and a tarp and he is living in the barn.  I set out food for him and bring him in for a shower and clean clothes and sent him back out.  Horrible, I know.  Heart-breaking.   What else are we to do?  

Consequences matter NOTHING to him.  They are just more challenges from him to try to get around.  Expectations are merely an opportunity for tricksy stuff (can he side-step the expectation and get away with it?)

Every moment of every day is consumed with monitoring him. Taking a shower is a carefully timed event.  He is bright, REALLY bright, and strategic.  Any moment that I am distracted is his opportunity to do whatever he is plotting.  A phone call.  A trip to the loo.  A shower.  But, if he is living in the barn, at least the inside of the home can be a bit normal.

Ha! I'm calling locking my beloved son out of the house normal.  But his obsession with deception is unmanageable. If he were a boyfriend, we'd call this a codependent relationship (because my life revolves around his problems) and we'd get out of the relationship.


We are miserable and heart-broken and angry and scared.  How do we get through the next few years? and what will become of him?



*There is nothing wrong with the books he is sneaking (The Percy Jackson books) for a non-damaged kid, but they are not okay for him.  The basic story line revolves around a clever and self-sufficient young man whose mother loves him, but is not too bright, easily duped, and completely superfluous to his life.  The fate of the world hangs on his shoulders, and the adults in the story are usually wrong.  He has to trick and deceive them in order to get things to unfold in accordance to his superior insight and intelligence.   No.  Garbanzo does not need to read these.

Garbanzo

He's darling and helpful and bright and literary and hard-working and very often a joy.
He also smashes his sister behind the door so hard that the hinges rip out of the wall, threatens her with glass bottles, and frightens me.

Did I mention the time he started a fire in the upstairs bathroom?
Or the time he jumped into the driver's seat of my parent's van and rolled it into the garage wall?
Or casually, when passing by, flicked the "Go" button on Grandpa's power chair, sending Grandpa careening off the dock and (thank God) onto the dock below it where he screeched to a stop on my leg, pinching me between the chair and a sailboat, that (thank God again) was moored tightly, else I and Gpa and chair would have gone over, me at the bottom?
Or the whole series of finding stinky little jars of pee stashed around the house?
Or the run of pants-wetting?
Or the sleep-walking out of the house?
Or the stealing?
Or the time he asked to use the bathroom at the lab and shortly afterwards the key to The. Very. Important. Case. was discovered missing? And he pretended that the key that looked exactly like the missing key and that was found in his pocket was one from home?
Or the time he turned off all the lights and displays in the museum?

And there are so many more . . .

yuck

Tater's constant oppositional and antagonistic attitude is wearing me out. My love bank is empty, my patience is worn thin. I don't even want to see her, much less mother her.

Garbonzo

Argh.  In the last two weeks Garbonzo has . . .

• stolen a key from the lab and blithely feigned innocence during the ensuing hub-bub of "Where's the key?".  Of course, it was in his pocket.
• stolen pocketfuls of candy from his Gma, and blithely feigned innocence even after the pat-down and discovery.
• talked his sister into a cheating co-op wherein one steals the teacher books and copies the answers whilst the other posts look-out, and blithely feigned innocence even after her confession.
• smuggled off-limits treats out of the house and into his lunchbox.
• locked little kids in the bathroom stalls and threatened to to harm them if they told.
• told us a chore/task has been done when it most obviously has not been done.  This occurs 15-20 times a day. 
• lied. lied. lied. lied. lied. lied. lied. lied. 

We are definitely seeing a pattern.   This nasty behavior tends to appear after any of the fun summer activities.  Day camp, VBS, drama camp, etc.  Anything in which a large group of kids are under the supervision of a few adults (aka anything away from Mom) triggers orphanage behavior patterns.  We can see it.  It all makes sense.  But how do we make it go away?

is it working?

My MIL called to ask, "Is it working? Being mean to her?"  Not that I am being mean to her on a regular basis, just the one-time here's-what-it-looks-like-to-be-around-you demonstration.

Yes, I would have to say it has.  Between that and the calm two swats, repeated as necessary, Tater has had a total of ONE temper tantrum since Monday.  One.  We have had some fusses, yes, but no raging.  Three rage-free days in a row is a record here.  So yes, I would have to say it is working.

The S-word

So, Tater's behavior is progressively worse: this year is worse than last, last year was worse than the one before.  It's the kind of behavior that if we saw some other kid doing it we would furrow our brows and say, "That kid needs a spanking."  I know. I know.  I just uttered the unspeakable word.  When you have recovered, read on.

Our guiding book Transforming the Difficult Child (which does not advocate spanking) recommends that we acknowledge that all emotional reactions from parents are -- from a kid's perspective -- pay-offs.  Negative or positive, they are the desired response. 

We especially see this when I am doing anything that precludes giving Tater my attention.  She would like to have non-stop undivided attention.  If I am not available for positive attention, she will deliberately trigger negative attention.  Literally, it will go like this:

Me: Tater, I am not available for 20 minutes.  If you interrupt me, you will have to wait on your bed.
(20 seconds pass -- she interrupts.)
Me: Okay, time to wait on your bed.
Tater: NOOooo, I don't want to. (Screams, rages, won't go to her bed, throws things, screams that she hates me and that when she grows up she will come back and stomp on my stomach.)  Pretty much does whatever she can think of that will get me to physically move her to her bed and/or return to the room she is in.  When the mean screaming doesn't work, she will sob that she needs a snuggle.

Oh, she needs a snuggle. I'm supposed to deliver that right?  No!  I used to, but I've smartened up.  Look at this from her point of view.

Mom says she is not available.  If I act up, I'll be sent to sit on my bed but if I don't go, she'll have to take me (attention) and if I scream something loud enough or long enough or mean enough she'll come close my door and windows (attention) and when I stop screaming she'll pop in all smiley that I stopped screaming and I'll get a long snuggle and I'll have her attention.

And this is pretty much wrecking my life. I can't stand the screaming 2-4 times a day, an hour at a time.  I can't keep my cool, so even if I am calm and neutral with her, the anxiety emanating off of me for the next several hours is a tremendous pay-off for her.  How powerful she must be to jangle her adult so thoroughly.

And how can we sparkle and dote upon her for compliance when there isn't any?  For this, sparkling and doting, is (according to our book) the path to happiness: help her see herself as someone who can be pleasing.

This morning:

Tater comes in all scowling and snarling because she doesn't like part of the day's plan.
Me: Please leave my room.  You may come back when you can be pleasant.
(You need to know that our bedroom is the long-established safe house for adults and pets.  The children may be in there by permission and at our discretion.  I have to have somewhere to cool off.)
Tater huffs out in an indignant and surly manner.
Me: Please go sit on your bed.
Tater objects and back-talks and argues.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner.  Please come in and get your spanking. (Now, before you think this is so harsh, remember that past experience causes me to believe that her screaming will escalate into a huge drawn-out long ordeal and my goal for the day is to take the kids swimming with their cousins.)
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater screams.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner.  Please come in and get your spanking.
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater: Stomps and kicks and scowls.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner. Please come in and get your spanking.
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater goes upstairs quietly and sits on her bed.

Twenty minutes pass.  Nothing is thrown.  No mean words are shouted.  It is amazing.  Garbanzo is amazed.  I am amazed.

I call her down. I lavish her with praise and admiration for using her strength (she likes power, remember?) to go upstairs quietly and to sit on her bed.  I do a silly happy dance.  She giggles.  I hug her. Garbanzo high-fives her.  I lighten an unpleasant obligation that she is carrying for the day.  We eat breakfast together.  Life is good.

I know the spankings are so questionable.  I question them.  But in this instance, they were able to derail the Tantrum Train, so she could experience what it might be like to obey and please Mama and received positive energy and have a nice day.

I like the train analogy.  If she is on a speeding run-away out-of-control train heading for wreck, and I can shove her off the train, I'll do it.

Right now she is pleasant and helpful and singing.

and what I did about it

Okay, here is what I did. If you think I am a dreadful mother you may be right. Please let me know and also let me know what time you will pick the kids up for a stay at your house. I'll have them all packed. Bring them back in a month and I'll make tea and you can tell me all about how horrible I am.

So, I analyzed Tater's tantrums. They pretty much include these elements:

• say as many mean things as you can think off.
• take whatever yucky feeling you have in your heart and spread it around on as many people as possible.
• completely ignore other people's requests to modify the behavior.
• in fact, use those requests as a trigger to escalate the behavior.
• get completely absorbed in yucky feelings and try to make other people get involved in them.
• be really mean and scream at other people when they come near.
• ruin meals, mornings, outings, whatever, by acting out whenever the feeling strikes.

Well it just so happened that I had a whole boat-load of yucky feelings on hand.  So out-the-blue I just started being really mean.  Really mean.  Hard looks and hard voices and hard words.  I didn't say every mean thing I could think of, but I said mean things.  I made a point of making everyone around me miserable.  I shouted at Garbanzo when he solicitously asked me what was wrong.  I stomped around grumbling about how ill-treated I was and how unfair everything was. (Now I have done this before as role-plays and they knew I was role-playing and giggled. No giggling this time.)  When they crossed paths with me I groused louder and with a more ferocious looks and harsher words.

Basically I scared the socks off them.

And then I asked Tater if my behavior was appropriate.  No.
Was my behavior selfish? Yes.
I was having big yucky feelings and making sure that everyone else in the house felt as yucky as I did, was this okay? No.
I might feel this way 3-5 times a day and I was going to handle it this way each time. Please don't.
Why not? It's not right.

Yes, Tater, I agree. It's not right.  It's not right if I am 46 and it's not right if I am 9.

And then I went and apologized to Garbanzo.

I just asked her to write down what she learned this morning.  She wrote:

I lund that I should not have fits and if I bo then Mom will be lick me.
I learned that I should not have fits and if I do then Mom will be like me.

I thought it interesting how quickly she recognized who I was copying.

how is it going, really?

I am defeated. I wake up in the morning DREADING seeing my children. Tater's rages and defiance and horribleness makes planning for anything pleasant or lovely a waste of time.

I'm turning into a cold person. I hear so much sobbing and wailing on a daily basis that even when it is legitimate, I don't care. I have nothing left to give. I just want to run away.

We rarely make it to breakfast without a confrontation that includes at least an hour of her screaming how much she hates me.

And I am supposed to be the grown-up here. I'm supposed to maintain the Deborah Gray attitude of gentle, attentive, curious, kind and so on. I fail. I am not gentle or attentive. My current posture is defensive.

follow up

So, Garbanzo got up this morning and said that he didn't like living in my orphanage and that he would rather live in a home. So we talked about the differences in how family members treat each other and in how orphanage staff and residents treat each other. He could easily list off observable behavior that a mommy would do and that a care-giver would not do. He could not as easily list how a child with parents would behave differently from a child with care-givers, so we made a list. Now when I see him start down the wrong path, I can hand him the list and he can see where he is headed.

Behavior of a child with parents that he respects and appreciates and wants to be close to:
· Do good work all the way (do the whole job, the right way, the first time).
· Trust Mama and Papa’s decisions (don’t argue or contradict).
· Be trust-worthy (tell only real words, leave other peoples’ things alone).
· Wear a pleasant face.
· Obey.
· Respect adult conversation (stay out of it).
· Do your chores independently.

Behavior of a child with temporary caregivers that don’t really care about him and that he doesn’t really care about:
· Push into adult conversation.
· Contradict the adults.
· Give the adults advice that they don’t want or need.
· Manage the adult’s tasks, responsibilities, things, etc.
· Say “I will” but do a poor job or don’t do it.
· When an adult asked you do to a job, pretend that the adult asked you for a smaller job and do only that.
· Change or cancel adult instructions.
· Sulk.
· Argue.
· Yell at them.
· Storm off.
· Sneak.
· Disobey.
· Grumble.
· Snoop through their stuff.
· Take what you want.
· Plan ahead for the naughty thing you want to do the next time the adults aren’t around.
· If one says ‘no’ ask another adult.
· Bully and boss the other children around.
· Damage things on purpose.

limitations

You know, if my child had no legs, people would not come up to me and extol the virtues of running and how beneficial it would be to him and question why I won't let him do this normal lovely activity, why I won't let him be normal.  They would see that my child could not do this normal thing and that it wasn't because I wouldn't let him, but because there is some intrinsic limitation built into the way the child is made.

Yet, I get this all the time from well-meaning relatives: when are you going to let him got to school? when are you going to let him do this and that? wouldn't it be fun for him if he could . . . ?  But no, he doesn't get to to all that because his mean old mother arbitrarily says 'no'.


What if he doesn't get to do all that because he unravels when we try things like that? What if he doesn't get to do that because he is opportunistically sneaky and we have to keep an eye on him all the time? What if he doesn't get to do all that because even one week of sleep-away camp set us back about 9 months to a year in attachment? What if the reason his life is limited and not normal is not actually my fault?  What if I am constantly trying to expand his world and running into the clear message that he can't handle it yet?




What if I am grieving all the things my child doesn't get to do and be and experience and you walk up and extol the virtues of running to me?







Yes, some of my relatives read this, and yes, I am responding to something you said or did.  Be at peace though; I know your one suggestion was well-intended and seemed reasonable to you.  And if your suggestion was the only one, I wouldn't be reacting, but I am carrying a large basket of friendly suggestions that are all clearly oblivious to the fact that all those good things you want for our son, we want too.  All those desires that you spend 20 minutes on? We spend hours on.  We weep over them.  We grieve.


We are not, however, the source of his limitations.  We are the repair squad.  It's a yucky job and we are doing our best.  You can help us by stopping with the assumptions that if we would just get out of his way he could be a typical kid.  We are doing all we can to help him get to be a happy kid, but there are a lot of obstacles -- most of which you know nothing about -- none of which did we put into place.

"If you don't like my orphanage," I say, "don't live in it."

Two weeks ago, Garbanzo went to sleep-away camp.  He came back in what we call orphanage mode.  In orphanage mode, adults are obstacles to be worked around or resources to be manipulated.  Maintaining relationships is a silly waste of time as is establishing and preserving trust.  In orphanage-mode, a child presents surface compliance and sneaks and steals and disobeys as soon as the adult is not looking.  And why not?  The orphanage adults are paid staff members -- their real lives happen when they are off shift; how would it benefit a child to be genuine with these transitory care-providers?  It doesn't matter if a child tricks them or sneaks things from their private areas or says 'yes I will' and then promptly doesn't.  It doesn't matter because the child's food will keep arriving at the same time, their activity routines will be unaltered (because keeping a child from a group activity means supplying a staff member to supervise them -- easier to just let it go).  Sure, they'll get a scolding, but that is a temporary annoyance.

(As an aside, people -- especially my Dad -- remark on how well my children handle scoldings.  This is not a good thing.  They endure it as they would a cloud of gnats: annoying, but only on the surface -- and forgotten once the gnats leave.)

Okay, so Garbanzo is in orphanage mode.  His behavior is defiant and willful and demanding and bossy and contradictory and deceitful and tricksy and mean and dismissive and pretty much dreadful to be around.  He is in a mode where he will do what he wants and does not care if we say "no" or if we have asked him to do something else.  He is treating us as disposable relationships.  He can't manipulate us into doing as he wishes, so he has dismissed us.  We exist to feed him and drive him around.

Not!

We keep trying to impose the family model on him and he will have nothing to do with it.  He smirks and gives lip service and then goes right back to his yucky ways.

So, for today, he wins.  For today, this is Suzanne's Orphanage. The staff member is grouchy as she doesn't like/didn't want this job.  The food is so-so as the cook is in a bad mood.  The activities are all chores as the activity director is also grouchy.  There is a lot of sitting-on-the-stairs-waiting-for-a-supervisor time.  It's a very boring drab life in this orphanage.

He complains.  He doesn't like this orphanage.  He liked the last one better.  Yeah, well, orphanages vary.  He doesn't like the food (unsweetened hot oatmeal).  He doesn't like the activities (stacking wood).  He doesn't like the matter-of-fact interactions with me, the staff member.  He doesn't like it here.

"If you don't like my orphanage," I say, "don't live in it."


-----------

And before you all post asking me if he knows what his options are, yes, he does. We made a long list of how orphanage relationships are different from family relationships and he could recognize which one he has been living and we talked about how I've been trying for the last two weeks to live in the Family Way and he is rejecting it and that I can't MAKE him make a better choice but that I can choose what I do, and what I choose is to stop wrestling with him over it.

dilatory orphanage shift worker

It is as if he (Garbanzo) believes that the rightful place of an adult is to sit idly in a room observing him and he will do whatever it takes to ensure that I get back to work, that is, get back to sitting idly in a room observing him. I left him to come in and type this. By the time I got to whatever it takes he was in here, asking a completely unnecessary question. Yes, yes, I know he is just asking for attention, albeit in an unhealthy way, and one would think that giving him attention would help. But it doesn't!!
  A. It is not possible to give him enough -- the deficit is that great and
  B. Sometimes I need to shower, or pay bills, or breath.
It's as if he thinks I am a dilatory orphanage shift worker and it is his mission to make sure I get back to work, back to sitting in the room with him. ARGHH!!!!!

landmines

It's not just the little jars of pee, actually weird bathroom stuff I could handle. It's the lies. Garbanzo leaves landmines all over the house. We can be having a perfectly lovely day and he will report that he has done something, or not done something, or whatever and then, as I walk through the house I see that exact opposite; I see a little lie landmine awaiting me. And this happens multiple times a day. It wears me out. It drains my love-tank. After days and days of this I have no lovey feelings left.

The cure? Keep him so supervised that he has no opportunity to lie, because he is never away from us. Basically keep him within 10 feet of me all day long.

Oh joy. Constant exposure to the one person I don't want to spend time with.

I'm griping. I don't want encouragement. I want support. Just so you know.

And please oh please don't explain to me why he is this way. I get it. I know why he is this way. Knowing why and living with it are two different things. It's the latter that I am struggling with.

bitter about baby-sitters

"Get a baby-sitter." they say, these mothers of home-grown children. "Get a baby-sitter." they say, as they extol the merits of the sanity break, defend the expense, and make me want to weep.

Baby-sitters are one of the key areas in which -- in our experience -- what works for home-grown kids, most dreadfully does not work for post-institutional kids, at least not for our eldest.

Garbanzo had nearly 7 years of care-givers that were staff, care-givers that rotate on-and-off shift, that may or may not be emotionally invested in the children they looked after, and that can be angered, disappointed, deceived, and manipulated with no lasting effects.

Then he got us and (big surprise) treated us as paid staff that can be angered, disappointed, deceived, and manipulated with no lasting effects. It is really really hard for him to understand, much less live out, the difference between an orphanage-living arrangement and a family-living arrangement. Putting him into the care of others sets him right back to orphanage-mode. And why not? He had 6 highly formative years of that, and only 2.5 years of this.

This is why we home-school, because the institutional setting of school triggers anti-family behavior patterns. The same anti-family behavior patterns that are triggered by spending time with a paid care-giver that most likely is not emotionally invested in the children, and that can be angered, disappointed, deceived, and manipulated with no lasting effects.

In fact, manipulating and deceiving the care-giver is one of the favorite ways to pass the time. "So what?" you may ask. "Let him torment the sitter, pay her well, and move on." The problem is that Garbanzo sees us as merely the next shift and it takes a vast amount of time and energy and tears and gnashing of teeth to re-settle him into family mode.

You may wonder then why we just enrolled them in public school. Because the school will look after them when I can't and we have no other options.

I would love to hire a baby-sitter. I would love to not feel so trapped and alone. I would love to have that be a healthy option for our family. I envy those of you with emotionally normal kids that can handle this basic tool of parenting. It's just not a tool that we get to use yet.

little jars of pee

How would you handle finding little jars of pee stashed throughout your house? I'm handling it by flipping my lid.

lying

I think I am handling things in a wise and informed manner, but as the problem keeps recurring, I am being to doubt.

Last night:

Garbanzo: Mom, how do I get this off the cookie sheet?
Me: Use a SOS pad.
(big production about finding a SOS pad, writing SOS pads on the grocery list as the box is low, etc.)

This morning I find the cookie sheet, untouched by SOS pad or soap and water for that matter, hidden in the laundry room. Not set down and forgotten, but tucked into the gap between the freezer and the shelving.

Me: So, how did that SOS pad work last night?
Garbanzo: Great!!
Me: Can I see?
Garbanzo: Yeah.
(He pulls out the cookie sheet's twin and proudly displays it.)
Me: That is not the cookie sheet.

Garbanzo: Yes it is.
Me: Please go sit in the little chair until you are ready to tell the truth.


(time passes)


Garbanzo: I hid it in the laundry room.
Me: Go get it and clean it please.


(I sequester myself in my bedroom where my head bursts into flames.)

He had it all planned out! It was premeditated deception. I HATE THIS. How oh how can I install a conscience in this kid? He is such a terrific little person, bursting with intelligence and charm, yet all this will be for naught if he persists in land-mining his relationships with expedient deceptions.

Help!!

lord of the manor

A-HA! I get it. Took me long enough.


When we visited the kids at the orphanage we saw that for each meal, one child would be designated the official helper, fitted with an apron, and given duties. This was a highly coveted designation. Garbanzo was in tears one day as our visit preempted his turn.

So, flash forward to the present. This morning I had him helping me clean out the fridge. All the sudden he is a) authoritatively answering question Chickadee has asked of me b) speaking to me in a bossy-pants tone and c) generally bossing his sister around.

We see this pattern ALL THE TIME. Give Garbanzo a small responsibility and he will promote himself to Lord of the Manor. It drives us nuts.

Duh.

In the orphanage, the 'helper' role came with Lord of the Manor privileges, at least amongst the other children. I can imagine that all those weary middle-aged care-givers didn't really mind him taking over either. After all, it wasn't their kitchen. Their kitchens awaited them at home at the end of their shift.

So, here we have -- once again -- an understanding of how he has come by this pattern, but not much of a clue on how to break down the pattern, other than (and this is what I do) working elbow-to-elbow with him and stating over-and-over "That is not your part." "That is not appropriate." and "You are not in charge."

to home-school or not to home-school? that is the question

We are in the midst of a big decision here. Remember when we pulled Garbanzo out of school for a couple weeks due to behavior that is unblogable? Well it has proven to be a good decision and we are now considering extending the hiatus for the rest of the year.

Pros
:: Many more hours available each day for wholesome family interactions to promote attachment.
:: No driving! I spend 1.5 hours a day dropping him off and picking him up.
:: Chickadee wouldn't have to wake up so early -- she is always tired. Neither she nor I are morning people.
:: Pleasant mornings, not racing-out-the-door mornings.
:: I would be responsible for his education.
:: He could take math, spelling, and chess at the homeschool/school partnership at no charge.
:: He can have regular social interactions with the kids in the aforementioned classes.
:: I spoke his current teacher about this plan, and she gave her blessing.
:: He could spend a lot more time with his very special person, Grandpa.
:: We would have time to do something like Awanas or 4H.
:: Mandatory roundtrips to town drop from 120 miles per week 18 miles per week.


Cons
:: I would be responsible for his education.
:: I may get a bit weary of hanging out all day with Mr. Intensity.
:: We'll have to be more proactive about finding kids for him to be friends with. This may mean that we will have to socialize with other families. Oh the horror.
:: Seems as if there should be more on the con list. What are we overlooking?

Parenting the Child Adopted at School-Age

When reading literature on parenting the adopted-when-older child, one will often -- very often -- read that the children need lots of structure.

. . . how do I reward a kid for good choices when all the rewards I can think of set him up for bad choices?

We can do structure. We have calendars that tell us what to do each day. Chore jars that help us organize our time. Cellphones that tell us when to wake, eat, and depart. We have a wall chart for school days that tells us what our activities and deadlines are (in addition to the little charts upstairs that help them remember to wash up, get dressed, etc.). And so on . . .

What we didn't realize, however, is that it is more than providing marching orders for every waking minute, it is also necessary to never ever lighten up. ever. even if you really really want to.

We have noticed that when we do lighten up, Garbanzo sees this newly-won permissiveness as open season. If any one boundary is relaxed, he things ALL boundaries are relaxed. So when we try to reward him for good behavior, he spirals down. As my B.I.L. says, "if you give him an inch, he'll take 40 miles, in about 20 seconds." And it's not just that he thinks all boundaries are off, but that he starts sporting an attitude.

When we are micromanaging his every move, he can graciously receive correction. But as soon as we allow an indulgence or two, he will chaff bitterly under correction, glowering and festering and acting as if we are trolls.

Today he lasted two minutes in Free-Play before he started cutting his sister's paper crown up with the scissors that had been returned to him just last night. (Note to face-to-face friends: no scissors for Garbanzo.) I guess the exhilaration of having both scissors and a half hour of free choice was just too much for him.

So, my question is, how do I reward a kid for good choices when all the rewards I can think of set him up for bad choices?

to post or not to post? that is the question

This was written mid-November and I have been equivocating about posting it ever since then. Obviously I decided to post it.

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We've had quite a trying two weeks with Young Garbanzo. I've been debating if I should post or not, as it seems a little odd to broadcast one's son's troubles, on the other hand, other families with children adopted at older ages may be able to advise or console me. Or at least we can say to each other, "what, you too?"

Here is what we have had in just the last two weeks.

He was asked to leave music class -- too disruptive.
He forged our sign-off on his homework.
He cheated on his spelling test.
He was asked to leave art class -- too disruptive.
He was sent to the principal's office twice, once for poking a classmate in the bum with a pencil, and I forgot what the other one was.
I personally pulled him off a schoolmate upon whom he had a choke-hold.
He has lied nearly everyday.
He has stolen his sister's money.

And you know what? If you met him you would be totally impressed with what good manners he has, what a charming and sweet boy he is. And he is! He is a great kid, except for when he isn't, then he really isn't. I guess I should give him credit for being thorough.

As much as the disruptive behavior must annoy his teacher, it's the keeping his hands to himself issue and the integrity issue that really worry me.

He comes by ALL his issues honestly. We completely understand why he is the way he is. This does not, however, inject us with renewed energy to deal with him. Unlimited commitment? Yes. But we are indeed weary.

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