I sat before my client Beaulah, she's a real gem to call on.
She's become a trusted friend, the older sister I never had. I held back tears as I shared where I was in my life at that moment.
I had come to the point in this instant family, that I resented the children without remorse. I resented their father for the decision's he'd made. I resented myself for choosing these struggles.
The past week stung
The previous Monday I sat in front of our youngest child's teacher. She was factual and direct about her concerns, almost expressionless in desperation.
"He's failing, he doesn't concentrate for more than a minute at a time", her eyes wide with anticipation.
I cried and cried in the car park as we left for the start of our day. The decisions his mother had made while carrying him were finally being felt. It stung like acid reflux in the chest of reality, a reminder of past mistakes every time I look into his eyes. I carried his hurt because he never chose this, neither of them did. Yet I stood crying for them, me, not their parents. Me.
Refusing to put him onto anything strong enough to alter his personality we found a short term solution and put him on a trial of scheduled medication for concentration. We have 1 month's supply of the stuff to prove ourselves and by we, I mean him.
The night I met Zelna
Zelna is a world reknown child therapist, psychologist and kids life coach. Her talk on assisting children found myself and dad at her workshop the same night we found out about our youngest child's concentration issues. I didn't mention the eldest, but he's snowballing his way right into 'juvie' if he carries on the way he's going. They needed help, so I wanted to start with us - because of finances that is - not because the kids weren't a priority, but perhaps if we could learn something new for a couple bucks, it would help us in the long run when they got the therapy they needed. I was beginning to lose faith that I would find the person I needed to assist with the therapy I wanted for them on the financial terms we could afford.
Beaulah listened with her eyes as she always does. She is so kind and caring this earth angel friend of mine.
"I've built a wall Beaulah", I said, "I can't imagine smiling, laughing or caring for them anymore. I've checked out!"
I had shared with her how our meeting with Zelna had brought about a change of perspective in me, how it had softened my hardened heart and made me realise that my walls needed to come down, not just for the kids but for my own sanity.
The only way out of this mess, would be to go back to where I started. Open my arms, open my heart, forgive and shine my light.
"Do what you do well with your children", Zelna had advised, and so I decided to share my gifts and talents with them and let them back into my world.
My world had peace once. It had transparency and joy. Somewhere along the line the walls had become so high that I couldn't see my own light.
Beaulah continued to listen, her kind words and tender advice echoed my hearts desires for laughter and serenity to be returned to our home. "It starts with you, your time with them, your one on one moments together", she explained, "you just need love, share your time and let those walls come down. These are the moment's that will not only make the difference now, but will be treasured forever!"
Yes, I felt guilty. I felt like I'd forgotten how to love to the point of being blind to what was really needed in our home. My maternal instincts, my humanity and my authentic self had flown out the window because of my anger and resentment, twisting a vine of animosity around my heart and suffocating my soul.
Beaulah smiles at me and whispers, "If anyone can love those children the way they need to be loved, it's you!" And I smiled back because I knew she was right.
We have since found a therapist and the children will commence emotional support and play therapy within the next 2 weeks. Anything can happen when you want it badly enough, and all I want for them is more than they will know.
Showing posts with label blended family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blended family. Show all posts
Monday, 9 May 2016
Monday, 6 July 2015
Lies, cheating and deception - and that's just the 8 year old!
This week the resentment monster came to see me. I've been getting very used to his unpredictable visits, I just wish he would stay away!
My resentment kicked in when I had had about enough of the bickering, repetitive requests for cooperation from the kids and lack of appreciation for anything we did for them. While I've heard this is apparently "normal" behaviour, I'm battling to accept the rolling eyes and sarcastic retorts.
The fight that brought us closer
So initially I had purchased new juice bottles for my treasures, complete with favourite cartoon characters emblazoned on the front, look at me being all stellar and amazing. I had also purchased brand new lunchboxes for them to enjoy their lunch in. After the first two weeks of ownership, my treasures both managed to come home sans juice bottles. Eldest had apparently lost his and youngest threw his over the school playground wall. As punishment, no juice bottles would be reissued and re-hydration would have to come from school playground taps and after care provisions. I believe they call this Tough Love.
On this particular day, daddy lets me know about some serious feedback from the school. Eldest had decided to remove his teachers juice off her desk and drink it all - I mean everything. To my devastation I started asking myself an avalanche of questions. "Was this normal behaviour? Where could I get help? To whom do we turn for for advice? Had we attributed to this theft and dishonesty?" Along with "What the heck possessed him to do such a thing?"
We sat eldest down at the table and politely went over some ground rules, you know, things you aren't supposed to do as a contributing part of society. We weren't mad, but stressed how disappointed we were. He was our star athlete, our charismatic little creative - what on earth was happening and how did we get here?
Then things got worse
In the midst of this drama, I found myself in a stew of resentment. These kids were out of control, disrespectful and taking advantage. Money down the drain along with the possibility of juvenile delinquency, at least that's how seriously I took this atrocity. While I may be coming on a little neurotic, I need to highlight weeks of deviant behaviour, including blatant lies and mild cases of thievery from both children.
The very next morning, dad stands in the kitchen pouring OJ into their old juice bottles. "OMG, he's got the principle all wrong", I thought, "What are you doing!" I seethed. Fatherly guilt had crept in, dad was afraid that the deprivation of juice for a week had caused a rebound effect that has attributed to the theft of said teachers juice. I was furious. Did he not realise that he was pacifying these kids with a reward, the punishment was still in play. Could he have not waited another few days before reinstating this treat? Maybe I was taking this all too seriously, I never had juice at school, hells bells we didn't even own a lunch box!
Our first real fight
That night we didn't say much to each other, silently agreeing to keep the conversation on 'ice' until we regrouped at home. I was so angry, I felt like we had been taken advantage of, as if our authority meant absolutely nothing and our punishments a joke. So much money had been invested into these kids, not one cent from their mother, not one contribution.
On arrival that evening, the tension was insurmountable. The atmosphere was cold and heavy between us. We had been separated by our difference of opinions all caused by children not even old enough to remember the 2010 world cup. I stood by my beliefs and he stood by his children. Just like that. This was it, this was that moment of division that I knew would come. It was here and neither of us were backing down. Principles over being right, that was my stance and I wasn't budging.
Eventually the ice broke, short answers became sentences, until eventually I just released the Kraken of all arguments into full force. This was his life, just as much as it was mine now. If he couldn't see my point, history would surely repeat itself and I would be forced to tolerate intolerable behaviour. I was fighting for our unborn children too, this was a war of morality and parental compatibility.
"All I want you to do is acknowledge my feedback", I snorted. His arms now on both hips as we lay down our cards in an orderly and mature fashion. "The more I hear what you're saying, the more it makes sense to me. I just realised that what I did made absolutely no sense." His face softened and the corners of his mouth turned up as we ploughed through our differences until a mutual conclusion was met.
"This is the best fight I've ever had, I didn't have to scream or yell and yet I still got my point across." he says. He high-fived me in approval as he came down from his dormant volcano of misunderstanding, I had just taught him a lesson about how healthy relationships worked and killed two birds with one morality stone.
This just brought us closer and neither of us would have realised it until that very moment. Just like that, the air became lighter and kisses on my forehead reminded me that we were in this together, good, bad and ugly.
The way forward
Resentment will appear time and again, but when you don't allow yourself to have your own desires, outlet or voice, you will fester and resentment will consume you from the inside out. It will be evident by the grimace on your face and the frown lines on your brow. Since this corner was turned, we have stood united as a couple while the children have done their best to manipulate their expectations and resentments onto us. Suddenly it doesn't have as much power as it used to. I no longer give for the sake of giving, perhaps I've become a little harder, perhaps I've become more of a mother than I realise.
The following evening we had a chat at the table as we do every night, we lit the table candle and sat down to grace. This time I had something to say, I had about enough of the abusive phone calls from their mother on their return to us with her shopping list of grudges. Once again her immature remarks and the usual character assassinations began to brew inside me. I was tired of the manipulative games being played by the children, running between both parents, playing them up against each other causing divisions and creating tall stories that could never be trusted.
Did they not see this is the healthiest and most 'together' they had ever been? Tests were being passed with A's since they lived with us, school reports showed improvement, projects completed on time. What the hell were we in for when they became teenagers?
If you want to act like adults, then listening carefully!
"I'm providing for you the way your mother cannot, for that you can be grateful or you can choose to hate me. This doesn't make me a good person or your mommy a bad one, I provide for you because I can. You need to understand that I don't have a manual for this, I came into your life because I love your father, a man who loves and adores you both, a man that loves and adores me just as much.
I will not sit and endure another day of disrespect thrust upon him by you or anyone else. If you believe that we are not treating you fairly, with love or in the right way, you are most welcome to leave. Your father and I are constantly trying to give you our very best, and you just take. I love him dearly and I love you both just as if you were my own but you cannot keep bending a stick and not expect it to break.
Learn to listen the first time, apply yourself to what you're doing and realise that we are trying to ensure that you are raised with morals and values that you will take and use for the rest of your lives - should you so choose. Alternatively you can live on the street and act like a dog. I did not carry you in my tummy for 9 months, but I love you like I did. You may not understand this now, you may only understand many years from now or never. Either way you need to know that I love you, not because I have to, but because I choose to."
I let it all come out. Perhaps a personal, desperate low, perhaps a necessary declaration. I put my boundaries in place, yes my voice had been raised, yes I may have even come across in a wildly passionate way, unashamedly on team dad, but I needed them to know.
To know that while they will most likely not realise it now, there is someone on their side that has their back. Someone that would keep their secrets if confided in and allow them to cry on her shoulder if they were hurting. I purged my resentments in a take it or leave it approach, the boundaries were set and tears flowed from the eldest in a moment of clarity.
The opposite of resentment is communication, speak and you are free.
My resentment kicked in when I had had about enough of the bickering, repetitive requests for cooperation from the kids and lack of appreciation for anything we did for them. While I've heard this is apparently "normal" behaviour, I'm battling to accept the rolling eyes and sarcastic retorts.
The fight that brought us closer
So initially I had purchased new juice bottles for my treasures, complete with favourite cartoon characters emblazoned on the front, look at me being all stellar and amazing. I had also purchased brand new lunchboxes for them to enjoy their lunch in. After the first two weeks of ownership, my treasures both managed to come home sans juice bottles. Eldest had apparently lost his and youngest threw his over the school playground wall. As punishment, no juice bottles would be reissued and re-hydration would have to come from school playground taps and after care provisions. I believe they call this Tough Love.
On this particular day, daddy lets me know about some serious feedback from the school. Eldest had decided to remove his teachers juice off her desk and drink it all - I mean everything. To my devastation I started asking myself an avalanche of questions. "Was this normal behaviour? Where could I get help? To whom do we turn for for advice? Had we attributed to this theft and dishonesty?" Along with "What the heck possessed him to do such a thing?"
We sat eldest down at the table and politely went over some ground rules, you know, things you aren't supposed to do as a contributing part of society. We weren't mad, but stressed how disappointed we were. He was our star athlete, our charismatic little creative - what on earth was happening and how did we get here?
Then things got worse
In the midst of this drama, I found myself in a stew of resentment. These kids were out of control, disrespectful and taking advantage. Money down the drain along with the possibility of juvenile delinquency, at least that's how seriously I took this atrocity. While I may be coming on a little neurotic, I need to highlight weeks of deviant behaviour, including blatant lies and mild cases of thievery from both children.
The very next morning, dad stands in the kitchen pouring OJ into their old juice bottles. "OMG, he's got the principle all wrong", I thought, "What are you doing!" I seethed. Fatherly guilt had crept in, dad was afraid that the deprivation of juice for a week had caused a rebound effect that has attributed to the theft of said teachers juice. I was furious. Did he not realise that he was pacifying these kids with a reward, the punishment was still in play. Could he have not waited another few days before reinstating this treat? Maybe I was taking this all too seriously, I never had juice at school, hells bells we didn't even own a lunch box!
Our first real fight
That night we didn't say much to each other, silently agreeing to keep the conversation on 'ice' until we regrouped at home. I was so angry, I felt like we had been taken advantage of, as if our authority meant absolutely nothing and our punishments a joke. So much money had been invested into these kids, not one cent from their mother, not one contribution.
On arrival that evening, the tension was insurmountable. The atmosphere was cold and heavy between us. We had been separated by our difference of opinions all caused by children not even old enough to remember the 2010 world cup. I stood by my beliefs and he stood by his children. Just like that. This was it, this was that moment of division that I knew would come. It was here and neither of us were backing down. Principles over being right, that was my stance and I wasn't budging.
Eventually the ice broke, short answers became sentences, until eventually I just released the Kraken of all arguments into full force. This was his life, just as much as it was mine now. If he couldn't see my point, history would surely repeat itself and I would be forced to tolerate intolerable behaviour. I was fighting for our unborn children too, this was a war of morality and parental compatibility.
"All I want you to do is acknowledge my feedback", I snorted. His arms now on both hips as we lay down our cards in an orderly and mature fashion. "The more I hear what you're saying, the more it makes sense to me. I just realised that what I did made absolutely no sense." His face softened and the corners of his mouth turned up as we ploughed through our differences until a mutual conclusion was met.
"This is the best fight I've ever had, I didn't have to scream or yell and yet I still got my point across." he says. He high-fived me in approval as he came down from his dormant volcano of misunderstanding, I had just taught him a lesson about how healthy relationships worked and killed two birds with one morality stone.
This just brought us closer and neither of us would have realised it until that very moment. Just like that, the air became lighter and kisses on my forehead reminded me that we were in this together, good, bad and ugly.
The way forward
Resentment will appear time and again, but when you don't allow yourself to have your own desires, outlet or voice, you will fester and resentment will consume you from the inside out. It will be evident by the grimace on your face and the frown lines on your brow. Since this corner was turned, we have stood united as a couple while the children have done their best to manipulate their expectations and resentments onto us. Suddenly it doesn't have as much power as it used to. I no longer give for the sake of giving, perhaps I've become a little harder, perhaps I've become more of a mother than I realise.
The following evening we had a chat at the table as we do every night, we lit the table candle and sat down to grace. This time I had something to say, I had about enough of the abusive phone calls from their mother on their return to us with her shopping list of grudges. Once again her immature remarks and the usual character assassinations began to brew inside me. I was tired of the manipulative games being played by the children, running between both parents, playing them up against each other causing divisions and creating tall stories that could never be trusted.
Did they not see this is the healthiest and most 'together' they had ever been? Tests were being passed with A's since they lived with us, school reports showed improvement, projects completed on time. What the hell were we in for when they became teenagers?
If you want to act like adults, then listening carefully!
"I'm providing for you the way your mother cannot, for that you can be grateful or you can choose to hate me. This doesn't make me a good person or your mommy a bad one, I provide for you because I can. You need to understand that I don't have a manual for this, I came into your life because I love your father, a man who loves and adores you both, a man that loves and adores me just as much.
I will not sit and endure another day of disrespect thrust upon him by you or anyone else. If you believe that we are not treating you fairly, with love or in the right way, you are most welcome to leave. Your father and I are constantly trying to give you our very best, and you just take. I love him dearly and I love you both just as if you were my own but you cannot keep bending a stick and not expect it to break.
Learn to listen the first time, apply yourself to what you're doing and realise that we are trying to ensure that you are raised with morals and values that you will take and use for the rest of your lives - should you so choose. Alternatively you can live on the street and act like a dog. I did not carry you in my tummy for 9 months, but I love you like I did. You may not understand this now, you may only understand many years from now or never. Either way you need to know that I love you, not because I have to, but because I choose to."
I let it all come out. Perhaps a personal, desperate low, perhaps a necessary declaration. I put my boundaries in place, yes my voice had been raised, yes I may have even come across in a wildly passionate way, unashamedly on team dad, but I needed them to know.
To know that while they will most likely not realise it now, there is someone on their side that has their back. Someone that would keep their secrets if confided in and allow them to cry on her shoulder if they were hurting. I purged my resentments in a take it or leave it approach, the boundaries were set and tears flowed from the eldest in a moment of clarity.
The opposite of resentment is communication, speak and you are free.
 |
| Photo Credit : https://ltepas.wordpress.com/2015/06/16/stepparents-can-be-awesome/ |
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
The darkest day so far
I think it's probably a culmination of a couple of things but it's safe to say I may just have reached an emotional breakdown.
After my last post - Broody,Guilty,Mad - it seems I've opened up Pandora's box to a recessive memory bank that has been burst open with past recollections, emotions and, yes, guilt.
Resentment emanates from every one of my pores. Suddenly the fun, loving mother I'm trying to be has been replaced with an ogre, a silent ogre, but ogre-ish nonetheless.
So how did I get here again?
This time it feels different. Littlest one comes to me in the kitchen and starts reciting how, "mommy drank lots of wine when I was in her tummy", the lead up from our dinner table family time where he had shared his dreams of abduction and monsters. I'm mad as hell all over again.
I dart back and forth between these emotions, like an mental institute outpatient. Seriously, I'm battling to find the normality in my circumstance and if this needs to be said then I'll admit that I'm really not coping. There, happy?
We pack away the dishes and the kids are now both standing in the small space we could call a scullery, even the cat has managed to weave his way through 8 legs attached to the bodies towering above him.
The eldest is included in this conversation and I share memories of how daddy had invited me to see him as a 3 week old newborn. I held him in my arms and with each gurgle, I held back tears of remorse - I was envious then, but relieved that his wayward daddy wasn't part of my picture, I was going places remember?
I was 22 at the time, it could have been our child, but it wasn't and I had buried that notion and decided to celebrate his new family with him, instead of make this about me and my issues. The ex, even back then, snatched her new child from my arms. She never did like me, alas, I digress.
As we swap stories of their individual births, I'm suddenly isolated by the disconnected memories that have nothing to do with me. His words cut to my soul as he spoke about cutting their umbilical cords, how the youngest was 3 months premature and stillborn and how doctors had resuscitated him in surgery. Daddy stands there enacting dangled, lifeless arms and my rage toward the circumstance is fueled once more.
I knew all the facts, but every time I heard them, it I feel branded, tarnished and disembodied. They always felt like dirty secrets, beautiful little souls with a dirty parental secret - the drugs, the alcohol, the still birth. Yet, here I was standing in this conversation feeling like the glitch in their family tree, the rotten apple in the midst of their perceived awesomeness. It was all a lie, yet it felt so authentic every time I heard him speak.
It all went pear shaped thereafter
By now the feelings and questions have returned. Why did this have to happen? Why did we have to share a 7 week old fetus that was supposed to, or at least could have been a 15 year old by now. A 15 year old reminder of love, a bond, a lifelong connection.
I could feel the fury burning in me, the tears welling up from my throat, never mind my eyeballs.
We tuck the kids in for the evening, love is shared, kisses and prolonged hugs that linger long after they are received. It is time now to go over legal documents and I can feel my mood souring very quickly, I'm expecting foul play - as always.
His approach is careless and with it his attention to detail. He is not bothered with fighting over 'menial things' like dates and times, he omits necessary specifics in his agreement that leave me even more bitter and resentful. She wants everything on her terms and has done very little to return, sustain or even be present in their lives - but she wants the kids, she wants to cut daddy out to the point that she gets away with it it all.
My childish retort just came out of nowhere
By now I'm snappy, I don't mean to be disrespectful but daddy's contesting my insistence to include exact dates for school holiday delivery and collections. I know it's going to come back and bite us if we don't. He doesn't see the point, "This affects me, me and my life too!", I growl at him. I should have just stopped there, I won't share my personal low, I'll just tell you that I threatened to leave when I shouldn't have. It's a pet peeve when people threaten to leave, but it came out of my mouth. He lay on the bed facing the ceiling and remained in the same position while I sobbed in the shower.
We went to bed in silence. We woke in silence.
A cold shoulder with civility and moments of a polite "Good morning" and "Have a good day". I feel I've failed.
This too shall pass
So while I spent the most of this morning in tears, I have, through puffy eyes and swollen nose, managed to track down a therapist. In doing so, my thoughts return to a friend who is in a similar situation. Although we are close, I won't discuss it with her, I like keeping my wounds hidden and as I lick them in private, possibly causing more damage as I brood.
Everyone has that one person that has the answers, maybe not by qualification, maybe not even through experience. But just as I was about to put my foot in the shower, the very same friend picks up the phone and as I answer, squeezes in a "What's wrong?" as I say "Hello". There is a support team waiting for you, if you're willing to be (even more) vulnerable to receiving help.
I decide to share my hurts and pain with daddy, he holds my hand sympathetically as I weep. It's all too much, I miss him, I miss us. This is all supposed to be our honeymoon period of our relationship and the reminders of my own failings haunt me as I learn to live with someone else's children.
They should have been mine, ours, his with me.
As the night comes to an end I think I literally heard God whisper to me, "I never said it would be easy, I said it would be worth it". It's going to be alright, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
Tomorrow is a brand new day to be an awesome step-in mom.
Let's do this.
After my last post - Broody,Guilty,Mad - it seems I've opened up Pandora's box to a recessive memory bank that has been burst open with past recollections, emotions and, yes, guilt.
Resentment emanates from every one of my pores. Suddenly the fun, loving mother I'm trying to be has been replaced with an ogre, a silent ogre, but ogre-ish nonetheless.
So how did I get here again?
This time it feels different. Littlest one comes to me in the kitchen and starts reciting how, "mommy drank lots of wine when I was in her tummy", the lead up from our dinner table family time where he had shared his dreams of abduction and monsters. I'm mad as hell all over again.
I dart back and forth between these emotions, like an mental institute outpatient. Seriously, I'm battling to find the normality in my circumstance and if this needs to be said then I'll admit that I'm really not coping. There, happy?
We pack away the dishes and the kids are now both standing in the small space we could call a scullery, even the cat has managed to weave his way through 8 legs attached to the bodies towering above him.
The eldest is included in this conversation and I share memories of how daddy had invited me to see him as a 3 week old newborn. I held him in my arms and with each gurgle, I held back tears of remorse - I was envious then, but relieved that his wayward daddy wasn't part of my picture, I was going places remember?
I was 22 at the time, it could have been our child, but it wasn't and I had buried that notion and decided to celebrate his new family with him, instead of make this about me and my issues. The ex, even back then, snatched her new child from my arms. She never did like me, alas, I digress.
As we swap stories of their individual births, I'm suddenly isolated by the disconnected memories that have nothing to do with me. His words cut to my soul as he spoke about cutting their umbilical cords, how the youngest was 3 months premature and stillborn and how doctors had resuscitated him in surgery. Daddy stands there enacting dangled, lifeless arms and my rage toward the circumstance is fueled once more.
I knew all the facts, but every time I heard them, it I feel branded, tarnished and disembodied. They always felt like dirty secrets, beautiful little souls with a dirty parental secret - the drugs, the alcohol, the still birth. Yet, here I was standing in this conversation feeling like the glitch in their family tree, the rotten apple in the midst of their perceived awesomeness. It was all a lie, yet it felt so authentic every time I heard him speak.
It all went pear shaped thereafter
By now the feelings and questions have returned. Why did this have to happen? Why did we have to share a 7 week old fetus that was supposed to, or at least could have been a 15 year old by now. A 15 year old reminder of love, a bond, a lifelong connection.
I could feel the fury burning in me, the tears welling up from my throat, never mind my eyeballs.
We tuck the kids in for the evening, love is shared, kisses and prolonged hugs that linger long after they are received. It is time now to go over legal documents and I can feel my mood souring very quickly, I'm expecting foul play - as always.
His approach is careless and with it his attention to detail. He is not bothered with fighting over 'menial things' like dates and times, he omits necessary specifics in his agreement that leave me even more bitter and resentful. She wants everything on her terms and has done very little to return, sustain or even be present in their lives - but she wants the kids, she wants to cut daddy out to the point that she gets away with it it all.
My childish retort just came out of nowhere
By now I'm snappy, I don't mean to be disrespectful but daddy's contesting my insistence to include exact dates for school holiday delivery and collections. I know it's going to come back and bite us if we don't. He doesn't see the point, "This affects me, me and my life too!", I growl at him. I should have just stopped there, I won't share my personal low, I'll just tell you that I threatened to leave when I shouldn't have. It's a pet peeve when people threaten to leave, but it came out of my mouth. He lay on the bed facing the ceiling and remained in the same position while I sobbed in the shower.
We went to bed in silence. We woke in silence.
A cold shoulder with civility and moments of a polite "Good morning" and "Have a good day". I feel I've failed.
This too shall pass
So while I spent the most of this morning in tears, I have, through puffy eyes and swollen nose, managed to track down a therapist. In doing so, my thoughts return to a friend who is in a similar situation. Although we are close, I won't discuss it with her, I like keeping my wounds hidden and as I lick them in private, possibly causing more damage as I brood.
Everyone has that one person that has the answers, maybe not by qualification, maybe not even through experience. But just as I was about to put my foot in the shower, the very same friend picks up the phone and as I answer, squeezes in a "What's wrong?" as I say "Hello". There is a support team waiting for you, if you're willing to be (even more) vulnerable to receiving help.
I decide to share my hurts and pain with daddy, he holds my hand sympathetically as I weep. It's all too much, I miss him, I miss us. This is all supposed to be our honeymoon period of our relationship and the reminders of my own failings haunt me as I learn to live with someone else's children.
They should have been mine, ours, his with me.
As the night comes to an end I think I literally heard God whisper to me, "I never said it would be easy, I said it would be worth it". It's going to be alright, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
Tomorrow is a brand new day to be an awesome step-in mom.
Let's do this.
Friday, 1 May 2015
Raising Conquerors
I had made a deal with the eldest last night. He had boldly declared that he "couldn't wait to sleep in" with it being a public holiday the next day. So unusual for him to say that, yet I fell for it. Perhaps he just told me what he knew I wanted to hear. A part of me sincerely hoping he was going to do his very best to at least humour me by faking it, until you know, 8am. I would have settled for 07h30.
It was barely 06h15 as I lay draped over the edge of my bed in a final attempt to revel in what I refer to as a 'Dolce Far Niente day', a day of sweet nothingness as borrowed from the movie Eat, Pray, Love. I could hear the kids noisily making their way to the lounge area of our little 2 bedroom townhouse. You have got to be kidding me right now.
In an instant I'm fueled with lessons from my mother dearest back in my day. Ignited with what would have been her very same loathing of screaming kids when adults are trying to sleep. The consequences back then were a lot more severe. My mother would fly through our childhood home, down the passage wielding slipper in hand. She was ready to dispense corporal punishment to the inconsiderate individual who had (knowingly or not) frazzled her from her slumber and gift them in return with embossed floral patterns on the back of our knees. No word of a lie.
I get up and reach for (wait for it) my gown. I know, how bold of me.
I make my way to the little cherubs, my great plan: promising them that tomorrow morning at 4 am I will grace them with the same regimen they had initiated this very day. Imaginary fist in the air as I gallantly open the bedroom door. I have no plans to follow through on that threat, but how do I teach them consideration if they haven't been deprived of the privilege of sleeping in?
As suspected they laugh off my bluff and continue on with their boisterous debate. Here comes dad and he's not having any of it.
Be impeccable with your word
Children are absorbent little creatures, they're listening even when you're sure you're on mute as you repeat the lesson for what feels like the 3rd time in ten minutes. I'm so blessed with a partner whose values resonate with my own and with whom I would raise my biological children with in the same fashion. We see eye to eye, on most things, which makes it that much easier to instill discipline and lesson's into his kids - and one day ours.
One of the 4 agreements by author Don Miguel Ruiz, is to be impeccable with your word. This week I've learned the importance of following through on the things you say you're going to do. Children listen to what you say, how you moan, how you tease, how you love out loud.
Two weeks ago we implemented a leap frog type of system that consists of 14 (hand cut out I'll have you know) lilly pads on the wall and 2 frogs with 2 x kids names on them. We were going to make it a race and have two rows of lilly pads but we felt it would cause the sibling rivalry to escalate, so we made one. If you're good, complete your chores in the morning and you're ready on time, you move one hop a day. If you help each other out, you both move two hops. The lesson being that by helping each other out, you get further.
This week, we instated a temporary rule applicable to the upcoming, shorter 3 day week. If you're good and you help each other out you could move 3 spaces instead of the regular max 2. The incentive - a big surprise!
Day 1 went well-ish, day 2 included some threats, with a blind eye to the fight over the hairbrush, and day 3 crashed and burned like a sad little paper airplane in a deep and murky pond. I could see my partners disappointment, he really, REALLY wanted to grant them their final 3 hops. That, and the fact that we had already committed to the delivery of Hammy the Hamster compliments of a friend whose immigrating.
Yes, we would of course be able to come up with another "big surprise" incentive before Hammy made his debut, but the kids had failed to achieve their 3 day goal. Big surprise revoked. If one fell, the reward wouldn't be passed on to the individual winner, even though the eldest was ready daily. They would both have to suffer the consequences. The devastation and low team morale was tangible. We could have easily pushed them through, but we have to teach them about consequences.
Hit them where it hurts the most
Another example of follow through is to withdraw privileges. I know this sounds like age old, common sense but we really started seeing the best outcome and lesson's learned when we got smarter. It's very easy to shout, scream or put them in Time Out - but do they learn the consequences of their actions? No.
So we started to implement withdrawal of privileges after we had caught the usually manipulative and cunning eldest in a big fat lie (yes to me, you know the gullible step mother) after he claimed he had done all his homework at school. Initially dad scolded with his usual booming voice of disapproval, hoping that something would sink it and then he made his way to the Tellie to sit with the kids and enjoy their usual 30 minute bonding session.
Realising the pattern of shout, scold, threaten and repeat, I called a Time Out with dad. We agreed that due to the severity of the crime, we would dish out an appropriate punishment close to his heart - no TV for 2 days. And boy did this child lose his cool.
Let me tell you, we may as well have told him that Santa didn't exist because the moping, moaning, groaning, sulking and brooding carried on until it was nothing short of a series of pleas that I had never seen before. Ever.
Then this happened
Sitting at the dinner table eldest pipes up with nothing short of a well versed epiphany. "Do you know", he starts, "that just because people talk, we don't have to listen. That just because people tell us to look somewhere, we don't have to. That just because people tell us to act a certain way, we don't have to." I realise that this could go either way, but being the idealist that I am, I saw the good in his statement and high-fived him in celebration.
Later on, at the same seating, I had encouraged him to look at the awakening that he had imparted onto us and apply it to certain circumstances, you know, closer to home (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
"If for example", I asserted, "someone told you that your daddy was a terrible daddy (or hypothetically I was a horrible stepmom, pfft as if!) you would then have to ask yourself if you believe that. If it's relevant. If it's harmful. If that person was around, would they feel hurt or happy by that statement." I could see the cogs turning as my little student fed on these tidbits with a keen ear and an open mind. Progress!
In closing, I told him that his new awakening could never been taken from him. He swelled with accomplishment, my little overachiever beaming with pride. I reassured him that most adults still needed to learn what he's learned and some of them never do. By elaborating on the importance of his new found Sitori, he too could use his intuition for the greater good of others.
"You have been blessed with this new insight", I told him, "You may just help someone who is feeling down, or hurting at your school. You can choose to be a light in someone's life". I could see the discomfort spanning his little face, as we've ascertained, this is very deep and with his least favourite person too. But, I know he's listening and I've seen the change in his thinking already. The lights are on and I know he's home.
Living Consciously
Today I covered our whole fridge with affirmations, I'm talking over 50!
I could hear him scanning through them breathlessly as he arrived at the dinner table, "Take time to relax dad" he retorted while we made dinner.
It is a privilege to be a custodian of two individuals that drive me insane with frustration and at the same time fill my heart with purpose.
I will give them both tools to grow and be beacons of light in a very dark world and maybe, just maybe, he lands up helping a couple of stray family members become better people - if you catch my drift.
I could be a sit-on-the-couch-and-scratch-my-backside kind of person, but I'm not. I will teach them, one day at a time, that love, is greater than fear!
Please note I keep referring to the 'kids' as kids for their protection and safety, so gender and names have been withheld.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)