Wednesday, March 23, 2011

My New Favorite Song and Artist

Crank up the volume and try not to play this over and over and over and over while dancing in the kitchen.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Spit Socks

If you follow Mama Drama - Times Two, you know about our very brief honeymoon period with our new 8 year old.  Here's the story....

In between pumping and vacuuming water and emptying out our flooded out basement, we picked up our new little guy, Manny, from an RTP on Wednesday.  After a gourmet family dinner at W*ndy's, we got home to unpack and get settled.  He came with two bags of clothes and a suitcase large envelope of medications!  The list of meds was a full page, typed!  YIKES!  He enjoyed meeting the dogs and cats, seemed to like his room, and got along with the boys.  He went off to sleep with no issues.  So far, so good.

Thursday morning, I got him up and off to school and Mamma greeted him at the end of the day.  She had the pleasure of dealing with his poopy pants--he apparantly likes to poop in his pants in the afternoon and sit in it.  I'm sure Mamma will blog in more detail about this but I will say that this was the first time he, personally, had to deal with the clean-up, and he was not happy about it.  He got through it and other than your annoying, constant, tiring, trying basic oppositional behavior, we hadn't seen any major behavior issues.

Friday's schedule included a doctor's appointment to follow-up on an MRI he had earlier in the week for a strange bump above his eye.  The MRI showed a bone growth (yea, great, huh) and I and his Social Worker were taking him to the doctor. 

This is where the Spit Sock comes in. 

After refusing to pee in the cup (I saw oppositional, controlling behavior, they saw a kid who didn't need to pee, hmmmm), and scheduling Bone Scan and Bone Density tests for next week, we went off to the hospital to have some blood drawn. 

He refused to get out of the car.  After 15 minutes I contacted his Social Worker who agreed that he really needed the blood work so he came to meet me.  After another 15 minutes, still no movement.  As soon as his Social Worker and I attempted to help him out of the car, he went feral.  I held his two wrists for I don't know how long while he kicked me and the car, tried to bite me and himself, tried to scratch me, head banged and head butted, his Social Worker and I decided to call crisis.

Crisis advised that since we were already at the hospital, we should call the police.  This sent the boy into even more of a rage.  The police officer tried everything to calm him but after the boy head butted and spit, the police officer called for a spit sock and put him in hand cuffs.  That about broke my heart--an 8 year old in hand cuffs.

Once he got into the emergency room it took 9, yes, 9 adults to restrain him in order to remove the hand cuffs and put him in soft restraints.  He spent 24 hours in the ER and is now in a residential treatment for 2 weeks. 

We aren't sure yet how this is going to end.  Mama has been counseled by her Mountain Top Moms to say NO.  We have been calling him and will visit this week. 

He has 2 more medical procedures next week -- one that involves an injection of dye -- and I am soooo happy I will not be taking him.

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Hit Parade

The other night, Mama and I were chatting about the 8 year old who will be joining us this week.  Behaviors, of course, were at the top of our list of wonders--along with favorite foods, clothing size, will the school transportation be set up (he attends a school that specializes in behavior challenges 3 towns away), and how will he be with our pets. 

I commented that after 26 kids through our house, it can't be any worse!  Different, maybe, but after what we've seen, come on.

I mentioned something one of our older girls did back in the day when we were new, naive foster parents.

Mama had completely forgotten about it! 

HAH!  Lucky her 'cause it's all there in my memory bank, swirling around like a mini-tornado, kicking up dust.

Here's what happened:  Every once in a while, "E" would stop taking her anti-depression meds because she "liked the rush."  And what a rush it was for the rest of us!  She wasn't particularly easy to be around on a good day with all her meds on board.  Without her meds, she made bi-polar look like an amusement park ride.

This particular time, her behavior was particularly erratic--she was fighting with EVERYONE--no one was safe.  Not her boyfriend, not our other foster daughter, not our son, not us. 

So, I guess I wasn't totally surprised when I received a phone call at work from the high school vice principal telling me that the School Resource Officer had had to escort E from school grounds for, are you ready for this......


Yes, you read that right.  Painting another student with, if memory serves, green paint. This is a HIGH SCHOOL student we're talking about.

Sigh.  What's a mother to do?  Ask if she gets credit for creating performance art? 

We all know that asking E for some sort of explanation would be an exercise in futility, but hey, we can dream can't we?  So, I asked E what that was all about.  Her response, in full and complete sincerity was, "He was bothering me!  What was I supposed to do?"

There you have it.

It's a good sign that we can chuckle belly laugh now.  Back then, not so much.

So, over the next few blog posts, I thought I'd share some of our kids' most memorable moments--our version of the Hit Parade.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Our Homecoming

After spending four days in Orlando with the most incredible women in this entire universe, Mamma and I sadly rode the van to the airport, quietly boarded the airplane, (yes, I enjoyed channel surfing again), and arrived back in our frosty, snowy, Northern New England town.  The change in weather was enough of a shock to our systems, never mind the reality that we would not be surrounded by those beautiful women and the love and acceptance we experienced in Orlando. 

Driving home from the airport we wondered what sort of a weekend it had been for the boys and the babysitter. 

After navigating through three very excited dogs who met us at the door, we were greeted by a calm, sane babysitter.  She told us the weekend was good.  GOOD!  No one ran away, hid in the woods, tried to harm themselves, or had any  meltdowns.  All behaviors we have seen in the past when we have been away from them.

One had his final basketball game of the season, they all went clothes shopping, to the movies, helped with dinner and the pets, did homeowrk--all pretty average stuff. 

The best part was this:

The boys had baked and decorated a cake for us!  They missed us!  Yay! 

I miss the Orlando Moms.