Finally.

I can’t count, but I can tell you it’s been about elebentybillion.

The Kid is normally very good with food, I normally have to insist he eats 5 carrots before he leaves the table and as soon as I so much as utter the word PUMPKIN in the house, he turns green and dies…

only to come back to life within seconds to scream “I’M NOT EATING PUNKIN”

*sigh*

Add Little Man into the mix and oh. my. lord.

The child has food issues (that’s putting it lightly) and i’m sure he’s only existing on 2 minute noodles, sausages, nuggets and ham sammiches.

There was a moment when LM piped up and said “I eat potato now” and I cooked EVERYTHING out of potato.

Turns out, no.

Little Man does NOT eat potato.

Unless it’s in a chip of course.

*sigh*

While I was busy pulling my hair out freaking that this child is not eating any vegetables, a lightbulb went off and The Angels sang.

You can of course add any veggie you want.

I’m not going to admit that I was smirking when The Kid asked for more, nor will I admit to locking myself in the pantry and giving myself a fist pump when Little Man ate his small bowl either.

You’re welcome.

]]> http://lifeofthebees.com/2012/05/eat-it-or-have-nothing-at-all-its-your-choice/feed/ 6 http://lifeofthebees.com/2012/05/birthday-boy/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=birthday-boy http://lifeofthebees.com/2012/05/birthday-boy/#comments Wed, 16 May 2012 03:34:34 +0000 sass http://lifeofthebees.com/?p=644

I started the day with Moo sitting on my chest and trying to stick his tongue up my nose and down my throat.
It’s a very attractive feeling.

Or not…

We’ve snuggled and wrestled and played and I let him bark for a whole 15 minutes uninterrupted as I figured he was out telling the neighbourhood that he’s 5 now and a big boy.

Tonight we will (of course) prepare him a steak dinner and a piece of cake for dessert…

I’m not a crazy dog lady.

I promise.

I have had a good reason to…

Little Man came to stay for a couple of days…and it was like he never left.

He came running upstairs with his bag clattering behind him, raced down the hall and threw his bag in his room.
He stormed up the hallway, into the kitchen and grabbed a packet of scooby biscuits.

It was there, standing in the kitchen where I came undone.

He looked at me, dead in the eyes and said

And from there, we just rolled with it.
Sometimes he called me Mum or Mummah but most of the time he hollered SAAAWAAAHHH when he needed his movie changed or help with playdoh or another game of dwagons and swords or just someone to play with.

The Kid was very excited to see his brother (it was a surprise…even to us, we didn’t know he was coming until the day he arrived) and was super good sharing his toys and letting him tear his bedroom apart.

We took the boys down to the gasoline and garter belts festival which was full of rockabilly beauties and Hotrods.

Faithikins and I had great fun getting our rockabilly on…
My suicide roll brings all the boys to the yard and Lex has to chase them off with a stick.

I’m desperate for more tattoos, My sister kindly designed the layout for my chest piece, it will be a work of art people…when it’s finally finished.

We need to move house as the parents know where we live (thanks a bazillion DOCS) and had a rock through The Kids bedroom window, plus add the fact that we have a nice indoor water feature every time it rains because of the old crappy roof on the house.

The thought of moving with kids just exhausts me.
I can’t find anything big enough to fit us all in with enough room… as we are preparing to have Little Man placed with us AS WELL as their sister Little Sister.
(did you like how I slipped that in there?)
I’d like them all to have their own bedrooms PLUS a playroom/kids retreat so I can shut the door on their mess… It gives Husband palpatations at the mess they create and as much as I repeat over and over that “They are Children. They make messes. It’s their JOB” however, the shade of grey Lex turns is worrying.

The Kid said I was the prettiest foster mum in THE WORLD!
The fact that there was Apple Pie and Custard on the line will be ignored.
I’ve also been told that The Kid goes around school bragging at how awesome my cooking is…which is awesome as normally I get a “meh” if I ask if he liked what I made him… I am thinking that “MEH” is 11 year old for “THESE NOMS ARE TEH AWESOME” or something equally as cool.

I had my first ever mothers day as a mummy and it was a non event (THANKS HUSBAND)
The Kid gave me his cold (he’s very generous) and the boys gave me some perfume…that I picked up and handed to husband at the shops on Friday.
We ate the chicken pie that I cooked, I cleaned the house and made my own tea in the morning.

I can’t WAIT for fathers day! :P

In all seriousness though, Lex is awesome and works SO hard for our family and I did have a lovely day with the kids 

I still had to make my own tea though.

ON MOTHERS DAY!

Today it is Best Friends 30th Birthday.

The first day we met, we went to dinner at Burger King and told our life stories.
My husband asked if we connected our fingers the world would end.

I’m sure he’s right.

When something goes wrong she is the first person I call.
Even before my mum.

She cried with me when my heart was broken
and cried with me when the cracks started healing.

I wanted to set the world on fire when her heart was really broken
and her marriage was ending.
It’s the hardest thing to do…
watching your very best friend go down a path alone
and you can’t do anything but stand on the sidelines
and hold hands and offer support when it’s needed.

 So, to Shanee,
You do not need any one to give you permission to be happy.
You love hard and passionate
and that is the way it should be.

I am so grateful that you have found love and happiness
and I’m so happy that you have Jim.

You are the greatest mummy I know and I know that Mac will
grow to be big and strong, but sensitive like his mum.
Woo will set the world on fire with her beauty but her
kindness that she gets from her mummy will mean she will
be loved by everyone that meets her.
Those babies…they are the luckiest children to have you in their lives.
You are kind and loyal and beautiful
and you are my very best friend in the whole world.

Happy Birthday

My life would be much darker without you by my side
and I will always be beside you,
whether it be with a baseball bat, a cup of coffee
or a shoulder to cry on…

I’m here.

Forever.

xxoo

So…

The Kid got suspended.

There is nothing quite like receiving that phone call from

the principle of the school…
I knew it was bad when he took 15 minutes to tell me what had happened.

I did what any parent would do.

I got off the phone and poured a really big glass of wine.

Okay, it wasn’t that big…
but it was certainly needed.

I admit, I was so disappointed and yes, a little a lot cranky.

We were doing so well.
The Kid is using his knife and fork. Properly.
He says please and thank you
Looks us in the eye when speaking to us even when he’s been told off.
Grades are going up and the school is noticing the difference.
From last year to this year and the time we have had him, The Kid is different.
New…He holds his head up high, he looks like he belongs.
Hell! He feels like he belongs…
And a kid in the foster care system need that more than anything.

The other day he came home and unpacked everything in his room.
He’s been living out of these huge stinky boxes for months, re-packing anything we un-packed and living like he’s only on vacation.
It’s okay.
That’s normal.

Until he came home and took everything out of those boxes and filled shelves and bookcases full of his things.

Slowly the walls are being filled with pictures and posters and drawrings.

As I stood in his room during the night time routine the other night, with his space night light that casts dots of coloured lights across the walls and ceiling, I wanted to cry.
This is his room.

So yeah.
I was cross that he got suspended because I KNOW that he KNOWS that his behaviour was appalling.

Yes, I know that he was angry and frustrated and scared and he’s so conflicted and that reverting to violence is easy and all he has known his whole life…
But I also know that he can use his words. He can walk away, He CAN chose a different path.

And it’s hard teaching him that.

When he got home we went and sat in his room and had a discussion with what had happened and why.
I told him that KNOW he is a good boy and that next time, I expect him to choose a different reaction.

Sitting on the bed, with his head in his hands The Kid says

“No there isn’t. There is no good in me at all”

Please excuse me while I go and sticky tape my heart back together.

I told him that I KNOW he is good and nothing he could do or say would make me believe any different.
I repeated “You ARE a good boy” more than I can count, the whole time he’s sitting there with big fat tears falling from his face.

Then I went and hid in my bathroom for a couple of minutes and bawled my damn eyes out.

We took away the computer games, the xbox and the TV…which funnily enough has had the most impact.

Instead of watching TV he’s been forced to spend a lot of time in his room or making his own entertainment.
This weekend The Kid made awesome cool star wars paper models, he’s coloured, read books on his bed, re-built lego and found where “those spare pieces went”
He helped me make soup, learnt about where salt comes from (I’m like a freaking encyclopedia man) and spent a good two hours throwing the ball back and forth for Moo outside in the sun.

The difference is amazing.
Sure, It’s been impossible for me to get any work done at all because as soon as I jump on the computer he’s hanging over my shoulder looking at what I’m doing…and kid breath on my neck while trying to write CSS is REALLY ANNOYING.
BUT
This morning while I was making him a drink I asked him what he learnt from getting suspended.

He looked up at me and said “If I get suspended again, I won’t get any electronics or TV for a week, so next time, I will just walk away.”

Sure, it wasn’t a life changing revelation where he vowed never to attack a teacher over a soccer ball again because violence is bad, Yo”…

But it will do for now.

What do you mean I’m a top 50 blogger?

There once was a woman called Sass
Who had quite a sizable ass…

No?

I have a confession to make.
I am not a mummy blogger.

Actually that’s not really any confession as it’s clear as day.
Mainly because, I am not a mummy.

Sure, I have the role of mummy, I cook, I clean, I bribe The Kid with appropriate toys like Light Sabers, bow an arrow toys that shoot paintballs (WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?) and double serves of ice cream in return for a moment of quiet, socks picked up of the floor and good behaviour at the shopping centre.

I have had moments where I literally turn into my mother, using saying that I swore I would NEVER use on my own children…
and I guess I’m kinda right…

I started blogging years ago, looking for a place where I could write the word Fuck a lot and pour all of my anger and sadness and grief over our infertility and how damn unfair it all was.
I yearned for someone to read my blog and say “I know what you are feeling” and in the infertility community I had that.

For years I belted out my rage on The Secret Life of Sass and Lex, hating my body for failing what is supposed to be the most natural thing a woman should be able to do.
I had hundreds of hands holding me up as month after month nothing changed.
Still holding me up after failed IVF where I wanted to curl up and let that deep black hole of depression take me under and never return me to the life of the living.

Instead, I used my words.
I wrote my grief, found that inside I am stronger than I ever thought possible.
All the while feeling the hands of my readers holding my hand and holding me up.

I found my ‘funny’ again, wrote of my most embarrassing moments, decided that I would write about my period. A lot.
Bribed my husband into buying me an iPad,
Vlogged chair dancing with my iron man mask,
Laughed,
Cried,
Lived.

I am not a mummy blogger although I did everything in my power to be one.
I wanted to be one more than anything in this world.
I wanted to share pictures of my bouncing newborn baby
I wanted to write hilarious stories of my children pooing in the public swimming pool

Instead

I am original.

Life of the Bees is about LIFE

Learning to move on from pain,
My outlet as I stumble through the hardest thing we have ever done in our whole lives.
Where I can be all “Hey, how the hell do I become a parent to an 11 year old?”
and
“How many yogurts can I give a child without killing them”
or
“Holy Crap I am failing at the parenting thing”

And I still know that I have those hands, holding my hand, holding me up.

This blogging thing is pretty awesome.

If you vote for me you could win $5000. That’s like, a major shopping day, a small car, a credit card paid off, or in my case, a day at Ikea…
SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

We’ve been busy…bees in this household lately.

Boring stuff.

Wonderful stuff.

Cooking
Cleaning
Washing
Oh GOD when will the washing end?
Whinging
Laughing
Crying
Grounding
Making up
Hugs
Homework
Fights over homework
Star Charts
Star Wars marathons
Princess Bride watching
Bay-Blade playing
Basketballing
Bedtime routine
Feeling like I will never get enough sleep again…
but being wide awake before The Kid is awake
That Mummy Alarm Clock is on.
He coughs and I’m awake and checking on him.
Moo snuggling
Husband groping
(only me folks)
Fringe cutting
BBQs
Friends for dinner
and
MooZoo working

normal life stuff.

There have been days where it’s been hard.

Oh my sweet Lord, they have been hard.

So hard that I’ve called my mum in almost tears

Conversations with Husband with me saying “I don’t think I’m good at this”

Husband having conversations with me saying “I don’t think I’m good at this”

But he is.

He’s wonderful.

The best role model any child could ever ask for.

The best husband I could ever ask for.

*sigh*

There are days when The Kid is just a normal kid.

He has normal 11 year old attitude, he rolls his eyes when we won’t let him play the computer before homework, tries to find an excuse to stay up later, complains about showering and brushing his teeth, complains about how many carrots we put on his plate and whinges that his brother gets more milk in his cup than he does.

And then there is The Kid with the snarling monster inside.
The Kid that knows only rage when he is frustrated and angry and hurt.

These boys really know hurt.

The hurt of neglect, violence, abuse, hunger and fear.

The Kid has had a hard couple of days. Ear infections are the worst ever and The Kid has really suffered…which in turn means we have all suffered through it with him.

Husband is amazing. The best foster daddy you could ever imagine and the best husband to me.
The evenings when he has come home and i’m literally dead on my feet and near tears after dealing with The Kid who goes from being a hilarious child with a wicked smile to attitude which has me grinding my teeth to nubs, to tears and refusing to take any pain medication or his antibiotics and Little Mans own trauma, Lex holds me up, rolls up his sleeves and jumps into parenting the boys as best they have ever had.

Little Man…

Oh Little Man how I just adore you.

This Little Man needs a mummy and I will be that mummy until I can no longer.

This Little Man, who they said could not form attachments and is mute is very much attached to me.

From the moment he gets up, to the moment I put him in bed and fall asleep by the side of his bed while singing the family ‘Nigh Nigh Song’ he is mine and I am wholeheartedly his. I hold him in my heart as if I have birthed him myself.

He crawls all over me, asks for cuddles when he is tired, we play dwagons for hours and he gets bored before I do.

He cuddles into Lex and I swear, I melt inside when I see my boys sitting on the couch together, Moo included.

There is nothing that I would not do for him.

Which is why I am dealing with my very own hurt too.

You see, The Little Man left us last night to go back to his interim carers until we can hopefully get him back permanently.

Yesterday afternoon he was overly attached, he would not let me put him down. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without a melt down of epic proportions. We were patient and after quiet time on my lap, he opened up and spent the rest of the afternoon socialising with our friends which was so special for us all to be apart of.

We came home for dinner and as we arrived his carers were there to collect him.

Sitting on the couch while I ran around like a headless chicken re-packing his bags that he had unpacked twice in the day, the carers said they had to leave.

And when my little man realised that he had to go with them, he looked at me and his face just crumpled.

He screamed while I carried him to the car.
He howled while I strapped him into his car seat.
He grabbed me and would not let me go.
Then putting his arm out reaching for me as he screamed and cried and begged NO NO NO NO NO

And my heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

I held it together until we managed to close the car door and I had to walk away.

And I cried the hardest I have ever cried before.

I cried for my little man, who was so confused and hurt and scared.

I cried for The Kid upstairs who had to hear his brother be ripped away from us.

and I cried for us.

The only chance we get to parent are to children who belong to someone else.

Who are damaged and hurt and traumatised.

I cried as my heart shattered into a million pieces.

I fear it will not heal until he is back here, with his brother, with Lex, with Magic Moo and me.

His stand in mummy.

Little Man is traumatised. He’s one of the most traumatised little boys I have ever ever seen.

And it’s just so fucking sad.

All I want to do is get down on the ground with LM and cry with him. I want to go and punch every asshole that has ever hurt him. I want to set fire to them for the damage they have done.

Instead while this baby sits on the hard wood floor of his brothers room and screams with such rage and despair, I sit with him.

I look him in they eye and I say

I know.

You are angry.

It’s okay.

Yesterday he raged for an hour. Anger just poured out of him for most of it and then after, for twenty minutes, he just sobbed.

I’m hurting and I don’t know what to do with all this hurt tears.

The whole while he looked at me.

Into my very soul.

Today I have been watching him like a hawk, waiting for another one, bracing myself for the pain, but today, he was okay.

Our little mute boy is talking to select people, he’s funny and so damn cute it will rip your heart out.

And like The Kid, Bed time with Little Man is my top favourite part of the day. And again, not because they are going to sleep (okay, maybe a little)

We read a bedtime story or two…okay, maybe three and then I turn out the light.

Before I walk out the door Little Man looks up at me and says “Sawah, will you pwease stay wiv me? Just till I falled asleep?” and not even an octopus in a clown outfit spitting worms would get me to leave that room.

I lie on the hardwood floor and let him run a matchbox car up and down my arm, or let him wind my hair around and around his fingers until he finally falls asleep, cuddling the soft toy dog that I bought him before he came to stay.

Dear Lord I love this child already.

…

The Kid had a terrible day and no amount of sticker chart, bargaining, bribing or  talking was going to make him calm down.

He’s testing us.

testing me.

To see if I will still love him and care for him.

He’s hurt.

Hurting.

He expects us to send him away and keep his brother as that is what has happened before.

And I’m not going to lie.

Today he had me so close to the edge I was gripping my teeth and ready for the fall.

I have to keep reminding myself.

All he knows is anger and aggression.

This is his vocabulary.

It’s my job to teach him new words and how to behave in the real world.

So, continue Kid.

Be angry.

You deserve it.

Why should you be anything but?

I’ll be here.

I’m not going anywhere mate.

This isn’t meant to be easy and i’m sure there will be days that are a million times worse than this…

Tomorrow is a new day.

Or some cliche.