Life of the Bees

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.

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.

 

 

 

Today was one of those I suck at this days.

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.