whiney teenagers

So, I'm off work today and just sitting around watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV, because I'm bored to death, and it hit me just how whiney some of those girls are.  I mean, I'm sorry that it's tough to be pregnant and you can't go to the football games and parties and all, but it was really your choice, wasn't it?  If you choose to act like an adult, you have adult consequences when you screw up.  Sorry, I'm just not feeling very understanding today.

mixed feelings

Patrick left home today to move to Texas to live with his biological mother. And to be honest, I'm pretty upset about it. It's hard to see your child leave home when he's been such a huge part of your life for the last 8 years; hell, it's just hard to see them leave home, period. I've fought for Patrick as though he's my own; we've spent thousands of dollars on lawyers, countless hours trying to get him services, and shed more tears over him and laughed more than you can imagine. Kenin and I honestly believe he's best off in a group home (he blossomed in one in Montana), but when faced with the possibility of yet another court appearance, we had to give in as we can't afford to fight his mother again. I hate it, and I feel like total shit over it, but maybe this is God's way of telling us we've earned a break.

Yesterday was a really bad day for Patrick. On Tuesday, he'd managed to get into the fridge and eat 3 half frozen raw chicken breasts before he got caught, so he spent part of the night Tuesday and all day Wednesday paying for it on the potty. Actually, as unhappy as he might have been about the consequences of his actions, it sucked just as much, if not more, for Kenin and me because in the middle of trying to keep Patrick (and the carpet and the furniture and the walls and his clothing) clean, we'd both worked all day and then came home and and began doing laundry and trying to cook dinner and pack and make sure everyone had baths because Kenin, Patrick, and Hunter had to leave for Texas today. Not an easy feat, let me tell you.

And then, in the middle of this horrific day, it occured to us that maybe this was God's way of making Patrick's leaving easier. Maybe if we had a fresh experience of just a few of the things that make life with Patrick so tough challenging, then it might make it easier to see him go. Well, it turned out that it was still hard to see him go, so maybe that wasn't we were being told after all. Kenin and I did talk, though, about some of the things that we won't have to do anymore, like:

~bathe him (me) or shower with him (Kenin)
~brush his teeth
~clean poop off Patrick and the bathroom walls/floor
~lock the fridge/pantry after every use
~repair/replace furniture that's been destroyed
~replace wallpaper that got ripped off
~clean spaghetti sauce off the ceiling
~hide the toilet paper so the whole roll doesn't end up in the potty
~be constantly aware of Patrick being too quiet/too loud and wondering what he's getting into
~alter every pair of pants to fit a 24 inch inseam
~not take vacations/have to refuse invitations because there isn't a sitter
~replace clothing that gets ripped/torn up on purpose
~climb on top of the plant shelf to retrieve what's been thrown up there
~wonder if Patrick's going to throw a fit in public

All I have to say is that you have to take the good with the bad and I sincerely hope that things work out well for Patrick now that he'll be back with Donna because there's no revolving door on my home.

Whose Fault Is It?

As an educator, it's my job, and most days my pleasure, to educate children. It's my job to raise children to be a responsible, productive member of society. Part of that responsibility is teaching a child - particularly one with special needs - to behave as much as possible within societal norms.

This means that when your child locks himself in the bathroom 2 minutes before the dismissal bell rings and refuses to come out until he's told that he's missed the bus and we're calling Daddy to pick him up, you need to understand that I'm not calling you just so I can piss you off. Your child needs for us to work together to provide consistent guidelines so that he knows what is okay and what is not okay. The fact that when he apologized to you (he was obviously terrified of you, but that's a whole 'nother story), you told him, "Don't worry. It's not your fault," pretty much amazed me. I'm sorry I have to shock you into reality but, yes, it was his fault. Despite the fact that your child's sister said that he does that and worse at home doesn't make it okay for him to do it at school. If he learns that it's 'not his fault', whose fault will it be when he locks himself in a bathroom (without stalls) at the mall or at a restaurant or when you're on vacation and in a hotel room?

Thank You For Your Contribution

There've been few times in my life that I've been rendered speechless, but I'll be damned if one such time didn't happen tonight. It happened during dinner out with Pet, in a Mexican restaurant, which may or may not remain nameless, depending on how I feel at the end of this post.

Pet and I were at dinner this evening, a little girls night out, if you will, when I happened to glance off to my left (not too left, mostly in a diagonal direction), and I noticed that there was a Small Terror, jumping on the seat of the booth against the wall. (You know, that description doesn't quite do the scene justice, so let me try again.) The Small Terror, who was about 5 years old, was jumping as if he was on his very own trampoline that had accompanied him to the restaurant. My first thought, as it would be with any rational adult, was to look for the mother of Small Terror, and when I saw her seated on the outside of the booth, I realized I knew who she was, or at least her type - she was Oblivious Mom. Oblivious Mom was focused rather intently on her food, and I know this to be true, because she didn't even seem to notice when Large Terror, who looked to be about 8 years old, stood on the seat and climbed over her in order to get out of the booth.

I was amazed, I was astounded, and I was absolutely and totally traumatized when I realized that this person had not only procreated, but was inflicting her spawn on me and my dinner.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when Small Terror ducked under the table and magically appeared on the other side of the booth, or when he literally (cross my heart, hope to die) placed one foot on the table and tried to climb on the wall of the restaurant. I know I should've expected Oblivious Mom to remain oblivious when Large Terror vaulted over the back of their booth and into the one behind them (which was empty only by the grace of God, I'm sure) so he could attempt to move/play with/destroy the terra cotta planter that rested on the shelf above (and I mean way, way above) the booth, but I didn't. I didn't think that Oblivious Mom would be such a disgrace to parenthood. I didn't honestly think that she'd forget that she had children (who, by this point, had morphed into Terrors) that she was responsible for, or that she had forgotten or just plain didn't know that she had been charged with the formation of the character of these small creatures. I truly didn't think she was such a dumb ass. But you know what? She was.

Now I won't go into how I think this woman is totally shirking her duty as a parent or how I was so incredibly incensed by the behavior of this woman's Terrors that I was this close to asking her why she thought it was okay for her children to act like this in public.

I don't know who she was or where she came from of if aliens had invaded her body and that's how she became oblivious in the first place. All I know is that if you are her, this is what I have to say: Thank you for contributing to the delinquency of America.

Another Day in Paradise

What's irritating Betsy the most today, you ask? Why, thank you for your concern. Sit back, relax (believe me, I'm stressed enough for all of us), and let me climb aboard the soapbox.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday night the following email was sent to me from an administrator at my school (names have been omitted to protect the not-so-innocent):

I'm reading email and apparently there is some unsafe behavior going on in
some of our classes on some days. Because we are a Love and Logic school
this does not mean it isn't "so sad when you hurt another child" because there
are definite natural consequences that go with being unsafe in school. The
natural consequence of unsafe behavior is no participation with other
students for a while and a plan of action. We have ----- and I to help
facilitate a plan of action session with any child and he is happy to make sure
kids communicate this to their home - via a phone call. We are still
progressive here at ---. Parents are still our partners.

I sent home a kindergartner the other day, early. The child and I called
dad and said, "Oh, this is a bummer. School ends early since your child is
making it so other children are not safe." Dad came to pick him up.

Chaos is not Love and Logic. Kids recognizing that the expectation is the same - safety and respect is love and logic. If they chose to act differently, it's a
bummer because there is always natural consequences to face. Let ----- or
I help you. --- and -------- can help too! We are here to work with kids and, of course, we enjoy playing with them too.

Today, during PE, a 2nd grader put his hands around the neck of a classmate, in a choking action. This happened about 10 minutes after he had another classmate in (what looked to me to be) a headlock. While returning to class after PE, he punched a classmate for no reason. Less than an hour later, in another unprovoked attack, he hit another classmate. After losing 5 minutes of recess because of his earlier behavior, he continued to throw rocks after being warned not to and began swearing on the busy, packed playground. He was sent to the office for a 5 minute time out (his 2nd in 3 hours) where he almost tore a poster from the wall and then played with the miniblinds on the window. There was no call to mom or dad and no communication to them of his behavior other than a note that he "had a rough day".

Are you kidding me???

The reason this kid is still at school is because he has Down syndrome. He's very high functioning, but because he has Down's it's "okay" that he does all this and more. At least that's how the school district sees it.

Now, here's the other side of the coin: I have a 23 year old son with Down Syndrome. He's labled 'profoundly retarded' (yes, I know i said the "r" word) and is on about the level of a 36 month old child. When Patrick misbehaves, he knows there are consequences. He knows that if his behavior warrants it, he may get popped on the hand, he may have a favorite toy taken away, or he may get a spanking. The point is, my kid knows what behavior is acceptable and what is not, and he's WAY lower functioning than this other kid. This is not to say that Patrick is an angel all the time, because he isn't. But he damn sure knows that if he acts out, he will face the 'natural consequences'.

I'm so sick and tired of parents of special needs kids who make exceptions for their child's behavior because little Johnny 'doesn't know any better'. Give me a break! With few exceptions, yes, Johnny DOES know better, or is at least capable of knowing better if you choose to teach him. One of the most important things, if not THE most important thing, that a parent must teach ANY child is what is socially acceptable behavior. It's no more okay for Patrick to throw a temper tantrum than it is for my non-special needs kids to throw one. What is going to happen when that 2nd grader punches someone and the other kids punches him back because he or she is sick of getting hit? In my experience, many (if not the majority of ) special needs kids don't have the ability to navigate the gray area that the rest of us has. They don't understand that something is okay in this situation, but not in that situation. Things for them usually need to be either black or white, not somewhere in between.

I feel that the school (and this child's parents - but that's a whole other story) are doing less than the best for this child. And gawd knows I'm a less than perfect parent, but when that child is a teenager or an adult and is still going around doing this type of behavior, who will be to blame then?

To Be or Not To Be... Special

When Kenin and I were in Texas for Jena's wedding, we stayed with some close friends of ours, Larry and Sharon. The night before the wedding, we sat outside, talking. Somehow the conversation rolled around to the idea that we're considered by a fair amount of people to be "special" because of the things that we've gone through as parents or in some cases, simply because we choose to parent. (Sharon (Larry is hubby #2) lost her youngest son, Stuart, to leukemia when he was 8 years old, and we, of course, have Patrick.)

In a way, it's a little offensive to me that people think we're different from any other parents because I don't feel we are. We have the same hopes and dreams for our kids that you have for yours. Our expectations are the same as yours. We expect - and insist on - our children to be polite and respectful and to behave appropriately. It doesn't matter one whit to me if it's Ashlyn or Patrick or Hunter burping at the dinner table - they all know how to say "Excuse me", and they better do it. I absolutely know that one day Patrick will be on his own and will have his own life, just as any 'normal' person would. The only difference is that Patrick will be living in a group home instead of by himself. I saw Patrick dress in a tux and ride off in a limo to his high school prom. I watched him walk across the room, get his diploma, and shake hands with the principal of his high school. So far, Patrick's life is pretty much on par with most people his age. In so many ways he's like everyone else, and as far as I'm concerned, so are we.

The idea that we're somehow special or different because of our children is a bit foreign to me. Yeah, we've dealt with, and in some cases still deal with, things that most typical parents don't, but I don't think that makes us any better than anyone else. I think the comments that I hear the most often are "I don't know if I could do what you're doing", or "I don't know how you do it." Well, guys, you just kind of make due with whatever it is that's thrown your way. If you get stuck in traffic and are late to work, you don't quit your job because of it, do you? You just suck it up and deal with it, right? Now, I'm not saying that there aren't days that it doesn't just plain suck to be the parent of a developmentally disabled child, but there are just as many days that I don't want to be the parent of a "normal" child, either. And Sharon, she's lost her son altogether, so who am I to complain about my kids, aggravating as they can be?

Sharon told me that she'd asked God for a special child, and she'd gotten one, although Stuart's kind of special wasn't what she'd expected. Why did I 'get' Patrick? I don't know for sure. I know that he was part of the package when I married Kenin, but I imagine it was for reasons other than that. I think maybe God thought I should get into the 'family business' (my mom was a speech therapist, my cousin is a speech therapist, one of my mother's cousins is developmentally disabled, my aunt and uncle were foster parents for years and years, etc.) of giving and doing for others. Maybe He thought that I needed to learn patience, or to not be so selfish. Maybe it was because many years ago in The Nuthouse I was told that I was incapable of having empathy for others. Maybe I just drew the short straw. Who knows? And who really cares? This life is just what it is... mine.

Ah, to be 16 again!

Just a few differences between my daughter, Ashlyn, who turns 16 today, and myself, who was 16, some almost 22 years ago:

Ashlyn: Scared to death of driving and has no urge to even begin Drivers Ed or her state-mandated 50 hours of adult supervised driving; would much rather mooch rides from me, Kenin, her grandparents, friends, or her boyfriend. This girl will be right at home in the back of a limo should she ever be able to afford one.

Me: Although I was in the nut house on my 16th birthday, at the age of 14 (or was it 15?) I'd already 'borrowed' my parents car (and one belonging to a friend or two as well) and had driven with only my learners permit (and certainly no adult) all around the city of Augusta (GA) and the confines of Ft. Gordon. No, I never got caught by the cops, but feel the need to apologize to my brother, Tom, who got blamed for the time that I parked too close to the curb and ripped the air plug thing from the tire, resulting in the flattest tire ever seen in Kings Chapel Court.

Ashlyn: Has a FABALUSS relationship with her mother (AKA me), if I do say so myself. We talk about EVERYTHING, we bond (particularly over TV and food), and we hang out. She actually likes me, so I've decided to keep her. At least until she turns 18.

Me: Had a not-so-good relationship with my step-mom at the age of 16. Not-so-good is actually much better than my relationship with her prior to me being in the nut house. Don't get the idea that she was an evil stepmonster or anything, because she wasn't. I was just a butthead. The big turning point for me? When Ashlyn was born, my step-mom (now just known as MOM, 'cause she IS) accepted Ashy as her own grandchild. She's a great lady, and I love her bunches.

Ashlyn: Petite, skinny, and disgustingly shapely little stick of a child who eats, or grazes, all the time. I don't know who she got it from, 'cause I never looked like her when I was growing up, or even anytime after that. Ashy actually TRIES to gain weight if she goes below 105. How cool is that? Anorexia is NOT in her future. Her typical order from McDonalds (her favorite food place and where she works. Convenient, no?) is a Southwest Chicken Salad with extra dressing if you please, a Hot n' Spicy Chicken sandwich (or sammich, as we Southerners like to say) with extra lettuce and extra mayo, and a large strawberry shake. She complains her boobs are too small, but I keep telling her that at least they won't sag to her belly button when she gets older.

Me: An average sized child until about the age of 10 or so, I began to pack on the pounds after my mother died. I was a plump teenager (having the munchies during my druggie years prior to the nut house years didn't help much, either) and managed to become a plump adult. With the exception of a year before I got pregnant with Ashlyn and the year before I got pregnant with Hunter, I've always had a little extra skin hanging around. Since I can no longer have kids, I can't imagine I'll ever be slender again. Not that I'm complaining (much). I have to admit, Ashy definitely got her enjoyment of food from me.

Ashlyn: Works at McDonalds and actually LIKES it, and not just for the almost free food that she gets. She looked for a job for several months before she could find someone who would hire her, since she was only 15 at the time, and was thrilled to finally get hired. She worked her first Mickey D's birthday party last weekend, and her manager said that she wants her to do all the parties from now on. She's also training people, so she must be doing okay. I'm glad she likes it, but will most definitely have a fit if she were to become a manager. She also VOLUNTEERED to work this summer with me during the last week of ESY (Extended School Year, or summer school) with special needs kids. How many 15 year olds do you know that have been hired by the 2nd largest school district in Colorado to work with special needs kids? Do you not see how wonderful my daughter is?

Me: Although I was in the nut house at 16 (are you seeing the trend?), my first job was at the age of 15 and was at one of the Augusta-based chain of KFC-type restraunts called Wife Saver. They had good food, especially their shrimp, which you might not expect at a chicken place. But, alas, the shrimp and paychecks were not enough to keep me employed there for more than a couple of months. The lure of hanging out at the bowling alley (Of course, I didn't actually bowl. That would have been un-cool.) and smoking on the steps of the skating rink with my so-called friends was too much. I was too lazy to want to work, and would have most certainly killed any children that came in for a birthday party had they offered that as an option.

So, as you can see, Ashlyn is an incredible young lady. She is the light of my life and I'm so proud that she is so much like me, but so much not like me, too. I love her more than anything, and hope that all parents are lucky enough to enjoy their own children as much as I enjoy mine. Ashlyn, you rock.

Just how black is black enough?

Yesterday evening, 50 youtubers got to put forth questions to the 8 democratic candidates for president. Though I didn't watch the debate personally, I understand that Barack Obama was asked something to the effect of if he was "authentically black enough" to be president. Now what the hell is that about?

Just how black does Obama have to be? Does he need to be involved in a drive-by shooting (as the shooter, not the shootee) to be black? Does he need to have a certain number of children born out of wedlock by multiple baby mamas? Would that make him black enough? Does he need to have been in prison or in a gang or be a high school dropout to be considered black? Does he need to live in the projects and be unable to speak eloquently to be black enough to be the president of the United States?

Though this may be an unpopular sentiment, I think that that blacks should be thrilled that they have an intelligent, articulate, well-informed candidate who has the chance of being president. Why are people bitching? I mean, he's gotten a whole lot further politically than either Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton have. You ought to be thankful for what you've got instead of complaining because Obama's one of the more successful black Americans.

On a personal note: I really like Obama and the things that he appears to stand for. Unfortunately, he just doesn't have the experience that Hillary Clinton has. If he had waited until the 2012 election, you can believe that I'd be one of the first ones to back him, but as of now, he just needs more experience.

Kudos to US Weekly or I'm So Sick of Paris Hilton

I read today that US Weekly won't have a single mention of Paris Hilton, who was released from jail a couple of days ago, in their upcoming issue. The spokesperson said that the magazine felt the public was on Paris overload. All I have to say to that is AMEN!

I'm so sick of this stupid (she didn't even get a HS diploma), trashy (remember the nekkid coochie pictures?), fake hair-having (not only is it dyed, she's got extensions, too) party girl (isn't that what got her dumbass in jail in the first place?) being all over the news. And why is she in the news? 'Cause she's rich, and she's got nothing better to do than waltz around the red carpet pretending she's someone who's actually ACCOMPLISHED something. Give me a break. Wouldn't it be great if someone was in the news as often as she is for doing something good for humanity? I can at least stomach Angelina Jolie, she's a good will ambassador or something. But Paris?

And while I'm at it, what the hell is up with these girls like Paris, Britney, Lindsay, Nicole, and whoever the hell else, going around, getting trashy drunk, doing who knows what all kinds of drugs, holding knives to peoples throats...? These girls are on the way to a very public explosion, if they don't change their ways. And where the hell are their mommas during all this? Why don't they step in and snatch a knot in their asses? I mean, I know they're over 18 and all, but what were their mommas and daddys doing in their 'formative years', when they should've seen this train wreck approaching? What the hell? That's bad parenting, folks. Bad, bad parenting.

Reflections on Kids and Parenting

Yesterday I spent the day just hanging out with Boogie (aka Ashlyn) watching the tube and being goofy. I feel like we have a pretty good relationship considering she's a teenager. When I was her age, I didn't want a thing to do with my parents and only thought they'd been put on earth to embarrass and bug me. I don't know how typical that is, but that was me (yes, I was a pretty screwed up kid). Ash and I make it a point to spend time together, usually bonding over episodes of Gilmore Girls, shopping, or going out to eat. Ash actually hangs out with me and Kenin in the evenings, talking and watching the tube! I'd have NEVER done that, even if you'd have paid me, so I know I have a decent kid on my hands. Yeah, she gets in trouble some, but what kid doesn't? I look back at the way I was, and she's so much like me, but so different at the same time. I admire the hell out of her. She's her own person and doesn't care what other people say or think. She's not the Follower I was, always trying to fit in somewhere, anywhere, and always with people who used me. I'm proud of her. Speaking of parenting... I have become my parents. Well, not totally, but to a point. As a kid you think your parents are dumb as a box of hair, right? Well, the older you get - especially once you have kiddos of your own - you realize that they weren't so bad after all. My kids have almost every single rule that I had (granted, I broke them all) when I was growing up. I open my mouth and hear my parents voice coming out and sometimes it just astounds me that I was such a complete idiot as a kid. Just like my parents told me, I tell my kids "When you have a child of your own, you'll understand why I do and say the things I do." And you know what? They will. I think the biggest difference between my parenting style and that of my own parents is that I joke and kid and play around with my kids a lot. They know I'm the boss, but Kenin and I act like kids, too, sometimes. We're very open with the kids about things, and they know almost all of those deep, dark secrets of my life. My kids know I got in a lot of trouble growing up, that I was in the nut house for a while as a teen, and that there were a number of things that I did that they should never do. Since the kids were toddlers, I've drilled into them that they must graduate from high school, go to college, get married and THEN have a baby. I want so much more for them than what I had. My teenage and early adult years could've been really good, but I made a lot of mistakes that I don't want to see them repeat. They're good kids, and I want the best for them.