Bottom and Back Up

It's days like these that make me question everything that I think of myself. All of my self-worth goes down the poop hole and my confidence takes flight and is perching on the telephone wires outside, waiting for it to be safe to come back in.

I screamed a lot today. A lot a lot. I knew fostering would be hard, and I knew I would have to change and I knew that would be hard - but I didn't know that before I could turn into the person I want to be, I would very likely lose my mind and become a crazy lady for a minute. But I guess sometimes you have to go where you never want to go in order to have total disdain for it. And it happened. Today it happened. I lost all control and screamed until my throat hurt.

C spent the better last half of the day in her room because I could not take the bickering, the poking, the teasing; the total disinterest in how her own actions affect others. I felt horrible about it. I am not that kind of person. I reach for teaching moments like hummingbirds reach for sugar water. But today I had enough. And I knew, as I told her that I was not going to talk to her and that she needed to stay put until I was ready to deal, that I was hitting rock bottom.

And what makes it even worse is that this morning I lathered her with attention! We read stories one-on-one for about thirty minutes and she helped me fold towels (the book mentioned that children need to feel needed. They need to have skills in order to be their happiest and most well behaved. That misbehavior comes from feeling like they don't belong). I did the two things I knew bring her to her to happiest and it still didn't work! She was still terrorizing everyone!

Instead of a teaching moment I was having a shoving moment. I was avoiding the problem and therefore avoiding the teaching that could be happing. It was one of those times where the the knot in the necklace needed to be set down to avoid the temptation of throwing it against the wall. And now, as I think of it this way, I do the same thing with babies. When the crying is too much, I think nothing of putting them down and gathering up my wits that have been scattered. What is the difference in this situation? And I think maybe it's because she's old enough to know, to be taught, and I feel like I should constantly be doing that. But today I was just broken. Tomorrow will be better and maybe I can keep her out of her room a little longer. And maybe I can keep my head together and use my whisper instead of my scream. This is all so hard. It's made me cry more than once.

***Steve got home, knew I had a rough day of it, offered to take all the kids on a drive, and I went to the gym. I got back before they did, sweaty and fulfilled after using some pent up stress energy on the elliptical. By the time C came cruising in the door, I was ready for her and took her up in a big hug and apologized for yelling. To which she replied, "Where?" Looking around as if she didn't even understand what I was telling her. Which made me all tight inside again but I just hugged her again and said, "Not where, when. This afternoon. When I was so mad. I am sorry for yelling." We hugged and she said, "I love you" and that was it. Better hopes for tomorrow.