These last couple weeks have been the perfect storm of little things, designed to take a tired, frazzled mother and wear her down to the very end. I have not managed to hold out. When I came here, I put the whole trip in God's hands and could find that inner peace again, even when things got difficult. I guess I am finding that works better for large problems than small ones! It just seems like it is one thing after another, each perfectly manageable on their own, but each taking some of my energy, and ending up requiring more energy than I possibly can summon.
There was Hibiscus's fall, and then I got a cold, and then Emerson got sick and his asthma flared up in the middle of the night and he was home from school. And my fall. And I didn't really get better, and Emerson didn't really got better, and Buttercup got sick, and Hibiscus got really grumpy about cleaning her wound every day.
And I kept having trouble with my internet, which after spending a day chasing down answers on the phone, it became obvious that someone random was using my internet data -- as in, ALL my internet data, and I had to keep buying more. I had to go to the store downtown to reset my account, but I'll have to go to their main office to resolve the whole issue.
And Buttercup woke in the night with croup, and in the morning looking bleary, and I cancelled everything for a couple days to avoid spreading the croup.
And a package finally arrived with some practical hot-weather wraps that I ordered from Europe a month ago, but the post office decided that since there were THREE wraps then obviously I am a business selling wraps, and they charged taxes accordingly. Apparently they don't want anyone doing business in this country, because the taxes are about 60% of the total cost of the wraps, which is really really way too high. So I'll need to get the paper from Miss B (who owns the PO box) and go downtown to the post office and argue with them. The whole thing is preposterous, because everyone laughs at me with my long European style wraps instead of the short, normal, African ones, and anyone no one here could afford to pay those prices, especially with 60% VAT, never mind adding on profit if I actually were a business!
And I've continued to be sick, and Buttercup has continued to be sick, and Emerson is only very slowly getting better, and Hibiscus is trying really hard to be sick too. She was taking antibiotics for her wound when we all got sick, and I am guessing that helped push it away for her. So we've all been to the doctor this week, and then I went back the next day for more tests, which ends up taking most of the day. I don't have anything they can figure out, but I have a couple minor, recurring infections popping back up; ones I know how to treat, but are an extra annoyance.
With three kind of sick children, it is pretty much guaranteed that someone will have trouble falling asleep, and someone will wake up in the middle of the night coughing or peeing or crying, and someone different will be feeling perfectly fine and bounce out of bed at 6 am.
Just in case I happened to take a moment to remember that we are actually here for the purpose of legally adopting two children, it turns out that there is bad news in that direction too. Our case is filed, but there are no judges hearing cases. So it's sitting there, doing nothing, and all our time dealing with tropical rainy-season illnesses is not actively getting us any closer to actually leaving the tropics.
Speaking of the rainy season, it's still hot on most days, but it also has a period of an hour or so when it pours cats and dogs, usually sideways. About 22.5 hours a day, this doesn't matter, but there is one hour when I have to walk to pick the kids up from school and walk home again. That's always an interesting gamble. Also, it seems like on most days we either have power out for most of the day, or the water is out. The last two days have been neither: two days ago, our gas tank for the stove ran out, and yesterday, the water came out brown. Gotta keep things exciting.
(And lest I seem too impatient with these country-wide problems, our whole apartment building has back-up power, except for our little apartment.)
AND, there are even a couple of disasters which I don't want to write about publicly! Imagine that! One of those has totally taken over our day today.
Did I mention that I'm kind of sick? And one of the problems is my tummy feeling off, so I haven't been eating that much. Which isn't a big problem when you're sick for a day or two, but after two weeks, I think not eating much is contributing to my lack of energy. Our cleaning lady even said "you used to be fat, but now every day you are getting smaller and smaller." (Which I find highly amusing on several counts, actually!)
So, this would be a good time for the kids to be well-behaved, or at least... kind of tired and lethargic or something. Right? Not reality, I'm sure you will be surprised to hear.
Buttercup is busy exploring her toddlerhood, which appears to involve a lot of screaming and defiance. There's suddenly been a rash of getting things removed, as she's warned to not throw toys and then looks at me and throws the toy, or to not play with her food and carefully drops lumps of it on the floor. The most noticeable development, however, is the screaming. Not any words, just high-pitched and loud whenever she doesn't get what she wants. Such as after the thrown toy and smooshed food are removed. Or when she plays with knives or cell phones, or has to divide treats with her brother and sister, or has to leave the sand box at their school. Or when she thinks it's time for a chapati, but the neighbors have not finished making chapatis yet. SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAMMMMM!!!!
I'm glad she's coming out of her shell, and I just rejoice to see an actual personality emerging from the shell-shocked, passive child I met this June. But can't she manage to be a "good girl" by Ugandan standards for just a few more weeks?
Emerson is doing okay. He's a lot less explosive and emotional than he has been for most of his 4-year-old year, which I genuinely appreciate. Maybe it's being sick, but he's still going from "can I have this please?" to "noOOOOOooooo I WAAAAAaaaaant it nooooOOOOOWWWW!!!" in about 1.2 seconds flat. And baths! If he would just get in the bath when he needs to get in the bath, and consent to having his hair washed when it's dirty, my life (that is, my bedtime routine!) would get so much easier! This is one of those struggles that I have a little bit of trouble seeing the point of, given that when the debate is Emerson vs. Mama in Whether It Is Actually Bathtime, the score is currently at Mama: 1003 vs Emerson: 0. Um, can we just do it and get on with life now?
And Hibiscus. My dear Hibiscus.
On Monday after school she was just plain rude. Also, it was somewhere around there that we came up with a new Family Policy, which is Teeth Will Be Brushed in Order From Youngest To Oldest, No More Arguing. Which of course meant that Hibiscus had to spend the week dashing to get ready and sit on the toilet and call "I'm ready, mommy!" to try and circumvent the new rule. The next night we added another layer to the rule, which was And Baths Will Happen From Oldest To Youngest, In Opposite Order Of Teeth Brushing. You would think that might make her happy, but she sulked about that one too, and kept trying to insist that it was actually Emerson's turn. (Buttercup doesn't take baths at night, she takes them when I do when the kids are in school, although if I leave her and turn my back, she will just climb right in to whatever bath is available.)
On Tuesday after school, she was rude, and after various warnings and short Sits, she hit me, so she had to go into the bedroom for a 10 minute Sit in her bed. After quite a struggle, she decided she would stay in the bedroom, but she would spend her time on MY bed, not hers. I was trying to make dinner and deal with other meltdowns, so I didn't want to physically force her into her bed as long as she wasn't bothering anyone, but I told her she couldn't come out until she had spent 10 minutes in the correct place. So naturally, she sat in my bed and the bathroom until it was time to put dinner on the table. I reminded her every few minutes that she would miss dinner if she didn't get her Sit finished, so she finally started it during dinner-time routine, and needless to say, didn't get to sit down with everyone and sing the blessing, and was very upset. And Emerson had to clear and set the table by himself.
Now I will just take this opportunity to say, I don't really CARE which bed she spends her Sit in. I hate nitpicking and fighting battles like this. She was quiet and content, and that was what was important to me. But my instinct is that in order to keep us all in order, I have to be absolutely clear and inflexible. When she gets destructive to herself and other people, she has to calm down in her bed. That's reasonable. She doesn't get to change around some of my directions in order to suit herself; little children don't need that much power in this family.
Again, I could be wrong. Some parenting philosophies suggest that by giving children choice in the things that don't matter to you, they'll be more willing to follow your directions in other things. So maybe by saying "choose your quiet time calm-down spot," she would stay there. But my feeling is just that Hibiscus and Emerson are Absolutely Black and White kinds of children. If they get to choose where to have the calm-down time, next they'll be figuring out what else they get to be in control of. The point is, once they have demonstrated being totally out of control, like hitting people, they don't get any more choices. I make them, and my decision is one's own personal bed. Actually, she has a little bit of choice, because I say they can read in bed, so she can pick any of the books on the bedside table, or play with dolls or something quietly in bed, but not go across the room to pick out more things. That's what I consider an appropriate child-level decision at that point.
Then on Wednesday, the kids were playing outside and Emerson came running in, eyes wild, to tell me that Hibiscus had gone outside the gate. Our apartment is completely walled in, and has a caretaker/guard 24 hours a day, so they are pretty safe playing outside even when I can't directly see them. Luckily, Emerson is at that literal-minded, rule-enforcing kind of age, and he rushes to tell me whenever he sees anyone else breaking the rules (as does Hibiscus, for that matter). I don't know how far up the road the guard would have let her travel, as he was there, but I snatched her up and put her in her bed until dinner. I said going out the gate without permission was a No Second Chances kind of rule, and I updated our Family Policies to reflect that!
The other thing about sending her to bed until dinner? She actually does really well there. By the end of the school day, she's exhausted and manic, but she actually calms down and will read and sing to herself for long periods of time. Having her audience of siblings removed takes away most of her desire for showing off, and I'm sure that choosing what to do with no outside pressure or imitation is very healthy for her. I wish she would take that rest time without being forced, and thus becoming resentful towards me!
Thursday we did an errand after school, so it was a even-shorter afternoon, and she managed to not get into trouble. I think. Except for general rudeness.
It was somewhere around here that half the lights in our house just plain stopped working, whether or not the power is on, including the light by the dinner table and all the lights in the bedroom. This means we have to put on pajamas and read books by candlelight, since the kids have also broken our one portable light. Can you imagine how many arguments we can get into about the candles?
Friday..... you know, I started writing this on Saturday morning, when I actually remembered Friday evening, but now it's Monday and I have forgotten the specifics of the day. It went something like this.... I thought about accepting the neighbors' invitation to dinner, but realized that it wouldn't be served until the time my children were usually falling asleep, and they just could not physically and emotionally manage that, so we would go eat lentil soup in our own house. That was not a popular decision with the lilliputian crowd.
Hibiscus was rude. Buttercup screamed. Emerson stormed. Hibiscus had terrible table manners, and I had to keep threatening to take away her plate and she'd immediately reform until she thought I wasn't looking (or just plain forgot; "do not eat avocado with your feet" is a new concept around here). Buttercup imitated the terrible table manners. Hibiscus was more rude. I had to take away both their plates. Hibiscus was rude. Buttercup screamed. Emerson went on and on about how good he was being. Hibiscus was rude. Time for bed. Hibiscus refused to do any of the normal things she was supposed to do. Emerson wouldn't get in the bath, and then wouldn't wash his hair. Buttercup screamed. In the 45 seconds it takes me to wrap up Buttercup and put her out of mischeif-potential, the other kids got water all over the bathroom. Hibiscus was rude. Hibiscus was rude and uncooperative to the point I said I wasn't going to help her brush her teeth, she had to do it herself. She wouldn't do anything. I started reading books without her. She sulked and finished up.
And I don't even remember what the last incident was. She hasn't been screaming at me until she vomits at bedtime for quite a while, so it was something slightly different. I think she kept picking up other books and "reading" them rather loudly while I was trying to read to the other children, or maybe she was singing, or maybe it was some other kind of noise. But eventually I told her she was too loud and she had lost the privledge of being with everyone else and bothering them, and I picked her up by the elbows and put her on the stairs from the bedroom to the bathroom. She started to scream, but I warned her that she was going into the other room if she did that. I'm wondering how out-of-control her behavior actually is, because it turns out she can usually stop when the alternative is going in the other room! So she sat on the stairs and sulked.
And I finished the last book and tucked the other children in and said their blessings. I say each blessing individually, snuggled up next to their little bodies, and I thank God for the strengths of that child and praise them for the good I saw in them that day, talk about understanding the struggles they have had (Emerson usually wants to talk back and forth with me, but Hibiscus just lets me tell God about how hard I know her day must have been), and pray for the kind of person I want them to grow into -- a specific example of using their natural powers for good, like Hibiscus's determination; or balancing out what they need, like strength and confidence in her individuality for Buttercup; or an adult manifestation of childish virtues, like Emerson taking care of his little sister. I also pray for myself and that God will help me be a good mother for that child, again using specifics from the day. I hope the children hear the message that I know that I'm not perfect and I am working and praying to improve myself, even as a mother and an adult. So, no matter how awful our day has been, I try to end on that loving, thankful, and forward-looking note. Although I still have to do the children in a specific order!
After everyone else was finished and had their turn, I invited Hibiscus to come back into bed. She ignored me. I did the last tucking in and smoothing down, and invited her again. She still ignored me.
This is a long chapter, but do you remember the beginning? About the internet pirates, and being unable to get my package, and being sick, and everyone else being sick, and not being able to sleep through the night, and the paperwork getting stalled out, and still being sick?
I was so tempted to say "goodnight, Hibiscus," and walk out of the room. I stood there, almost doing it.
But I was a big girl. I went over and took her hand, and she wouldn't look at me, but she stood up and walked with me, and lay back down in bed. I tucked the blanket around her. I snuggled up next to her, even though I was so frustrated I really just wanted to slap her. I stroked her hair, even though she's been rejecting my caresses by telling me it hurts whenever I touch her hair. And I said her blessing, and I thanked God for her life, and I thanked God for bringing her into our family.
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And that was what I planned to write when I started this post on Saturday morning. And then Saturday got worse, it got way way worse, and it was all Hibiscus. She did some things that went from "this is really annoying" into "this is affecting lives," that I'm going to protect her privacy by not writing about. With some space to consider it, I know in my head that it's not out of the realm of normal for a child of her age and her background, and I can't expect her to behave better than her life so far has prepared her to behave. I think that her overall actions have shown that she wants desperately to be in a loving parent-daughter relationship, she just doesn't know how to do it, or doesn't trust herself enough yet. She also is learning and gradually changing her behavior, and I can tell she's listening to me. And most of all, she's a little bitty girl! She's only six years old. She has so much time to grow and change.
But meanwhile, I'm all alone by myself. I have no one to advise me. No one to take the kids for an hour if I'm exhausted. No chance to get an extra hour of sleep on Saturday morning. When she's getting sassy to me, there's no one to invite her over for a game of Crazy 8's and get her thinking of something else; it just escalates. And with three children, and school taking up most of the day (and all Hibiscus's energy), I don't even have a chance to play bonding games or do Wilburger's brushing technique or have conversations about her birth parents and why she is living with me. I can keep them clean and fed and enrolled in school, and that's about it. I feel like treading water is the most I can hope for, and meanwhile she's caught in the rip tide off by herself.
And this weekend, I had had it. Some people read these posts and praise me for my patience or super-mom-ness. I'm not that spectacular, I'm just a naturally calm person, who doesn't show much of my emotions, including being upset or angry. But I finally reached the end of my rope. This weekend, I actually yelled at the children. Multiple times. I don't think I have ever raised my voice beyond snippy and irritated with my family -- not because I'm a saint, but because I'm not a yeller. Well, I did it. And I was so mad at Hibiscus in a deep way, that everything she did irritated me and I blamed her for everything. I just couldn't stop. And it spilled over onto the other children... I got mad at Buttercup for wetting her pants and at Emerson for telling me about Hibiscus hitting him, which are stupid, stupid things to punish a child for! I just wanted them all away from me!
So I tried to not say anything at all. They went outside to play after lunch, and I let them have cookies and I didn't make them come take a nap. If they weren't bothering me and we weren't fighting, I didn't care. But it didn't really help; I was just as irritated with them, and blaming with Hibiscus, when they came back in.
And once they were in bed, no one was even on Skype, so I couldn't have even have a conversation. So I thought about wraps and what my favorite colors were. And I didn't feel like I could ever come back to writing this, at least without changing the name, because I felt like I had lost any claim to rising above anything.
And now it's Monday, and I'm trying to start the week fresh. I think I'm not very sick any more, and I'm going to hire a car and try and get a bunch of errands done tomorrow. I was going to do a couple things today, but Buttercup was extra tired from missing her nap yesterday, which turned out to be just as well since it started to pour -- and I have a little chance to think. The children are back in school, and Buttercup is snuggled on my back, sleeping in a soft woolie wrap. And my parents are coming on Friday! I've come back to try and write about the week, and that made me think about this awful weekend.
And I realized, that I wasn't quite as bad as I felt I was. Maybe I wasn't always acting like a big girl, but at least a medium-sized one. The children were actually fed and bathed and got their homework done, which is more than some families manage (as Hibiscus and Buttercup can attest with their lives). I managed to stop talking instead of saying some of the mean things I wanted to say. I didn't hit or spank or slap anyone.
And I still said all three blessings every night. I thanked God for each of these children.
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