adoption, family

The Pressures of “Adulting” Like a Supermom

The term “adult” has shifted from a noun into a verb in today’s nomenclature. The act of “adulting” means to behave as a grownup is expected to. Being a grownup myself, one might assume I could accomplish this so-called “adulting” like a pro. After all, I’m only a handful of years short of forty!

When parenting children who have experienced complex developmental trauma, things tend to get turned upside down. Probably, parenting is a process that can get the best of anyone.  Adopting older children continues to be a strange and (at times) confusing journey for me.

My children come from a background of fighting for survival, fighting as a way of communication and fighting as the tool to get their needs met. In other words, Carl is masterful at drawing people into an argument and/or shouting match. He is good at the power struggles. He’ll make a great lawyer or reality TV star someday.

In therapeutic parenting the point is to stop struggling for power. You and your child are supposed to work together to find solutions. Its the two of you vs. past trauma as opposed to parent vs. child. In order to do this one must be proficient at “adulting.”

I’ve written before about Carl’s struggles with food insecurity. This comes in the form of hoarding food or binge eating high-value “junk” foods that we don’t usually keep in the house. Luke bought frozen pizza roles at the grocery store and it’s been a struggle every day since then. Carl wakes up in the night to eat them (even still frozen) or begs to have them at breakfast. He will stomp, scream and shout to try and get access to them. It’s our job to teach him that these behaviors will not earn anything for him.

Part of the therapeutic approach of Trust Based Relational Intervention (TBRI) is making compromises. If your child is asking for something rather than demanding it, then you should try for a compromise or some form of “yes.” In theory it fosters connection and teaches good interpersonal skills.

I wish I could say that I “adulted” through the latest pizza role drama like a pro. Usually I do. Last night, on the seemingly 35th consecutive day of nonstop pizza role negotiation, I snapped. I pretty much had a mom-tantrum.

The pizza role struggle looked like this:

Carl: Demands pizza roles 10 minutes before dinner.

Me: Reminds him to ask instead of tell. Offers to discuss this after dinner.

Carl: Tries to bargain from 20 then 17 then 10 pizza roles.

Me: Begins to grow a burning hatred for said pizza roles. Evilly fantasizes about throwing the entire stupid jumbo bag into the outside trash bin.

Carl: Eats dinner by shoveling an entire plate into his face in under 5 minutes. Does not gag. Politely requests 10 pizza roles.

Me: Ignores growing hatred for pizza roles. Asks for a compromise. 5 pizza roles to start with after Carl showers. If he is still hungry in 1 hour he can have another 5. In between he should try fruits and vegetables which are always readily available. Pats self-on-back for using a compromise like an awesome therapeutic adult. Score 1 for Supermom.

Carl: Follows compromise with the exception of doubling the amount of pizza roles and attempting to shove them all in his mouth at once to avoid detection. Ends up with burns inside his mouth.

Me: ???!!!

Carl: Yells at me for noticing this but not the other times he has stolen food. Yells at me for starving him and never letting him eat. Yells at me because his mouth now hurts from being burnt.

Me: Loses all semblance of adulthood and therapeutic calm. Yells at Carl that he better complete his chore (empty litter box) right away.

Carl: Shouts, “Why do you have to get mad at me every single day?!”

Me: Shouts, “Why do you feel the need to lie to me every single day?!”

Carl: Corrects me by retorting, “That’s not lying that’s cheating! I didn’t lie I cheated!”

Me: Begins a disturbing descent into madness.

Carl: Cleans litter box while yelling. Accuses me of getting mad over food. Turns red and continues yelling about how much I suck as a mom. I should be mad about cheating instead of lying.  Refuses to put trash bag of litter into outside trash bin. Reiterates that I suck as a mom.

Me: Proceeds to suck as a mom. Raises voice about lying and breaking compromises. Threatens to revoke television privileges.

Carl: Runs into his room (forgetting new plate of pizza rolls) and locks the door behind him.

Me: Grabs litter trash, forgotten plate of pizza roles and entire jumbo bag of pizza roles from the freezer. Storms outside and dumps them into the trash bin.

Carl: Turns on his SMART TV in the safety of his room.

Me: Unplugs the internet router, effectively ending Carl’s TV time.

This was not very adult of me at all. I gave myself a time-out. I went to my room with my adult coloring book with some gel pens. It’s actually a very soothing activity. I gave myself the remainder of the evening off. Carl eventually apologized to me over the walkie-talkie. My only response was a weary, “copy.”

It took me a few hours to regain composure. Eventually he radioed in an “I love you. Goodnight.” I was finally able to swallow my burning hatred of pizza-rolls to blurt a half-hearted, “I’m sorry too, kiddo” over the walkie.

For the rest of the night this “adult” colored and watched Hallmark movies about nice families who do not fight to death over a stupid pizza rolls!!

**Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

***I am not affiliated with, nor do I represent,  TBRI or Sasha O’Hara coloring books in any way. Click on the links above for more info.

Advertisements
Standard

20 thoughts on “The Pressures of “Adulting” Like a Supermom

  1. Jack says:

    In our house, we get the 89 cent terrible frozen pizzas from Stop & Shop. I usually buy them in sets of 8. [ Never a multiple of three, lest one of our 3 kids decides that they can be claimed ahead of time] The frozen pizzas have actually been a breakthrough for us – the first food the children are willing to cook for themselves, at least occasionally. They think Ramon noodles are way too much work. Even the 90 seconds in the microwave for a frozen pizza sometimes seems like too much waiting and too much work for our oldest (13 and a half). Lately the fad has moved to frozen dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets – 7 on a plate for 1 minute. It’s amazing how often I find forgotten plates of chicken nuggets in the microwave.

    I’m a big fan. My wife showed me your blog weeks ago; I’ve been reading it though in chronological order, from the beginning. Today was the first day I got to read a post that was fresh! You are awesome – so strong, and so brave to write all of this down and share it. Thank you for sharing. You used to be so confident. Alas, it appears that your sweet 13 year old is turning into a real teenager. Even without the trauma, he’s programmed to be a pain in the butt for a few years.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. skinnyhobbit says:

    Hugs! It’s okay. It’s not about never having ruptures, the repair is the important thing, so my therapist says. He felt safe enough to GET MAD at you, to me that’s really amazing. Hugs to you! I’m glad the colouring books helped.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Kathrin says:

    Thank goodness you are human after all! 😊 I love how you tell these stories… although I know being in it makes me want to go for a run …. to Afrika ….
    sending love and strength!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. One time, after a particularly trying day with all three of my kids, I realized we needed milk (including a mom-tantrum). On the drive home from the grocery store, I seriously contemplated not returning home. Like, I calculated how far I would get with the amount of gas in the van and the money I had in my wallet. Then, I ugly cried in the van until I felt sane enough to go inside and shoulder it all again. We are human, and sometimes life is hard. Knowing when to take a breather is really important to keep us keeping on. Be kind to yourself, you are doing your very best.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. C says:

    I don’t adult yet it’s a large part of why I am in therapy. I also just receive a diagnosis of Autism and it makes sooooo much sense. Last week I had to do a treatment plan. and one of my goals was appropriate relationship. I can’t handle those and I don’t have age appropriate relationships either. Another on was deal with other people’s insinuations and provocations. Parts of being an adult. So, you are way ahead of me and were at the age your kids are. I know I have said this before but your kids and your family has come along way and doesn’t always do harm to mom lose her cool at this point. Conflict is also part of adulting and Carl was able to apologize and tell you he loves you. Objectively not a total loss.

    Like

    • Thank you. For what it’s worth I think you “adult” all the time. You are able to synthesize information and process complex concepts. You help me to understand things all of the time. Relationships are hard. I think it takes a very mature mentality to look at your diagnosis and determine goals. Good for you!

      Like

  6. Beth says:

    food issues are so hard! No matter how hard you try to be sane and therapeutic and not make it a power struggle, sometimes kids’ food behaviors are so extreme. I once had a meltdown at my younger daughter after she spent the better part of an afternoon sneaking into the kitchen to eat an entire loaf of bread slice by slice. This was in the midst of months of very out of control eating behavior. I remember screaming something to the effect of “bread is not a snack!” Not my finest moment. I’m sure you will break into a cold sweat at the sight of pizza rolls for the rest of your life.

    Also, I totally need that coloring book.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s