Boundaries II

I’ve had Sheltie dogs for the last 15 years of my life.  My first was a four-year-old named Simba.  He was a rescue who’d been beaten horribly by his first owner and he had seizures – scary seizures.  At the time we got him, we lived in a big old Victorian home.  It didn’t have a fence around the yard.  I had to keep him on a leash when he needed to go outside.  The one time I tried to go out with him without a leash, he took off after an old-order Mennonite family in a horse and buggy and their horse took off running.  Shelties, even over weight Shelties who suffer from seizures, are FAST.  I have another rescue Sheltie now.  He’s somewhere between 8 and 11 years old.  We’re not sure.  We have a fenced back yard now, but we found out he can be really fast, too.  We had to buy baby gates to corral him in the house because if the mailman or the UPS guy comes to the door, he’ll take off after them.  He’s chased the UPS truck down the street twice since we got him eight months ago.  The baby gates provide a boundary that keeps him, as well as the UPS guy and mailman, safe.  The leash kept Simba safe, as well as the Mennonite buggies that went by our old home every day.

We have some pretty tight boundaries for our traumatized teens, too.  Some people think I have them on a tight leash and have told me so in so many words.  Others think we have a pretty high fence around our family.  I think they’re right.  And I’m totally okay with that.

Boundaries help traumatized kids feel safe! 

Let me just say this before I begin.  I know there are readers who will strongly disagree with me.  If you are one of them, I simply ask you to look at the results of my parenting practices.

As we’ve traveled through the last five and a half years of parenting our adopted kids, we’ve learned this in very clear ways.  We knew boundaries helped our older, neuro-typical boys feel safe.  However, we’ve learned more acutely than ever before how firm boundaries have helped Youngest Son and The Princess.

For example, our kids do not have the freedom to come and go with other kids like our older boys did at the same age.  My older boys could navigate the challenges most teenagers face because of their secure and consistent-from-birth background.  I know my youngest two do not have that same background and it makes a difference in how they are able to handle certain situations.

We waited to allow Youngest Son to get a learner’s permit to learn to drive.  He got it last spring and still has it.  He will not be getting a driver’s license any time soon.  He’s not ready and I’m not ready to allow him to drive.  We tried, but it’s not yet time.  And I don’t want to risk allowing him to damage my car multiple times – or risk having him get hurt.  He’s proven he’s not ready.  What kind of parent would I be to allow him to continue to participate in an activity he clearly cannot handle?  Does it show him I don’t trust him?  Or does it show him I know this is a better choice and that I love him enough to keep him away from danger because he’s demonstrated he’s not ready for this?  I think it’s the latter.

We also don’t allow our youngest kids to date.  They’re not ready.  The American cultural phenomenon of dating is not a necessary developmental milestone for teenagers we have learned.  This actually developed over time because our oldest son did not want to go through the date and break cycle.  He chose to wait until he was ready to make a commitment to someone and it was then he pursued a relationship with someone he believed might be a life partner.  Dating wasn’t casual for him.  His younger bio brothers adopted that idea and we, as the parents, adopted it from there.  We believe God was ahead of us in this for the sakes of Youngest Son and The Princess, even as He was for our older boys.

This doesn’t mean our kids haven’t had boy/girl feelings for certain friends.  And we don’t discourage that.  But we don’t allow one-on-one dating situations.  It’s one of our boundaries while our kids are still not ready for the responsibility.

People have asked how we stop it?  Why don’t our kids rebel and have a boyfriend/girlfriend anyway?  The answer is, we don’t need to stop it.  Our kids know the boundaries and they feel safe because those boundaries are firm.  They’ve actually told us so.  We’ve taught them the reasons why.  We’ve taught them that God places His own appointed authority over us and as kids, their primary authority after the LORD is us, their parents.  We’ve also taught them that while the government may say they are “adults” at 18, we know they are not fully ready for all the responsibility of an adult at the age of 18 and their older brothers confirm that.

Just like anyone else, we cannot watch our kids 24/7/365.  But we don’t need to because our boundaries are firm.  Our kids feel safe.  We make the boundaries broader as our kids show they are ready.  If the widened boundaries turn out to be too broad, we reign them back in.  We make our kids’ worlds smaller.  It works.  We’ve learned this as we’ve gone along.

Youngest Son does not participate in any activity that is not adult supervised.  If he goes somewhere (on foot) with a friend, I know where he is and he has a firm time frame for when he is to return.  I use technology.  I know where he’s going and I follow up.  Since setting this boundary, we’ve had zero problems with our son behaving appropriately in the community.  He has a job.  He participates in sports.  He comes straight home after school and he texts or calls me when he’s finished training and is on his way home.  It’s the same time every day.  I know he’s on his way, but he still texts me.  It makes him feel safe and it’s one of our boundaries.

The Princess participates in orchestra at school and may have friends over.  She may also go to spend time at the homes of people I trust.  I must know the kid and I must know their parents.  Time frames are never open-ended.  There is always a specific beginning time and ending time for the visit.  Knowing when she’s coming home makes The Princess feel safe.  Knowing the parents and knowing exactly who she’s with makes us both feel safe.  As long as the boundaries are in place, we don’t worry about her getting into situations where her entire future could be in jeopardy.  The reigns are pretty tight.

We believe in second chances, though.  We are firm, but not rigid.  We are authoritative but not authoritarian.  We want our kids to spread their wings and grow.  Just because a mistake is made once doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance to try again, but we don’t allow the same bad choice to happen again and again. 

I think the reason why our firm boundaries help our kids so much is because their early lives were so uncertain.  There were no boundaries.  There was no safety net.  The big people in their lives couldn’t set their own boundaries let alone set them for the kids.

Boundaries are good.  Boundaries keep us safe.  Boundaries make us feel cared about and loved.

Don’t be afraid to set boundaries with your kids.  One day, they’ll be 25 years old and telling other parents how good it was to be raised with firm boundaries.  You may even have a 14-year-old explain to a peer how inappropriate a choice is because it does not respect their own or another person's boundaries!

Here’s an article I found about helping people with complex trauma backgrounds.  #2 – Firm boundaries!

Sum-sum-summer Time: Transitioning Traumatized and Attachment Disordered Kids from Routine to Vacation

It’s interesting to me that the most read posts here over the past week are those having to do with IEP meetings, adoption issues, and teacher education on trauma and attachment.  In order, these most read posts are:

Preparing for an IEPor 504 Plan Meeting:  The Basics forParents

Identifying PTSD and RAD/RADish Issues

Fact Sheets for the Classroom

Dear Teacher:  Six Dreaded Assignments

Dear Teacher:  About My Child in Your Classroom

It seems a lot of my dear readers are busy preparing for the next school year, lining things up for their child to make for an easier transition into a higher grade, or even a higher level school.  It is good to prepare for this.  It is good to learn and to teach those who will teach your child what they need to know.  It is good to let them know your child has different abilities than typical students.  However, there is something else we parents need to do as we prepare.  We need to prepare for the transition of school routine into the more laid back and take-it-as-they-come days of summer.

If your family is like mine, you may already be seeing signs of stress in your kids as the school year winds down.  My kids get out of school the third week of May.  My daughter-in-law graduates from college next weekend, too and we plan to travel to attend her graduation.  In response to that stress, things have begun to ramp up around here.  The Princess has gotten into trouble at school and she’s had more issues at home more often.  She is struggling with peer relationships again.  She complains of being bored often, but will not respond to any suggestions to break that boredom.  Youngest Son is, so far, handling this time of year the best he ever has, but even he has gotten more snippy and has even less tolerance for his little sister than normal. 

Dr. Michael H. Popkin, Ph.D.

So, if you’ve recognized the summertime transition stress rearing its ugly head in your home, here are some things we’re trying to employ in our family.  Maybe some of these things will work for you.  These tools are based on Dr. Michael Poplin’s FLAC method of active parenting.  (I teach his Active Parenting course to parent inmates in our local county jail.)  For the purpose of parenting my hurt kids, I also intertwine things I’ve learned from Dr.Karen Purvis, Dr. Bruce Perry, things I learned in grad school as I studied the “old school” psychologists such as Alfred Adler (the individual as an indivisible whole), Erik Erickson (basic trust vs. mistrust), and a little of what Heather Forbes teaches as well.  Below is a brief explanation of FLAC as practiced in our home:

F L A C 

Connect.  Connect.  Connect.  (The “F” of FLAC – Feelings.)  Remember the parenting mantra of the 80’s?  “Quality is more important than quantity.”  Well, it’s bunk.  Ten minutes of so-called quality time does not equal one hour of real face time.  Our kids need us around them to connect.  Relationships take time.  Relationships need time.   Karen Purvis teaches that traumatized and attachment disordered kids are lonely kids.  They need connection.  They want connection – even when they push connection away.  Connect.  Connect.  Connect.

When Youngest Son comes in from track practice, I stop whatever I’m doing.  I touch him.  I put a hand on his shoulder or his head.  Sometimes, I put an arm around his waist and give him a sideways hug and joke with him that it “smells like” he had a good work out.  We laugh.  He tells me about his day.  We connect.  It makes us both feel good.

When I pick The Princess up from school at the end of the day, I watch her body language and her facial expressions as she approaches the car.  If she looks stressed, I tell her so.  If she is hyper, I ask her if she’s happy about something that happened at school – or if maybe something happened that frightened her a little bit.  Sometimes she talks right away.  Other times, she waits.  I take her to a fast food drive-in that has a “happy hour” where the drinks are half price.  We share a strawberry lime-aid.  We giggle.  We talk. 

At home, especially when things get more stressful, we try to spend even more face time with the kids.  Even if we’re sitting on the same sofa and watching a movie together and NOT talking, we’re together.  We’re connecting.  It feels good.

The World Gets a Little Smaller.  (The “L” in FLAC – Limits.)  Those who know trauma and attachment issues know when stress increases, the world needs to decrease.  It helps our kids feel safe.  It helps them regulate themselves better.  It helps them deal with a larger world later.  As parents, we need to set limits for our families.  What works for us may not work for another family, and that’s okay.  This year, for us, that means allowing Youngest Son to run track and have a little bit of free time with some buddies after practice is over, but he gets home by 5:30 and is here to set the table for dinner.  It means he has the freedom he’s earned as he has matured and done so well in school and in the community, but he’s got to be home when he's expected.  It means he only taking driving lessons from Mom (Dad drives him crazy in the car), and not just anyone over 21.  For The Princess, it means one-to-one play dates with trusted kids from stable families – kids in whom she can find a mature-for-their-age and positive role model.  It means thrift store shopping dates with Mom and craft sessions making bracelets.  It means rules that work for our family and rules we stick by.

In the past, when things have REALLY gotten out of control, limits have included removing bedroom and closet doors and accompanying teens to and from (and sometimes during) all activities.  You do what you have to do when it’s appropriate to do it.  You let lose the reigns a bit as the child is able to handle it.  For Youngest Son, that has meant a lot more freedom since this time last year.  He has matured far more than I ever imagined he would at this point and he is handling it well.  For The Princess, things got harder this year.  Middle school was rough.  We’ll spend some time regrouping.  She’s a smart and motivated kid.  I know deep down she’ll get there, too.  For now, her world is smaller than it is for typical 13 year old girls.  She is a hurt kid dealing with a lot of stuff.

Be Ready with Choices.  (The “A” in FLAC – Alternatives.)  Even though our kids are sometimes so out of control it’s crazy-crazy, they NEED to feel as though they have some control over themselves and their lives.  So much of their early life was out of their control.  They had no choices.  They were victims.  In our family, we often say we don’t want to be the victim anymore.  We don’t want our kids to grow up being a victim.  As they’ve gotten older, they understand what that means. 

Alternatives can mean giving a child a choice between two things.  For example, my daughter LOVES the battle of the clothing war, especially on Sunday mornings.  One of our “L” (limits) in our family is that we dress modestly.  For us, that means no cleavage and no spaghetti straps unless they’re layered over a top that covers more.  It means no short-shorts or short skirts unless they’re layered over at least capri-length leggings.  My daughter often gets into the mode of “forgetting” what the dress code limits are.  Now, we give her alternatives the night before.  She has the freedom to choose an outfit, but we have the freedom to add to that outfit, or suggest alternatives.  If her choice is inappropriate for our family’s limits, she gets to choose between two alternatives decided upon by us.  Does it keep her from pushing her father to buy her a bikini every time they go to Walmart to pick up milk?  No.  But she knows the limits. 

Choices can also mean a choice between compliance or a choice to miss out on something they want.  For example, one of my daughter’s chores is to empty the dishwasher when she gets home from school.  She also loves to play on the Wii after school each day.  The LIMIT is that she needs to put the dishes away BEFORE she can play on the Wii.  She can choose to put the dishes away right away and play on the Wii before supper.  Or, she can choose to put the dishes away later, but then there is no time to play on the Wii because then it’s dinner time, shower time, and Dad & Mom’s TV time.  She has choices within our family’s limits.

Back it Up With Natural Consequences.  (The “C” in FLAC – Consequences.)  When our kids fail to comply with our LIMITS or don’t agree with the CHOICES (Alternatives) we allow, there are natural consequences to their behavior to teach them the discipline they need to learn.  An example Dr. Popkin gives in his Active Parenting course is one in which a older child is instructed to put his bike away and not leave it in the drive way.  The first time it happens, his dad tells him how leaving his bike out is inconvenient for his dad.  When it happens, Dad has to stop the car, get out, and move the bike before he can park the car.  He asks his son to remember to put the bike away and asks if he agrees to do that.

When it happens again, Dad is more firm.  He uses “I” messages to tell his son how he feels when he comes home and has to move the bike.  He tells his son he feels like his son doesn’t care about his feelings.  Again, he (more firmly, but still calmly) asks his son if he agrees to put the bike away.  However, when it happens a third time, Dad takes the bike and locks it up for a period of time (one day for each year of emotional age of the child is my suggestion).  This is a natural consequence for not taking care of the bike.  Since the son was not interested in doing it, Dad took action and took care of the bike in a way that solved his problem and demonstrated to his son that he needed to take responsibility.  Our actions (or lack of action) have consequences. 

Natural Consequences Scene from "Active Parenting" by Dr. Michael Popkin

When we have the routine of school, FLAC seems to be much easier to accomplish in our family.  Our attachment disordered kids thrive best with routine.  Summer isn’t so routine around here.  We’re going to try to do better with that this year, even as we give our Youngest Son more freedom and monitor The Princess to see how she’s doing.  Here’s what we’re going to try with our teens during the work week:

No later than 10:00am- Out of bed, breakfast, dress, etc.

10:30am - Some free time to “wake up.”  None of us are morning people.

11:00 - Daily chores (straighten bedroom, straighten common areas of house)

11:30 – Screen time (Wii, TV, or computer)

12:30pm - lunch

1:00 - Library, Pool, Rec Center to play ball, or volunteer position at animal shelter (time with friends in more structured environment than just “hanging out”)

4:00 - Free time at home – Can have a friend over

5:30 - Evening chores (Youngest Son sets table.  The Princess empties the dishwasher.)

6:30 - Dinner with family

7:00 – Evening activity or free time with family

9:00 – Shower time for The Princess

10:00 – Shower time for Youngest Son *unless out with youth group on planned outing, Bed time for The Princess

11:00pm – Normal bedtime for Youngest Son (and parents)

You’ll see our planned scheduled is structured only to a certain extent.  There’s a lot of time in the schedule for flexibility within the structure.  I find that when my kids have too many activities and events planned, we run into irritability and resistance.  I want them to enjoy their vacation.  However, I don’t want them to feel “lost” during the summer.  We’ve made that mistake in the past.  My kids like to know what happens next.  Youngest Son especially has ALWAYS needed to know “the plan.”  Vacations where the whole family goes away to relax and take things as they come, drive him nuts.  They are especially stressful times for him.  Still, every 16 year old, whether emotionally 16 or not, needs down time.  If he gets up before 10 a.m., that’s okay.  I’m not going to make him get up earlier, however.

Having this more structured time over the summer I hope will also help my kids make the transition into the next school year more smoothly.  The schedule will change, but at least we’ll be going from schedule to schedule – not from “whatever” to schedule.  That’s the plan.  I’ll let you know how it goes in August.

I Have PTSD

You will keep in perfect peace 
those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. – Isaiah 26:3

 I do not rest in “perfect peace” for very long, or very often.  My mind whirls around “what if’s” more than it is ever steadfast.  I would like to believe I do indeed trust in God.  However, I’m sure there are some who would tell me the PTSD I’ve developed these last five years or so, and the hyper-vigilance in which I live much of my life, proves otherwise.  It is what it is.  I am who I am.  Some people love me.  Some aren’t so fond of me.  I am learning to be okay with that.

I wish so much that my hurt kids – your hurt kids – could learn to be okay with it, too.  I guess if I’m still learning to "be okay with it," then it is a bit much to expect it out of someone so much younger than I, who has been through so much more than I.

“Wait a minute, TMT.  You’re saying YOU have PTSD?  I thought it was your kids that were dealing with complex trauma and attachment issues.”

source

Yes, Grasshopper.  I have developed my own full-blown case of PTSD.  Going through what I went through in Eastern Europe to get my two youngest children home was enough to develop the disorder.  (Just ask my friend, Diana who had a similar experience.  Like her, “I’d rather shave my legs with a spoon than go through THAT again.”  However, it is the 4.5 years that have followed, parenting two hurt tweens into their teens, that have brought me to my own very real state of not-so-perfect peace. 

For anyone reading who may be a pre-adoptive parent or a newly adoptive parent, PLEASE understand this:  It is still worth it and I’d still do it all again if it meant having The Princess and Youngest Son as MY children.  Heck, I’d go through that and more.  Well, now I would.  (Being honest here.)  Now that I love them and they are fully mine.  But it took time.  We didn’t bond instantly.  I didn’t feel as though they were “mine” for a very long time after they were home, and even that came in stages and is still a process because attachment is a two-way street.  It is worth it.  But it’s not for everyone.  Don’t do it because adoption is the call of the Church, or because all your friends are doing it and are having an okay time through it.  Don’t do it because the kids are cute.  Don’t do it because you want to make a difference.  Do it because you are called and it is your life to do it.  Do it because you know these kids are yours, even if they don’t FEEL like they’re yours and it takes a long time.  It’s worth it.  But it’s not for everyone.  And it’s stinkin’ hard sometimes.  It’s frightening.  It’s not easy to dwell in perfect peace.  Trust is not a steadfast understanding here all the time.  Trust is sometimes hanging on by the fingernails for dear life because you’re completely spent and there’s nothing else to do but hang on.  Sometimes, trust is letting go. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
 and lean not on your own understanding; 
in all your ways submit to him,
 and he will make your paths straight.  – Proverbs 3:5-6

 Whenever I begin to try and understand what it really means to raise two teenagers from another culture who have been through the abuse and neglect my kids have been through and yet, are still standing, still thriving the best they know how, still trying hard – really, really HARD – to make it in this world, and that I get to be a part of that with all my faults and failures, I am blown away.  Words don’t come.  Still, the path is far from straight.  So I hang onto the promise that He will make it straight in His time.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
 neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord. 
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
 so are my ways higher than your ways 
and my thoughts than your thoughts. – Isaiah 55:8-9

 I definitely have PTSD.  I have been through things with my youngest children that I never really believed I’d be through when I was in the process of adopting them.  They have had reactions to things that have triggered them into post-trauma that took me a long time to understand.  Their actions and words, the fear of “what if,” and the times they did things like “disappear” on me leave me with my own sense of hyper-vigilance.  I am triggered by things I never imagined.  I know am not alone.  You are not alone.  People who parent hurt kids with RAD, PTSD, ADHD, etc. often end up with their own PTSD and even depression sometimes.  Here’s an article to read:  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in Parents of Reactive Attachment Disordered Children.  If you really want to dig in, here is a Google link with several scholarly articles on the subject.

source

Back to PTSD and my own triggers.  I know of more than one girl with PTSD and RAD my daughter’s age that is expecting a baby.  We’re talking 13 and 14 year old girls.  Granted, I know that even girls raised from the womb in stable families sometimes get pregnant at very young ages.  However, I imagine kids from hurt backgrounds have a much higher chance of it.  The girls I know about who are pregnant are from hurt backgrounds.  Am I afraid The Princess could make me a Gramma before my adult sons ever do?  Yes!  I’m scared spitless.  I actually lose sleep over it.  I am not at perfect peace.  I don’t want to raise a baby at the age of 50+.

Am I afraid The Princess will go off with “a friend” and get into Lord-knows-what kinds of trouble?  Yes.  She was at an orchestra competition today and the teachers let the kids roam the school, unsupervised while they waited for their events.  She met some boys and “made friends” with them.  Oh, but don’t ask her their names.  She doesn’t know.  She has no clue how much this kind of behavior triggers my fear for her.  She really doesn't see why I'd be upset by knowing she did this.  

For those of you who’ve lived through this, or are living through it right now, know I am praying for you.  I admire you.  You are awesome. 

As for my purpose here with this blog, all I can do is share my own struggles.  I can let you know you're not alone.  I can encourage you to hang onto the promise that our paths will become straight.  I can suggest that, perhaps, "perfect peace" is manifested in the ability to just keep going -- to just keep loving -- to find people that can "be there" for you when things are the toughest, people who will not leave when you need them most -- and to hang on by the fingernails when there's nothing else you can do.  When those times do come, please let me know.  I'll pray for you and I'll be a loyal ear.  We trauma mamas need to stick together. 

10 Things YOU CAN DO to Support Parents of PTSD/RADish Children

Parenting hurt kids is rewarding, but it is hard.  It can be isolating and lonely.  Even people I thought would understand, haven’t always.  Even the parent of an older, internationally adopted child once told me, “You and your friends scare me.”  I don’t know about how you handle things emotionally, but that didn’t slide off my back without cutting my heart deeply along the way.

Still, I believe most people want to support families who are raising hurt kids.  They just don’t know what to do or say.  They don’t know when to step up, or when to step back.  Some think they know better, even though they’ve never walked in these shoes.  (They’re never helpful.)  Some walk in similar shoes but only want to draw close when they themselves are hurting. 

Through the last five or six years, I’ve come to know a lot of trauma mamas who are raising hurt kids.  Sometimes they’re supporting me or others; sometimes they need support themselves.  I'm friends with a mama that is hurting SO much right now.  I've dealt with some things recently and am doing well, but when I'm not, I wish someone - SOME ONE - could hear my heart, too.  I’ve heard several things, from hurting mamas - over-and-over again - things that parents of hurt kids wish to God would happen, so they might not feel so alone.  My friend is voicing some of these things now.  This list is not meant as a personal groan session.  It is genuinely put "out there" to tell people who care what we wish we could say in those lowest of times.  Here are ten things I've heard (and sometimes felt) most often:

 1. When you ask how a trauma mama is doing, and she says, “Okay,” but she doesn’t sound all that enthusiastic about it, tell her to “quit joshing” and tell you the truth.  Then, be ready to hear it, without judgment, and without trying to “fix” it if you don’t know anything about it.  And PLEASE don’t say, “You need some time away.”  Most trauma mamas already know that, but trying to actually get away is nearly impossible.  When we do, we usually have hell to pay when we get back home, because we left our traumatized kid and they’re triggered beyond triggered by the “abandonment.”

 2. When we say we’re sleep deprived, please say something like, “I’m sorry.  I can see in your eyes that you’re tired.”  Don’t tell us you know "just what we're talking about" because you stayed up to watch a movie and have some fun, and then you couldn’t sleep because it was so exciting.  We can’t sleep because our minds won’t turn off thinking about the misery our children are in and the trouble they've gotten into, and because we're also listening to see if our kids are getting up and trying to sneak around to do something they're not supposed to do.

 3. When we ask you to pray for us, take the two minutes and do it, right then and there.  On the spot.  And give your trauma mama friend a hug.

 4. If she is less than kind to you, or if she should happen to snap at you one day, and you know that it’s not like her to do that, please don’t hold it against her.  Hold her accountable, but recognize she's hurting and without any reserve in that moment.  Try not to snap back.  Don't say hurtful things in return.  Whatever you do, please don’t push her away.  Reach out to her.  She needs you more then than ever.  Be there for her, especially if she's been there for you when you've hurt.  She knows you’re tired and beat down.  But, she's tired, too.  She's beat down, too.  She's prayed, but she couldn’t find her joy in that moment.  It might feel like you’re hugging a porcupine, but none of us is all that cuddly ALL the time, including you.    

 5. Parents of traumatized/attachment disordered (or still attaching) kids need friends who don’t hug their kids, don’t let them sit on their laps, don’t pick them up, don’t give them gifts, don’t say “I wish you could come live with me,” don’t invite them on outings or to their house without talking to us first, and don’t believe everything that comes out of our kids’ mouths without checking it out – especially if they’re saying something about us that seems “off” in any way.  Attachment disordered kids are masters at triangulating adults.  They may tell you we said something negative about you, when we never even thought it, let alone said it.  Attachment disordered kids often "shop" for new and improved versions of parents (usually those with more money who could give them more “stuff”).  Some of them can come up with pretty horrible stories about their parents that just are not true.  Again, please don't jump to conclusions.  Most of our kids still need time to learn what it means to be a family, what appropriate affection means, and that Mommy IS their mother and Daddy IS their father. 

 6. No matter what the situation, remember the parents are the ones who should be in charge of their children.  They know their children best.  Do not lump a traumatized/attachment disordered child into the “all kids” category.  Do not say, “But all kids do that.”  Not “all kids” have the same motivations as traumatized kids.  Allow experienced therapeutic parents to teach you some new skills and knowledge.  We don’t know it all, but neither do you (even if you are a teacher, or a parent, or a grandparent, or a therapist).

 7. Surprise us by bringing us a healthy, but kid-friendly meal.  Call a few hours in advance so your trauma mama friend doesn't drag herself to the grocery store, trying to figure out what she can throw together for dinner while dealing with a triggered child.  (See #1-4 above.)

 8. Love her.  Just be there.  Take her out for coffee while the kids are in school.  (She'll even pay her own way.)  Talk about the garden you’re planning and get her mind off things at home – or just listen if she needs that.  Again, listen without judgment -- without trying to fix anything.  And pray for her then and there, too.

 9. When you have a question, talk to her privately.  Do not ask her about a concern, or if her child can do something with you, go somewhere with your family, or have a gift from you (even a piece of candy) in front of the child.  This does not matter if they are 3, 6, 13, or 16.

10. Remind her when things are tough that her child CAME TO HER this way.  She did not do anything to hurt her child.  Remind her that God is near the brokenhearted and He does not bruise the tender reed.  Remind her, without judgment in your voice, that she loves her child and he loves her as best he can.  Tell her you love her, too.  Remind her God loves her especially.

Obedience

Jesus replied, “If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me.  ~ John 14 : 23 – 24 NIV

As responsible parents, we teach our children to obey us and to obey the adults with earned authority in their lives.  Children need guidance, discipline, and teaching.  Sometimes, that teaching comes in the form of sweet, easy interchange between parent and child.  Sometimes, it can come in a sudden, quick, and even loud command such as “Don’t touch!  HOT!” when the child is grabbing for something that could burn him.

Leprechaunukka

In therapy with my kids, I’ve learned I cannot always expect obedience from my traumatized kids.  They just can’t do it every time, all the time.  They need to process things, and question things.  They still don’t know everything one would think a 13 and 16 year old teen would know.  My 16-year-old son, was completely FREAKED out two nights ago when he saw a search light beaming into the sky in the middle of town.  He (seriously) thought it was aliens coming to “get us.”  The beam was to announce the re-opening of a restaurant that was closed a couple of months for remodeling.  In addition to that, my 13-year-old asked me when Leprechaunukkah (St. Patrick’s Day) was on the way home from school yesterday.  They’ve been home 4.5 years, but they’re still learning about the world.  They’re still far behind in emotional development as compared to their chronological age.

I can understand their difficulty in obeying.  I’m going through something very difficult.  Yet, clearly, over and over again, I am sure the LORD is telling me wait and to let Him work.  I hate it.  I’m pretty sure I could fix things.  I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.  Yet, my Father tells me to stop, to obey him, to wait.  To trust.  UGH.  So, I obey.  It’s not that I’m not tempted to grab the bull by the horns and shake it.  I am.  I want to stop feeling like this.  But my Father knows better, and I know that I do NOT know as much as I'd like to believe.  So I obey and I wait.  And I shake off the dust from my feet.

My kids had to grab the bull by the horns too many times as young children.  They had to take care of themselves.  There was no one who knew better and looked out for their well-being.  Obedience was only a tool to get something they wanted, or avoid something they didn’t want.  It wasn’t about discipline – about learning how to BE in the world.  It was about manipulating circumstances so they could survive.  If I have a hard time obeying a benevolent and perfect Father sometimes, why wouldn’t I understand that they find it so much more difficult to obey me?

We all mess up.  We all do and say things without thinking.  We’re all too often too selfish and we all too often do not “bear one another’s burdens.”  I want what is best for my kids.  They’re learning to trust that and I have to be patient while they learn.

Isolation

Parenting hurt kids can be really, really hard sometimes.  It can also be very isolating.  I sometimes get criticized for being such an open book.  My brother teases me (good heartedly) that I should open up and tell people how I really feel.  I do not remember a time in my life when I was any different.  Sometimes it gets me in trouble and sometimes people don’t like my “openness.”  On the other hand, I am amazed at the number of times a total stranger has trusted me with their deepest hurts.  Maybe being open is one of my greatest weaknesses as well as one of my greatest strengths.  If I happen to come to love you, I will love you deeply.  I am so blessed to have had that love returned, too.

If you ever feel like you just don’t “fit in,” know you’re not alone.  You're not isolated.  I’ve felt that a lot – and for a long time.  However, feelings aren't always what is true.  

This morning, I cried out to the LORD and said, “I need you to come to me with skin on.  God, I need an angel.”  He sent me a couple of little angels to hold today -- very special kids -- loved, redeemed, adopted.  I had a wonderful visit with their mom – a godly woman -- a real woman.  God sent me himself through her  -- God with skin on.  

Things are HARD right now. 

My friend listened to me.  I listened to her.  It was a two-way connection.  We were giving as well as receiving from one another.  Such a blessing.

My friend is the mom of ten kids.  Five were adopted.  Some have very significant special needs.  She is quite a bit younger than I, yet she is wise beyond her years, and she has taught me much.  We met six or seven years ago, while we were both in the beginning pursuit of adoption.  She is a gift.  I do not get to see her as often as I’d like. 

I am so blessed to have friends close by, and close by enough, who walk in similar shoes as I.  Parenting hurt kids is often not easy.  Yes, it is rewarding.  No, I would not trade it for the world.  Yet, I still feel alone and isolated too often for my liking.  Still, I am blessed to have friends both online and nearby who are there for me, and love me, despite my many faults.  Thank you, friends.  I am not unaware of the gift you are to me. 

I Weigh Less Than My Driver’s License Says I Do

When things are really hard for our kids, it’s often difficult for trauma mamas to remember to take care of themselves.  My kids’ therapist reminds me often that even when you travel in an airplane, they tell you to put your oxygen mask on first before attempting to help anyone else.  The thing is, when we forget to do just that, the hard times get a lot harder.  Lack of sleep, eating a brownie and drinking a Coke for breakfast, sitting at the computer all day, not taking any time to have any fun because you’re so busy working on your kids’ needs, and making sure everyone is else is happy (or at least not murdering someone) takes its toll.  I look at pictures of myself from 4.5 years ago and look at myself in the mirror now, and the difference is dramatic.  I look at least 10 years older than I did in 2007.  I do not intend to look another 10 years older in 2016.  I just won’t have it.

 

I am far from where I want to be, but I am well on my way to a journey back to myself.  I doubt seriously I’ll ever wear a size 6 (I’d be ecstatic if I ever got down to a 12), but, as of my doctor’s appointment this morning, I really do weigh less than my driver’s license says I do.  (Yes, I lied when I renewed it.  If you’re a woman who hasn’t lied about her weight on an official document, well then I guess you’re just . . . what-ever.)  I am also making some other changes.  I’ve picked up my guitar again.  Maybe I’ll do it enough times that I’ll get calluses on my finger tips and it won’t hurt to play.  I’ve done some crafts and tried my hand at some art.  I have newly awakened ambitions to reorganize my house.  Ambition is a start!  I had no ambition to even stay organized, or get reorganized, since our adoption in 2007.  Heck, it took me 4.5 years to register my kids for a state-issued birth certificate.  I’ve also cut way back on the sugar I allow into my body.  I didn’t really want to, but I knew I had to.  I don’t want to keep aging so quickly.  So, I’m coming back to me.  I think it’s going to be an improved me.  I certainly hope I’m a wiser me.

If you’re stuck in the muck, MAKE YOURSELF take time to remember WHO YOU ARE.  DO SOMETHING that helps you get back to you.  Do it in baby steps.  Just choose one thing to start.  Don’t put a lot of pressure on yourself.  (When I do that to myself, I just feel like a big, fat failure.)  You will be amazed at how much better you feel when you grab hold of what makes you - YOU.

Options: When to Limit Them

The Princess hasn’t cooperated in therapy her last two sessions.  Both times, we’ve wasted our therapist’s time and our money.  She is going through a lot and has decided she must seize control of all situations in whatever ways she can.  We’ve tried all the therapeutic techniques we can, but little seems to be helping lately.  After her therapy session last week, I talked with our therapist.  I knew we couldn’t make The Princess participate.  I also knew the therapist wasn’t going to keep seeing her if she didn’t start working again.

Because we’ve been struggling, and because some of The Princess’ struggles have been public, community-based services were ramped up for her and for me this month.  She is considered “at risk.”  This means a couple of social workers are involved in our lives.  One of them saw her for an hour yesterday.  This social worker told The Princess that if she didn’t start cooperating in therapy, she wouldn’t be able to go to therapy any more.  (Yeah.  I heard you say, “UGH” just like I said it when she GLEEFULLY told me last night that she wouldn't have to go to therapy anymore, looking at me with a face that screamed, “Ha!”)

You know, there is a reason I didn’t tell The Princess about this option.  She NEEDS to work on some things.  I need help for her.  And I limit options I know are not good for her.

So, I talked.  I explained that her behavior lately was very concerning to me, her Dad, her brothers, and to our therapist and the social workers.  I explained that is why these people want to see her more often right now.  I explained why we have a medicine check appointment next week.  I explained that working through these things now, while she was young, was much better than trying to work through them later when she’s older.  I reminded her how adults behave who have unresolved issues.  I reminded her that she’s been hurt and that we can’t just bury that hurt inside – that it comes out in places like at the restaurant the other night and at the zoo last month.  I told her we all loved her and wanted the best for her.  I told her God loved her and had given us both some pretty specific instructions about how to behave with one another.  I also told her that I would not allow quitting therapy to be an option.  We would still do it, one way or another.

If you happen think of us, would you say a prayer for us from time-to-time?  Pray for The Princess' therapy appointment next week, as well as her med check appointment.  Pray she cooperates.  Pray for wisdom for me on how best to handle things with her.  I still have much to learn. 

Bio-Family Stuff

As I wrote yesterday, The Princess is processing a lot of “stuff” right now.  She’s dealing with a lot of memories – both real and imagined – and she’s trying to figure things out to make sense of them.  We are trying to help her do that with attachment and family therapy, based on a combination of research and techniques used by folks such as Dr. Bruce Perry, Dr. Becky Bailey, and Heather Forbes, LCSW.  Princess wants to bury her feelings about this “stuff” and deal with things on her own terms – terms which are just not healthy, and cause her to act out with much anger and resentment.  Interestingly enough, however, she is still talking to me – still asking questions.  On her own terms.  In her own time.  I’m realizing I’m not always as ready for “it” as I thought I would be.  Last evening was one of those times.

The Princess started asking questions about her bio-family and past traumatic events.  Her memory of these things is skewed because she was so little, and because Youngest Son feeds her his own skewed memory of the events.  My practice has always been to set them both straight – to tell them the truth I know.  I share what information we have in court documents.  I also tell them the things their paternal grandmother told us when we did biological family research (through an in-country facilitator) a few years ago.  At first, I thought it was best to “protect” the kids from the details.  Who wants to tell their children the woman who gave birth to them did the things she did?  Who wants to hear their birth father’s depression was exponentially fueled by the actions of their birth mother, and the alcoholism of them both?  This stuff was just too hard.  I didn’t want to talk with them about it.  The Princess, however, while she is very immature emotionally, is also very, very smart.  On one hand, she doesn’t want to know, but on the other, she does.  She has questions about her story.  Afterall, it’s HER story.

Processing her story is something I want her to do with me in therapy.  Unfortunately, she tends to process a lot of it at school with friends.  Most of these friends are hurt kids themselves.  She’s attracted to them like a fly is to poo.  (Yeah, I made that analogy on purpose.)  I do not like that this is true for my daughter.  I do not like that trauma too often begets trauma – or, at least, feeds off it.

My daughter has copies of some of the pictures we received when we did that bio-family search.  These pictures are of her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even her biological father.  She also has some pictures from her orphanage.  The deal was she could look at these and talk to us about them at home.  However, she has taken them to school on numerous occasions without my knowledge and has shown them around, telling these other hurt kids way too much – much more than any of them can handle.  Much more than she can handle on her own.  And they’ve hurt her more with their comments and questions.  (I wish I fully understood why hurt kids tend to set themselves up for more hurt.)  I have never given her the one picture I have of her birth mother.  I wasn’t planning on giving it to her, or even showing it to her, any time soon.  But I showed her last night. 

I don’t think I’ll ever get why some cultures take pictures of dead bodies at funerals.  I don’t think I’ll ever get why the mourners pose with the dead body and have their picture taken, too.  This is the one picture I have of the birth mother.  The family is gathered around the birth father’s open casket.  She is standing at the head of the casket with Youngest Son.  The Princess is not in the picture, and to our knowledge, she did not attend the funeral (though she insists she did even when Youngest Son tells her she did not).  While it is possible to crop the picture, the image of the birth mother’s face is very tiny.  She is looking down.  The sun is shining brightly on the right side of her face, whiting out a portion of her image.  It is not a good picture photographically at all.  Yet, it is the only picture I have, and The Princess wants it.  She wants me to print it out for her. 

I am not doing that.  Not now anyway.

In my head, I understand The Princess’ need to remember her birth mother and know what she looked like.  The Princess insisted she had blond hair prior to seeing the picture, for example.  She did not.  She has dark brown hair, just like The Princess.  My daughter also insisted that birth mother was thin.  She is not thin in this picture.  She is, in fact, a bit chubby.  I also get that my daughter needs to know WHO she comes from as well as where she comes from.  I get that.  That’s my own driving force in being a genealogy geek.  I learned my mother’s Dad was not her biological father when I was 15 years old.  I always wondered about that man and about the family I was a part of, but did not know.  I found them as an adult, but my mother and my grandmother kept all that information from me.  It wasn’t right.  It wasn’t fair.  Even if my biological grandfather treated my grandmother poorly, I still had a right to know about the PEOPLE I come from.  My daughter has that right, too.  Strangely though, I now understand my grandmother and mother’s resentment at my need to know. 

As we were preparing to adopt, I read all I could about the needs of adopted children to know about the people they come from.  I was sure I would be supportive and that I would never say an ill word about my children’s birthparents.  I would be positive.  I would help them learn what they wanted to learn.  I would even support them having a relationship with extended family members.  I was clueless.

I had no idea I could hate the birth mother of my children.  (Yep.  I said that, too.  I have hated her.)  It is SHE who did this to MY kids.  It is SHE who deserves my daughter’s wrath, though it is I who deal with it.  It was HER actions that have caused MY children so much pain.  Yes, I have hated her.  And I’ve secretly wished my children would hate her, too.

Hate is a cancer that eats your soul.  Trauma is drawn to trauma.  Hate is drawn to hate even more so.  I don’t want my children drawn to trauma.  I don’t want my children drawn to hate.  Therefore, I needed to let go of hate.  Sometimes, I will admit, that need resurfaces and the “let go” is moment-to-moment.  It is then I need to remember I cannot hate someone I’ve never known.  It is her decisions and her actions that I hate.  It is the sin (and yes, that’s the word) that I hate.  I do not hate the person.  (Admittedly, I do struggle to love her.)  She is not well.  She was not well when she hurt my kids.  My daughter wants to know who she is.  So, I will tell her the truth – again and again – however many times she needs to hear it.

I have still not printed out the picture for her.  I do not want it floating around a middle school.  There is one “friend” there that is particularly cruel to The Princess.  I do not want this “friend” having any more fuel for her twisted fires.  I also do not want other friends giving their 12 and 13 year-old opinions about it.  She’s already been made fun of this week for having an “old” mother (me).  I can still at least TRY to protect her from some things, can’t I?  (Oh, how homeschooling sounds better and better to me with each passing day.)

I love my daughter more than I can express in words.  She is MINE.  She comes from her. 

My daughter can look at my copy of the picture. 

We’ll print it out and take it to therapy next time.

-------
Added later:  On second thought, maybe I WON'T print out the picture and take it to therapy next time we go.  I hadn't thought about what to do with it afterward.  As Diana writes below, destroying it is probably not a good idea.  If I file it, I can guarantee both she and Youngest Son will be rooting through ALL my stuff trying to find it.  And leaving it with the therapist is probably something even my therapist wouldn't recommend.  Thanks Diana for sharing some things I hadn't thought about.  Like I said, sometimes I'm just not as prepared to deal with the "stuff" as I thought I would be.  It is on my computer (and backed up) in secure files.  Only I know the password.

What Friends Don't See

That title would probably more accurately read, “What Friends Don’t GET TO See.”

I received a lovely phone call from one of my best friends last night.  She wanted to tell me how well my two youngest kids behaved yesterday afternoon.  They were responsible and mature.  Pleasant.  Appropriate.  Studious.  They were everything a parent could possibly want in a child. 

This friend is also the mom of an older, internationally-adopted child.  Fortunately, she knows better.  She knew I’d see something different.  This behavior is not my children – not to me, anyhow.   She knew this behavior would not last once the children were out her door and in our care again.  She knew our kids would be stressed.  She knew I was stressed.  She just wanted me to know that I didn’t need to worry about how they’d behaved while she had them.  ‘Made me feel a little jealous, but it was nice to know.

The reason this friend had my kids yesterday is because I spent the day in a hospital emergency room with my youngest biological son.  He is two years older than our youngest son, but many years “older” in social and emotional development.  They are four school years apart.  Youngest son feels his most competitive towards this son.  He feels most threatened for our love, time, and devotion with this son over any of the other siblings. 

Yesterday, our 18-year-old was dehydrated from food poisoning.  He’s still pretty sick this morning.  He’s sleeping now, as I write, but it’s been a long night for his mom.  I am thankful for a school day today.  Even with all the therapeutic parenting tools in my toolbox, I don’t think I would have done well with my hurt kids this morning.  I knew there would be fallout from yesterday, but that doesn’t mean I have the energy to deal with it.  My daughter was “bouncing off the walls” hyper this morning, being too cute, and using her baby voice.  She could not leave me alone and demanded near constant attention.  My youngest son would have nothing to do with me.  He was surly and withdrawn, wouldn’t look at me, let me know he didn’t need me, and didn’t say a word to me – not even when he got the trash without being asked and I thanked him for doing so.

I have to tell you, these are the times I feel most like smacking him upside the head.  (Yeah, I wrote that.)

But here’s what I know and what my friends don’t get to see:  My kids were scared spitless yesterday.  They’re still scared today.  They got notes in the middle of class, telling them someone was getting them from school other than me.  (The note from my daughter’s school office was AWFUL.  “X picking you up.  Red Suburban.  Don’t get violin.  Come right out.  Mom with student in hospital.”  She didn’t know WHO was in the hospital or why.  To say my daughter was terrified is putting it mildly.)  Then, they got taken to my friend’s house and they stayed there until after supper.  While she explained to them what was going on and reassured them (and they behaved appropriately concerned in front of her), they were triggered by past trauma.  Very, very triggered.  They still are.

“How sick is my brother?”  “Is he going to die?”  “Can my mom take care of me?”  “Is my mom going to die?”  “Does my mom still love me?”  “Does my mom love my brother more than me?”  “Do I still matter?”  “What about me?”  “Where’s my dad?”  -- Sounds like the thinking of a 2-year-old, doesn’t it?  That’s trauma.  That’s exactly the emotional age at which my children are responding to their brother’s illness, to my being less available, to an abrupt change in their routine yesterday, and to thoughtless notes from distracted school secretaries.  I cannot expect them to behave like 13 and 16 year olds today – or probably for days to come.  Trauma stinks.

Tired as I am, they need me.  They need to be reassured.  They need me to walk them through a process of process.  Even when I don’t feel like it.

This, my fellow trauma mama friends, is why we need one another.  Do not isolate yourself.  Seek out friendship.  Find other blogs online.  Maybe even sign up for Diana’s find-a-friend project.

I am very blessed to have a good friend who is also an adoptive mom nearby.  But this is a recent blessing.  Through most of my journey, it has been (and still is) my online friends who have always “been there” for me.  YOU are the ones who get it.  You are the ones who know this walk.  It sure can be exhausting, but it’s a lot easier when you know someone has your back.

Thanks for that.  (Thanks especially to my friends who helped yesterday.  You know who you are.)

More on Lying

While I wrote a bit about lying yesterday, I really felt this topic needed its own post.  Lying is so pervasive in our home.  Our kids lie to protect themselves and each other, no matter how illogical that “protection” may seem.  They lie about stupid stuff.  They lie about things that are clear and in front of our faces.  It drives us crazy.  Lying is probably MY biggest trauma trigger.  Lying pushes MY buttons.  My kids know this.  It gives them a way of controlling me.

I met another trauma mama at a local coffee shop this morning.  She’s about my age, but started her family younger than I did, so she’s already been through what we’re going through.  It’s nice not to feel so alone sometimes.  Her daughter was also adopted internationally.  She also has biological children.  She’s been through the lying and the not being able to believe a word that comes out of her child’s mouth.  She knows.  Again, it was just nice to be with someone who gets it.  She knows what it’s like to have a child lie about everything.

Conversely, one of my children is also a compulsive truth-teller.  Yup!  She’ll rat herself out if she feels it will relieve her stress faster than lying.  She’s very smart.  The trouble with this is, I really have to be even more careful with her because she’s a 50/50 toss.  I don’t want to treat the situation as though she’s lying when she’s really telling the truth.  While I’ve gotten better at figuring it out most of the time, I still mess that up sometimes, too.

Both kids “crazy lie.”  Something can be as obvious as the nose on your face, and yet, they will still lie.  My son can convince himself that his lies are the truth.  It doesn’t take much.  He took something not too long ago and lied about where he got it.  When he finally put the story together, he came up with a tale about how his grandparents gave him the object.  The thing is, my in-laws don’t give our kids gifts.  They’ve only ever seen the kids once.  They are not crazy about our adoption and it is quite clear that our adopted kids are not their “real” grandchildren.  Yet, my son, screaming at the top of his lungs, told me to call my in-laws and “prove” that he’d gotten the item from them.  Of course, I didn’t do that.

Lying is fear manifested.  Yes, I understand that ALL children lie.  I get sick and tired of hearing from parents of children raised from the womb, from teachers, from school counselors and principals who say, “All children lie.”  I know that.  I’m not new here.  It’s not the same for adopted kids!  There is an intense fear behind my children’s lies.  They are masters at it.  They are extremely convincing.  They convince other people all the time.  They used to convince me, too.  However, their motivation is more intense, more constant, and for much deeper seated reasons than it is for other kids.  When they feel unsafe, when they feel fear, they lie.

I was reading the blog of a young adult who was adopted out of foster care.  She wrote a story about how she became such a skilled liar.  Her experience, too, was rooted in fear.  Her abusers killed her dog in front of her, and they told her if she ever told anyone what was going on,  her little sister would suffer the same fate as the dog.  She said she lied to the police when they asked her if she was being hurt.  They believed her for a long time and the abuse went on.  She lied because she “knew” her sister would die if she didn’t.

Unfortunately, whether our kids can grasp that fear of dying cognitively or not, the fear of losing their life is quite often the motivation for their fear and their crazy lies.  Even if the trauma, abuse, neglect, and "really bad stuff" happened before they were old enough to put their memories into words, the emotional memory is stored in that center part of their brain (the amygdala).  When they are triggered, that emotional memory comes to the surface and they are literally scared to DEATH.

What we need to do as therapeutic parents is pause and get ourselves centered before reacting.  This is especially important if lying is one of your triggers, like it is mine.  We need to step back and ignore the lie – YES – ignore it – and see the frightened child.  What our child needs in that moment is reassurance from us that they are loved. 

My friend told me her daughter, while adopted as a very young baby, still needed this reassurance as a child.  She would cling to her mother and need constant “mommy checks” long past the time most children do (normally about 8 – 28 months old).  It’s a little awkward when a 16 year old boy, who stands many inches taller than you, needs the reassurance of a 2-year-old.  But that’s what he needs in that moment of fear. 

So, what do you do once you take that breath and you pause – even if that pause takes a few minutes or a few hours?  (It’s okay to say, “I need some time.  Let’s talk about this later. “  Then, WALK AWAY and come back when you’re calm.)  Again, remember this:  IGNORE THE LIE.  Reassure your child that you love him.  Tell him what may seem obvious to you.  “You’re here now.  You’re home with the family that loves you, and wants you, and takes care of you.  We are not going anywhere.  You are not going anywhere.  You’re safe.”  Pause again.  Take note of your child’s countenance.  If he’s softened, hug him, if he’ll let you.  If he’s still hard, tell him again.  Say, “I’m going to tell you again.  Look at me.”  (Get eye contact.)  Then tell him again.  Tell him a third time if he needs it.  Keep IGNORING THE LIE.  Let whatever love he’ll allow you to demonstrate to him happen.

Then, and only then, tell him you know there’s more going on than meets the eye.  When he is ready to talk with you more about it, he should let you know.  Tell him you can wait.  Then wait.  Don’t prod.  Don’t suggest.  Wait.  If he tries to forget about it or let it pass (my daughter is also a master at this), it’s okay to remind him you’re still waiting.  You haven’t forgotten.  We still need to figure out everything that’s going on so we can move forward.  But still, IGNORE THE LIE.  Your child’s sense of safety is most important here.  He’ll never come clean while he feels threatened, whether the perceived threat is real or not.  What you’re thinking and feeling won’t be the factor that gets him to the point of reconciliation – and ultimately, restitution and natural consequences for the behaviors associated with the lying.

And hang in there.  This is a constant battle, but it’s worth the fight.  Every inch gained in our kids’ attachment is a huge victory!  (Somebody remind me of that the next time I’m mucking through this.)