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Sunday, August 9, 2009

Battling The Food Issues

Battling The Food Issues…


It was 1:40PM on a Tuesday afternoon when I got a phone call telling me that my daughter was missing.  I had dropped her off at school that morning and apparently she had asked to go to the restroom and wandered off.  The entire school was on lock down and the faculty was searching everywhere for my daughter.  I remember my heart was pounding as I got into my vehicle to drive to the school and help with the search.  As I entered, the counselor asked me if my daughter had a tendency of running off, and I quickly told her to check behind every trash can, the cafeteria, and wherever there was food.  She had been displaying many bizarre food issues since I adopted her.

They found my daughter in the kindergarten room.  The lights were out because the morning kindergarten class had already left.  I looked up at the wall where my child was standing and saw all this artwork with dried glue dots on them.  Then I looked closer at the colorful construction paper and realized there were colorful crumbs stuck with glue on the paper.  I looked even closer to realize it was FROOT LOOPS!  Then I looked at my daughter and was horrified, she had glue and crumbs of cereal all over her.  She had just eaten all the kindergarteners’ artwork!  She literally picked off all the cereal pieces and ate them.  I guess the kindergarten teacher used cereal as some kind of counting activity, and my daughter couldn't resist the temptation. I was speechless.  I couldn't even muster up the words to apologize to the teacher. 

The counselor started telling me that my daughter continues to steal from the other kids’ lunches, and she started asking me what my portions of food looked like, as if maybe I wasn't feeding her enough. I remember trying to frantically tell the counselor that I do feed her, but she continues to steal whatever food she can, but the counselor just looked at me like I was a complete and utter failure of a mother. I was so hurt that she didn't believe me. 

I remember walking what I call the "walk of shame." All the mothers in their fancy SUVs were lined up outside to pick up their children.  I had to walk by them all with my five kids who clearly wanted to trade me in.  One of my foster kids had decided that she wanted a different back pack instead of her TJ Maxx clearance that I had bought her., so she started screaming as we all left the school building.  I was juggling my baby in one arm, and three other kids, plus my screaming foster child.  I was mortified.  I remember listening to my foster child screaming at me because I wouldn't let her have the Dora The Explorer back pack, screaming that I wasn't her mother.  I will never forget the glares I got as I juggled children that clearly didn't look like me.   My African American/ Indian daughter did not want to hold my hand.  My Asian baby kept losing his lovey blanket that he carried everywhere.  My two other children were trying to tell me about their day and the birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese that they had just been invited too.  And then there was my brand new precious foster child, still screaming about the Dora The Explorer back pack she wanted.  I remember getting to my vehicle, and after strapping all my kids into their car seat, wanting to fall on the cement ground and cry a river.  I was stressed to the max, beyond worn out, and felt every emotion about to burst forth from me.

I remember going home, turning on cartoons, and sticking snacks in front of the kids to give me a moment of peace.  I looked at the laundry room, piled high with dirty clothes, and I remember climbing on top of that clothes pile and having a meltdown.  

This was hard.   What have I done? I felt like no one understood the struggle I was having.  I didn't understand why my daughter kept stealing.  And I had tried everything, to no avail.

I was beside myself.  I would sit at our therapist office every Thursday and beg for more ideas. She would sneak down the stairs in the middle of the night stealing whatever she could get her hands on. I would find melted ice cream under her bed.   She would come home with her panties filled up with all kinds of empty wrappers.  I would get phone calls from the school stating that my daughter had stolen other children’s lunches. She would claim to have to go to the restroom and then would somehow get into all the lunches that were in other kids’ cubbies.  She would hide the food in her pants and then quickly run to the bathroom and stuff her face in the bathroom stall.

Now, I was taught to not ever use the three basic needs of a child (food, shelter, and clothing) as punishment. I know that food should never be used as a weapon, and I preach this!!!! I have never denied my children food! I would never deny them food!  I was so hurt that I was constantly being criticized for not feeding her enough. I would intentionally take pictures of all my meals just to show my adoption caseworker that they were in fact, being fed, and fed well.  I would save all my receipts just to prove that I spent a small fortune on groceries.  At the time no one taught me that this was normal with newly adopted children.  At the time I had never heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder, and this was before the whole social media thing.  As a result, I had little or no support.  Nowadays there are groups of mothers who get together on social media to support each other, but at that time I felt very much alone. 

The food issues continued.  What was I doing wrong? I found myself constantly criticized by church members who never saw the meals I prepared for my children, nor were they with her 24/7 like I was.  They would just see how hungry she was in Sunday school class and were convinced it was my fault.  She would show up to family events acting like a child that just got out of a concentration camp, following folks with her eyes if she saw they had food.  I remember watching her stuff her face as fast as she could around our family, and then stare at everyone knowing that she would be offered seconds and thirds.  I saw her personality change when it came to anything to do with food.  I felt like a failure of a mom, living some secret private hell that no one understood.  I tried letting her sleep with food, posted a menu on her door of meals, let her have her special basket of snacks, and let her go grocery shopping and pick out her own special foods.  I tried to remind her she was hungry for love not food, and tried so many different parenting techniques that were recommended to me. 

 I remember the day when I pulled into a QuikTrip in Tulsa, Oklahoma to gas up.  My daughter stated she needed to use the restroom and couldn’t hold it.  I pulled up close to the door after I had gotten fuel, and had her and an older sibling run inside to go to the bathroom as I juggled my younger children.  I remember my son was throwing a fit about being in his car seat, as he was tired and hadn’t had much of a nap that day. I was weary and exhausted as well. I had just picked up the kids from daycare and their schools.  All of a sudden my oldest daughter came running out screaming that my daughter had stolen something. I was horrified.  I asked my oldest to keep an eye out on the younger children as I darted inside the gas station.  I was greeted by the store manager who told me that my daughter had stolen the hot dogs and taquitos that were on a stand heating up, then locked herself into the restroom.  I remember sweating bullets as I knocked on the door, pleading with my daughter to unlock it.  I remember just apologizing to the store manager profusely as he began to retrieve his extra set of keys for the restrooms.  As he opened the door, I was in horror as I saw my child stuffing her face with food she had just stolen. I walked the "walk of shame" again that day as I left that gas station. I tried to pay for the items stolen, but I think the manager sensed my desperation as he refused to take any money from me.  I felt all eyes on me as I began to walk back to our vehicle. There was an older lady standing by my car on the phone screaming at me and stated she was going to call CPS on me for leaving my kids in the car.  I couldn't catch a break!!!!! I was trying to get my daughter to gently hold my hand, but she was being defiant so it looked like I was dragging her out of QuikTrip. My daughter of course wouldn’t let me braid her beautiful African American locks that morning, so her hair was going in all different directions.  I looked like the white momma who didn’t care about learning how to care for her child’s ethnic hair.  By the time I got back into my vehicle and got the kids settled, I wanted to just fall apart.  I drove to our house moving the mirror up so the kids couldn’t see the tears that were flowing so freely down my face. I turned up the music and tried to just get lost inside the lyrics, hoping that today was just a bad dream.  Unfortunately, the realization came……this was my daily reality.  

I felt trapped.   

I took her to every available doctor trying to see if I could get her some help.  Someone diagnosed her as PICA, so I then made sure she was getting enough minerals and nutrients. But then someone else told me she didn't have PICA, but something totally different.  

I was so confused. 

It seemed like no one understood.  I had never seen a child so obsessed with food.  She literally showed no emotions and the only way to get her to have any emotional reaction at all was to stick food in front of her.  I started the 12 touch program with her and also did some Reactive Attachment therapy sessions to help her heal. 

If you are an adoptive parent or someone who is dealing with a Child with Reactive Attachment Disorder, I just want you to know I understand.  I have been there and back and watching the re-runs currently. You are not alone.  

I wish I could tell you that all my RADS stories ended with a huge stamp of success, but I am going to be honest with you…my first six years of parenting children with RADS was spent in a fetal position crying in the middle of our hallway once the kids were all finally asleep.

I do however want to share with you something I was taught on that day when my daughter stole the Froot Loops off the kindergarten artwork.  This was when I was sitting on the huge pile of laundry just having a breakdown.  

I realized that I had become an accidental parent.  I wasn’t parenting with a purpose, simply because I was so stressed out all the time and dealing with so much. I wasn't taking care of myself or making sure I was mentally and emotionally prepared.  Teachers have to prepare lesson plans for their students.  Here I was their mother that was just handed the great responsibility of molding and shaping these young lives, and I wasn’t even trying or preparing or thinking things through.  I was a parent who crawled out of bed exhausted in the morning, made sure my kids had their lunches, brushed their teeth, made it to school on time, school projects turned in, and showed up for all the school performances.  I wasn’t parenting with a purpose. I wasn’t thriving as a mother or an individual.  I was just surviving each day, hanging on to this imaginary thread, and wishing for the day to end.  I was just surviving not thriving, and traumatized from dealing with all my kids’ bizarre behaviors.  

Yes, this job of motherhood was hard.  Yes, adopting so many children with special needs was difficult. 
It took me years to finally get to the point of parenting with a purpose. 

So how do you begin the journey of healing? Here are a few things to remember. 

  • When others call you crazy, shake it off.

  • When others criticize you for not feeding your child, shake it off. 

  • On the days you don't want to get out of bed, crawl out of bed.

  • On the days you want to crawl in the closet and hide from your messy house and children, force yourself to function. 

  • On the days you want to roll up in a fetal position and just scream, tell your spirit to rise up!

  • Tell your soul that this too shall pass. 

  • Find something inside of your child that gives you hope, and hang on to that hope for dear life. 

These trials are temporary, and the struggles are but for the moment. Staying the course and remaining faithful to the call, even when the call looks uncertain…that is the only way to reach the goals that are set before you. 

Children do not come with instruction manuals, and the problems are almost always going to be unique, something out of your frame of reference.  Remember that God set you apart for this purpose, and that He will make the way where there seems to be no way.

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. - Ephesians 6:4 

Parental Alienation

Parental Alienation

Parental Alienation is something I had never heard of growing up.  If you have never heard of the term, let’s take a quick little field trip and learn exactly what it is. 

Parental Alienation:

  • is a form of emotional child abuse where a custodial parent belittles or vilifies the other parent to the child.  The victims of parental alienation do not have direct access to their own children.  The parent who is targeting the victim uses different tactics to alienate the children.  

  • is a significant legal issue worldwide, and occurs when one parent convinces the children that the other parent is not trustworthy, lovable or caring – in short, not a good parent.

  • The person who is performing the alienation is very controlling, and will monitor every interaction that the child has with the other parent.  They want to make all the leading decisions concerning the child. 

  • destroys the present and future relationship between a child and the alienated parent. 
  • is very effective because it literally brainwashes young, emotionally vulnerable, and impressionable minds.

The parental alienation syndrome (PAS) is a childhood disorder that arises almost exclusively in the context of child-custody disputes. Its primary manifestation is the child’s campaign of denigration against a parent, a campaign that has no justification. It results from the combination of the programming parent’s indoctrinations and the child’s own contributions to the vilification of the target parent. 

Parental Alienation can seriously distort a child’s developing personality and subsequent life adjustment. The sooner it is identified and appropriate interventions are implemented, the better the child’s chances of avoiding its worst long-term effects.

PAS children feel empowered and are rewarded for attacking the other parent.  They are conditioned to feel no remorse or shame for doing so.  The parent who is performing the alienation justifies any and all actions.  They are the master manipulator, convincing themselves and the children that they are doing what is in the best interest of the child.

The person who is alienating also continues to believe the lie that their child is somehow better off without the other parent in their life, and is doing this for the safety of the child. Those who commit Parental Alienation basically are known as “know it alls’ and like to act as the prosecutor, judge, and jury.  

Often the parent who is guilty of Alienation suffers from mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, and other mental illnesses. 

All of the above were my personal definitions mixed in with information off of this LINK.

So now that we are through with our quick field trip, let’s grab a quick coffee or tea and have a little chat about this issue.  Let me start by saying that I first personally experienced Parental Alienation when I was a young pre-teen, and I remember it like it was yesterday.  My parents were having some marriage issues and I will never forget the night when I heard my mother scream at me to call the police as she was smashing dishes on the floor.  I then heard my father scream at me to find his keys.  I was completely distraught.  My father was loading up his stuff in the car and my mother was trying to stop him.  I remember seeing the keys on the table, but I was too afraid to tell him where they were.  I didn’t want my mom to be mad at me. I loved her, and I remember also looking at the house phone, not about to call the police on my father whom I loved as well.  So I stood there as I witnessed this hostile “dispute” between my parents.  Eventually I ran off and hid, and my twin brother who normally would defend me and make sure I was safe took over.  

Thankfully my parents ended up restoring their marriage, but I will never forget the parental alienation that took place.  I was forced to write my father letters of disgust.  They were not my words.  I didn’t hate my father. I was forced into “Jesus counseling” which was basically a complete joke; with me just saying whatever they wanted me to hear to suffice everyone.  I remember my mother dropping me off at my father’s apartment and telling me what to say.  I was humiliated as I was forced to knock on the door and then try and repeat the things that were placed in my psyche.  I remember feeling caught in the middle of my parents’ marriage issues and while I didn’t understand all the dynamics, I did understand that it didn’t feel right.  

My heart goes out to the many children who get caught up in custody battles.  Children should never be used as weapons against a parent or family member.  Children shouldn’t have to choose which parent they want to be with, and they should never have to listen to one parent or family member bash the other.  

I experienced Parental Alienation again in my early thirties, but unfortunately my alienation came from a blood relative who deceived me.  I remember vividly the day this relative sat in my living room feeding me all kinds of lies, for the purpose of convincing me to hand over a signature.  You can read about my Parental Alienation nightmare in a blog called: Betrayal Tastes Like Death.

So how can you stop Parental Alienation? 

Here is my personal advice:

-Don’t make your child choose. Children are not allowed to drive cars for a reason, so why would we allow them to drive their relationships with their parents?  Let’s not make them make life altering decisions such as choosing whether or not they want to speak or see a parent or family member.

-Recognize the relationship. First of all, you need to recognize how this child is related to the alienated parent.  Is it a father, mother, aunt, or grandparent? Don’t minimize the relationship with past actions. Recognize the relationship and then do whatever possible to reunite it and reconcile it. 

-Direct the sacred things of a child’s heart to the parents.  While I loved my years being a children’s pastor, I often felt more like a “parent pastor.”  I made it a rule that if ever a child complained to me about their parents, I would direct their hearts towards their parents and towards reconciliation and understanding.  Children see things so very differently than their parents and I wanted to make sure they saw things from a parent’s point of view.  

-Lay aside all judgments. It’s never ok to judge the other parent, especially in front of children.  We don’t have to even like the other parent, but we need to respect the relationship.  Parenting should never be a contest on who can do better.  

-Sweetness of silence.  Don’t waste words on your child’s other parent.  They don’t need to grow up listening to you belittle someone constantly.  Rise up and handle your situation with dignity and class.  Honor your child by honoring the people in their life. 

Well, my cup of tea is almost gone.  I do however have so many other things to say about this topic.  Until we can meet again and discuss this issue that has been a huge problem in the Family Court System, I would encourage you to do your own research on Parental Alienation.  If you are someone who is a victim, my heart goes out to you and please know you have my deepest level of support and empathy.  Don't ever give up fighting for that relationship. Die trying.  

The Life of a Foster Child....


THE LIFE OF A FOSTER CHILD…

One of my very first jobs was at a treatment facility, where I worked as a Residential Counselor.  I was a young, single mother, and worked the graveyard shift so I could be there for my kids during the mornings, days, and evenings. The hours were horrible; I never slept, but it turned out to be one of the most life changing jobs anyone could ask for.

We basically worked with young individuals who ran away from their foster parents or group homes, and were in need of emergency service (C.H.I.N.S).  When there were no emergency foster homes available and the individuals had juvenile histories, the police often dropped them off with us.
  This job was a ministry opportunity in so many ways, but I will never forget meeting one young girl who forever changed my life.

She could not read or write at the time, having been denied any proper education.  I remember sitting in the office, taking my pen, and writing down her feelings as she spoke.
We wept together, and I remember apologizing for all the injustices that had taken place in her life. 

This was basically her response.  (Yes, I added my own dramatic effect!)

The Life of a Foster Child...

They took me away from my family, my friends, and my belongings.  
I didn't ask to be born into this family.  
If I had a choice, I'd probably not want to be born at all.  
I didn't ask for the parents that I have.  
It's not my fault for all the hurt their parents caused them.  
So why am I paying for their sins?
They put me in a foster home, where there are new parents and rules.  
They expect me to just adapt.  
They wonder why I am so scared.  
They wonder why I defy them.  
I didn't ask to be placed in this home.
I sometimes think it was safer living in my biological home, rather than living with complete strangers. 

 Now what's really hard is when there are no homes. 
 And there is no one who is willing to take me. 
 Being afraid that I may have some kind of disease, or be too much trouble.  
So where do I go?  
A shelter or a group home is what they like to call it.  
An orphanage prison is what I like to call it.  
It's a facility with a lot of cold walls and beds.  
I've spent many cold nights on an office floor because these homes are overcrowded, all the while wondering... Why Me?
I wear donated clothes that aren't even my size.  
I eat expired donated food.  
I would give anything for a birthday present.  
Forget the present; I just want someone to hold me.  
I am denied certain toiletries because they are afraid I will commit suicide with them.  
They put me on medicine.  
They say I am depressed.  
How could I not be?  
They say I can never see my parents again.  
What am I supposed to do?  
I love them! They are my parents.
I have no one…I have nothing.  
They say I have a purpose on this earth.  
How am I supposed to know what that purpose is?  
Maybe I won’t amount to anything.  
But can I at least have a chance?

Please, please hear me,  
I AM THE ABUSED
I AM THE MOLESTED
I am the waiting child…in a shelter…that just wants a home.
I am living in your town.
I am right down the street.
I AM THE UNLOVELY
I AM THE BROKEN
I AM THE WOUNDED
I AM THE INNOCENT CHILD WHO DIDN'T COMMIT THE CRIME
I AM YOUR FUTURE

If you’re wondering, yes.... I ended up taking in this young girl!  She was able to reunite with her biological parents who ended up giving me their blessing.  It was the realization of a dream that for so many is denied, and the promise of a chance at life, the abundant, fulfilling life that each of us have been freely given by our Savior.

The thief comes not but for to steal and to kill and to destroy the sheep; I come that they might have life and that they might have it in abundance. – John 10:10