Brenda McCreight PH.D.

As you may recall, #6, age almost 20, has been living at home for the last few months. He’s not been too bad – we just avoid each other most of the time and I don’t confront him about his stealing since he’s kept it smallish. It’s not that I don’t care, but really, if you’re still stealing from mommy at this age, there’s not much to be done. I know I could kick him out, but I’m not there yet. Anyway, the other night he got very angry at the Mood Swing Queen because she had caught him stealing. His retaliation was to smash her full length mirror with his fists, and then, cut and bleeding, storm off into the night to walk the hour long trek to the nearest bus stop. As he was leaving, he shouted that he was “too old to live here”, meaning he was too mature to tolerate the MSQ’s behaviors.

Well, sonny boy, she wasn’t the one stealing (for once) or smashing things. She also wasn’t the one using foul language. But, from his perspective, he’s still driven to these behaviors by others. Still no realization that life is now up to him.

I know that’s a hard concept for most of us to grasp – getting a grip on personal responsibilty and accountability is a major life task. However, I would have thought that by this stage, he would have at least had the sense to be slightly embarrassed, rather than enraged, at being caught for thieving. Guess not.

The MSQ handled the whole thing very well. Her feelings were hurt by his actions and his rage, but she didn’t engage with him to increase the problem and so I guess she’s got a better perspective on this than her older brother (they are genetic sibs and share many of the same temperment traits).

As annoying as this all was, it re-enforced in #6 that he needs to get his own place – but then he would have to stop buying all those fancy clothes, so who knows. I think we’re all wearing a little thin with him – sooner than he thinks his welcome mat is going to be tossed.

I realized the other day that I wear my hair almost the same now as I did in the 7th grade. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now. I’ve been through many hair incarnations over the intervening decades – long and straight like Cher, shag like Farrah Fawcett, curly like who knows, but at the speedy pace of my life, and the lack of cooperation from my hair, this is the best I can do.

It got me to thinking that if this is the best I can do about my hair which is made up of only a few relatively simple genes and such, no wonder I have so much trouble changing my personality. Of course, those of you who know me personally might wonder why I would even think about changing aspects of my personality -okay, so you guys actually understand totally and could likely add some things that aren’t on my change agenda – but parenting has taught me, over and over and over again that every single brick wall I hit with my kids is going to require change in how I’m handling things if we’re going to crawl over it together.

Today’s brick wall is the stealing that my Little #12 does. She is a chronic thief although most of it is sugared food, like the treats I buy or make for their lunches. She can grab and hide a box of Wagon Wheels faster than I can blink. She never suffered from food deprivation or any kind of neglect -she was placed in a wonderful foster home at one day old where she stayed till she came to us at 2 years. I’m not saying that wasn’t traumatic for her, only that her sugar thing isn’t about prior food deprivation. And yes, she has fasd and you all know that fasd and sugar addiction go hand in hand. But this isn’t about her, it’s about how I’m going to handle it. I know this isn’t a problem that’s going to go away. And, I know that with her genetic background and some of her other current behaviours, we are going to be fighting off mental illness with every weapon in my arsonal, such omega 3, keeping her close to me, keeping her involved in gardening and chicken raising etc. But I have got to change how I feel about her right after a new theft.

To be honest, when I’ve just found yet another box of whatevers shoved down the side of her bed, I don’t feel like taking her with me to buy mulch or roses (taking her garden shopping is her favourite thing). I don’t even want to be with her at all. Yet, if I do that, then I’m just wrecking all of it. I have got to get over myself and after I’ve said whatever useless and ineffective words I have to say about the theft, I need to just get on with life and drop my emotionally punitive attitude towards her. So much easier said than done, don’t you think. Well, easy or not, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll keep you posted on my progress – and I’ll let you know if I find a new hairstyle.

Chicken coop, chicken moat, and garden

I think anyone of us whose raised a child with fasd knows they have less of a pain response. My kids, Jason especially, have always sort of blasted their way through life and bounced back from the type of physical trauma that would stop an elephant in his tracks.

What do you think of the stat in the article about 11% rate of fasd in South Africa. What a tragedy that is. How can a country afford that either economically or socially? And of course, that number will grow since moms with fasd are so likely to drink during their own pregnancies. The mind boggles.

I know that you have all been waiting with baited breath (where on earth did that saying originate) to see a picture of my chickens, my dogs, and my chicken moat – so here it is. Exciting stuff huh!

More exciting research is showing promise in preventing or reversing early onset schizophrenia through the use of omega 3 fish oils – and there is other research into Fragile X (which has a huge autism compentant for some) and a “pill” which enhances brain function for people who have this condition.

Of course, I’m so happy that so much is coming down the pipeline that will change the lives of so many of our children. But, you know, at the same time it breaks my heart to see the proof that so many of our current children suffer from disordered brains that have the potential to be “fixed”. I wish so much that the research on cognitive stimulation had been concluded, proven, and in place for Jason. We did what was around when he was young – we had him going to a place that did “Brain gym” – sort of an early biofeedback/sensory stimulation combo. We ensured that he had extra stimulation and I was on top of every single approach out there. But, there wasn’t any neurofeedback that I knew of back then, or any other type of cognitive training methods for fasd. And now, he’s had years of alcoholism to add to his brain dysfunction so much potential for change is lost.

I’m going to be stuffing omega 3’s down the throats of my two who show the most likely to develop their genetic vulnerability to schizophrenia and I’ll keep using neurofeedback with my clients who have adhd and fasd and I’ll be enjoying the changes. And, I’ll rejoice knowing that most of what we parents deal with now won’t be the same degree of challenge in twenty or thirty years. Yet, a part of me will always be in mourning for the lost potential and what could have been.

This is the most exciting research I’ve seen on fasd in forever. Check it out. http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/technology/science/motor-skill-activities-hold-promise-of-rewiring-childrens-damaged-brains/article1450205/

I have a great life – I know that most of the time. But you know how it is – some days it’s really apparent and other days it’s sort of hard to access that awareness. Right now, it’s sort of hard – but not because of the kids – nope – since I realized that my true calling was chickens I put most of my focus on my hens and sort of consider my children a side line. It really works better that way. My problem is that my dryer has been broken for 3 weeks. That’s right – 3 whole weeks! Every week the repair man comes out and determines a different part is needed and of course, it’s never in stock – so we wait another week and then another. When I was complaining about it – he had the temerity to suggest that I buy a drying rack and dry the clothes on that. Oh my – why hadn’t I thought of that. Or, why hadn’t he noticed that there were clothes in different states of dryness, draped all over my house! Did he think that’s how I live? With underwear and jeans and t shirts and towels hanging off lamps and bannisters and door knobs? Is that really the kind of impression I give people?

I thought it would be obvious that this mess in my house is because I can’t keep up without a dryer. How do I hang enough – what about sheets for over almost a dozen beds. One day I gave up and went to the laundromat, but that cost almost $80 so I’m not doing that again and even worse was the time it took. The only good thing was that no one would go with me so I got to spend some time alone for once and read lots of Reader’s Digest magazines.

Well, he’s coming back today- he’ll have to crawl through a hallway of overflowing laundry baskets to get to the over full laundry room. I wonder what he tells his wife about us when he goes home. I wonder if he thinks I’m a burgeoning hoarder?

Now that the Mood Swing Queen is back on her meds we’re all breathing a sigh of relief as her tantrums and attitude have calmed and she’s just a regular (well, almost regular) teenager again.

But you know, I’m having a hard time getting over this last *med break*. I know that with fasd, every day is a new day, and you just have to let go and move on. This time, however, I’m stumbling on that process.

I think it’s mainly due to knowing that she chooses to go off her meds knowing full well how negatively her changed behaviour will impact the rest of us. I don’t know why she makes that choice and she’s not interested in examing this so I’ll likely never understand. She doesn’t have side effects, and she has many friends on meds so there’s no stigma for her. Who knows what prompts her to decide it’s time to unleash her inner termagant. I think too, I know she’ll do it again, and so I don’t feel like just opening up my stomped on heart. Don’t get me wrong. I’m chatting and doing things with her again, but there’s a part of me that’s held back emotionally. I guess I’ll get over this, I get over pretty much everything sooner or later. But I’m not there yet.

Well, the Mood Swing Queen admitted she’s been off her meds for a few days, which means a few weeks, so she’s back on them now and life is back to *normal* at our house. We won’t be dodging verbal and emotional arrows now and that’s got me in a good mood for the upcoming weekend. I think we’ll go out for dinner and to a movie. I believe I’m the last person in the known universe (except for most of you who, like me, don’t have the time or energy to go out very often) who hasn’t seen Avitar so that’s where we’ll go – or maybe to swimming – depends on what the Littles want to do. I’m also going to check out some hydrangea plants to put around my chicken coop and chicken moat. Since I realized that my true calling was to chickens, I’ve made their happiness more of a prioity in my life and I want them to be able to look around and see the prettiest of flowers in the spring.
Funny the kind of things that make me happy. I mean really, what kind of life do I have when I get all excited just because my daughter is back on her meds and I’m doing plantings for my chickens?

Oh, here’s another thing that makes me happy – my newest book “Help I’ve Been Adopted” will be out February 25th. If you want a preview – you can look at it here http://www.tapestrybooks.com/products.asp?pID=1164 or go the link at the side.

Hope you have a good weekend yourselves.

Okay, so a well meaning, but know nothing person has informed me that the problems I’m having with the Mood Swing Queen for the last few weeks are because I don’t listen to her when she tries to talk to me. The MSQ has led this well meaner to believe that she tries soooo hard to communicate with me but I just won’t do it. Oh, the poor dear.

Well, that’s true. I don’t. I already told you I pull the covers over my head and go to sleep. And, I often walk out of the room, or hang up the phone on her mid-sentence, or I do some other behaviour that says “I’m not talking to you”. Actually, it’s not that I’m not talking, it’s that I’m not listening – that’s right, the minute the verbal abuse starts, I’m out of there.

I mean, really, she’s not a victim. And I won’t be one. Nor will I let our younger children be harmed by her tempers and verbal assaults. Nope. Not going to happen on my watch. Aside from the fact that it’s intolerable behaviour, I don’t think it does her, or anyone in our home, any good to see me role modelling the victim walk. They need to see me as emotionally strong and able to discern between typical, healthy relational conflict and the bad stuff that is currently being dished out by MSQ. They need to know that they will never, ever, in their lives, have to take this from anyone.

I don’t know that my refusal to be victimized will do any good for the MSQ. She is what she is, and maybe her current behaviour is the best she can do at this time. Whatever. In the meantime, I’m going to have to start avoding the well meaner, which I’m sure will just prove to her that I won’t communicate with people. Oh my, I think I’ll go chat with my chickens.