Life or Something Like It

An Apology Without Change is Manipulation

An Apology Without Change is Manipulation

An Apology Without Change is Manipulation

Gracious this is such a reminder of what I live with on a daily basis.  It is so hard when you have such consistent, horrible things to you…and then, the fake apology.  That is exactly what it is.  Fake.

I probably have done that, but I learned to be sincere with my apologies.  When I do something wrong or hurt someone unintentionally, it hurts me so badly.  Today, I asked my realtor a question.  It was a stupid question and her response sort of hurt my feelings.

Granted, I have not slept well in a couple of days.  Hunter has been in the hospital and it is overwhelming.  I was wearing my heart and feelings on my sleeve and I took it personally.  So my response was an immediate apology and promise to not ask such stupid questions.  Then, I cried.

It Was Not Her Fault

Though that is the straw that broke the camel’s back, it was not her doing anything wrong.  I was just emotional.  Yet, this is one isolated instance.  I was not manipulating her and I was sincere in my apology.

Now for my family member, this is a different ball of wax.  This member has many types of diagnoses.  Part of me thinks that this individual cannot help it.  They do something wrong, have a hollow apology and then do the same thing 10 minutes later.

It is almost to the point where I don’t want an apology, I just want this person to leave me the heck alone.  Can we say BOUNDARIES?  I clearly do not have boundaries but they certainly need to be established.

Kids with Reactive Attachment Disorder

They do this quite often.  Manipulation, Confabulation, and Triangulation are what they are good at, in terms of this quote.  According to Webster’s Dictionary, to manipulate means to control or play upon by artful, unfair, or insidious means especially to one’s own advantage.

Confabulation means to fill in gaps in memory by fabrication.  To “normal” people, this means to lie.  Then triangulation means to form an alliance.  In this type of situation, it is child with one parent against another parent.

It is all exhausting and makes my brain work on overload.  This is what we have lived with for 15 years.  My boundaries had to be firmly placed, though they broke my heart in a million pieces.  I had to take into consideration other family members and myself.

The stress was hurting all of us.

Life is Hard

The Lord did not promise us a walk in a rose garden.  If we had that, or all the answers, we would have no need for Him.  He completes and sustains us even when we are physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted from creating those hard boundaries.

He gives us the wisdom we need, when we seek it, to “speak” to us.  This, for me, is done through intuition, Scripture, other people, and dreams.  I have learned to accept that my family member does not understand what it means not to manipulate and to be sincere in the apology that is made.

It is hard.  Completely and totally.  Maybe one day, the Lord will heal her mind, body, and spirit to where she can function well in the world around.

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Life or Something Like It

Oh My Word Becky

Oh My Word Becky

Rainy Days

Oh, my word, Becky, it has already been a day and it is only 2 pm.  It has rained all weekend, and that is not a bad thing.  Well, the flooding part is not great, but the rain was much needed.

I love listening to the gentle rain on our metal roof.  The sound makes me want to just stay in bed and snuggle up with a warm cup of chicken broth.  Alas, this was not what my day entailed.


We (meaning Hunter and me) had to get going to therapy, this morning.  OT, SLP, and PT are about 35 minutes away, so we had to hustle.  With the rain, it is hard to hustle because, at some points, I could not see the road.

He did really well, in therapy.  I got teary watching him struggle, though.  It is hard for me to think that this is the only life he remembers.  He does not remember being a healthy, busy toddler.  Shaking, compensating for his shaking, that’s what he remembers.

I had to call it a day during PT because he began drooling.  Drooling is a sign that he has overdone it and that his body is fixing to shut down.  Once the drooling starts, the belching begins, and then we are done for the day.

I hate this condition.

Coming Home

Heading home, I decided I would stop and get him lunch.  It was already afternoon and he had had a couple of peanut butter power bites, but he was hungry.  I stopped by Burger King and prepared to get him a salad (his choice) but at the last minute, he wanted a burger.

He ate the burger and my fries, on the way home.  I had forgotten his sippy cup so he could not have his juice.  He can’t hold those little packets of juice to his face, squeeze and drink at the same time.  That is just too much for him.

How sad is that?

Once Home

Kids are doing their schoolwork, though one of my children “forgot” that he lied about doing some work, from last week.  Now, I grade everything at the end of the week, except the Bible.  That, I ask where they got to and they tell me.

This particular child stated that XYZ was done, so when I asked him again today (to make his new schedule), he suddenly realized that he lied to me and now he is backtracking in a  big way.

So, he sits, thumbing through his Bible to see where he actually stopped and how big of a lie he decided to tell me.

I can’t even.

Shaving a Cat’s Butt

In the midst of Lie-Gate, I decided that Karole (our cat) needed her butt shaved.  She was getting a bit unruly and since she is older than dirt, she smears on her fur.  I really just wanted to make a safe exit from point A to get point B on the mat without smearing it from here to high heaven.

Have you ever shaved a cat’s butt?  It was not one of my best moments.  I have a kid crying because he needs someone to feed him his applesauce, one kid crying because they lied, one rushing through and washing every dish known to man (I have no idea why), and one jumping up and down because they lost 1 lb…then, there is Karole, her butt, fur flying, and a turd smeared.

Good times.

In the Midst

I received a sad email from my niece, my youngest son’s biological mom.  Broke my heart.  My heart is heavy for one of my nephews.  I am missing my Lady like crazy and her one year anniversary is sneaking up on me.  Plus, there is supper to cook, things to put back on my wall, baseboards to paint, a house to clean, and so on.

For now, I will finish shaving the cat’s butt.  I am having said child reread what he already “read.”  I turned the diffusers on, so my house may be dirty, but it smells good.  I will delegate the paint of the baseboards to Alyssa when she gets home.  There is an email that I will be sending to my niece and prayers that go up for my nephew.

I will wipe the drool, wipe my tears, love my God, and trust that His ways are higher than my ways.  There will be no running down the road naked, screaming at the top of my lungs.  Not today, Becky, not today.

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Confabulation vs Lying

Confabulation vs Lying
Epically.  Sucky.
Confabulation vs Lying.  Today started off, a smidgen after 8 am with my oldest freaking out because of the unexpected snow and the fact that she had to drive in it.  She called her daddy.  The crisis averted cause the roads weren’t bad.
Then another kid comes running upstairs when I have one eyeball open and announces that another kid is screaming in his ear and calling him names over cereal.
Arguing over how pathetic it is that he is eating cereal.
I tell one kid to leave and eat his breakfast.  I call the name calling child upstairs.
This child has not even fully entered my door before wails and tears and screaming occurred.
It is now 8:05.
I stop this child mid-diatribe, and I tell this child just to put her nose in a corner until she can pull it together enough for me to utter a word.
Now, I am praying for the Lord to gird me up.  Gird.  Me.  Up.  Cement the armor of God on my body where no RAD crowbar can pry it off.
By the time I finish my prayer and tell her to come.  We try again to get her to calmly LISTEN to me.  This is not working because she wanted to speak….loudly and with enthusiasm and hair flipping.
I tell her only to answer yes or no.
“Did you scream at the said child?”
“NO…*snot tears hair flipping*.”
“Did you raise your voice and yell at this child at close proximity?”
“YES…*foot-stomping, hand on hip, straining to get out another tear. I told this child that he was PATHETIC.”
“Were you going to eat the cereal?”
“No, I was eating something else!  But he……*stopped her right there*.”
“So, you were standing close by, screaming he is pathetic over cereal that you were not even eating.”
“Yes, but *stopped her right there because now we are talking about how dad isn’t fair amongst the kids and how she doesn’t like to do chores and that no one loves her.”
“Okay, so here is the thing.  The cereal wasn’t in your hand, in your mouth and you were eating something else when you decide that though you don’t want it, you don’t want this child to have it because someone else might potentially, in the next week or so want that particular cereal and you hollered….calling names.
Discussion Over
I will not discuss any other matter.  We are discussing this matter.  You will go downstairs, apologize, do your chores, do your homework and then earn 500 points for not being nice.  There will be no stomping, spitting, name-calling, dirty looks, door slamming, or dish crashing.”
…she left…
Then another kid didn’t want to do his work.  He sits there and says he would rather run up and down my stairs, do chores, OR stand in the corner.  I put him in the corner.  I gave most of the kids’ permission to go outside and enjoy the snow while I talked to my M.O.M. while cooking my kale chips.
Boo comes flying in soaking wet from what looks like rain.  It wasn’t rain, it wasn’t snow, he didn’t jump into the pond….the pipes had burst in the pump house.  My M.O.M. quickly said call me back.  I call Big Daddy *furious* and then I go on the hunt for not one, not two, not three, not even four but FIVE breaker boxes to figure out which breaker turns off the pump.
Kale burnt.
No luck.  Looks like Old Faithful with Boo standing there helplessly going “mom….the pipe pieces are everywhere.”  (Let’s not negate the fact we just had the whole thing replaced last summer with a guy that looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter.
“Dog” must have *really* liked me because about a month after he fixed the well (costing an arm and a leg), he called me at like 7 am on a Sunday morning asking me to go to P-town with him to pick out lingerie cause he wanted to touch my boobs.  I merely told him to hang on a second, and he could ask my husband if he minded….conversation ended real quick.  Apparently, he didn’t want to talk to my husband about touching my boobs.
A friend comes and finds the breaker and turns it off.  It is horrible….nothing I can do about it now.  I tell the kid who doesn’t want to do his schoolwork to take dogs out and eat lunch, then he can go take a nap, and after a nap, we would finish his homework.
He took a nap.
Then he did something stupid.
Hysteria occurred.
Kids scared.
I am scared.
Friends are scared.
Son scared.
My mom has called a half dozen times (after the fact) and is still crying.
It was sucky and horrible.  Thankfully, it is now okay.  God is still good.  I am calm now and I drank a route 44 coke.  My life may not be perfect and I may seem like I don’t know what I’m doing.  You would be correct.  I may also appear a little crazy.  Good call.  Oh, and confabulation is real and it sucks pond water.
Off The Recipe Track for a Moment
Those who have never jumped in my skin and walked around in it and never had life issues that I have had (or am dealing with)….do not judge me.
Do not look at me like I’m unfit or question my parenting.
Choose to love without judgment and with grace.
Leave the rest to Jesus.
For those who stood (and continue to stand) by me, in the journey that I am walking, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Remember, those who stand in the judgment, one day, I may be holding your hand through the ashes because I’ve already been down that road.
I may already have the scars to prove that I’ve been down that road.  Consequently, I may be the only one who loves, stands by you, supports, and doesn’t judge you.  Through the grace of God, I may lead you from ashes to beauty.
Keep that in mind.
Off the soapbox and back onto the healthy living.

Weeping may come in the night, but joy comes in the morning.  Psalm 30:5

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