Post #6: No More Drama

So when did we go from 8 months of complete obstinacy, forgetfulness, and complete rage to reasonableness?

I had to take away the electric best friend (for some of you that is not a traditional pleasure device--but this generation's pleasure toy called a XBOX 360).  Frankly, it was easier to remove the power cord, then take away the whole console.  So when he realized it would not power on, and why, I told him that I have had it with his antics an he will lose the only thing that he enjoys.  The equipment sat in a shipping box on the floor for a few days when he said, "can you give me more time to get myself together before you ship it away?"  Whoa  . . .  sounds perfectly reasonable.

Then when I asked how we were going to navigate getting him home from school next year, when he is in he 7th grade, he answer, "maybe I will mature over the summer so that I I can start taking the bus again."

I can't believe that we got a respite from the drama that has been part of our life for the last 8 months.  Nice bone to throw at the mother who contemplates on a daily basis just rolling over until adolescence goes back to where it came from.  It was nice to have these to moments of clarity to now that it could be possible.

I have been reading blog postings from tweens and teens who identify themselves as "drama queens" to see what they say about how they see themselves and whether the term provides them with some form of liberation.

Here's a post from 2006 written by a young lady that really resonated:

10th-Oct-2006 03:39 pm - what do you think of me?

Everybody reading my Livejournal, i have a question for you. What do you think of me? after everything that has happened lately.. im starting to question alot of friendships.. and i just want to know, what is our friendship like? how do u see our friendship? be brutally honest, am i complete bitch to you? do i ignore you? or do i complete your world? thanks for those who leave a comment and tell me watch u think. Mood:contemplative Music: missing you- 1st lady

 The responses were varied and all over the place, but the fact that she puts herself out there for others to define her, to tell her what they think of her.  Is she looking for brutally honest responses? Or is she looking to validate her own self-concept?  I think it is both.

What happens when you know that you like trains and dump trucks to not knowing anything anymore.  You know that what is being asked of you is no different than it was when you were younger:  brush your teeth, do your chores, speak nicely to grandpa--yet these seem so overly inconvenient and intrusive.

Our "Drama Queen" friend got some 17 replies.  All of them spoke to how wonderful a friend she is, how trustworthy, loyal, compassionate, and supportive she was to them.  But could she not see this in herself?  It is hard to know if she struggled in knowing what kind of person she is, or if she needed so much external validation?  I think secretly we all want to know what others think of us and others perceive us, but for me, it wasn't until I was in my 30's did I even feel that I knew who I was.  How can we expect this of our tweens and teens.

Reply #1

hello jessica :)
what do i think of you?
i think your quite the cool gal, who is still my friend even after all the dirty thing i make up :)
sometimes you even help me think of some hha :)
you are a good friend, and you never ignore me :D
im pretty happy i met you last year, and im happy how we stayed firends and we will forever :)<3

 Reading the replies on her post, I have written and felt this way with many of my middle school friends.  I really thought that I would be life-long friends with them, but that does not always happen.  Feelings get hurt, alliances are severed, people change--all in a three year period called middle school. 

While that may true, I may not be as close to the friends I had in middle school.  Having them at that time help mediate the emotional roller-coaster I went through.  It helped with the drama with my parents and with the inner-turmoil of my own insecurities.

I am grateful that I know myself at this stage is life and that I am relatively secure as I raise my adolescent son.  I could not imagine parenting him at this time with any leftover baggage.  I hope that my strong self-concept will show through to him that there is calm and security on the other side of this time.   That you don't have to die to hear how others think of  you and what kind of friend you were to them.  Say it now and while your friends and family are still with you.

The other thought I had was that she was so unaware of who she is that she questioned everything.  From what kind of friend she was, to how she looked, to having the right clothes.  Perhaps her insecurity was so overwhelming that she felt she had to be anything others wanted her to be.  I see some of this in my son.  His self-concept is so fragile that he is prime for the manipulation.  
I hope that over the next few years that this will come to him so he knows what kind of friend he is and won't need to ask that of others.

Reply #2

Honestly, your a great person Jess. Actually everyone is great in some way or another. We all have our downfalls and our faults, but truthfully I think that everyone should go by this saying no matter what the outcome or consiquence [sic] of any situation. "Like your friends for who they are, but love them for their differences; you'll never find someone the same." :)

A cute topographical map of the adolescent brain.

And in the immortal words of Los Angeles Laker, Ron Artest (see 12 seconds in).  'I want to thank my psychiatrist."

Post #5: Elementary My Dear Student

Post #5:  Elementary My Dear Student

When we venture back to the places that hold poignant memories (good or bad) we are forced to  recall what we gained, lost and what has passed.  Visiting one's elementary school can flood the brain with warm and fuzzy thoughts of favorite teachers, friends we met, and insights we had.  It can also show us the path of where we started and where we are now.  Going back to our elementary school can be comfort food (imagine macaroni and cheese).

I am fortunate in that I had a great elementary experience and so has my son.  While his experience is a bit more recent, but there are parallels and overlapping moments that we share.

Most importantly is the truly exceptional teachers we both had.  Creative, engaged, insightful, demanding, and caring are some words that describe the 6 years of elementary school.  We both had struggles with academic content and social situations, but there wasn't one person at the school who made us feel invisible.  This is not the case in middle school.

While middle school has its own gestalt, you are just a number plain and simple.  You either make it through the six periods without incident or you are a known entity in somebody's office.  While it is a generalization, middle school lacks the intimate-nature of elementary education.  You have been kicked out of the village to fend for yourself and by god--you better get it quickly or it is a very long 180 days.

Elementary school allows you to come out of the cocoon, open your wings, and extend them out so you can show the world the beauty you have become.  You experience the world through newness.  Sounds, colors, words, numbers, history, geography, music, art, and best of all friends.  Sometimes you mirror these new people or they mirror you, but the time for joy and discovery is unencumbered and liberating.

If you play your cards right, the relationships formed in elementary school are unique.  Remember when you saw your teacher outside the school for the first time?  Or overhead their first name?  The intimate knowledge of who they were, what they like and dislike, and how they taught you to find your way was no easy task.  We had exceptional elementary teachers, who mostly loved their work.  They allowed us to slack off, miss homework, go to the nurse on a daily basis, call our parents, get B's when we could get A's, etc.  They knew we needed something besides a homework agenda and organized notebooks.

They looked upon us with oversized "Hobo Kelly" glasses and told us she can see the crowns on top of our heads.  They allowed us to be the office monitor so we can get out of the classroom and chat with the office staff whom we came to adore.  They gave us lower grades at the beginning of the year so we could work harder by the last report card.  And much, much, more.

To go back to our elementary school after just graduating, you think that you own the place.  That the school is "yours", the teachers are "yours", the classroom and desks are "yours" and that nothing can take that feeling away.  The teachers hug you, tell you how you have grown, matured, developed and that they can remember how you were in class. 

All this makes the middle-school kid feel that they matter.  This is especially important during times of feelings of insignificance and insecurity.   This very small, yet incredibly significant relationship is elementary.

Blogger's Journal:  Addictive Mac and Cheese

Now, don't you think that would make anybody feel great and loved?

Post #4: Apology Accepted

Sorry seems to be the hardest word.   After a tremendously trying couple of weeks which include lies like "I didn't lose my wallet, I was pocket picked." Or, "homework club was good, no I didn't go".  We had this interaction:

Tween:   "I didn't go to my 5th period class because my P.E. teacher let me cheer on the other kids in the finals of the cross-country race."

Me:  "So you ditched violin?"

Tween:  "I didn't ditch class, my P.E. teacher said it was ok to miss violin to cheer on the other racers."

Me:  "Did your music teacher know where you were?  Did she say it was ok?"

Tween:  "No"

Me:  "So you ditched 5th period--like I said."

Tween: [now screaming and pushing over furniture] "Ok, I ditched class - but don't say that word out loud again."

Me:  "Well I am going to contact your 5th period music teacher and let her know that you ditched class and you will lose privileges and have to deal with the consequences."

Tween:  [still screaming]  Ok, ok, ok, ok - just don't tell her that I "ditched"

Indulge me a bit, but even Pinocchio--the boy with the growing nose--ditched school.

In the original story, as he tells his lies his nose begins to grow until it is so long he cannot turn around in the room. The Turquoise Fairy explains to Pinocchio that it is his lies that are making his nose grow long, then calls in a flock of woodpeckers to chisel down his nose.  Perhaps a bit over dramatic for today's parenting.

OK - back to reality.  I wrote the email that I said I would.  I also shared with her how challenging things have been.  Not only did I get a reply the next day, but I WAS WRONG!  

He did not ditch class, he did all the things he said and she went on to tell me that he is good student and very responsible and responsive while in her class.  I asked her to please tell him that we communicated and that she cleared it up.  She did this, and offered him some extra info, she said, "your mother cares about you very much." 

So how do you make it up to your child, when they have been less than easy to deal with, when you were wrong?

Of course there was the apology.  It was heartfelt and I was an appropriately guilt-ridden mother who tattled on her son, only to be accusing him of something he didn't do.  How do you believe anything your child says when they have been lying so much that he sounds like a spokesperson from the Bush administration defending the war in Iraq. 

Yes, I looked into his eyes and said I was terribly sorry for not believing him, for not understanding what he was trying to say, and that I was touched by how his teacher describes him.

Here's the not so funny part  . . . I was exactly the same way as him.  I can see myself in this child and I am so embarrassed and frightened at the same time.  I want this go around to be different than my turn in middle school and it looks exactly the same.

This brings me to the age old adolescent question, "Who am I?"  For any teenager, this is a loaded question.  But for an adopted child, it is quite complicated.  If I felt disconnected and different in a biological family--what is my child going through in his trans-racial adoptive family that is changing on a daily basis?

I imagine that he has a huge open space in his chest.  It surrounds his heart and this gap has grown as he has.  It is like a planter with drainage holes.  There is no way to fill it up.  It will never stay full.  That space or hole is what I imagine he feels like.  Between adoption, biology, identity, and now adolescence--he's got to be pretty empty in there.

The Need to Connect With The Past

As adopted teens mature, they think more about how their lives would have been different if they had not been adopted or if they had been adopted by another family. They frequently wonder who they would have become under other circumstances. For them, the need to try on different personalities is particularly meaningful. In addition to all of the possibilities life holds, adoptees realize the possibilities that were lost.

I read this and thought of how my son may be feeling as he tries to navigate the teenage terrain and his adoption:

"For some adopted teenagers, the feelings of loss and abandonment cause them to think and want more information about their original families. Sometimes they are looking for more information about their medical history. Has anyone in their family had allergies? Heart disease? Cancer?"

One 15-year old who was adopted as a child commented, "It's impossible for someone who has not been adopted to understand the vacuum created by not knowing where you came from. No matter how much I read or talk to my parents about it I can't fully explain the emptiness I feel."