Monday, February 04, 2013
Having had my picture made with the Braves baseball folks last week certainly made me smile, but so does yesterday's picture before church, standing with my handsome son, Allen. My proudest moments come from within my family.
Allen is now, unbelievably 17 1/2 years old, a junior in high school, so I have, at least, another year to try and make a positive impression upon his super emotionally demanding psyche. Like his older brother, Edgar, he can suck all the oxygen from the atmosphere with one swift inhale, leaving me floundering and gasping figuratively. When he walks, he swaggers exactly like Edgar, swinging his shoulders, flexing his muscles, glancing happily in mirrors at his handsome image.
We slipped out of church before the last prayer, right after Communion, all of a sudden there were three empty back rows, my sweet Pastor Tony called my cell later in the day, making sure we didn't go running out for an emergency, he knows I'm bad about remembering to call others when I need help.
Well, that's because my mind goes into trauma mode, major gear-churning, overdrive, trying to have all my bases covered while coping and figuring out what's the best thing to do next.
"Text me Cindy," he's stressed a thousand times, "Let folks help you."
"Nah," I told him, "I had to be up in Gainesville within 60 minutes so we bolted to go get Sabrina. "I hadn't wanted to miss church, figuring I could do both if I kept my eye on my cheap Timex watch.
Now she's back in the go-away-for-college mode, back on track for a nursing degree. OK, let's make this happen. She'd been with a good friend, Courtney, who's also going into the nursing program.
I didn't watch the Super Ball, oval ball holds no appeal for me, my five oldest teenagers went to Pastor Adam's house for a youth group Super Bowl party, I picked 'em up at 11 on a school night, folks sure dragging around this morning, but they'd had a really good time.
I'd read a tweet about how many million gallons of beer that'd be drunk last night in the U.S. and how many million chickens would die to feed folks, my uber logical brain wondered why folks wanted to poison themselves like that? Shouldn't we, as a nation, use that misappropriated money to donate to a vaccine cause in Haiti, or something? Seriously, that's how I think.
This blog about the misconceptions portrayed in Super Bowl ads caught my attention as the advertising media clamor for our ADHD-laden minds, trying to lure us with thoughts of "this is the stuff we need to be happy, successful, young," or what have you - the fact that happiness comes from within so not on the proverbial table at all. That wouldn't sell.
An Atlanta middle school had recently had a gang-related shooting and I just remember thinking how glad I am that my own kids are in such safe, nurturing, academically excellent schools. So many of the staff and faculty go to our church or to nearby churches, easing my own mind about the folks in charge of my kids all day long.
Another good post about habits designed to help you can be found here, it's what my brain'll be ruminating about today.
We'd had a very unusual skirmish in the kitchen yesterday afternoon, as my cyclothymic disordered one kept egging on the one he knew had the aggressive potential to blow up explosively, thus setting his ownself up in his own mind to then be the 'victim.'
Dude I was three feet away, I saw the whole thing, I saw what you did, you do this to me everyday. trying to provoke me into blowing my stack, literally jeering at my disengagement practices, mumbling extraordinarily hateful comments loud enough for me to hear, he does it to folks at school too. That's why the AP has called me three times recently, that's why he's had ISS.
I yelled for my big boys as I quickly flung myself in the melee, trying to stem the anger I saw. Scotty and CW had been trying to bring a desk from Grandpa's old office for Lily to use as a project table, dropping it and running to my side, but the fight was over quickly, for which I was thankful. I didn't get hit, nor pushed, nothing - my fling worked, producing an immediate stop.
I was very angry, we don't have that kind of commotion very often anymore. I did not disengage, I loudly voiced my extreme irritation, Yolie walked in right in the middle of my fussing.
I've told this one a billion times that someday when I'm not there to protect him, someone else is going to react extremely viciously to his constant barbs and provocations. He completely does not understand a word of what I'm saying. He thinks this is all my fault, or the fault of every one else but him.
He's headed now into his 18th year of being, my ability to protect him is becoming thinner and thinner with the passage of time.
I find it very sad, but I know he's driven from within to act like this, it is part and parcel of his emotional issues and trying to overcome it will take action on his part.
That's the difficult part of these behavioral issues I see around here. Even with therapy or medication, there's still so much free will involved, and the fact that there's a part of each kid who seeks subconsciously to re-create that which they've always known back in their original families makes for some hard-headed holds on negativity. On every level that primal wound exists and drives their behaviors to some degree for the rest of their lives.
So I seethed for awhile, upset that my younger kids were rattled by this, fortunately my three grandbabies had not yet come in the house and saw nothing of this fight, Tabby'd taken Mae and Alyssa to gather eggs from the hens who've been laying like crazy lately. The first photo I'd taken of Alyssa cracked me up as she'd made a Big Joe face, just like her daddy. Oh my. She favors her mom, the very pretty Tameshia, when she smiles, so much prettier than Joe's infamous and menacing scowl.
Yolie'd brought her laptop, working on adoption homestudies - how ironic, right? There in the middle of the aftermath of adoptive kids acting our negatively, while I paid bills through my own laptop, and the grandkids frolicked, because that's what one does at Bita's house. Alyssa's lovely hair sticking straight up and out later, as she ran around with her many cousins, aunts and uncles.
I was crowing like my hens, since I'd allotted a certain amount of $$ for our power bill and it came within $1.40 of my estimation. Yeah boy. That's the good news, the bad news is that the bill was $501.40. Ouch.
And another blurred photo...I suck at photography, but my usual photographer is struggling with some behavior issues right now.