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kyburgI think the last time I mentioned parenting, it was when I was trying to get a story in for a fic challenge (and I did, and gosh people are loving it) but I was getting sabotaged by a very busy little boy who wanted my attention in some inappropriate ways last fall.
Well, it got worse.
A lot worse.
Facebook, in its infinite wisdom, sends reminders out - and three years ago this SDCC, I got sacked the same day I was to go down for the show, no warning.
2012 was one of the worst years I’ve ever slogged through, and I buried a spouse in 1998 when I was 37, after five years of essential hospice. 2012 was horrible.
2013 wasn’t any better. And it got worse. That little blip on the radar last year was - hm - as much as I wanted to tell.
But getting that reminder kind of tipped me over. I’m not going to SDCC this year, and I haven’t even tried hard to find a way.
I’ve discovered the only winning thing I can do is nothing, or as little as possible.
Maybe this will explain (from Facebook):
Three years later.
I did SDCC, thanks to Lea, David and damn, what an education. If I can get back there, prepared and ready? I could definitely crack that market wide open. (Jay Lake and I had a wonderful day together, and I am still living on that contact. Lea and David took me back the next year as well, and it only convinced me I was right.)
Just.
I can’t stop working something that pays every day. And in the past three years, I’ve worked as many as three paying jobs at once. (I’m currently cruising at two, thank you very much.) Add the two I don’t get paid for (parent and co-head of household), the creative career doesn’t get much love. Or respect, to be blunt.
That job ended in 2013, I found another job that I was able to eke out six months with that ended in nothing less than Flaming Death and I managed my mother’s hospice at a distance I couldn’t financially overcome while I looked for another one. I did - current gig that had one fellow hire me, then left the company only to be turned over to another fellow who planned to eliminate me but ended up being terminated disabled instead and I have current boss lady who gets along and likes me. (But I kept two other jobs at the same time.)
My mother has died since then. I’ve had significant vision issues that impacted my ability to drive any distance at night (that’s resolved but it SUCKED and there was no guarantee of resolving it while that was happening) - time taken off, zero. Even the surgeries to resolve it were done outpatient, and I worked from home during recovery. Earlier this year, I got shoved (not asked, not believed, SHOVED) into a breast biopsy I knew would come back negative because I’d been followed since my baseline for the changes the mammogram Kaiser took as THEIR baseline revealed. Time taken off: zero. I worked from home when I was not too compromised by surgery to sit upright and look at a screen.
Let’s add the issues kiddo brought the last three years, shall we? In deference to his privacy, I can’t go into details but I can relate that discovering just how quickly the blaming begins even caught me off guard, to the point of becoming part of the problem. Blaming, and shoving off of responsibility - and I relate this to warn others. Unless you keep your kid home (and you stay there with them), there are people who are responsible for teaching, caring for and mentoring your kids. They need to be on the same page with you, not expecting you to resolve the behavior issues they send nastygrams home with your kid about. It’s impossible. If your kid has behavior issues beyond what you can see, it’s beyond what you can impact outside the home.
We have one kid we micromanage at home - it drives a lot of people crazy (no adult conversations before 9 PM, kid in bed at 8 PM, shut the games down, turn the television off), but we were prepared for a traumatized adoptee. Despite many, many, MANY discussions and meetings with teachers and other educators, not to mention at least three different schools, it just didn’t sink in how much that trauma had impacted him. A sad, withdrawn child might have gotten the right attention. An attention-seeking, aggressive, verbally abusive child? Not so much. No sympathy and in time, open hatred.
Demanding an IEP last year got us one that did not meet his needs, and a due process was required to get the necessary services in (including a new IEP). It took nearly the entire school year, and included removing him from school (took him to work with me, found homeschooling resources and a drop-in center, friends stepped up to cover days), retaining a lawyer and an advocate, mediation appointments and finally deciding the damage was done and a therapeutic environment was now necessary. Not nice to have - necessary.
I’ve stopped attending church. I have had to stop taking kiddo out into public except for the absolute necessary things like groceries (and hated every minute of it). Playing with the neighbor kid is a memory. Anything where he is away from direct supervision with other kids is a huge risk. And this is a kid with no medical issues whatsoever - we recently re-ruled out ADHD for the third, fourth time. No autism, no dyslexia, no sensory processing issues. He’s just a tyrant and a bully. At first blush, the first reaction people have is ‘why haven’t you DONE something with him’ if not outright 'what did you DO to him?’
But, kiddo is doing better in his new environment. We finally got him in to be seen by someone with enough licensure to prescribe medication if it was indicated - and no surprise, he doesn’t meet criteria.
The other mothers I’ve been able to talk to with similar experiences - very few - all have grown children. And none of them have a relationship with their sons. That’s pretty chilling. Good outcome, bad outcome - you don’t come out of this with a functioning family unit. At. All.
So for obvious reasons, I accept the sympathy but don’t take the advice without huge amounts of salt. Maybe I’m delusional, but I’m willing to try anything to avoid that fate.
I’ve been ordered to take time off, so I don’t go home from work Wednesday nights until after 9 PM. Most of the time, I hang out at Coffee Cartel watching Netflix on my iPod and putting aside thinking about anything else.
James Bell gets to ride herd most of the time, but he’s not gotten to shoot rockets since last year. While he gets Fridays to himself (I’m at work, kid’s at school), he ends up handling the one or two tasks that require someone at home at the same time. We try to make sure he gets respite as well.
I think the hardest thing to accept is that I’m expected to be happy despite all this. Maybe the old “too many insults” applies here.
I’m not really good at faking that, to be blunt.
So, set the expectations to zero. Don’t plan anything, don’t anticipate anything, don’t commit to anything, don’t bother people with anything. Sound awful? It isn’t. It’s working. It’s the only thing that has -
Thing are getting better. Glacially, but -
We’re fine. And still looking for ways to improve, optimize and regain some of the daily joy that makes all this worthwhile.
Just - we’re not what you see. And consider ignorance bliss.
Three years. Three dog years, you ask me.
–
So yeah. I’m writing, but not fast enough to suit me. Dog fucking years, man.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2a9Zxbw
via IFTTT
Well, it got worse.
A lot worse.
Facebook, in its infinite wisdom, sends reminders out - and three years ago this SDCC, I got sacked the same day I was to go down for the show, no warning.
2012 was one of the worst years I’ve ever slogged through, and I buried a spouse in 1998 when I was 37, after five years of essential hospice. 2012 was horrible.
2013 wasn’t any better. And it got worse. That little blip on the radar last year was - hm - as much as I wanted to tell.
But getting that reminder kind of tipped me over. I’m not going to SDCC this year, and I haven’t even tried hard to find a way.
I’ve discovered the only winning thing I can do is nothing, or as little as possible.
Maybe this will explain (from Facebook):
Three years later.
I did SDCC, thanks to Lea, David and damn, what an education. If I can get back there, prepared and ready? I could definitely crack that market wide open. (Jay Lake and I had a wonderful day together, and I am still living on that contact. Lea and David took me back the next year as well, and it only convinced me I was right.)
Just.
I can’t stop working something that pays every day. And in the past three years, I’ve worked as many as three paying jobs at once. (I’m currently cruising at two, thank you very much.) Add the two I don’t get paid for (parent and co-head of household), the creative career doesn’t get much love. Or respect, to be blunt.
That job ended in 2013, I found another job that I was able to eke out six months with that ended in nothing less than Flaming Death and I managed my mother’s hospice at a distance I couldn’t financially overcome while I looked for another one. I did - current gig that had one fellow hire me, then left the company only to be turned over to another fellow who planned to eliminate me but ended up being terminated disabled instead and I have current boss lady who gets along and likes me. (But I kept two other jobs at the same time.)
My mother has died since then. I’ve had significant vision issues that impacted my ability to drive any distance at night (that’s resolved but it SUCKED and there was no guarantee of resolving it while that was happening) - time taken off, zero. Even the surgeries to resolve it were done outpatient, and I worked from home during recovery. Earlier this year, I got shoved (not asked, not believed, SHOVED) into a breast biopsy I knew would come back negative because I’d been followed since my baseline for the changes the mammogram Kaiser took as THEIR baseline revealed. Time taken off: zero. I worked from home when I was not too compromised by surgery to sit upright and look at a screen.
Let’s add the issues kiddo brought the last three years, shall we? In deference to his privacy, I can’t go into details but I can relate that discovering just how quickly the blaming begins even caught me off guard, to the point of becoming part of the problem. Blaming, and shoving off of responsibility - and I relate this to warn others. Unless you keep your kid home (and you stay there with them), there are people who are responsible for teaching, caring for and mentoring your kids. They need to be on the same page with you, not expecting you to resolve the behavior issues they send nastygrams home with your kid about. It’s impossible. If your kid has behavior issues beyond what you can see, it’s beyond what you can impact outside the home.
We have one kid we micromanage at home - it drives a lot of people crazy (no adult conversations before 9 PM, kid in bed at 8 PM, shut the games down, turn the television off), but we were prepared for a traumatized adoptee. Despite many, many, MANY discussions and meetings with teachers and other educators, not to mention at least three different schools, it just didn’t sink in how much that trauma had impacted him. A sad, withdrawn child might have gotten the right attention. An attention-seeking, aggressive, verbally abusive child? Not so much. No sympathy and in time, open hatred.
Demanding an IEP last year got us one that did not meet his needs, and a due process was required to get the necessary services in (including a new IEP). It took nearly the entire school year, and included removing him from school (took him to work with me, found homeschooling resources and a drop-in center, friends stepped up to cover days), retaining a lawyer and an advocate, mediation appointments and finally deciding the damage was done and a therapeutic environment was now necessary. Not nice to have - necessary.
I’ve stopped attending church. I have had to stop taking kiddo out into public except for the absolute necessary things like groceries (and hated every minute of it). Playing with the neighbor kid is a memory. Anything where he is away from direct supervision with other kids is a huge risk. And this is a kid with no medical issues whatsoever - we recently re-ruled out ADHD for the third, fourth time. No autism, no dyslexia, no sensory processing issues. He’s just a tyrant and a bully. At first blush, the first reaction people have is ‘why haven’t you DONE something with him’ if not outright 'what did you DO to him?’
But, kiddo is doing better in his new environment. We finally got him in to be seen by someone with enough licensure to prescribe medication if it was indicated - and no surprise, he doesn’t meet criteria.
The other mothers I’ve been able to talk to with similar experiences - very few - all have grown children. And none of them have a relationship with their sons. That’s pretty chilling. Good outcome, bad outcome - you don’t come out of this with a functioning family unit. At. All.
So for obvious reasons, I accept the sympathy but don’t take the advice without huge amounts of salt. Maybe I’m delusional, but I’m willing to try anything to avoid that fate.
I’ve been ordered to take time off, so I don’t go home from work Wednesday nights until after 9 PM. Most of the time, I hang out at Coffee Cartel watching Netflix on my iPod and putting aside thinking about anything else.
James Bell gets to ride herd most of the time, but he’s not gotten to shoot rockets since last year. While he gets Fridays to himself (I’m at work, kid’s at school), he ends up handling the one or two tasks that require someone at home at the same time. We try to make sure he gets respite as well.
I think the hardest thing to accept is that I’m expected to be happy despite all this. Maybe the old “too many insults” applies here.
I’m not really good at faking that, to be blunt.
So, set the expectations to zero. Don’t plan anything, don’t anticipate anything, don’t commit to anything, don’t bother people with anything. Sound awful? It isn’t. It’s working. It’s the only thing that has -
Thing are getting better. Glacially, but -
We’re fine. And still looking for ways to improve, optimize and regain some of the daily joy that makes all this worthwhile.
Just - we’re not what you see. And consider ignorance bliss.
Three years. Three dog years, you ask me.
–
So yeah. I’m writing, but not fast enough to suit me. Dog fucking years, man.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2a9Zxbw
via IFTTT
