"My Blankie is Crying Too!"

"I'm Sad At You"

It was a pretty typical morning at the Angel Retreat. We have at least four children in our home who were affected by drugs and alcohol exposure in the womb. (I say "at least" because there is one whom we don't have enough information about to know if she was exposed or not.) So on any given day, well, actually, every day, there are certain behaviours being displayed by at least one of these children. But sometimes, the things they say while having these behaviours are humorous, and I think being able to laugh at these things is what keeps us sane.

It makes me think of an episode we had with Annie earlier this year. Annie has a hard time with her closet. See, she and our 10-year-old share a room we originally had set up for 4 teenagers, and in this room we added on a fairly large walk-in closet. Sometimes I think the space is just too overwhelming for Annie. We keep hoping they'll place two more elementary age girls with us to share that room, but for now we have to live with Annie being lost in her closet. She used to be such a neat freak! Her room was always perfectly picked up, everything in its place, and she always made her bed. Now, she had trouble deciding what to wear in the morning, and so at least five items of clothing end up on the floor in her closet each day. And each afternoon, we have her go in and hang her clothes back up. So one day, I asked her to go put her clothes back on the hanger, and as happens spontaneously and unexpectedly several times a week, Annie went into a rage. For whatever reason, that day asking her to do something we ask her to do almost daily, triggered her tantrum mechanism. I walked away, as is usual. When she finally started to calm a little, 45 minutes later, I asked her to go hang her clothes up now. She stomped off, and I could hear her screaming and yelling at me in her closet from the living room. I continued to ignore. (Believe it or not, this is the best way to deal with her rage.) She came out 30 minutes later, stomping and full of attitude, and looked at me with pure hatred shooting from her eyes, and yelled, "I feel like a maid!" I have to say, it took everything I had not to burst out laughing right there. I calmly explained to her that a maid is someone who cleans up other people's stuff, not someone who cleans up their own stuff. She didn't get it, and went back to her room kicking and screaming.

So getting back to this morning. Will wanted to go play in the girls' room. Granny, being oh so practical, brought him back out explaining that the girls were getting dressed, so he couldn't be in there. Of course, this makes no sense to someone who doesn't understand hiding your naked body. He's 3...3-year-olds often parade around the house in nothing but socks. Right? Well, he does anyway. So he didn't care for Granny's actions. He screamed. What can I compare his screams to? Have you ever heard a rabbit or a guinea pig scream in fear? Think of the highest pitch you can still hear, turn the volume up to about 75, and consider how long it takes to get the air out of an inflatable floatation mattress. I may be exaggerating a little here, but don't kid yourself, I'm not exaggerating all that much. Granny tilts her head, gets that granny look on her face, and says in that soft, drawn out, "I love you, and want to slap you but am not going to because it's not the way we raise children anymore, so all I can do is say your name" voice, and says, "Willlllllllll..." As she turns to walk away, he throws his soccer ball at the back of her head. Don't worry, it was one of those soft squishy balls, so no concussion.

Now, I'm the only one who can see her face. If I was a kid, I'd be peeing my pants at that point seeing the color and set of her face. You should know, Will woke her up at 5:00 this morning and woke up the girls and wanted everyone to play. So she's already frazzled. I thought she was going to implode. She turned, and even he looked scared. (He usually thinks this is play time and laughs and runs.) She snatched him up, and before I could react, she strapped him in the booster chair from the table and pulled it to the middle of the kitchen and said, "You're in time out!" I thought that was pretty good self-control, considering her state of mind at that point...it was 7:30 am...

I had to leave for work. In my mind I said a prayer asking that God keep everyone safe today. As I was walking out the door, my mom was mumbling..."It's going to be a GREAT day!" Will was screaming..."I want my blankie...my blankie is sad...I'm crying...my blankie is crying too...I'm sad at you..." and so on.

That's right, at some point each morning, at least one of my lovable drug babies is in this state, and either my mom or I are nearing a breaking point...and it's those comments they wail at you that break your mood and make you laugh, even if they don't appreciate the humor. If they only knew...

Tune in again to read tales about the adventures from the Angel Retreat.

Donations to fund the needs and activities for the angels who live with us are always welcome.