Grounded

T. loves being grounded. I guess if you're 16 and all your friends are busy "differentiating" while you are bonding with new adoptive parents and you want to hang out at home and feel the love, what better excuse? Perfect cover.

But this time it's a bit much even for him. Recently, we had to "ground" him for a month of weekends (grounding really just means he's lost car and ride privileges, after-school free time and the right to have friends over). Yes, it was THAT serious, though I'll skip the details - if you're parenting a teenager, you know how it is. The usual stuff.

When we told him of his month-long restrictions, he didn't resist. He was relieved, because when he was caught wrongdoing, he actually expected us to "give him back". He packed all his undershorts into his duffle bag and wrote us a baroque letter of apology stating that he knew he had failed us, felt sorry that he "couldn't handle freedom" and understood that he'd have to go back to a group home. We assured him that although we were unsettled by what had happened, calling in the dreaded "7 day notice" to have him removed was absolutely not on the table, not now, not ever. (The 7-day notice happened to him twice before, so he was just reaching conclusions based on what he's known.) We helped him put his clothes back in his dresser and took him to buy some food for his pet lizard, which seemed to calm him down.

Then, to prove our point, we drew up a contract. Part of the purpose of the contract was to show him exactly what consequences would pertain to various types of infraction - and the fact that NONE of them include being "given away."

On his final weekend of being grounded, his best friend had a birthday party. He wanted us to let him off a day early so he could go. We said no - not only because he's grounded, but also because of the nature of the party violates the terms of our contract. He was REALLY mad. We had a two-day standoff during which he tried to sabotage a summer job opportunity to get back at us. When we calmly explained that if he refused to get a job or seek out any gainful activities, he'd be coming to work with one of us (per the contract), he did a complete 180 on the spot. He not only changed his mind, but he sat right down and wrote a wonderful application and organized the letters of reference and all the supporting materials. He did this without spite, even politely asking for advice. And he took great care and pride in the application. It was a great reflection of his skills.

When he was done, to save face, he asked semi-sarcastically, "Are you happy now?" We smiled and pointed to the contract. At the very bottom, it clearly states "Smart decisions and positive behavior will result in happy, cooperative parents and may lead to bonuses and car privileges."

He looked utterly gobsmacked when we pointed it out. I offered, "I'd be happy to take you to get that t-shirt you wanted to buy with next month's allowance." He stared. He calculated for a moment. He said, "I would like to get some Levi's shorts at the mall instead. Is that a bonus?" I said, "Sure thing, it's your bonus so if you want shorts, let's go get shorts."

I'm not saying you should constantly hand out cash and prizes. But I do think that kids like T. get very accustomed to being disciplined. He's been through numerous foster homes where there are wall charts and privileges have to be earned and so on. He has generally viewed the "privileges" as the sort of things kids who aren't in foster care get every day - the right to hang out with friends, for example. The shorts, on the other hand, were definitely "extra" and they were offered happily and quickly. He didn't have to be "good" for a whole month, he just had to do a spectacular job turning his attitude around and pulling off this one big accomplishment.

And in that moment, I believe we all learned a valuable lesson. He learned that family life is a two-way street. And I learned that the "BAT" model of parenting (bribe-and-threaten) that I read about on one of my favorite blogs is completely brilliant. I jest, but no, seriously.

Mad

I'm mad today, at everybody, and I feel like writing about it. In the words of one of my fave bloggers, sparkly pink cupcakes to all y'all...(and my apologies because I cannot remember which one of you geniuses coined this, so if it's yours, claim your credit!)

...to the English teacher who has apparently been sending T. out of class for misbehavior but not sharing this information with anyone. More love to him for turning our calm attempt to discuss how we might work together more effectively into a self-indulgent venting session.

...to the city of Los Angeles, which has allowed retail marijuana shops to flourish all around us (eight within a block) while still enforcing criminal penalties for possession. Trying to keep these kids out of trouble when their parents and older siblings can pick up weed as easily (more easily) than they can buy a gallon of milk seems nearly impossible some days. It feels like a giant mousetrap that threatens a parent's sanity.

...to T.'s primary caseworker who calls us every so often and tells us she must "log a visit" asap, and expects us to accomodate her schedule, including on weekends. More love to her for showing no interest or affection for T., for belittling and interrogating him at every opportunity, even when we assure her that we've already handled his behavior. And extra special bonus points for speaking to him critically about his birth mother. Every time she visits she leaves me with a pile of sparkly pink emotional mess to clean up.

...to my boss who is being passive aggressive about letting me take time off to get T. settled and attend things like therapy appointments and social worker visits. If I'd given birth I would have been out for months, but since I adopted an older kid instead, I have to beg, borrow and steal every litttle bit of time I need right now.

....to T.'s birth relatives who refuse to call me to confirm and coordinate the plan for his visit this weekend. Do they not understand how high the stakes are for him? Christmas went this way too. They tell him he can come, then refuse to return calls or texts required to work out arrangements. And how much do I feel like leaving my kid off for a visit with someone who won't call me back? About as much as I feel like telling him I can't get this worked out for him, then dealing with his crushing disappointment. AAaaaaaaargh!!!

...to T., who is wallowing in a sneering, leering hormonal stew right now and who argues if you say the sky is blue. He's been an absolute delight throughout his spring break, since neither fishing, camping, nor horseback riding have met with his princely expectations. I know, I know. To quote myself quoting my MAPP instructor, "parent the need, not the behavior". Hah. Hard to do this week.

Mmmmm. I feel better already!

Parent the Need, Not the Behavior

In our MAPP training, the instructor often repeated the refrain "Parent the need, not the behavior."

I find myself chanting that over and over on the treadmill sometimes.

It's alot harder than it sounds, like most things to do with parenting an older kid out of foster care. I mean, it's one thing to parent the need rather than the behavior when your three-year-old is having a freakout. It's another to sort out a 16 year-old boy.

Nevertheless, I find it a useful, somewhat meditative thought. When I'm overwhelmed by the behavior (skipping classes, for example, is this week's hot topic), I switch my focus to the need for awhile. It gets me out of policing mode and puts me back in touch with the love and the fundamental bond. It doesn't necessarily make me more effective, but it reminds me why I'm doing this and alleviates the feelings of futility that sneak up on me occasionally when the behavior feels out of my control.

I've learned never to ask him "Why are you doing this?" It sounds desperate and ignorant. (Gentler versions like "Tell me how you felt when you decided not to go to class?" are okay, but rarely result in a meaningful response because he doesn't have that self-awareness yet.) Anyway, one can pretty well guess why he's doing most things.

You only have to look at his life to figure that the realm of unmet needs is so huge you can kind of aim in a general direction and be pretty sure you're gonna hit something significant. I'd say his list of needs goes something like:

- the need to know you have a place to sleep and food to eat every day and nobody is going to come take that from you today

- the need to have one adult you can call for help when you are in trouble

- the need to be safe at home, to not be violated or hurt

- the need to be recognized for who you really are

- the need to make sense of your life and your story at your own pace

- the need to be allowed time and space to change as you're able

- the need to feel you have some control over your life

So when I get tired I aim for at least one of those needs.

He's twice had foster parents who called in the notorious "7 day notice" (a demand that must be met for the county to relocate him within a week) for infractions similar to what happened this week. In those earlier situations, he came home one afternoon, a social worker was there, all his belongings were in garbage bags (no time or money for suitcases) and he was driven to another county and dropped off at a new home in a place where he knew nobody.

Now, let me say that I understand what drove those foster parents to do that. They felt they could not parent him effectively anymore, that his behavior was disrupting their lives and their available attention for the other kids in their homes. But I also understand that T. felt that they "threw him away." It reinforced his belief that he's bad, that people grow tired of him and want to get rid of him, that he matters to nobody and nobody understands him.

When managing his behavior is wearing me out, I find it relaxing to remember that there are PLENTY of other adults on hand to help with the behavioral aspect - including his social worker, our new therapy program, certain teachers and his school counselor. But when it comes to addressing his deep underlying needs, it's mostly just us. We are the only people who can be there in that way right now.

Some days I'm afraid I won't live up to the promise - he'll do something that I just won't be able to handle. But as my mom says, what parent of a teenager hasn't felt that way?