Parties

Last night we hosted a cul de sac Easter egg hunt. It was way fun to watch BoyTwo race around the yard like a wild monkey grabbing plastic eggs from off the ground. He was so frantic he could hardly keep his balance. My neighbors were a little teary watching him experience yet another first. It made me happy to have yet another first under his belt. It seems like the more 'firsts' he has, the more he can progress. I have to stay on him like a fly on stinky poop, but it's worth it.

It feels like hyperactive parenting, this tricky business of raising a child with trauma. You hear about it, read about it, sometimes even see it, but no matter what, every time I experience something, it is surreal.

Three and BoyTwo were invited to a birthday party this morning. I decided to let them both go. It would have been waaaaaaay easier to just send Three. BoyTwo is still such a toddler that I have to be everywhere with him. Sure, he'd survive on his own, he did over in Ukraine, but those are not the results we are seeking. I needed to be there to guide his moves, his manners and his overall behavior. Being there at every possible moment I am available to catch him-wether it's him doing something naughty or having a 'first' or just plain old needing a mom. It's hard to describe. You wouldn't drop a 2 year old off at a bounce house and say 'see you in three hours,' would you? Same thing here.

We talked a lot beforehand about taking turns, not pushing or hitting, waiting for your turn, saying please and thank you. All the things we work on all. the. time, but now these skills were going to be needed all at the same time. I was a little nervous for the kid.

As we entered the facility he immediately went into overload, overstimulation, over-everything and took off like someone had just told him if he stopped running full speed at any given point he'd be executed. He got his wild eyes and his jazz hands going and I had to bring him back to earth, or at least try. So yeah, way easier to leave him at home to play with his toy cars and jump on the trampoline, but he is beginning to notice he is different from the other kids, that they socialize with each other and not just by each other. He wants to be a part of them, but desperately needs practice. This was perfect practice.

Overall, the party went well. He had a really hard time waiting his turn and not pushing and shoving, but I knew this would be the case and this is why I was there with him. He also had a hard time following the basic rules of the facility (no climbing over the bounce houses, enter at the appropriate places, feet first on the slides, one person on the slide at a time, etc), but again, that's where I came into play. We only had one incident where he intentionally kicked someone to invoke pain (unfortunately it was the birthday boy. Fortunately I'm good friends with his mama and they were too nice about it).

By far, the funniest part of the day was when he saw a party table full of three year olds sitting down for pizza and cake and ran over to the table and shoved his way in between a couple kids and tried to grab a piece of pizza. I was mortified at the moment, but now I can laugh. He is only aware of himself. I don't know what this is called, it's got to have a name, be a stage, but he is COMPLETELY self-involved. He just doesn't understand yet that he simply cannot have something only because he wants it. People are surprised to find out that a former orphan expects to get everything he wants, but it's how he rolls. He steals things and doesn't think it is stealing because he wants it. Somehow, in Ukraine, he was under the impression (along with half the other kids there) that it is okay to steal if it is something you need, want, or do not own. Which in their case, is everything. They honestly don't understand that there is something wrong with that.

I'm glad to have it over with. Glad that I hadn't just dropped him off. Glad that he had fun. Glad that Three was not totally humiliated by him. Glad that I have the luxury of shadowing him at all times, as wearing as it is. Glad to be his mom.

glad. that is really a weird word after using it six times in a row...