A Brain Full Of Jelly Bellies And An iPhone In The Toilet

A few days ago I had a day where the gaping jaws of hell were out to get my family, or at least it felt like it.

It was primarily about one of my sons and the shocking impulsivity of his teenage brain, which appears to contain nothing but jelly bellies.  As I was reeling from some of his decisions, I began to mentally ask myself two questions:

"What are the worst case scenarios that could happen to him if he continues on this crooked path?"

"Could I handle them if they happened?"

I mentally listed out some miserable places I could imagine him winding up (I am NOT talking about not making the honor roll here), and I discovered, that even though I would cry buckets of tears, because I really, really love this kid, I can accept where his choices could lead him.

I have to have hope that God is watching over him, and that this life is long, and that it's never too late for anyone to change.  I have to have faith that the Atonement of Christ will enable all of us to do what we could never do on our own.  Without all that....well, I got nuthin.

Except.....a working iPhone!  It dropped into the toilet on this same atrocious day.  Dropped with a splash and a scream of horror.  And I thought, "Of course.  Of course this would happen today.  How could it not?"

But when I touched the screen, it lit up! After a thorough Clorox wipe down, the phone is even better (cleaner) than it was before.  I choose to believe it was a little gift from God, letting me know He's there and reminding me that although things could always get worse, they could also get better.

"Squiddy Ink"

Lately I've been somewhat clenched and anxious, what with school starting and all.  I've been aimlessly picking at my face and staring into space a lot.

Change makes me nervous.  Guess why?  Because change is new and it hasn't happened yet, therefore, I can't KNOW how things will turn out, and at times I have such little faith in God.

Why do I want to orchestrate the lives of the people I love?  As if.....as if I actually knew what was best for this brood of independent souls living with me.

I loved this Anne Lamott quote on wanting to have control of other people and other stuff. [From the book "Help, Thanks, Wow]

"When we think we can do it all ourselves -- fix, save, buy, or date a nice solution -- it's hopeless.  We're going to screw things up.  We're going to get our tentacles wrapped around things and squirt our squiddy ink all over, so that there is even less visibility, and then we're going to squeeze the very life out of everything."

Wildflower, will you please get your "squiddy ink" out of here?  


Sometimes I write my prayers.... Please God, help me let go and trust You with my life and my people.  Can it be that simple?

My Neighbor Is A Different Species

Does anyone live next door to someone who is organized, clean, calm, matter-of-fact, non-chaotic and stable?

I do, and when I observe how Justine lives, I feel like a different species.  It's like she is living in air and I am living in water and never the twain shall meet.


School starts pretty soon around here, and tonight I worked hard to get the offspring settled down and into bed earlier than regular summer bedtime.  It didn't work at all, for reasons such as, everyone had to eat three bowls of cereal as soon as bedtime was announced.  I was begged to read books and tell stories about me as a kid, and scratch heads and do treasure hunts on backs.  I didn't do all of these stall tactics, of course, but it wasn't quick.

In contrast, Justine told me a few days ago that for the past few weeks she has been putting her kids (some in middle school!) to bed three minutes earlier every night, so they will be adjusted when school starts.

She said it like it was the easiest thing she had ever done.  See what I mean?  I am a different species, and so are my children.  My kids would have staged a full-fledged mutiny.

I can't even say that her life is simple: she has a difficult special needs son, but boy, does she make it look easy!  She handles him with such tenderness and love it is heart-warming.

Anyway, I realize that Justine and I are each unique and we have different strengths and capacities. Regardless of species, we are both moms and friends doing the best can with what we know.

Little People To Be Unfolded

School shopping with my 12 yr. old today.  He picked out two pairs of fluorescent athletic shoes (one chartreuse), two pairs of bb shorts (one was fluorescent orange) , and four t-shirts (2 were fluorescent green).  Exactly one-half of the purchased items were fluorescent.

His color choices tell a lot about his personality. Half the time he is jostling for my attention.  He is loud.  He is in my face.  He is annoying and teasing and fluorescent in personality.  He's hilarious and infuriating.  He's the child that spit on the cookie dough in this post.

The other half of the time, he wants to blend in with the carpet.  Maybe he wants to be the carpet, so he could just be.  If he were the carpet, he wouldn't have to acknowledge the existence of other humans living in the same house, and he wouldn't have to respond to unwanted requests like, "Will you please take a shower?"

I remember a quote that a friend growing up had posted on her kitchen wall.  "Children are not creatures to be molded, but little people to be unfolded."  


Here's to you, kid, may I love whatever You unfolds.

Lying Children and Parenting 505

Today, before I had even taken a shower, I had talked to three women, all of whom have at least one addict child.   One is my son's teacher at school.  I don't know her very well, and she confided in me about her daughter.  I felt surprised that she would be vulnerable with me, and I felt true empathy for her pain and frustration.

Too bad I was still too chicken to say anything about my own addicts.  But, thank you, God, for letting me know that the grass is not always greener in other families.  It's tough all over.


The other two are dear friends, Liza and Becca, who both have addict husbands and addict children.  I have known both of them for years, but we live hundreds of miles from each other, and we hadn't stayed close.  I tear up when I think about how God brought each of them back into my life around the time sexual addiction ripped a hole in all that I hold dear.  

Liza and Becca's presence in my life is one of my greatest testimonies that God has NOT left me alone in this.   I do believe He gives us a way through, and these women, among others, are part of my way through.

Anyway, in the recent past, we have all caught our children in multiple lies.   This is no picnic, and we are struggling with how to handle it.  Here are some things we are doing.

            
 We hold these kids accountable.   We have found that if we let stuff go, and minimize the lying, then we are enabling addict behavior.  The most loving thing we can do is to be tough.  With lots of love, of course.

*One kid is making up crazy amounts of homework he lied about before he can do a climbing competition.
*One kid is writing an original poem and submitting it for no credit to his English teacher (he plagiarized) before he goes out with friends.
*One kid is monetarily compensating his brother for items he took and used without permission.
*One kid is doing extra jobs to compensate his mom for the extra emotional drain.
*One mom is requiring a son to call a scout guy to clarify some of his dishonest answers in an interview before he can get his Eagle.
*One mom is giving her son a week to contact the bishop, and then she will call the bishop and give him a heads up.
*When we allow others (bishops, leaders) to believe things about our kids that we know aren't true, then we are enabling our kids.


What if my kid got good grades and earned his Eagle before the age of 14 and passed the sacrament with good posture and did 300 baptisms for the dead, but he was lying and cheating off and on the whole time?

More than anything I want kids who are honest, humble, accountable and kind.  That is also what I want myself to be.  Honest, humble, accountable and kind.  These qualities take all of us time and practice to develop.  A lot of time and practice messing up and then cleaning it up.

In my quest as a mom to turn out kids that are all these things, am I becoming more honest, humble, accountable and kind?

I like how Elder Lynn Robbins poses this question in the following quote, "Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you?"

Yes, yes, yes.








"A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101. If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505. Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more godlike yourself. With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed, and refined? Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you?"

Elder Lynn Robbins

My Son And The Gaping Jaws Of Hell

Today I am testing the waters.  I know this is anonymous, but can I handle writing about my addicted son?  I have deliberately shied away from the topic, because it is so gut-wrenching for me.  By the way, I am already crying.  That didn't take long.

I have a darling son who is addicted to this crap, too.  This kid loved trucks and knew the names of all the dinosaurs when he was tiny.  He has a tender heart, and he has written me love notes on cut-out hearts when I've been sad.

Now his brain is sick and craves smut and lust.  He's been in "treatment" for more than a year, ie I have been driving him at least weekly to and fro seeking help.  I feel like a mother bird who is frantically flapping and making a ruckus while a predator is stealing a baby from her nest.

This addiction is a stickler, and I underestimated its power.   Satan will do anything to ensnare these young men.  Our media at home is pretty well locked down; however, a teenage lust addict can get a drink almost anywhere these days.  Right now, he's getting it from women in real life, American Idol, billboards, a random novel he found on the shelf at the back of his Spanish class.  It doesn't take much.

I have never been one to talk about hell or Satan or evil spirits.  But, I swear the jaws of hell are  gnashing to get this kid.  This good kid, that now lies and hides and minimizes and acts out.  Sometimes he wants more than anything to leave it behind and sometimes he doesn't.  It breaks my heart.

Last summer I memorized D & C 122:5,7-part of 9.  It was an attempt to fill my mind with hope.

If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea.....And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep and the billowing surge conspire against thee, if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up thy way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my daughter, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.  

The Son of Man hath descended below them all.  Art thou greater than he?  Therefore, hold on thy way."

This addiction is like the very jaws of hell.  Somehow even this is to give him/me experience and to be for his/my good?  

I love this kid, and I plan to keep on loving him.   I also plan to "hold on my way", to work my own recovery, and to rely on God to show me what my way is.  






Note:  Does anyone know anyone out there that is blogging about mothering sex addicts?  I haven't found anyone telling their stories about this.  I would love any info anyone has about it.

Sugar Cookies Are A Sign

On Sunday I made sugar cookies with Child #4.  He has been asking me for months, and I just couldn't do it.  When it comes to cookies, sugar cookies take extra effort.  I am talking about mixing, forming into a ball, refrigerating, rolling out, making sure they don't bake too dark, making the frosting and frosting.  I have not had the emotional reserve for all that.

Making sugar cookies is a sign that I am no longer in basic survival mode.  I am doing more than microwaving hot dogs for dinner!

Enforcing hard consequences with my kids is another sign that I am no longer in basic survival mode.

These two activities intersected yesterday in the kitchen.  While I was frosting the cookies and marveling that I was enjoying myself and feeling peaceful,  Child #2 approached and tried to engage me in an argument.  The day before, in response to some blatant defiance, I had said,

"If you do that again, tomorrow you will have to....."

Well, he did it again and this was tomorrow and I was sticking to my word.

This made him madder than a chicken.  He hovered around pestering me, crying, and trying to get me to back down.  After a while, when it was clear that I was holding my ground, he came around to where I was rolling out the dough and deliberately coughed on it.  How lovely.  I was furious, but I kept my cool and stuck with the consequence.  Later that day, he did "punish" me by not going to church, but I was able to have a good day, despite all that.

Cookies and consequences are things that have gone by the wayside, as I have focused on doing the bare minimum to hold things together, to hold myself together.  Kids don't need homemade cookies.  Heck, they don't even need cookies, but they do need consequences.  I notice my kids are more secure when I am stronger and hold my boundaries.

I hope that what I am now learning in my recovery can compensate for the survival parenting I have been doing.  I don't want to look back.  Here's to cookies and consequences!