The first time I ever saw our new daughter express genuine concern for our family, my heart was overwhelmed.
Up until that day, most of the time our daughter walked around like a robot, and hugged like an ironing board, but as soon the social worker's car pulled up the driveway, our newest daughter would snuggle up to Daddy in a way that was far too "mature" and far to inappropriate for a little girl. She'd giggle in in an saccharin sweet voice "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Daddy.... tee hee hee! You're soooooo funny!" while running her little fingers along his hair neck and shoulders.
She'd stay in that spot until the social worker's car left the driveway. Then she'd blankly-robotically go back to her room... and resumed her "ignoring" us behavior.
I read it as "PLEASE SOCIAL WORKER DON'T MOVE ME AGAIN!"
And I immediately notified the social worker that we ONLY saw that behavior when her car was in our driveway... we let her know it disappeared as quickly as it came.
I think I've written about this before here... not sure if I ever posted it.
The memories of who our kids were when we first met them, who they became as part of our family, who they became at the "age appropriate season of detachment as young adults" haunt me.
Some memories haunt me more than others.
The "attachment sign" memory is one that I don't mind popping up from time to time. It continues to give me much hope.
Before we had a cellphone... hubby was stuck on the side of the highway with minor car trouble he felt he could fix if he could get his tools. A good Samaritan stopped and loaned a phone for him to call me to come with tools.
I piled the kids in the mommymobile (read minivan) and off we went.
We had to pass hubby on the highway, exit, turn around and reenter to get to him on the other side.
We spotted him. Stuck on the other side.
Our newest daughter began SOBBING. She hated that he was stranded... and that cars were driving by... and that we had to drive by too.
My heart breaks each time I remember the depths of her grieving her new daddy's lot.
Those feelings were raw. And REAL. And CARING.
This child who for as long as we'd known her SEEMED so indifferent to us all... really cared for him... for us.
I miss my caring daughter. I believe she is out there... but the triggers of becoming a young adult... surrounded by "friends" tickling her ears about her "rights" as a young adult and "friends" my age who delight in poisoning her mind against us... because then she "needs" them.
Our daughter is out there wandering the junkyard of life out there in robot land... Officer RAD... big and tough... and ready to "take on the world."
She's heavily armored... She's been injured most by the "friends" trying to help her. She's using everything she's got to protect the little girl we love... and miss.
Up until that day, most of the time our daughter walked around like a robot, and hugged like an ironing board, but as soon the social worker's car pulled up the driveway, our newest daughter would snuggle up to Daddy in a way that was far too "mature" and far to inappropriate for a little girl. She'd giggle in in an saccharin sweet voice "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Daddy.... tee hee hee! You're soooooo funny!" while running her little fingers along his hair neck and shoulders.
She'd stay in that spot until the social worker's car left the driveway. Then she'd blankly-robotically go back to her room... and resumed her "ignoring" us behavior.
I read it as "PLEASE SOCIAL WORKER DON'T MOVE ME AGAIN!"
And I immediately notified the social worker that we ONLY saw that behavior when her car was in our driveway... we let her know it disappeared as quickly as it came.
I think I've written about this before here... not sure if I ever posted it.
The memories of who our kids were when we first met them, who they became as part of our family, who they became at the "age appropriate season of detachment as young adults" haunt me.
Some memories haunt me more than others.
The "attachment sign" memory is one that I don't mind popping up from time to time. It continues to give me much hope.
Before we had a cellphone... hubby was stuck on the side of the highway with minor car trouble he felt he could fix if he could get his tools. A good Samaritan stopped and loaned a phone for him to call me to come with tools.
I piled the kids in the mommymobile (read minivan) and off we went.
We had to pass hubby on the highway, exit, turn around and reenter to get to him on the other side.
We spotted him. Stuck on the other side.
Our newest daughter began SOBBING. She hated that he was stranded... and that cars were driving by... and that we had to drive by too.
My heart breaks each time I remember the depths of her grieving her new daddy's lot.
Those feelings were raw. And REAL. And CARING.
This child who for as long as we'd known her SEEMED so indifferent to us all... really cared for him... for us.
I miss my caring daughter. I believe she is out there... but the triggers of becoming a young adult... surrounded by "friends" tickling her ears about her "rights" as a young adult and "friends" my age who delight in poisoning her mind against us... because then she "needs" them.
Our daughter is out there wandering the junkyard of life out there in robot land... Officer RAD... big and tough... and ready to "take on the world."
She's heavily armored... She's been injured most by the "friends" trying to help her. She's using everything she's got to protect the little girl we love... and miss.
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