The Monster Timeout

After many inquiries concerning a status update, I thought I should take the time to explain The Monster Timeout.

I stole this idea from the book, The Defiant Child, by Douglas Riley, a child psychologist who works primarily with Oppositional Defiant Disorder and Explosive Disorder in children. As stated, everyone should understand that this is a consequence for openly defiant behavior that continues for months, interferes with a child's ability to have success at home and/or school, and it is used only if the child has yet to respond to any of the increasingly more restricting consequences he describes.

This is not a procedure that is suggested for children who occasionally hit or defy authority as part of the natural testing of boundaries and expectations. ALL children will generally defy authority at one time or another, but most children will eventually respond to repeated timeouts, loss of privileges, extra chores, etc.

Having said this, here is The Monster:

Time Length: 4 hours (we modified this to 2 hours the first time)

The child may sit, stand, or walk around. That's it.
He cannot play or talk to anyone except to ask to go to the restroom.
He cannot entertain himself by moving around excessively, such as making facial expressions, playing with hands, walking funny, or touching anything in the room such as items on a shelf or hung on the wall.
He cannot lay down or sleep or lounge.
If a meal time approaches, however long it takes the child to eat will be added on to the end of the timeout, thus preventing the child from eating slowly to make the time go by.

If at ANY time the child chooses to disobey the rules of the timeout, the timer starts over from the beginning.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is harsh. No, it is not fun (at times, I had to physically restrain my child while he thrashed about hurling insults about my mothering capabilities). But neither is receiving two phone calls in the same day from the school: one because your child is running around the classroom shoving students and refusing to comply; the other because your other child told a teacher to keep her mouth shut before he punched her face in.


And of course, as their mother, I should tell you that they are not bad boys. They have had a crappy life and learned some incredibly warped thinking; but as Dr. Riley suggests (and I wholeheartedly agree), this doesn't excuse behaviors that are simply unacceptable in decent society. And as their parents, we will do whatever it takes to equip them for success in a world that has written them off.

Sometimes the finger is just a finger

So, I'm in Wal-mart...

(With a beginning like that, this is bound to be funny).

...with my 3-year-old, who in spite of his 4-missing-front-teeth pronunciation, is quite articulate when he wants to be. As I am checking out, the cashier makes small talk, asking the question Captain Obvious always asks: "Are you fostering him or is he yours?"

(Go ahead and cringe)

"Oh, he's mine," I reply ever so sweetly, letting her sort out her own confusion, when she looks at my son and asks, "Where did he learn that?"

Imagine my initial dismay when I turn and see my adorably, handsome boy giving her "the finger." Yep, the humiliation hit me hard...until I looked him in the eye as we left and asked him what he was doing with his finger.

"Tall man."

(Cue music: Here I am! Here I am" How are you today, sir? Very fine, I thank you)

His gapped smile was more than I can handle. I needed a good laugh, and I laughed hard. But not being one to get duped, I asked him if he knew what it meant to "flip the bird" or "give someone the bird." He was very proud to confess he knew exactly what that meant...


And then he flapped his arms crazily and pointed to the sky.

Recipes for the Rest of Us: Cherry Chocolate Oatmeal

In an attempt to save money on the grocery bill, I make a weekly menu. Now that I have boys, I let them pick one meal a week, which usually results in cheeseburgers, hot wings, or pizza, but every now and then produces a gem like last night's dinner. As a huge fan of Kashi Dark Chocolate Cherry granola bars, I was more than excited when the 3-year-old said he wanted oatmeal. This was the perfect opportunity for me to replicate Kashi's yummy goodness into a hot, delectable bowl of healthy.

We started with Alton Brown's recipe for Overnight Oatmeal. Although this recipe is great, the dried cranberries made for a very flat, tart flavor (if you ask me). But, change it up, and well, now you've got a sweet treat even the pickiest eaters can't refuse.

Cherry Chocolate Oatmeal

2 cups steel cut oats
2 cups dried cherries
8 cups water
1 cup half and half

Add all ingredients to a crockpot and cook on low for 8-9 hours.

Top each bowl with brown sugar, salt, and chocolate chips.



Yep, it's that simple. I doubled the recipe and fed a family of five (including 3 voracious eaters), pairing it with fruit salad and sausage patties on the side. I even managed some leftovers for the next day.

Unpacking the Baggage: Finding My Boys in the Mess

I have a confession to make.

I cry. A.L.O.T.

Probably 3 times a week now.

I feel compelled to acknowledge this because so many people have told me how great I am doing as a mother. They have told me I am awesome, strong, empowering, encouraging, and any other extraordinary adjective you can insert.

The reality is, I don't feel like one tough mother.

I feel really weak.

I have three boys who became my sons, and they came home carrying a childhood of baggage that someone else packed.

For the first time in their lives, they have boundaries...that do not move when they push them.

So what do they do?

What any other wild animal does. Ram their head against them over and over and over with every ounce of strength they have. And when the boundary doesn't budge, they break down, cry, regroup, and start ramming again.

And as their mother, I am trying to help them see their worth in the midst of all this. Our family therapist put it this way: We are breaking the will without breaking the spirit.

The spirit of our boys is there. We see it. God blesses us with little glimpses of who he made them. But the spirit has been damaged from the weight of all their baggage.

And so, in an effort to regroup myself, I would like to share with you the spirit of my boys...just in case you haven't seen it yet.

Boo:

He's determined. A natural born leader. Caring (even when he denies it). Physically strong. Extremely smart. Resolved. Athletic. A helper.

When he learns to channel this into the positive, he will be a force to be reckoned with.

JC:

Creative. Mechanical. Mentally strong (even though he thinks he's weak). Sensitive. Funny. Imaginative. Inventive. Athletic. Compassionate.

When he finally sees this, he will shock everyone who never took the time to look past his shy facade.

KK:

Comical. Intelligent. Rhythmic. Physically off the charts (a barely 3 year old who wears 5T). Eager. Independent. Observant. Analytical. Curious. Daring.

When he grows into this, he will be a commanding physical presence that will quietly change his world.

The Family Creed

Yesterday, I saw a friend in Target, and we took a few minutes to chat about life, which inevitably turned into a few minutes chatting about our kids. Through the course of the conversation we talked about our kids' behavior at school and how we are trying to help our little piles of goo be contributing members to society. Maybe you remember that post where I discussed not punishing the children at home for behavior at school? Well, that was a couple of weeks ago.

Once the behavior turned to hitting other children and yelling at teachers, and once our son showed no remorse for being in ISS for three days this week, we decided it was time to start implementing some tough love.

All those new toys? gone
Those brand new Adidas? gone
Bike privileges? gone
Friend's house? gone

Now our oldest two boys come home from school, play in the backyard for 30-45 minutes (so they can love on their younger brother and burn some energy), finish their homework, eat dinner, have a bit of family time, and go to bed. We have told them that if they can consistently stay out of trouble at school, they will earn back some of the stuff we packed up.

Yesterday, for the first time, we didn't get an e-mail from a teacher. And when we set goals for the year with our oldest last night, he said his top goal was "to get out of my room." Yep, looks like we have some motivation.

But I digress. Back to the conversation with my friend. She mentioned an approach by some famous psychologist lady, whose name escapes me. Basically, she suggests that when a child misbehaves, we say things like, "Shaw's don't behave that way."

I really liked this idea because with our sons, who are adopted, this reinforces our new family unit. Statements like that one give those boys ownership and pride in who they are NOW, not who they were 8 weeks ago. So, I went all out and typed up a family creed. Last night we read it together and said it aloud. We will continue to read this as a family until it is so ingrained in our thinking it changes how we behave, and by we, I literally mean ALL of us. It's just a little way we are trying to transform their minds and fill their thoughts with phrases that empower them instead of defeat them.

The Shaw Family Creed

We love God.

We love others.

We love ourselves.

We respect ourselves and our property.

We respect others and their property.

We do not hit.

We do not tease.

We do not cheat.

We do not lie.

We do not steal.

Instead, we use our words and actions to encourage others.

We ALWAYS stick together.

We ALWAYS do our best.

We NEVER give up.

Whatever we do, we do it all for the glory of God.

My Musical Side

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to write a song that had so much to do with Christ's resurrection, but I have learned to just spit out what God gives me.

Untitled

For long enough you've lived without love
Never knowing all that you were meant to be
In a moment such as this, He called you to be His
so that you could be free

What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for?

Run into the arms of God who has saved you
Fall down at the feet of God who paid it all

What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for?

The blood that He shed
The thorns in His head
The cross that He carried

And when He went to your death
with forgiveness in His last breath
In your grave He was buried


What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for?

Run into the arms of God who has saved you
Fall down at the feet of God who paid it all

What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for?

Do you not know? Have you not heard?
He is no longer in the ground.
Have you not seen? Do you not believe?
Death could not hold Him down.

So what are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for?

Quirky Things #16

I am a genius. Yes...by definition it is true. I'm not saying this to brag, but rather to explain why I have a tendency to start something and never finish. Case in point, in June of 2008, I started a list of 100 quirky things about me. It is now October of 2009 and I am only on number 16.

I wish I could tell you that I don't actually have 100 quirks, but that's just a flat out lie. I'm a freak. It's in my genes. Just ask my cousin.

And since I have finally crawled out of my life of denial, I had to find another reason for why I have so much trouble finishing things. The result? My smarts. I am the worse kind of genius, too. The creative type...the one who dreams big but can't ever get anything off the ground because she is too busy envisioning what it's going to look like when it gets done. AND...I get frustrated when I can't bring that dream to fruition. I can see it. I can pursue it. But I'm not all that great at sticking around long enough to make it happen. That takes WORK. I'd rather just dream.

Perhaps this is why I like parenting so much. I am sure there were some of you who, knowing my predisposition to move on to the next thing, figured this whole parenting thing was a bad idea. But I am finding that every day has something NEW that I need to conquer, so I get to pursue the dream and start something new every single day.

And in a cruel twist of irony, God felt compelled to give me an adopted son who just received the same remarks on his third-grade progress report that I received in second grade: Becomes easily frustrated when s/he cannot understand something the first time and gives up, moving on to something else.

You can't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor.