MY DAY: Big Momma Hollers… a new post

I’ve never met Cindy Bodie, but some days, her posts make her feel like my best friend!  Cindy, like my friend and former adoption worker, Patricia Hill, gets the adoption issues that so many adoptive parents know so well.  The outside world often blames us for our children’s choices, and behaviors, especially when they target us for the heartache and trauma induced by their birthparents, and even their journeys through the foster system.

Each day at Noon, a blog post from Cindy arrives.  I laugh.  I shake my head.  I nod.  I cry.  I laugh some more.  I sigh.

I understand…

Bless you, Cindy!

To read Cindy’s blog:

Allen’s Bowflex and Treadmill

Posted: 16 Nov 2013 08:12 AM PST

It’s a wonder I have any self esteem at all – EVERYTHING is my fault.

I walk a tightrope, trying to manage emotions of children who can not, who do not self-regulate, add in a host of often unmanageable issues, and, Lord Have Mercy, how am I even able to still make a complete sentence?

They snarl at me when their behavior is verbally corrected, melt down for days at a time, scream hatred or talk badly about me – it’s worn my heart to pieces and I hear screaming rants about what I did.  Yeah kids, I did the dishes, I did the laundry, I did the sweeping – I did not kidnap you from your birth parents.

I know they don’t mean what they scream, but year after year after year of often crazily ugly and vicious temper dysregulation take s a huge damaging toll on a human being.

This is why all these menial jobs around here help me cope.  Being physically active expends my own resentment at being the target of severely misdirected anger.  I went to town twice yesterday, even stuffing my extended cab inside the truck with sacks of leaves, some 30 in all, but I got it all laid out beautifully in the Antique Rose Garden right before a beautifully beneficial rain.

In town, in Ms. Carr’s neighborhood I saw four, count ’em four at one time, young deer standing in someone’s front yard eating their shrubs.

One grown kid called me at midnight, “Are you asleep?”

Ya think?

Another texted at 4.a.m. which usually doesn’t wake me up, but this time it did so.  Jeepers.


Scotty and Martin are involved in an Ultimate Frisbee Team at school. Hey, I support this choice, yes more driving around for me, but I’ve said it repeatedly that activity helps us all emotionally via the physicality involved – it’s a heap sight better’n stewing, simmering, or flying into a scary rage.

Michael is so incredibly good to us, he just brought sacks of clothes from his neighbor.  I want Sarah and Yolie to go through them also, as it is a lot of younger kid stuff, very nice items, and he’d taken CW hunting, later to Waffle House, and had given him deer meat from last week’s hunt.

“How do I cook it?” he asked me, the ignorant vegan.

“I dunno, fry it up but do NOT use my cast iron skillets.”

“I’ll go ask Grandma,” he told me.  She basically had the same answer.

I’m the vegan, not them, I want to present many sides of life, let them all choose their way to go.

I’d had my eye out for a treadmill, Allen’s been wanting one.  The cheapest model was nearly $300 at Sports Academy, no thank you, Craig’s List averaging about $100 each, still too much.  A good one today at a yard sale for $75 – but hey I just paid the property taxes – at the next yard sale I found one in excellent condition for $25.  Sold!  Yeah boy, it has all the bells and whistles Allen had asked for all along.

Nando grabbed up yet another expensive long board for $10, and we came home happily.

Today is the 24th birthday of my daughter, Alex, we’ve talked several times in the past three days trying to find a good time to meet up.  We’ve planned a lunch in Atlanta.  I’m gonna see if Mayra wants to come too, she’ll be 20 this upcoming week.

Two of my most solid normal teenage kids have had a tough week, leaving my edgier ones to look stable in comparison.

Grandma’s crew, my Bubbas, CW, Martin,  Allen, JoJo and Scotty, are all moving furniture for her as she has new floors to put down in her basement.  Nearly everyone I’m kin to will be here Thanksgiving, I’m very excited, it’s gonna be fun, but, in the meantime, the predictable Holiday Hell nerves are a bit exposed in my kids and the touchiness is ridiculous.

About Wright Flyer Guy

Darin is a single adoptive father, a teacher, playwright, and musical theatre director from Kettering, Ohio.
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1 Response to MY DAY: Big Momma Hollers… a new post

  1. Cindy Bodie says:

    Awww, thank you for your kind words. I’d googled my own blog from another computer in our house yesterday and came across this. Please know how much I appreciate your support. You are blessed to know Pat Hill in your real life.

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