Although Elisey was Dimcho's protector and comforter in the orphanage, we think, as Dimcho becomes attached to us, he is no longer easily acquiescing to Elisey's dominance. He's also picking up some of Elisey's bad habits, such as snatching things and talking back, but that's not abnormal for a five year old. I think. He does have meltdowns too, but being 2/3 the weight of Elisey he's easier to control.
The problem is Elisey, though he does truly care for his brother, also demands being first. Literally. He'll have a meltdown if Dimcho is walking ahead and we don't let Elisey jet ahead.
This led last night to one of our worse episodes, which includes biting, smashing a trayful of dishes, and urine-based terrorism. I'm being deliberately circumspect because even though this blog is useful to vent, I also am mindful about making a spectacle of my children. It was a very hard evening, on everyone. There was much screaming and gnashing of teeth--and the boys were upset too.
Every morning I wake up promising myself I'll be calm and collected. Every evening I go to bed regretting when I was not the cool, caring parent I want to be.
Today has actually been better, even though on numerous occasions we could see a meltdown approaching, and tried to figure a way out. Not always easy. I did avert one crisis by the judicious application of bubbles, which was a sufficient distraction. We'll see how this evening goes.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Two weeks home,...
...though it feels longer. More of the same. The pattern seems to be we can have a pleasant morning, until around 11 am, and then Elisey starts looking for things to get upset about. It's not getting hungry; we have a snack around 10, usually peanut butter on toast with some fruit.
It will be somewhat easier when the boys acquire English. They do echo us, quite a bit, and it's clear they understand some words and phrases. Sometimes Dimcho even babbles in what must be what English sounds like to him (it's not Bulgarian) which is funny and cute.
Of course, what we need them to master is what we haven't mastered in Bulgarian: tenses and conditionals. If you do this, then that will happen. You are not getting X now because you did Y this morning.
It will be somewhat easier when the boys acquire English. They do echo us, quite a bit, and it's clear they understand some words and phrases. Sometimes Dimcho even babbles in what must be what English sounds like to him (it's not Bulgarian) which is funny and cute.
Of course, what we need them to master is what we haven't mastered in Bulgarian: tenses and conditionals. If you do this, then that will happen. You are not getting X now because you did Y this morning.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Weird things our boys do
Yesterday was (guess) another trying day. In the morning Elisey was acting out so much and Donna and I were so upset that Dimcho got upset too and couldn't finish his breakfast. I ended up taking Elisey and Dimcho to the park on separate trips. The boys seemed to like that better.
It is interesting to see Dimcho start to differentiate himself from Elisey. For so long Elisey was both his protector and quasi-parent, that Dimcho subsumed all his desires to Elisey. Now, feeling safe with us, Dimcho no longer likes it that Elisey gets to pick what music we listen to, what movie we watch, that Elisey gets to go ahead of Dimcho, and so on. (Keep in mind that Elisey is not 100% selfish; he does share food with Dimcho, comforts Dimcho when he is truly sad or upset, and so on. But Elisey is a normal seven-year-old and has normal selfishness for that age. We do find it positive that Elisey can exhibit empathy and altruism.)
One thing Dimcho does is to lecture Elisey, wagging his finger at Elisey. He lectures us, too, when he feels we have wronged him. I'm not one of those fathers who dreams of his son following in his footsteps, but I could see Dimcho at the lectern, sternly instructing his audience.
Of course all kids do weird things. I was a strange little kid and my parents could surely fill your ear with the odd things I did and said. Like many kids, both Dimcho and Elisey pretend to talk on cell phones. Often its to pretend to call back to one of their caregivers, reporting on the food and conditions here.
Elisey however also imitates the vapid laugh that people sometimes give when talking on their cell phone (though I'm sure none of you do that), certainly something he picked up from his caregivers in Bulgaria. Yesterday, when driving home from the park with just the two of us, he pretended to be talking to Donna. "Da (yes), Mama, ha ha ha, da," he said. He hasn't heard Donna talk on the cell phone enough to realize she doesn't do that.
What I find strangest however is Elisey sometimes winks at me. Most often it's at dinnertime. He'll turn and give me a wink, a particularly cheesy, vaudevillian wink. He doesn't wink at Donna like this. Sigh. I guess I will spend thousands of dollars on a therapist finding out what's behind that wink. I do not look forward to it. (Our pediatrician has already recommended a therapist who is experienced in adoption issues, including helping children work through their understandable grief.)
Before signing off I will say this morning was much calmer. Elisey is afraid of the dark, probably having never slept in a room without a light, but the lamp in their room was too bright, so we swapped it out for a nightlight. It's only been one night but they seemed to sleep much better as well as later--sleeping until 7 rather than 5. Step by step we figure out these things.
It is interesting to see Dimcho start to differentiate himself from Elisey. For so long Elisey was both his protector and quasi-parent, that Dimcho subsumed all his desires to Elisey. Now, feeling safe with us, Dimcho no longer likes it that Elisey gets to pick what music we listen to, what movie we watch, that Elisey gets to go ahead of Dimcho, and so on. (Keep in mind that Elisey is not 100% selfish; he does share food with Dimcho, comforts Dimcho when he is truly sad or upset, and so on. But Elisey is a normal seven-year-old and has normal selfishness for that age. We do find it positive that Elisey can exhibit empathy and altruism.)
One thing Dimcho does is to lecture Elisey, wagging his finger at Elisey. He lectures us, too, when he feels we have wronged him. I'm not one of those fathers who dreams of his son following in his footsteps, but I could see Dimcho at the lectern, sternly instructing his audience.
Of course all kids do weird things. I was a strange little kid and my parents could surely fill your ear with the odd things I did and said. Like many kids, both Dimcho and Elisey pretend to talk on cell phones. Often its to pretend to call back to one of their caregivers, reporting on the food and conditions here.
Elisey however also imitates the vapid laugh that people sometimes give when talking on their cell phone (though I'm sure none of you do that), certainly something he picked up from his caregivers in Bulgaria. Yesterday, when driving home from the park with just the two of us, he pretended to be talking to Donna. "Da (yes), Mama, ha ha ha, da," he said. He hasn't heard Donna talk on the cell phone enough to realize she doesn't do that.
What I find strangest however is Elisey sometimes winks at me. Most often it's at dinnertime. He'll turn and give me a wink, a particularly cheesy, vaudevillian wink. He doesn't wink at Donna like this. Sigh. I guess I will spend thousands of dollars on a therapist finding out what's behind that wink. I do not look forward to it. (Our pediatrician has already recommended a therapist who is experienced in adoption issues, including helping children work through their understandable grief.)
Before signing off I will say this morning was much calmer. Elisey is afraid of the dark, probably having never slept in a room without a light, but the lamp in their room was too bright, so we swapped it out for a nightlight. It's only been one night but they seemed to sleep much better as well as later--sleeping until 7 rather than 5. Step by step we figure out these things.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
A bit later
...and famous last words... but today has been slightly calmer. Maybe 15% calm rather than the 10% than it has been. Perhaps progress is being made after all.
One step forward, nine-tenths of a step back
...and repeat...
There is small progress, but it is slow and grueling. So sorry to be complaining. We would rather report on the joys of our new family.
Dimcho is mostly happy, with the occasional screaming meltdown, but less than once a day. He has suddenly become a fussy eater, disliking carrots and salad, which only a few days earlier he gobbled down. We assume this means he is feeling confident about food. Elisey is making some progress, sometimes accepting a compromise or a limit. And today we finished armoring the entranceway (read: install locks all around) and installed the clown, an inflatable Bozo bop bag, there, and successfully directed Elisey to beat him up. He needs an acceptable outlet for his frustration and anger and if we can get him to take it out on a clown, and not on us or his brother, so much the better.
Last night Elisey, after some prodding, relinquished his Android music tablet and sat on my lab while we read Dr. Seuss, and happily counted in both Bulgarian and English. When Dimcho was being difficult going to bed, Elisey announced repeatedly that he was tired. ("Izmoren" in Bulgarian.)
This morning we took chalk and were drawing on the back patio, very happily. But then Elisey wanted to write on walls inside, and on the carpet, and when we said no and invited him to go back outside, he flew into a rage and knocked things off a table.
And so it goes. There is progress: for example, he almost never attempts to mess with the CD/DVD players in the family room, or to plug and unplug it constantly, which he had in the early days. He seems to be seeking affection from us a little more often. Although we can't help but notice when he hugs us, he often uses the opportunity to fiddle with something behind one of us. Still, we assume even pretend affection will eventually morph into real affection.
And he does cry, genuinely, when one of us leaves the house to run an errand, which we hardly ever do. Today I ran to the post office, even explaining to him I was going and coming back, and being careful to wave to him from the car. Even so he ran to his room sobbing literally before I left the house. We assume this separation anxiety is ultimately a good thing, as it means the beginning of real attachment. And he can show compassion and empathy. The other day Donna teared up listening to some sentimental Christmas music and the boys became alarmed and called to me. The fact that they are upset by someone else displaying sadness is a real important step, we feel. We hope.
And so it goes...
There is small progress, but it is slow and grueling. So sorry to be complaining. We would rather report on the joys of our new family.
Dimcho is mostly happy, with the occasional screaming meltdown, but less than once a day. He has suddenly become a fussy eater, disliking carrots and salad, which only a few days earlier he gobbled down. We assume this means he is feeling confident about food. Elisey is making some progress, sometimes accepting a compromise or a limit. And today we finished armoring the entranceway (read: install locks all around) and installed the clown, an inflatable Bozo bop bag, there, and successfully directed Elisey to beat him up. He needs an acceptable outlet for his frustration and anger and if we can get him to take it out on a clown, and not on us or his brother, so much the better.
Last night Elisey, after some prodding, relinquished his Android music tablet and sat on my lab while we read Dr. Seuss, and happily counted in both Bulgarian and English. When Dimcho was being difficult going to bed, Elisey announced repeatedly that he was tired. ("Izmoren" in Bulgarian.)
This morning we took chalk and were drawing on the back patio, very happily. But then Elisey wanted to write on walls inside, and on the carpet, and when we said no and invited him to go back outside, he flew into a rage and knocked things off a table.
And so it goes. There is progress: for example, he almost never attempts to mess with the CD/DVD players in the family room, or to plug and unplug it constantly, which he had in the early days. He seems to be seeking affection from us a little more often. Although we can't help but notice when he hugs us, he often uses the opportunity to fiddle with something behind one of us. Still, we assume even pretend affection will eventually morph into real affection.
And he does cry, genuinely, when one of us leaves the house to run an errand, which we hardly ever do. Today I ran to the post office, even explaining to him I was going and coming back, and being careful to wave to him from the car. Even so he ran to his room sobbing literally before I left the house. We assume this separation anxiety is ultimately a good thing, as it means the beginning of real attachment. And he can show compassion and empathy. The other day Donna teared up listening to some sentimental Christmas music and the boys became alarmed and called to me. The fact that they are upset by someone else displaying sadness is a real important step, we feel. We hope.
And so it goes...
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Up and down and all around
What's hardest for us is the whipsawing back and forth. Elisey in particular will veer from pushing at limits, even physically lashing out, to crying uncontrollably if one of us steps out for a moment to run an errand, which we've hardly done. It's all pieces of the same puzzle, we understand, but it's still hard on us.
Yesterday was a better day. Elisey began to build a fort from furniture in the family room, the first time he had demonstrated such imaginative play; he wanted to take the cover from his bed, but accepted a compromise using a different blanket; and when it was lunchtime, he calmly dismantled the fort so we could use the chairs again to sit down at table.
Today was hard again. Elisey was acting out again, raging against limits. I'm sorry to always be writing about Elisey, but as you parents know out there it is the troubled child who occupies your thoughts. Dimcho has his meltdowns and tantrums, but they are smaller and over with more quickly. As he is younger it's also easier to "redirect" him. Elisey is old enough and smart enough to recognize we are trying to redirect him, which makes such efforts a challenge.
Dimcho is a happy kid. He will spontaneously tackle one or the other of us with a hug. He didn't want to take showers, probably afraid of the water on his face, but he loves baths and keeps saying how nice they are (this in all in Bulgarian: "hoo-baf" is the word). Again, Elisey, who loves bathtime even more than Dimcho, is a bit of a wet blanket, whining that Dimcho is splashing him even when he isn't, until we whisk Dimcho out of the bath, and then Elisey stays happily in the tub another half-hour, and would stay longer if we let him. We assume it's soothing to him so no harm done to soak for a while.
Dimcho also is very verbal and loves to lecture, wagging his finger at you--often his brother, but occasionally one of the two of us. We sometimes say Elisey is mostly id, while Dimcho is the superego trapped in the body of a five-year-old. Sometimes Dimcho wags his finger at me and says "Neh, neh, neh," ('no no no') which unfortunately is what they here most often from their Tatko ("Daddy").
We went to the doctor today; she thought overall they looked very good, though we have to get some tests. It only went south at the very end, when they got flu shots. Dimcho went first and even commented that he liked the little alcohol swipe on his skin. The actual shot then was a horrible surprise to him, and he screamed in pain. Elisey was surprisingly brave for the shot after witnessing that debacle. And it was touching to later watch Elisey comfort Dimcho, who was still upset for sometime; unprompted he shared with his brother some stickers he got from the office when exiting. Little moments like that help restore our faith in him. Afterwards they went back and forth on whether or not their arms still hurt; we got drive through french fries which went a long ways towards soothing injuries.
Despite the issues with Elisey, there are a lot of blessings. They eat well--the biggest "problem" in fact are them constantly asking for more, as if we might forget; we are happy to give them more, at least up to the point where one (guess which) starts to snatch at food. Because we give them some bread in a Tupperware container at bedtime, we both give them motivation to go to bed and have also minimized stealing and hoarding of food; they eat some of the bread, but often much of the bread lasts until morning, which means they are feeling safer and more confident. Although there are some minor battles over bedtime, they have generally been sleeping well, at least 8 hours and usually 10 hours a night. They now love bathtime and toilet troubles have been mostly minimal.
Elisey does enjoy reading Dr.Seuss with me, "One Fish, Two Fish..." and at appropriate points can count up to 11 in both Bulgarian and English. I take this as a very positive that he likes to do this as a pre-bedtime ritual, although he sometimes still gets bored with it.
I will post pictures. I just haven't had the energy to download from my camera. I've taken a lot, because they are both camera hogs and in particular Elisey loves to have his picture taken. This may be a useful tool in redirecting him, which we need to try more often.
Yesterday was a better day. Elisey began to build a fort from furniture in the family room, the first time he had demonstrated such imaginative play; he wanted to take the cover from his bed, but accepted a compromise using a different blanket; and when it was lunchtime, he calmly dismantled the fort so we could use the chairs again to sit down at table.
Today was hard again. Elisey was acting out again, raging against limits. I'm sorry to always be writing about Elisey, but as you parents know out there it is the troubled child who occupies your thoughts. Dimcho has his meltdowns and tantrums, but they are smaller and over with more quickly. As he is younger it's also easier to "redirect" him. Elisey is old enough and smart enough to recognize we are trying to redirect him, which makes such efforts a challenge.
Dimcho is a happy kid. He will spontaneously tackle one or the other of us with a hug. He didn't want to take showers, probably afraid of the water on his face, but he loves baths and keeps saying how nice they are (this in all in Bulgarian: "hoo-baf" is the word). Again, Elisey, who loves bathtime even more than Dimcho, is a bit of a wet blanket, whining that Dimcho is splashing him even when he isn't, until we whisk Dimcho out of the bath, and then Elisey stays happily in the tub another half-hour, and would stay longer if we let him. We assume it's soothing to him so no harm done to soak for a while.
Dimcho also is very verbal and loves to lecture, wagging his finger at you--often his brother, but occasionally one of the two of us. We sometimes say Elisey is mostly id, while Dimcho is the superego trapped in the body of a five-year-old. Sometimes Dimcho wags his finger at me and says "Neh, neh, neh," ('no no no') which unfortunately is what they here most often from their Tatko ("Daddy").
We went to the doctor today; she thought overall they looked very good, though we have to get some tests. It only went south at the very end, when they got flu shots. Dimcho went first and even commented that he liked the little alcohol swipe on his skin. The actual shot then was a horrible surprise to him, and he screamed in pain. Elisey was surprisingly brave for the shot after witnessing that debacle. And it was touching to later watch Elisey comfort Dimcho, who was still upset for sometime; unprompted he shared with his brother some stickers he got from the office when exiting. Little moments like that help restore our faith in him. Afterwards they went back and forth on whether or not their arms still hurt; we got drive through french fries which went a long ways towards soothing injuries.
Despite the issues with Elisey, there are a lot of blessings. They eat well--the biggest "problem" in fact are them constantly asking for more, as if we might forget; we are happy to give them more, at least up to the point where one (guess which) starts to snatch at food. Because we give them some bread in a Tupperware container at bedtime, we both give them motivation to go to bed and have also minimized stealing and hoarding of food; they eat some of the bread, but often much of the bread lasts until morning, which means they are feeling safer and more confident. Although there are some minor battles over bedtime, they have generally been sleeping well, at least 8 hours and usually 10 hours a night. They now love bathtime and toilet troubles have been mostly minimal.
Elisey does enjoy reading Dr.Seuss with me, "One Fish, Two Fish..." and at appropriate points can count up to 11 in both Bulgarian and English. I take this as a very positive that he likes to do this as a pre-bedtime ritual, although he sometimes still gets bored with it.
I will post pictures. I just haven't had the energy to download from my camera. I've taken a lot, because they are both camera hogs and in particular Elisey loves to have his picture taken. This may be a useful tool in redirecting him, which we need to try more often.
Monday, December 3, 2012
The Longest Day
Back to our time in Sofia...
By Friday we were exhausted, and Donna in particular was frazzled, unable to sleep due to worrying about the boys. Friday morning (the 23rd of November) we called our Bulgarian handlers and begged for someone to help watch the boys, just so we could pack for the trip home the following.
"I'm surprised you waited this long to call," Rosie told us. "Usually people call by Monday night, or Tuesday at the latest."
Stefan came and took the boys out (to McDonald's of all places, it turned out), and Donna took a quick nap and then we did most of our packing. After that Rosie came and gave us all our documents and receipts, and gave the boys a stern talking to. I'm not sure it did much good; the boys were still very wound up that night. But at least we all slept, at least a little.
Our flight out of Sofia was at 8 am. Fortunately another US family was traveling on two of the same three legs. To make things worse, I could not check us in online, and I worried about the seats we would be getting. It would be 24 hours of traveling straight, hard enough on Donna and I even if alone, but imagine with two young boys who don't really understand what is going on.
We lucked out, at least on the beginning. The Sofia airport was nearly empty and we whisked through check-in and security. The first leg of our flight was from Sofia to Vienna, and the flight crew were very kind to the boys. We had a couple of hours in Vienna, and then on to Dulles. Both of these legs were on Austrian Air, and I must say, it was infinitely better than Lufthansa. There was actually a bit of room even in economy, and the food was better too (in fact, a bit rich, and we worried about the boys having stomach problems due to rich food. Luckily know).
On the Vienna to Dulles leg, we let the boys listen to music and watch movies on their tablets, as well as the one cartoon movie, although Elisey wanted to change channels continuously. I didn't let him, so he pushed the plastic tabs on the seatback thinking they were buttons. The one thing he could adjust was the brightness, so that went up, then down, then up, then down. (We've noticed since coming home this need to change channels / tracks so much has already died down.)
That's a ten hour flight alone, so when we finally landed the boys were exhausted and fought being buckled in. We made it there, and through customs. The "immigration" for the boys, as Bulgarian citizens but as our relatives, went extremely smoothly and easily and the immigration official who handled it did it very quickly for us; we have nothing but praise for her. They are now also US citizens, and in the next weeks we will obtain additional paperwork, passports, SS numbers, and so on for them.
We still had the last 5 hour flight from Dulles to San Diego. It was a long long walk and the boys were very tired. Worse, as expected, the flights were packed and there were other families also trying to stay together. Initially the gate check clerk put 3 of us together and one in a separate seat, claiming that would be all they could or needed to do. There was very little to be done. Once we got on board, however, we were in the next-to-last row and in the last row were empty seats, so Donna sat with the boys and I sat right behind. We were all too tired to do much.
At last we got to San Diego, collected our luggage, took yet another bus to the parking lot, buckled the boys into their cars seats (donated to us by friends), and drove home. A little more than 24 hours after getting up, we were all at "novi dom," the boys' new home.
. . . . .
The "longest day" however was not the flight home, but today (well, yesterday, Sunday December 2), a week after returning home. Elisey was acting out, feeling angry, wanting to get into everything, slamming doors when he couldn't get his way, throwing things. This is normal, but it was exhausting to us, to him, and to his brother. We are supposed to "find ways to say yes" and imposing as little discipline as possible right now, and we are supposed to be "redirecting" his attention when it is negative, channeling his anger into appropriate expression, but it seems as if in his anger and frustration he tries to find the thing he is not allowed to do and to push at it. The best we do right now is to limit what he can do, such as putting away as many items as possible (our house looks like we are moving out), putting locks on doors, removing their bedroom door so he can't slam it, and so on. I understand he does believe or is afraid to believe we will true love and care for him and he is testing these limits. It's not easy on us. Parenthood is being on alert for 14+ hours a days, parenthood of new adopted children is being on high alert for 14 hours a day, and yesterday we were at DefCon 5 with the bombers circling at their failsafe points (that's a Cold War metaphor for you young-'uns out there). We are trying to find ways to channel his anger, such as a punching clown, but he refuses even that.
Dimcho is much less harder to handle. Part of that is age, part of that may be personality, but I also suspect that having an older brother shielded him somewhat from the isolation of the orphanage. Elisey probably protected Dimcho in many ways both physical and psychological, an unconscious sacrifice on his part for which he is now paying the price. (We also suspect that, even though their orphanage was less awful than many, Elisey may have experience some physical abuse. For his privacy we will not go into more detail; I only mention it because it helps to keep in mind he isn't just acting out, he has real reasons to be scared and angry.) It's going to be long, hard work for all of us.
By Friday we were exhausted, and Donna in particular was frazzled, unable to sleep due to worrying about the boys. Friday morning (the 23rd of November) we called our Bulgarian handlers and begged for someone to help watch the boys, just so we could pack for the trip home the following.
"I'm surprised you waited this long to call," Rosie told us. "Usually people call by Monday night, or Tuesday at the latest."
Stefan came and took the boys out (to McDonald's of all places, it turned out), and Donna took a quick nap and then we did most of our packing. After that Rosie came and gave us all our documents and receipts, and gave the boys a stern talking to. I'm not sure it did much good; the boys were still very wound up that night. But at least we all slept, at least a little.
Our flight out of Sofia was at 8 am. Fortunately another US family was traveling on two of the same three legs. To make things worse, I could not check us in online, and I worried about the seats we would be getting. It would be 24 hours of traveling straight, hard enough on Donna and I even if alone, but imagine with two young boys who don't really understand what is going on.
We lucked out, at least on the beginning. The Sofia airport was nearly empty and we whisked through check-in and security. The first leg of our flight was from Sofia to Vienna, and the flight crew were very kind to the boys. We had a couple of hours in Vienna, and then on to Dulles. Both of these legs were on Austrian Air, and I must say, it was infinitely better than Lufthansa. There was actually a bit of room even in economy, and the food was better too (in fact, a bit rich, and we worried about the boys having stomach problems due to rich food. Luckily know).
On the Vienna to Dulles leg, we let the boys listen to music and watch movies on their tablets, as well as the one cartoon movie, although Elisey wanted to change channels continuously. I didn't let him, so he pushed the plastic tabs on the seatback thinking they were buttons. The one thing he could adjust was the brightness, so that went up, then down, then up, then down. (We've noticed since coming home this need to change channels / tracks so much has already died down.)
That's a ten hour flight alone, so when we finally landed the boys were exhausted and fought being buckled in. We made it there, and through customs. The "immigration" for the boys, as Bulgarian citizens but as our relatives, went extremely smoothly and easily and the immigration official who handled it did it very quickly for us; we have nothing but praise for her. They are now also US citizens, and in the next weeks we will obtain additional paperwork, passports, SS numbers, and so on for them.
We still had the last 5 hour flight from Dulles to San Diego. It was a long long walk and the boys were very tired. Worse, as expected, the flights were packed and there were other families also trying to stay together. Initially the gate check clerk put 3 of us together and one in a separate seat, claiming that would be all they could or needed to do. There was very little to be done. Once we got on board, however, we were in the next-to-last row and in the last row were empty seats, so Donna sat with the boys and I sat right behind. We were all too tired to do much.
At last we got to San Diego, collected our luggage, took yet another bus to the parking lot, buckled the boys into their cars seats (donated to us by friends), and drove home. A little more than 24 hours after getting up, we were all at "novi dom," the boys' new home.
. . . . .
The "longest day" however was not the flight home, but today (well, yesterday, Sunday December 2), a week after returning home. Elisey was acting out, feeling angry, wanting to get into everything, slamming doors when he couldn't get his way, throwing things. This is normal, but it was exhausting to us, to him, and to his brother. We are supposed to "find ways to say yes" and imposing as little discipline as possible right now, and we are supposed to be "redirecting" his attention when it is negative, channeling his anger into appropriate expression, but it seems as if in his anger and frustration he tries to find the thing he is not allowed to do and to push at it. The best we do right now is to limit what he can do, such as putting away as many items as possible (our house looks like we are moving out), putting locks on doors, removing their bedroom door so he can't slam it, and so on. I understand he does believe or is afraid to believe we will true love and care for him and he is testing these limits. It's not easy on us. Parenthood is being on alert for 14+ hours a days, parenthood of new adopted children is being on high alert for 14 hours a day, and yesterday we were at DefCon 5 with the bombers circling at their failsafe points (that's a Cold War metaphor for you young-'uns out there). We are trying to find ways to channel his anger, such as a punching clown, but he refuses even that.
Dimcho is much less harder to handle. Part of that is age, part of that may be personality, but I also suspect that having an older brother shielded him somewhat from the isolation of the orphanage. Elisey probably protected Dimcho in many ways both physical and psychological, an unconscious sacrifice on his part for which he is now paying the price. (We also suspect that, even though their orphanage was less awful than many, Elisey may have experience some physical abuse. For his privacy we will not go into more detail; I only mention it because it helps to keep in mind he isn't just acting out, he has real reasons to be scared and angry.) It's going to be long, hard work for all of us.
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