Twelve no more

Yes, I missed posting yesterday. I had a crap weekend, and honestly, I didn’t even have the wherewithall to turn on my computer.

Twelve came to live with me last year, at the end of September. Looking back, I know I did the right thing, letting him come here to stay, but I don’t think I’d do it all over again.

Let me start at the beginning. Twelve is my youngest cousin; the youngest son of my mom’s youngest brother. His parents divorced when he was 5, and since his mother had multiple DWI’s to her name, the family court granted his father full custody and gave her visitation rights only. His dad tried to find work in the area so Twelve and his older brother could be near their mom, but just couldn’t find anything that would put food on the table for three. He was offered the perfect job in sunny Florida, and he and the boys moved there when Twelve was 6.

Twelve has always been spoiled. His dad feels the guilt that most divorced parents do, and coddled his baby… giving in to his every whim, letting Twelve know in many ways that he was the one in control rather than his dad. They lived “Lord of the Flies” style for 4 years — their dad never put much stock in education, and would take the boys with him as he traveled for work, taking them out of school to do so. Both boys were diagnosed with ADD, and both have learning disabilities to go along with it. Since homework doesn’t come easy to either of them, it became unimportant. Neither boy was ever taught to take responsibility for their actions. Oh, there were consequences threatened, but no follow-through. They might not love him anymore if he disciplined them, or might want to go live with their mother… and their dad couldn’t have that. If they didn’t love him, after all, who would?

A couple of years ago, Twelve’s dad lost the perfect job. Suddenly he was thrown back into the realm of those seeking employment, but this time it wasn’t going to be so easy. He wasn’t going to be handed a job, as he was with every job he’d held before. He did odd jobs here and there, enough to keep them afloat for almost a year… but then he began ending up on the wrong side of things. They were evicted from their rental house, and went to live with a friend. The friend became soured on the situation — probably due to the boys’ behavior, or their dad’s — and they had to go live with a different friend. Eventually they came to live in their vehicle. Their dad wasn’t looking for a job anymore, he was looking for the job, and not having any luck.

Twelve’s dad finally heard about what he thought sounded like the perfect job last fall. In order to take this job, he would have to do three things:

1. pass a physical,
2. travel for training, and
3. find places for the boys to live while he went away for work.

He approached me at the beginning of September and asked if I would please think about — just think about taking Twelve. He would cover the expenses, and it would only be for one year. Just one year! It’ll be no big deal — he’s still such a little boy at heart, still does little boy things. I really thought to myself, “How bad can it be? He’s not a bad kid, he’s just been in a bad situation.” I wish someone had clued me in to how bad it could be. I wish I had talked to Twelve’s mom, who had kept the boys for two months last summer, instead of her normal two weeks. Maybe she knew. Maybe Twelve’s dad knew, and just didn’t want to tell me, because if I knew, his whole plan would come crashing down around his feet.

Things weren’t all bad, to start out. The boy was on his very best behavior for the first month — things were different here, just me and him, and suddenly he had more structure in his life than he’d ever had. But things started heading downhill quickly. In early November he was sent to in-school suspension twice… first, for just one day, and then again for three days for a different infraction. I found out about both of these instances quite by mistake, but I made it crystal clear that this was unacceptable behavior. Both of those suspensions were for fighting, and naturally, he wouldn’t accept responsibility for either incident. Just a couple of weeks later, right before Thanksgiving break, Twelve was given out-of-school suspension for one day. This meant that I had to work from home for the day, and at one of the worst possible times. Again, for fighting, and again, he insisted it wasn’t his fault.

Twelve’s behavior simply escalated from there. Homework wasn’t just his struggle, but mine as well, since he required constant supervision and coaching. He began acting out at home and at school, none of which was ever his fault. It’s been a rocky road for the last five and a half months, and I’ve been walking on eggshells the entire time, not knowing how he would react if I disciplined him more than I did. Privileges were removed, but this boy insists that he doesn’t care about anything. It’s hard to take things away from someone who cares about nothing. He had more chances than any other child would have had, and he squandered each and every one of them, though with a diagnosis of ADD I wonder if he even knew he was doing it. Impulsivity is one of the characteristics, and if you don’t have that thing in your brain that helps you stop and think, if you just react immediately, then can you really help yourself?

Twelve was expelled from the after-school care program last week. If it were any other child, I might have said that was no big deal, and he could just be a latchkey kid. But he’s untrustworthy, and I had no alternative child care, and no time to look for another situation. As luck would have it, his dad was coming for a visit anyway. We had agreed that if something like this happened, he would take Twelve back with him. I thought it would be easy, but knowing the child can’t take responsibility, I should have known the father would be loathe to do it, as well. He was. He didn’t come here with any intention of following through on his agreement — he thought if he ignored it, it would go away. He made me be the bad guy and remind him, and then made me feel like I was the failure. Like I hadn’t done enough. Oh, he didn’t say it… but it radiated from him. Or oozed, maybe.

Something’s broken, dysfunctional, about that family situation. I don’t know how involved I”ll be from here on out. Twelve will certainly not come back to live with me — I’m desperately afraid that he’s going to fall through the cracks somewhere, but I can’t bring myself to do more than I already have. I feel like I’ve given, and given, and given, and received nothing in return. I feel drained, like a husk. I’ll come back to myself quickly — I always bounce right back from things like this — but I hope Twelve understands.

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Meals for the week

Since Twelve came to live with me at the end of last September I’ve actually started cooking meals. He needs to eat nutritiously, as do I, and I think having a meal together at the table like a family is important. His life before now has been such a free for all, and this one little bit of consistency is nice, I think. Unfortunately, having him here means dealing with a picky eater… something I am most definitely not. I love food, and I love to try new foods. Twelve is anti-new food, and would much rather stick to the 4 main food groups outlined by Buddy the Elf. I’ve compromised a little, but I try to mitigate any issues by planning meals ahead of time, and by planning them together. Here’s what’s cooking this week:

• Tuesday Night Tostadas. For him it’s all about the meat and cheese, but I like to top mine with sour cream, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and a little bit of Tapatio sauce.
• Spaghetti with meat sauce. Well, for me it’s meat sauce; for Twelve it’s just plain butter, thanks. I’ll have to work in a vegetable somehow…
• Campbell’s One-Dish Chicken & Rice Bake and broccoli. This kid loves white rice, but won’t eat it when it’s mixed with anything else. His loss — more for me! I could eat the entire baking dish. I use organic chicken and jasmine or basmati rice — so good. I’d like to try brown rice, but need to figure out how much longer to bake it.
• Chocolate-Chip Pancakes. I like to make these on a night when we don’t have a lot of time. They’re quick and filling. I used regular milk the first couple of times I made them, but have since discovered that chocolate milk is definitely the way to go!

We’ll probably do a pizza night, and then Saturday is grocery day so we’ll have to sit down and plan again. Whoopee.

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