Everything is my fault

Don't be fooled by that face!

Today was quite a day. "Single parenting" though I know it isn't really single parenting, because I can at least call and yell at my husband when he's out of town.

No PCAs.

Just me and 7 kids in a van. My youngest, who has OCD, had decided that his obsession today was how much he hated me, how much he wished he was living with his birthmom (who he has not lived with since he was 9 months old and doesn't even know), how much he waned to kill me and the ways he would do it, and how we never get to do what he wants to do. He wanted me to buy something and was saying over and over agian, "IF you buy me something, I will stop yelling at you."

To which I calmly replied, over and over, "No. If I buy you something today after you have acted this way, then next time you'll try it again. I will not buy you anything."

He kicked me, called me several unmentionable names, and slapped me acouple times. He then proceeded to verbally torture me for most of the ride home.

When I walked in the door, our son in residential called. Since we had made modifications to his plan he was doing very well until he starting thinking "If I got some modifications, I bet I can get some more." He called today to say that he thought he should be getting more than one visit a week and that he had been promised this by his father, which simply is not true. While I was explaining to him that I knew for sure that Bart had not said this and why, four or five kids were literally surrounding me while I was on the kitchen phone, talking to me, grabbing me, and trying to get my attention, wanting to ask me questions. I told Mike to hold on for just a second, to tell them to chill and leave me alone for a while, and the phone clicked.

After I cleared the kitchen I called back to make sure that he didn't think I had hung up on him on purpose. I asked to talk to him and his response, "I don't want to talk right now." Click.

So, not only was I hung up on once, I was stupid enough to think it was an accident, and called back to have it happen again.

I say all this to se the stage for a rant which will hopefully be half-hearted at best, but must be had at this time.

Everything is my fault. In my house, if something is lost, it is my fault. If someone misses a meeting, it is my fault. If a chore is not done correctly, again my fault. If anyone is frustrated about any of the general daily events in my home, they can somehow be traced back to me.

I realize that this is my role as a mom but .... in addition ...

If we go back far enough in time, it was my idea to move back to MN to get to know Bart better, which led to our marriage. It was me who filled out the first foster care paperwork, me who made the first call on each and every one of my kids, etc. It all leads back to me.

The part that I have the most trouble with, though, is that all the anger for everything that has happened to all of my kids somehow gets placed on me. Since most of them don't remember birthdads, it isn't their paternal figure that abandoned them. It wasn't their paternal figure who didn't get their act together to get them back. It wasn't their paternal figure who drank in the womb.

So if someone is to be blamed and hated, it is the maternal figure. And since I'm the only one they have, it becomes my fault.

Dominyk's birth grandma called me a couple weeks ago to tell me that she was moving to a southern state and would not be able to see Dominyk this summer. She promised she would call the next day to tell him that she was moving and explain that his week long visit was not going to be happening this summer. Apparenlty, she didn't get to it. So eventually, when he kept asking when he was having his visit, I had to be the one to explain to him what happeend.

But is he mad at her? Naw. He's mad at me.

I know this is what I signed up for, but sometimes it gets to be overwhelming -- to be the sole designated target for everyone's anger and pain.

And now that I've written all that, it doesn't seem quite as bad as I'm describing, but sometimes it is.

My friend Michelle has recently said, "I am not an extraordinary person doing an ordinary thing, but an ordinary person doing an extraordinary thing. I know this is true because I really don't have the personality for what I am doing. But I do it, day in and day out, not always well, not always selflessly, not always patiently.

It is my hope that some day I can look back and say that it WAS all my fault -- but that it will be during a time of rejoicing for the fulfillment that our adult children, once the hurt and angry kids of our past, have come so far that I can be the one to blame for some of their success.