Yesterday when I was at the adoption picnic that gave me laughter and reversed my cranky self, I was interrupted by texts from Bart that he could not find his Ipad. I listed the suspects and he said that he had asked all of them and none of them knew where it was. I agreed to come home and interrogate because 95% of the time I can get the thief to confess and return items they have stolen.
I came home and did my very best, using all of my interrogation techniques. I was on the verge of calling the police when I asked Bart again if he had asked everyone. It was then that I found out that he had asked everyone BUT Sadie who was at work. I told Bart we needed to wait and ask her before I kept going with my torturous interrogation.
She knew where it was. She had found it lying outside our bedroom last night and taken it to her room and left it there. It was a huge relief but after hours of not knowing we were anxious and exhausted.
Phrases and thoughts run through our minds and sometimes come out of our months. Things like "I'm not sure how much longer I can live like this." Bart's expensive pen was taken a couple weeks ago and my old laptop has been missing since May, so there are two unsolved mysteries. A third, when it is something that Bart uses multiple times a day, was pushing him over the edge.
We sat immobilized for several hours as we tried to solve the mystery. Every fifteen to twenty minutes I'd think of a new interrogation tactic and head out to one of the three main item-takers in our home and go through it all again.
I don't think that most people know what it is like to live under the stress of being stolen from year after year. I was thinking about it last night and I have lived with this kind of stress for 13.5 years. It produces a great deal of underlying stress.
We have a lock on my office door and a lock on my bedroom door. We are very careful with where we put our money. Some of our kids who stole repeatedly no longer live here as they are adults and have had their last chance three or four times.
Residential treatment didn't help with the two who are now adults and can't live here. It kept everyone here safe and it made our lives less stressful, but it didn't help them. We are determined to do all we can to keep our younger kids with us at home so that they don't end up doing the same things their older siblings did and then blame us for the journey they've had. But sometimes it is really really hard to live here.
Today is a new day. But it's Sunday so I have had to be cursed at multiple times by the one child who actually was awake when he was supposed to be. Now I need to go wake up the rest.
I feel better today. That particular cloud is lifted and things are looking up once again. And if you are wondering if this post is supposed to discourage people from adopting, it certainly is not.
90% of the time I love my life. I wouldn't trade my kids for anything. I am a better person because I have done this.
But there are days.....