Thursday, January 15, 2009

lies lies lies yeah- heah

OK, I think that is a line from an old Thompson Twins song. It fits.



I have had a glimpse into my future and it is a scary place. I see myself crumbled against a wall wearing clothes from the 80's and a stunned haunted expression as hordes of wild teenagers run through the burned out shell of what was my home.



Yesterday, as we were getting ready to go to the Doctor to follow up with Teena's x-ray and pee- test, she 'fessed up to what really happened the day before she became so sick. She and her sister were at a sitters for a short time so I could spend my efforts, time and money on their cute little butts for Christmas, Santa and the rest of it.



But, I am going to delay your gratification for a minute, cuz I can. My kids are home today because it is -16 outside and school is closed. Therefore I have some pent up feelings that need a passive-aggressive place to land.



When it comes to lying, Teena has always demonstrated significant skill. Someday, she will have the potential for a great career in the Criminal Arts. When she was a littler little kid one day I came home from work and The Husband had been home with her all day. My make- up had been used to decorate the sink, counter and cabinets in the bathroom, and not very well. She was so little at the time, her eyes just barely skimmed the counter top. Teena straight up denied that is was her, but being as she did not talk yet, the details were unclear. I went in for further Crime Scene Analysis and what did I see laying down by the drain of the sink but a pacifier. It was the evidence that sank her.



Now Genea, she will lie with the truth in her hands. Her first automatic reaction to any hint of trouble is deny, deny deny. However in my opinion at least she has an excuse. For her it has been survival. When the choices are fight, flight or freeze she will freeze as solid as your nose hairs outside today. When you ask her, what happened here, she will freeze in position, look straight up at you and lock her eyes with yours, then lie. There is nothing you can say to her to convince her that lying is a really bad idea even when she is standing there holding the truth in her hands. She will not. waver. end. of. story.



Through trial and error, I have gotten to know her 'tells'. So actually Genea is easier to handle when she is lying, because I know her well enough to know it is happening. I am also very lucky, in that while her first response is to lie when cornered, I can tell her I am going to give her a few minutes to think about what her final answer is going to be. She will generally approach me in under 5 minutes and say something like, uh, mama? I have to tell you sumfin'. I have had to treat all of the factors here like a Faberge egg. It is one heck of a balance to keep up. She will freeze if she fears a danger and will confess if she feels safe. And yet, I cannot let the lying and the original offense go, so there has to be a consequence to the action and the lie. But it has to be gentle enough that the next time it happens she does not freeze. I have to sort of delicately lead her to a point where she feels safe enough to be honest while simultaneously taking the situation into account that led to the confrontation in the first place and coaching her developmentally and emotionally to grow. Balance. Yikes.

Teena's account of the day before she got sick goes like this. She is at the sitters house, and the sitters little boy who is 3, and she have snuck into the kitchen. He has gone into a drawer and pulled something out. In her words, ball things like snow. Here is the rest, in Teena's own words.

"He gave me one to eat so I did but it didn't taste very good and then I ate another one and it didn't taste very good either and then I ate another one and it didn't taste very good either and he gave one to Genea but she didn't eat hers she gave it to me. But don't tell anybody." Did he eat any? No.

So you can see where I might be having some problems in about a decade or so. Here is Teena, confronted with a photograph of the inside of her, clearly showing she ate these little balls of something (still don't know what). She lies, says she did not eat anything. She is confronted with going to the hospital. Still lies. Now at the hospital, they are giving her shots (taking blood). STILL lies. The one fear that will send most kids over the edge into nun- level truth- hood, a shot, has no effect. Continue on and she has to sleep in the hospital away from her bed and her house and her family and her stuff. CATHETERIZE HER. Still, nothing. Lets her parents hold archaeological digs through her poop for weeks. Lies. Looks us straight in the eyes as innocent as the day she was born and lies her little face off.

Trying to look on the bright side, I can think of several profitable career choices for Teena. Obviously, acting or politics. Ya know how they say, find something you are good at that feeds your bliss and find a way to get paid to do it! Lawyering, that's another choice. Crime, breaking and entering, she could be good at that but I would be concerned that she is too messy of a person not to leave a bunch of evidence all over. Cons, banking, finance, different ways of blowing smoke up the butts of customers, there are some possibilities there. OOooo, customer service, that's a good one. No wait, no money in that. Yeah, good money in investment bankering these past few years, and she loves numbers. Genea is going to fulfill my unfulfilled dreams of being on Broadway and living in New York City. This kid can sing, have I mentioned that before? She really can. Just as soon as we work through all of her emotional disorders we are trying out for Americas Most Talented Whatever, the one with David Hasselhoff and Sharon Osborn.

ANYway. Teena ate some white snow looking-ish balls from a kitchen drawer at a sitters house that another kid had the sense not to eat but gave to her. They are gone from her based on yesterdays x-ray. Still no word on what it could have been.

11 comments:

  1. mothballs? those would make one pretty sick but would eventually work their way through...

    I guess the moral of the story is nor more Christmas presents...;)

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  3. Oh my stinking heck! Now I'm dying to know what it was.

    Hoping you'll post a video of talents.

    Thanks for the giggles too.

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  4. Wow. That is some heavy duty, stick-to-your-guns lying! And, wow...what a mystery. I say, ask the boy.

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  5. By the way, I tagged you in a book meme. Come see.

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  6. So did you ask the sitter what on earth she has in her kitchen draw that resembles snow?? i hope it's not magnets as they are dangerous to swallow in pairs...
    I have to say that when i was a kid i use to do the washing up (in the staff room) with a friend of mine at school (we about 7 and i guess were swats i guess) and i would dare her to take these white little pills that tasted really horrible. We both would eat them and then try and get the little kids too...
    Fortune has it they were saccharin (sugar substitute) and nothing poisonous..but we also got younger kids to drink "milk shake" which was in fact paint water...(powdered lead paint....)
    Gosh i was a horrible/stupid kid (as i drank it too!)

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  7. What comes to my mind as a possibility is mothballs.

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  8. I have never seen a mothball, I always thought they would smell really strong and funky? I am guessing they look like a small white ball? Hmm, gotta be able to find a picture on the web here. I will brb.
    Paula, I can't believe you survived your own childhood! LOL- paint???

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  9. does anyone know how they smell? She said it smelled like cake and puke. I showed her a pic, and she said that was it. But I am starting to worry I am leading her now.

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  10. surely they would dissolve? no and thus not come up on the x ray..or am i wrong. they don't smell like cake..they are often perfumed but with an underlining moth ball only smell.
    I'll see if they dissolve and get back to you!

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  11. I think mothballs might smell like cake and puke. What a description! I can't IMAGINE eating one. They are yucky smelling.

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