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I'm a 30-something wife and mom. My boys are my pride and joy. Together, we are navigating being a forever family post international adoption.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Crying Over Spilt Milk

Six nights a week we eat as a family with no distractions and good table manners. We practice portion control, eat more vegetables than starch and listen to each other talk about our days. When we have our Friday night take-out and movie, it's pretty much a free-for-all where fingers get saucy, veggies are minimal and talking takes a back seat to watching explosions and car chases. I am a big believer in allowing ourselves to "let our hair down" on Friday nights.

Buddy has seen more movies than Hubby and I combined, but he's never seen the Jurassic Park trilogy. Last Friday we were chowing down on chicken wings and french fries, engrossed in the first movie from 1993. Side note: I can't believe it is that old, I saw it at the drive-in when it first came out! Buddy has a habit of perching his drinking glass precariously close to the table edge. Usually we notice and remind him to move it further back.

We were at the part of the movie where Newman has stolen the dino-DNA and is trying to escape the island in the middle of a terrible storm. If you don't remember, he goes off the road and ends up with an angry dinosaur inside his car. Not terrifying, but unexpected. Well, the dino unfurled his hood and pounced, and Buddy jumped and knocked his milk onto the floor.

In slow motion, I saw the milk hit the floor and Buddy go from perfectly fine to dysregulated in the blink of an eye. He froze, his eyes glazed over, and the dominoes started to fall. Buddy has learned that mistakes, even if they are accidents, lead to something bad. My poor boy is wired to expect the worst whenever something goes wrong.

With milk pooling on the floor, I scooped Buddy up, put him on my lap and gave him a big hug. I rocked him and told him it was fine and that we loved him so much. Once his fully processed that no hitting or yelling was coming, the tears started falling. He wrapped his arms around my neck and said, "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I am always doing bad things." My poor Sweet Boy has been through some really tough times and, since he is only a child, he thinks they are his fault.

Buddy calmed down, helped Hubby clean up the milk and we continued on with the movie. He was no longer dysregulated, but it took about 16 hours before he was back to his normal self. Is it possible that because we don't yell or hit that the stressful situation doesn't feel done for him even after it is?


  1. Oh poor soul. Lovely write up of an every day situation - with a spin. A spin that is very familiar.
    Sounds like you do your boys a world of good. Hope you will have a lovely weekend.

    1. I'm trying, anyways! Thanks so much!