Back when she used to make glasses out of pipe cleaners and then wear clothes in all the colors represented by the beads,
Back then she was too small to use a regular flute.
So much has changed.
Especially the glasses.
Yesterday she ended the piano and violin recital with an amazing rendition of Greensleeves on her flute that just rang through the cathedral style church.
That's what I heard anyway... *sigh*
She also played her piano pieces VERY well (no freaking out). So proud! I knew she could do it.
Unfortunately, someone forgot to use the camera on James and the rest of them. James was quite pleased with his recital.
As for Missy.... she and I never made it into the building. All because the guy at Taco Bell forgot to give her a fork. . .
Okay. Not really!
Because she chose to flip out over the forgotten fork. It was quite amazing. Like we have not seen in a long time.
She kicked and screamed and said nasty things about not eating her tostada because she didn't have a fork. She was most certainly was not going to eat it like a pizza.
She was the one who gleefully suggest we go to Taco Bell because we didn't have time between school, lessons and the recital to eat the dinner at home that I had made. It was not car worthy food either. Borscht. I really hadn't thought that one through :-).
Steve and Vanessa drove up and asked if we had ordered anything for them. I had no idea we would end up meeting, so "No, sorry... Oh, wait, there's a tostada here that Missy won't eat."
I handed it over to him through the van window and she. went. crazy. Steve opened his door came around and opened the side door of the van. He too her into his car and tried to work with her, but there was no saving her from herself. He wasn't fast enough and she managed to crush James' foot on her way past. Stomping hard and purposefully. We've since decided that our first priority in these situations is to protect James from danger. He was okay... but he often gets the punches and such that she would like to use on us.
In the parking lot by the church I waited for Steve for awhile and finally went to his car and asked if he was coming and he said Missy couldn't get herself under control enough to go in. Brianna was devastated as she has worked so hard to get this kid (who has been balking her every effort) ready for this recital on her violin. I took over and relieved Steve so he could go in. He doesn't always get to recitals and all the practicing that I hear and it was important he go in for the other kids.
I told Steve I didn't believe this was a rage.... I knew she could stop at any time if she chose to. This was what they call an upstairs tantrum (been reading The Whole Brain Child). Most certainly if she got her way right then ~ she would stop instantly, although, nobody knew at this point what her way would have been anymore. However, as I pulled the Honda out towards the street we flipped into a downstairs tantrum, the kind where she LOST IT and nothing but time would make her sane again. It was enough to wring me to tears. The intensity was unreal. I never said a word. I just drove slowly, made sure the doors were locked and prepared to stop on a dime for safety.
When sanity returned she was still angry and looking for something to blame. She started yelling that she hated school. I know for a certain she does not hate school. Right now it is her most precious "treasure" and it was kind of her way of saying that she hates herself for all that had just happened... the lost treat, the lost recital, the loss of control. So, I would not let her go there. We talked about what happened and how she would get a hot bowl of soup at home, etc... She was still crying and wailing and yelling things, but I stopped at the chicken barn, gave her back her shoes and asked her to close up the barn for the night. She went off in a huff and came back with a different tone. The whole demeanor had changed. The crying was gone, though for the next hour as she ate and got ready for bed she was manipulative. She did everything opposite of what is normally required and she still was NOT happy with her food.
By the time I was ready to put her to bed I just looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you trying to hurt me?"
She admitted so.
I told her I hurt for her and then we prayed together.
When Steve came home we prayed together for a miracle. We need one desperately.