My cousin Trina and her kids left this morning, and I have spent the last four hours putting away Christmas decorations. I just ironed a huge new tablecloth for my dining room table, only to decide it didn’t match the wallpaper, so I put it back in the original wrapper and will return it next week. What an exercise in futility.

Trina and I spent much of yesterday sewing and cutting out fleece patterns to make clothing for the girls and me. I told her I would sew today, but haven’t gotten to it yet. She calls me periodically as she is driving home, and inquires if I am sewing yet? One of my New Year’s resolutions is going to be to find time somehow to do some of the things I used to do. That will probably translate into a little less blogging … but we’ll see.

We tested Ben the Border collie for hypothyroidism last Friday, and his results came back low normal. The normal range is 1-4, and he was 1.37. It is quite possible that during some periods of the day, his thyroid hormone level drops below normal. He is lying around here, devoid of energy these days, and he has gained 4 pounds in the past 6 months—in spite of my cutting back his food. We plan to do a clinical trial of medication and see what happens. I’ll keep you posted.

I have been thinking about the comments posted in response to my previous blog … especially Bipette’s … wondering if she was one of “those rescuing families” as she attempts to get her “unofficial foster son” moving in the right direction. I have also been ruminating on Lindy’s comment when she states, “It's hard to admit that I failed.”

I can’t tell you how many years I spent, searching for that button in Amy that would “fix” things and get her life on track … “on track” as defined by most people. Perhaps my perspective has changed simply by virtue of the fact that I am not living with her day in and day out … or even next door, as we did for the last nine months in the duplexes. I no longer experience daily reminders of “my failure” … therefore, as she continues to make decisions (default or otherwise) that adversely affect her life, I am better able to realize that it isn’t about me. Truly, my husband and I did succeed. We kept her safe and taught her some things in spite of herself. If she ever chooses to move in a different direction, she’ll have some tools, or at least know where to look for them.

People told me that often … “Define success differently.” I had a very, very hard time understanding what that meant while Amy was still living with us. It is impossible not to compare your “success” with your other kids against your “lack of success” with your troubled child. Not succeeding based on your normal definition of success does not mean you failed.

Even as I write this, I am remembering how these seemed like empty words to me when I was still struggling on a daily, hourly, minutely basis with Amy. All I can tell you folks who are still in that place is that one day, the scenario will change. If you are fortunate, it might change because your child has an “A-HA!” moment and they make better choices and more closely approximate your definition of “success.” More likely, however, is that it will change because your child leaves your home. While their choices may still scare and disappoint you, you will gain perspective when they are no longer your immediate responsibility. Amy commented on this blog that “my life is for me to live” and “I make my own choices and mistakes.” She’s correct … and I need to remember that. If she makes unwise or unsafe choices, or radically different choices than I would make or her siblings would make … they are still her choices to make. How could I, or why should I, take responsibility for her choices? I didn’t fail. I just didn’t succeed in the way I would have liked …

Photo Credit: Beth and Baby D