This Christmas season was a hard one to get through. It was our first Christmas as foster parents to Cheyenne and Shae. The girls had been with us since July and had been expected to go home a few months later. That didn't happen. By the Christmas season, we had a date on which they would be returning home and Cheyenne was becoming more behaviorally challenging by the day.
The final blow-up came three weeks before Christmas, when I'd already done some Christmas shopping. It was a Monday morning and she was running her mouth, as was the usual, but this time was different. This time was blatant defiance and disrespect...and I was having none of it. "And anyways, it don't matter. I'm getting presents from my dad and the church," Cheyenne had said. Out of options and my thinking-outside-the-box box was empty, I ended the fight by telling Cheyenne she was getting nothing from me or my family for Christmas and to enjoy the gifts she gets from her dad and the church.
Even though Cheyenne knows I'm a person of my word, I believe she still thought I'd give in. Truth be told, I wanted to give her her presents. No, what I really wanted was to get her attention and for her to behave so I COULD give her her presents. Not getting Christmas presents on the most precious of holidays? Will she associate THIS Christmas, when she got nothing, to every Christmas forever after? Was I really going to be that heartless? I searched my soul and consulted many support sources. My closest friends said I was being too hard on her and that I'd give in anyway. My parents did not approve, to say the least, but they did support my decision. Finally, the therapist, the most awesome therapist I've ever met, challenged my guilty feelings. She told me that someday Cheyenne would look back on her life and think 'there was one person in my life who loved me enough to hold me accountable for my actions and, man, that was a hard lesson to learn but I'm a better person for it.' By the end of session, I was convinced I could get through Christmas without giving Cheyenne a single present.
Christmas Eve came and Shae got to open her gifts. Cheyenne predicted what was actually in the boxes but got it wrong each time. She didn't so much as bat an eye each time Shae shreiked with joy, opening present after present of the things she had asked for. It appeared as though the whole denying-of-presents had no effect on her and I was quite disappointed. My plan had failed.
Around noon we all went to my mother's house for fellowship, food, and gift exchange. By three o'clock, all the children (and some adults) were gathered around the Christmas tree, anxiously anticipating their name being called. Cheyenne just stood there and gave me the 'what do I do now?' look. She sat down on the couch, knowing her name would not be called. Within minutes she was gone and I found her in the basement bathroom. I knocked and said "Cheyenne? Are you in there?" I could tell by the 'yes' that she was crying. "Can I come in," I asked. Cheyenne said, "yes." When I entered the bathroom, Cheyenne looked like she was wearing a red mask, her nose was running, and tears streamed down her face. "Why are you crying?" I asked. Cheyenne cried and said, "because I didn't get any presents." I sat down on the toilet lid, held her hands in mine and looked in her eyes. "Cheyenne, why do you think I begged you? I begged you to listen, do what you're told, mind, make the right choices. Because I knew we'd be right where we are. You can only refuse me so many times before I quit trying. I understand you're mad but you can only be mad at yourself. You know what got you here. You want to act like a big girl, you'll have to suffer the big girl consequences," I said. "I know," said Cheyenne, still crying. "You know, I love you and that's never gonna change but it is my job to hold you accountable for your actions. This is a tough lesson to learn but you gotta do it," I further explained. "I know," Cheyenne repeated. I hugged her and offered her a cold, wet washrag and something to drink, then told her to come out when she was ready. I suggested she straighten herself up before we left to meet her dad for visit.
When it was time to leave, Cheyenne was still in the bathroom. This time when I went in, I asked her if she remembered why she was learning this tough lesson and could she tell her dad the truth of why she was so upset. "Yes," Cheyenne said. I asked her if we needed to revisit what lead up to this upset and Cheyenne shook her head, she completely understood.
Dad never said anything about Cheyenne being so upset. Ever since Christmas, Cheyenne has been a completely different person. Finally, she's acting like the 10 year old I know and love instead of the teenager she acted like before. She's pleasant to be around, she's respectful, she's thankful and appreciative.
Do I think I've ruined Christmas for Cheyenne forever? Absolutely not! I hope she will look back on Christmas 2010 remembering that I loved her enough to pull her out of her own way. I hate that it took no participation in Christmas gifts to get her attention but if it makes her a better person, I can live with that!
She's capable of making the right choices. She will be a success.
