A series of tests

Another milestone today: 200 cranes. One-fifth of the way to my goal.

Meanwhile ... many tests in the anger department. It started Wednesday night, when some long-buried adoption issues erupted with two of my three daughters. Very heart-rending stuff, which I don't want to go into in great detail because that would invade their privacy. Their life history, which is troubled, is their story. It belongs to them, not me. But it's painful for all of us. When my husband got home from work, he found three of the four of us in tears.

At one point, I realized it was useless to try and reason with a very upset pre-teen, so I retreated to the kitchen to clean up the dinner pots and pans. My oldest daughter followed me in there and said -- and I quote -- "Are you mad?"

Which I consider a huge, massive step in the right direction, both for her and for me. For her, because she is usually very closed in her emotions and very shut down to me. It's the source of a lot of our most painful family dynamics. So, here she was, reaching out to me, COMMUNICATING with me, even feeling that it was safe to ask me such a provocative question.

I turned to her, started crying, and said, "No, honey, I'm not mad. I'm just sad. And kind of confused. I don't know how to help you and your sister. I have tried everything I know."

And as those words were coming out of my mouth, I realized what a great sign this was: Even though I was highly frustrated -- usually a red-button anger trigger for me -- I had kept my cool and walked away from the situation. And I'd kept my cool so well that she wasn't even sure I was mad. She had to ask. So obviously, I hadn't been raging or yelling or stomping around -- the usual symptoms of an anger attack, with which they're familiar.

That precipitated some deep, authentic communication, a few hugs and more tears. Over all, a cleansing experience.

A few days later, we were having a difficult Sunday afternoon. An overload of school projects and homework and other chores, and it was getting late and I realized the entire day was shot to hell -- no time for getting outside for exercise or enjoying the fall weather. My long "to-do" list was not going to get accomplished. So I started to lose it. And at about the point where I would usually start yelling, I just buried my head in my hands and said, "OK, I need to take a minute and breathe." To which, my youngest daughter -- she who is most sensitive to my anger -- said, "OK, Mommy, that's fine." And I could tell from her voice that it was fine. She totally understood and she didn't feel threatened that I was taking a time-out.

Maybe we're getting somewhere.