Catching Up...

If you noticed, I didn't post much through summer. Those of you in my shoes, probably understand why! It was a long summer and some things changed.  At the end of summer (and I mean very last minute) Tre decided he wanted to return to public school. This was about two weeks before school started. So we had a wave of ups and downs. He had anxiety but he was excited. There were lots of mixed emotions and he was a little hard to handle during that period of time. We even sat him down and explained that we wanted it to be his decision and we would support him- and he decided public school was what he wanted to do. 

At first I was relieved, I thought of all of the things I could do with my spare time. Both kids in school from 7:40-2? WooHoo!  Then reality came around and laughed in my face!  We made sure we had the right clothes, cool new shoes, the perfect backpack, and earrings (yes Tre is a cool guy now with his ears pierced), I learned how to shave stripes into the sides of his head, next to his Mohawk... Yes we give him some flexibility in those things because there is really so little he has control over. 

So, day one to school started out strong.  We were all excited. We were all positive. We left early, we went to the school, and all was going great...  Then we saw the front gate, and panic set in.  I saw it all over his face, so I was his cheerleader, "You are going to do great, you're going to be fine! You're going to see your friends, and have fun at recess!" Even added in there "You get a break from me!"  Then the tears started. I kind of had to pretend it wasn't happening at that point.  I was on my own.

So we walked a very excited Dominic to his line number- to wait for his new first grade teacher.  I then attempted to walk Tre to his line.  That wasn't happening. He crumbled. He fell to the ground (literally).  People gawked and stared.  It was incredibly uncomfortable.  He has done this in Walmart before but not at the school.  I didn't care what people thought of me, I just worried that kids would make fun of him.  Everyone went to class and there I stood, next to my son- the puddle on the ground. 

The principal attempted to come and talk, and if anyone touched him, he'd yank away.  He was rapidly going downhill on a meltdown train!  It seemed like it was the worst possible scenario.  That is until a little gleam of hope came through the grounds, in the form of a man from the district that oversees the Special Ed Department.  He happened to be on our campus that morning, and he saw what was going on. 

Though none of his efforts were really effective in getting Tre to class, he at least was able to see it.  Last year my IEP request was kind of swept under the rug and I struggled to get him to school, to get him to stay, etc.  The school this year has more special ed programs, so that meant we could get some more help too!

The first week of school I spent sitting in a forth grade classroom.  My 1st grader rapidly grew sad because I'd never seen him go to class, or even seen his classroom.  By week two Tre was the big brother who walked his little brother (who was now crying each morning) to class.  Tre just took on the helping role and did so beautifully.

So far we have had our RTI meeting and other than a few hiccups, we are making good progress.  The school has an amazing school psychologist this year and she has been immensely helpful.  I won't say it's all been perfect but it's a much better scenario than we had last year.  I think a great deal of it also has to do with having a great teacher this year.

My son's teacher has gone over and beyond to help us.  At our RTI meeting he looked at my husband and I and said "I work for you, so if I can help you in ANY WAY, please let me know.  I've been in that seat asking for help, I know how hard it is!"  Which brought us all a lot of peace.  "He gets it!"

Tre's first progress report came home.  He isn't doing great.  He is below basic in many subjects, but he keeps trying.  We do have an incredible struggle with homework, and that is something I'd like to work on modifying more with his IEP.  Otherwise, he isn't calling me every day or every other day to ask me to come get him. He is doing very well, in that respect.  The school is doing more tests and assessments so we can find more tools to help him in the areas he is struggling.

Most recently, we opted to go Gluten-Free. We spoke with him about it for a while and he agreed that it was worth a shot.  He hasn't had gluten in 5 days, he is doing incredibly well.  I am seeing a calmer and more reserved version of my child.  I hope this is not the honeymoon phase but I see hope, I feel calmer, and like I can relax a little bit. Sometimes it feels like I am in this mode of waiting for the other foot to drop.  Those of us who have lived with a child that rages or has meltdowns, often end up with PTSD, it's hard to live in a war zone at times.

Months ago we cut red dye out of his diet and that made a profound difference as well.  About a week and a half ago, it dawned on me that one of his medications was pink. I spoke with the pharmacist and just told her he is allergic to red dye. She managed to get the insurance company to approve the blue pills. This means I also don't have to cut 1 pill in half for him (he would take 1/2 in the morning and 1/2 at night), now he gets 1 pill in the morning and 1 at night.  His doses are more accurate now, which is a good thing. It's hard to cut a pill exactly in half, even with a pill cutter!

Now that things are calmer and we are into a school routine, I hope to start posting more.  I appreciate those of you that are reading our story.  I'm not doing this for attention or pity.  I write because I want to share my story. I want others to feel less alone, I want to share the things I find that help in case in some way they might help someone else. 

Hope you all had a great summer, looking forward to catching up!

Teach your kids to be kind...

Sometimes things happen that are just so disappointing.  After Tre had a little squabble with a neighbor boy a few days ago, he was allowed to play with the understanding that he stay away from that boy.  See we found out that day that the kids on the block were sitting together, calling Tre names.  They were calling him weird, and dirty, and “the white kid”.  So instead of getting mad, he started touching the boy in the arm.  Meanwhile another boy is flipping him off with both hands saying “Faggot!”…  So the kid Tre is touching gets grossed out by him touching him, and punches him in the chest.  Tre snapped and punched the kid in the eye.  I can only imagine what it must have felt like in that moment to have everyone calling him names and making a game up of “Don’t let him touch you, he’s nasty”…  I tell him always to come home.  But what I’m figuring out is that a lot of these kids have targeted him and they pass their time, making fun of him.

Did I run to their parents and tell them all what disgraces to society I felt they were raising? No… I told him he was limited to play with four kids. Two are a brother and sister; the other two are their cousins.  Even Dominic plays well with them all.

Well today the boys went to play with these kids; they’re right across the street.  We had a bathroom flood, so I agreed to let them play, while I cleaned up the mess.  I no sooner get done, sit down, and here comes the big sister of the kid Tre punched the other day.

She starts telling me how Tre is causing all kind of trouble.  I ask “what happened? He is supposed to stay away from him?” She said “Well he is playing a few houses down, but he threw a water balloon at my brother.”  I must’ve had a “you’re kidding me” Look on my face, because she then says “And he messed up his eye the other day!” 

I try to start explaining to her that the other kids have been very cruel to Tre.  I told her that her brother had taken a swing at him, and he punched back. I told her that we have told our son not to start a fight but he can stand up for himself.  She tells me that she doesn’t know what happened because she wasn’t there. I told her I had talked to some older kids (like 18 and 19) who told me the same story Tre told.  Tre’s friends (the brother sister, and cousins) told me the same story too. 

I then try to explain to her that the kids peg him because he is different, that he has asperger’s.  I look up and her little brother is laughing, and I point it out, I say “See he thinks it’s funny!” and shake my head. She tells me “He just isn’t mature enough to understand!” I ask her if she would prefer I kept him home in a cage.  She looked at me funny and said something to the effect of how hard it must be to be his mom…

So I tell her fine.  “Look, he isn’t supposed to play with your brother anyway. Since your mom sent you here to talk to me, make sure she understands what is going on, and make sure she tells him to stay away from Tre!”   She tells me things need resolved before the problems get more serious, and they have to take things further.

Once I get my kids home, in their rooms…  I’m livid at the whole situation.  I am a mix of embarrassed, angered, disappointed. The one thing I’m upset with Tre about is we keep telling him to walk away from conflict.  Then Dominic tells me, “Mommy, the big girl was calling me a maggot out there and Tre got really mad” (replace the m with an f, and that’s what she called him- Dominic just doesn’t know that word).  Then it made sense. He got upset because now they were making fun of his little brother.  A five year old!  What could he have possibly done to make them have a grudge against him? 

I sat here in tears for a while.  Here I work my best to teach my child acceptance.  I know in his heart he is kind. He will play with a child, no matter what limitations that child has.  Yet all these “neurotypical” kids around they end up stealing, lying, calling mean names…  It makes me worry about his future. If it’s this bad at nine, how will it be at 12?  There are days I know he drives me crazy and I wish sometimes that he were just a “normal kid”, but he isn’t and it breaks my heart to know that he isn’t finding acceptance.  I wish these parents could realize for one second how much it breaks my heart to know what their kids are saying to him and what they think of him.  Those nasty words he says sometimes? He learned it from them!  

I wish I could wave a magic wand and move away to a place where people would be more loving, and accepting. No matter how hard I try I can’t take the place of a friend for my child.  Right now he is in his room, because he didn’t walk away. He pushed things farther, and he really should have just come home.  But I need the time to sort through this all.

What would you do? 

April Showers Bring May Flowers... :)

So my last time writing was a month ago. What a roller coaster ride we have been on! First, my dad…  Well without getting too personal and too detailed, he is gone.  Him not living here is going to be better for our family. He had a second heart attack, just two weeks after the first.  His mood became far worse and his resentment towards me grew.  He became violent with the hospital staff… it just got really, really bad.  When he came home, despite trying to act better, he would get very irritated when I would say something. One day I tried to explain to him that he had to accept some personal responsibility for things that have happened and he decided at that point it’d be better for him not to live here.  He didn’t exactly leave on the best terms… helped himself to some things, took some things he shouldn’t have, and said some horrible things. But hey, this isn’t going to be a vent session, so I’ll stop there.

Things were really hectic. We went from not knowing if dad was going to be okay, to finding out his heart was failing.  Then to find out his condition is bad, but not as bad as we were made to think!  I was initially told he could only be released to a skilled nursing facility, and then was getting called to pick him up!  I never knew when the phone rang what was going to happen.  Meanwhile he would call me from the hospital yelling at me to come pick him up.  One day I stood arguing with him in the parking lot at the T Ball field and it was just the worst feeling in the world. There I was trying to watch my son play and couldn’t even do that. 

See all the while this was going on, we still had T Ball, and we had school, and well things were hard!  I’m very much looking forward to summer break. 

I started a new medication to help treat my auto-immune issues and I can’t really say I’m feeling much of a difference.  I have heard some people have amazing changes on it, and well…  It’s been a month now and nothing major has changed for me.

Now that things are quieting down a little bit, I’m regrouping.  When you live with someone you aren’t comfortable with, it is incredibly liberating when you can take your space back.  To feel comfortable again, I didn’t realize how much I just stayed back in my room, avoiding conflict.  I did some reading on toxic people, and well…  it just made sense.

On the other side of things, Tre is doing quite well. We were down to the wire and he had to put in some long hours to complete enough coursework for the year. We started late, so we were a little behind everyone else.  But he got his percentages where he needed them and I am so proud of him.  We had some rough days, and with my dad being in the hospital, I was back in forth for most of April.  We did what we could, when we could. Thank goodness my cousin came to stay with us for a while, he helped so much!  But still, there were certain things I needed to wait to do with him, until I could be there.  But hey, all is well that ends well. 

He finally got to see his therapist again, since things calmed down.  She wants to focus on his separation anxiety.  Helping him be more independent.  I think it’s to a good focus. 

I’m playing with the idea of working on my Master’s Degree.  It’s still a ways off in the future and there are just sooo many things that are telling me I’m crazy for thinking about it.  But I don’t want to regret later not doing it.  And it’s not like we have a big support group to help with the kids.  So, I’m not sure. 

I wish I had some big insightful thing to say to wrap this all up.  So much has happened I feel like life just regurgitated 5 years worth of crap in my lap.  And I’m slowly working through it.  One day at a time…  And regardless of everything else, I get to tuck my kids in at night, kiss them, and tell them I love them.  That makes it all worth it.   And they say April showers bring May flowers... 

the calm after the storm

So, today is my birthday and I was super happy that I got to start my day off with my sister, niece, and new little nephew here!  It was so nice to be able to see them, though the circumstances could’ve been better.  Isn’t that how it goes though? We go on, wishing we could make time, figure out how to work out a visit, etc. then something happens; a birth, a death, an illness, and we finally make it happen.  With gas prices, kids, school, and life getting so busy, we hardly see each other.

My father went in the hospital on Friday, and finally came home last night. I’m glad going to the hospital isn’t on my “to do” list for today.  On Easter (Sunday), we had a nice morning with the boys.  I had all of the food prepared, started the ham, and jumped in the shower.  I got out about noon, got a phone call from the hospital that my dad wanted to see me. I asked the nurse to let him know I was showering then I would be over. My plan had been to finish the food, make him a plate, go visit, then come home and have dinner with the family.  Well, that apparently wasn’t going to work for him!  So about 10 minutes later, I got a call back from the nurse, apologizing all over herself that he had checked himself out!  WHAT?!  I was panicked.  So Richard took my car to go find him, and I stayed home, incase he got a cab.  Well Richard found him first.  Dad’s plan was to come home, get his car, and drive off to be alone, and die. He was in a horribly depressed state of mind and I knew that.  I wasn’t going to let his state of mind influence this decision.  So I told Richard to tell him that if he tried to drive I would call the police, because he was endangering other people at that point as well. 

Mind you, all this time he was having an active heart attack!  When I was in the hospital the day before, and he took out his oxygen, his levels dropped over 20 points!  I was afraid he would just keel over at any point! 

So my husband stayed with him and finally convinced him to admit himself again.  Except he had to go in through the ER ALL over again. Wait for a bed to open, all over again.  Complain about the wait, all over again. Well, you get the drift. All the while he is cursing me for taking him in, in the first place.  Swearing he’d never tell me again if he wasn’t feeling well.  It was ALL MY FAULT!

I didn’t see my husband until 11pm on Easter night.  The kids and I ate dinner, though they didn’t want to.  They wanted their daddy.  On Monday I went to the hospital with back up! My sister drove down to help me talk some sense into him.   Of course the first thing he says is “I could’ve been home for Easter if you hadn’t made me come in here!”  I’m surprised I had any tongue left with all the biting I was doing.  I have a lot of patience and tolerance for outbursts, I’ve had practice with my son, and I get that sometimes it isn’t easy to control.  All the same, there were times I was snapping at him, I was shocked by what he said, and I really wanted to walk away and not look back.  The hospital started him on a medication that helped to stabilize his mood, and it was like the clouds parted, the sun shined through, and there was peace.

We had a counselor meet with him.  That seemed to help a lot (Well that and the medication).  He finally agreed to have the procedure done. Then we got the insurance squared away and he was shipped off to the VA hospital.  We went that night to make sure he was okay and to warn the doctor and nurses about his “escape” on Sunday.  We encouraged them to keep him especially comfortable. Ultimately he was scared, frustrated, and having really bad anxiety, and he was raging about it. But he did well there, and we were able to head home, knowing he was okay.

So they did the angio and his heart looked okay.  They didn’t need to do any other procedures and got him set up on his heart medications, again.  We went and picked him up yesterday afternoon.  Today he is kind of tired and sad. 

I’m sitting here alone in the house, and it’s quiet.  I’m bummed my sister and her family can’t be here longer but I really enjoyed having them here.  It meant a lot to not feel so alone in all of this.  Words cannot describe how horrible he was acting so at least I know someone else saw it and saw how bad it got.  I’m tired, I’m relieved. 

This afternoon I have an appointment with my Rheumatologist to find out the results of my most recent blood tests.  So I’m hoping that goes well.  

Ultimately I’m really grateful for my kids, they were troopers through all of this.  They are so used to me being here and making sure everything works out.  I’m thankful for my husband for being super supportive and taking the time off of work to do all of the things I normally do.   I’m thankful that my sister came down to help me with all of this.  I’m thankful that my niece gave up her Spring Break to spend most of it sitting in a hospital or a car, and for all the laughter she helped us share!  And I’m thankful for my nephew, because well he made me smile with his immense cuteness!

I guess even with as crappy as everything was this week, there still is a silver lining.  I’m glad my dad is okay, I’m hoping this encourages him to get some help.  I realized that hundreds of miles doesn’t mean I’m not close to my sister and her kids.  There were so many good things in amongst the bad. Though I wouldn’t want to have to do this again, the outcome helps to cope with it.

Epiphanies

Yesterday was a hard day.  It was also an incredible learning experience. It is amazing how much perspective can change the way we think about things. People don’t realize this.  From one person’s perspective they may see my son as a spoiled, bratty child. Surely, anyone who has passed by us in the grocery store as he sobs and pushes the cart, because he can’t get a toy, has allowed their mind to wander there.  Yet those who can see things a little differently realize that every struggle is a learning experience, a lesson in self control.  They see that he really is a sick little boy with a mom who is reaching out to try to teach him, instead of punish him.

Yesterday morning my father had a heart attack. Well either in the night or during the day, no one knows for sure.  After half an hour of arguing with him, I won and took him to the Urgent Care.  When we arrived, they checked him out and sent him to the ER without hesitation.  I had the boys with me and I can proudly say that in my haste, the boys handled themselves quite well.  They even sat like big boys while I went back and gathered my dad’s personal belongings.  It showed me just how much Tre has grown as a person. I was able to count on him to watch over his little brother and not create trouble. 

Well, a friend of mine was able to get the boys from me and then I headed over to the hospital.  It took me a little while to find my dad, but I did. They had him out in a hall way, hooked up to the monitors. There was a Sheriff guarding a room next to ours.  There were people crying, babies screaming, men cussing, it was a rather overwhelming experience.  I should probably confess I hate hospitals. Just driving up I felt my breathing change.  Yet, because I would never want to be alone in one, and I know how bad my dad’s anxiety is about hospitals, I stayed at his side.

Growing up, my dad was not a happy go lucky kinda guy.  He had a temper that he has learned to better control over time, but it certainly is still there. I would be lying if I said it was easy to deal with him. I have seen sides of him that have been hard to forget and forgive.  Yesterday I saw glances of that person that shamed a little girl.  I felt the little girl inside of me cowering, embarrassed and ashamed.  When the doctor came in and said that he would have probably had a better result from his bypass in 2000, had he ate better, exercised more, and not smoked, he wasn’t hearing any of it.  First he was rude to the doctor.  I was aghast. Then the doctor tried explaining himself again, dad told him to shove it, more or less. Then he rolled over, turned off his hearing aid and said “I’m not listening to this crap!” It was so ridiculous, I almost laughed (not in a haha funny kind of way).  I put my hands over my face, and slid down in my chair.  There was no rock to crawl under. That little girl inside of me was horrified and terrified. Somehow I felt responsible for his actions.  Then he looked at me and snapped “I TOLD YOU I DID NOT WANT TO COME HERE!”  So I got up and walked out.

I stood outside the room, in tears.  In disbelief really.  Through the day I heard him say things like “Just let me die,” “These people are idiots,” all the while I smoothed things over. I explained his behavior to the nurses, told them he had anxiety.  Tried to make sure he was comfortable.  But when he yelled at me, my compassion about ran out.

I had encouraged them to address his anxiety promptly when I arrived and they had.  As I stood there in tears, I put two and two together. His anxiety med was wearing off.  After the doctor coming out and comforting me, I went to one of the nurses. I told her that she should do us all a favor and give him more anxiety meds because otherwise things would get more uncomfortable for all of us.  She smiled and said “I’m never too old for advice!” Once again the anti-anxiety meds did the trick.

It was about then I started seeing a parallel.  Things started making sense and I saw my dad in a new light.

I went outside and called my husband, since there was no cell service in the ER.  I stayed out about ten minutes. When I went in they said he’d been asking for me.  When I went in he was angry because they had woken him up to take his blood and then just threw his food on his lap (his words, not mine).  So I helped him get settled and eat.  Of course, it wasn’t good enough.

As I sat there watching him, I saw my son. I saw the way Tre acts when he is scared.  Such as the day of the state test. He was terrified and instead of just saying “I’m so scared”, he lashed out in anger.  So I just held in my mind that just like the little girl in me who was trying to hide in his room earlier, when the doctor was there, there was a little boy inside of him that was terrified.  That was the person I had to talk to, the person I had to address.  We all have an inner child.  That person who wants to run first when things are scary.  It was like seeing Tre sitting there, where he didn’t want to be.

The next time he started to get snappy and tell me he didn’t want to be there, I stood up, went to the end of his bed and told him that he had to stop getting mad at me for bringing him, that I did the right thing.  I asked him if he expected me to just let him sit at home and die.  I said I could not have lived with myself knowing that I had not done anything.  And you know what? He didn’t say it anymore.  He grumbled about them taking too long to move him again, and granted it was a long day!

Once they got him upstairs in ICU, there was a huge reduction in sound, and stimuli.  It was a much calmer place.  Once they got him set up, I went in to say good night and to make sure he was okay.  When I went in, he was much more relaxed.  He actually thought about me and said “You should go home to the boys, give them a kiss for me.” It was the first time all day he had thought about me.  I knew he was in a better place mentally.  He was able to let go of his anxiety and fears and be a man again.  The little boy finally felt safe.

Thinking back over the years things started to make sense, as I drove home. The dad that lashed out at people as I grew up was really that scared little boy.  He was desperate to be heard, so he talked louder. When he didn’t get his way, he would get mad.  Then there were other times he handled things so well.

I also saw the amazing similarities between Tre and my father.  They are very much alike in the way they handle things.  In the same way that I cringed when I knew something was going to upset my dad, I do when we walk by something at the store and Tre’s eyes light up.  That “oh boy, here we go!” feeling. 

So what do I do with these epiphanies? I don’t know just yet. Today, I’m going to try to balance dying Easter eggs with the kids, and going to visit him in the hospital. I want him to know he isn’t alone there.  Also, just like I have had to learn that when Tre acts out, I can’t worry or care what people think of me, I have to do the same with my dad. Much in the same way, I may need to explain to people what is going on-  like nurses, or doctors. But it’s not my fault. I’m not responsible for the issues; all I can do is try to understand.  If nothing else, my new perspective will at least help me.

State Testing = Mom Fail

State testing has successfully made me feel like the worst mom ever, a complete failure.  I knew Tre had test anxiety but I didn’t think it had gotten this bad!  Can you tell it’s been a long day?

Since Tre attends a virtual school, they set up testing locations at local churches, where kids from the community go to take the state test.  Tre’s days for testing were today and tomorrow. We talked about it for the last week, preparing for what would happen. I told his teacher about his bad test anxiety and she assured me, all would be well…  (this is where malevolent laughter can be inserted).

We pulled up and he was doing fine.  We had to go and sign in and things were good. We went and sat in the car to wait until the testing would start.  We sat and watched a video on youtube, and he started crying.  First indication that he was worried but I didn’t think it would be too bad and honestly I didn’t know what options I had.  I asked him what was wrong and he just shrugged.  We had a lot of positive talk “You’re going to do fine, just try your best”, so on and so forth.  “I’ll buy you whatever you want for lunch!” even entered the conversation.  Then the kids all started lining up by grade.  I said “oh, come on, let’s go!”  As I enthusiastically exited the car, he just sat there, arms folded.  So I got out and walked across the parking lot and he finally followed.  Slowly he approached where the other kids were, but not without telling me I was a stupid jerk. I told him to be nice and whispered that there were kids around and he didn’t need to talk that way.  He replies “Who freakin’ cares?!” overly loud  (at this point he is trying to rattle me because he is saying things I don’t want him to say and he is doing it in public, he wants to leave).

The teachers there were super sweet and let me walk him to the door where his testing would be held.  He stood against the wall and refused to go in.  He was standing there, holding his breath and shaking his head no, he wouldn’t even talk to anyone!  So the coordinator approached us and told him “Okay mom can sit in the hall, so you can look out the door and see her!”  Nope…  at this point I’m 1)embarrassed 2) desperate 3)scared.  No words can describe how it feels when you know your child needs to do something but there is nothing you can humanly do to force them.

So the poor teacher had to get all of the other students started as Tre adamantly stood against the wall refusing to go in. So finally the teacher said I could sit in the room!  Nope… I went and sat down; finally he walked in, I think hallelujah!  But instead of taking a seat, he just slid down the wall and started sobbing. He was even banging his head on the wall. Bless the other kids in the room, because not one starred or said a word.  About this point I’m tearing up.  The teacher approached me and said that we could go, just let the coordinator know what was going on. She said she had witnessed what had happened and would let the school know that he is not capable of testing at this time. She was ever so kind but her words cut me so deeply.  It was a reality check, just look at how sick my little boy is.

So I apologize and she said it was okay, and even hugged me.  She said that she just couldn’t let him be a distraction to the other kids.  I tried bribing him, threatening him, I pulled out every mommy tool I could think of, and nothing was getting through.  So on the way out I talked with the coordinator who incredibly understood and took responsibility for the school not being better prepared to accommodate us. See in the last three months, we’ve been on home school; we’re just starting with a third teacher. They said it’s not normally like that but since it is, no one is really familiar with us.

She said that she would either say “Unable to complete” on his test or set up a one on one testing between him and a teacher at a local library, so he could feel less anxious. 

I really tried to well prepare him for this.  I was full on crying by the time I got to the car.  I feel responsible for him being clingy to me; I worry if I have made it worse or if his disorder is getting worse.  I wonder is he trying to control the situation? Or is he just desperate to get out of the situation because his anxiety about it is so bad?  In the past he has handled situations like this better but from what I have been told; his bipolar will escalate, because he had such an early onset.

As I’m sitting in the car sobbing, he starts crying, he is soooo sorry and to take him back, let him try again.  He started calling himself stupid, and bashing his fists in his head.  See I wasn’t angry with him… but he was angry with himself.  He wants to be one of those kids that were sitting there taking the test as much as I would like for him to be.  Plus once he was crying in front of those kids, the last thing he wanted to do was be stuck in a room with them for three hours.

It’s hard to accept that perhaps this is just the best he can do.  I wonder what future he will have if he will always be so dependent on me.  What happens one day, when I’m no longer here?  Should I help him by letting him avoid stressful situations if possible, or should I push him to learn to deal with them more?  I didn’t know what else to do this morning.  There was no forcing him in a seat and making him write. Nothing I could have offered or threatened would have changed his response. He was completely shut down. 

I am so filled with this flow of emotions that causes nausea in my gut.  This clenching fear, and concern.  But I kiss him and tell him I love him and that it’s going to be okay.  I told him that we just have to try again and at least now they understand how hard it is for him. Sometimes I honestly have no idea what I’m doing!  Thanks state testing for reminding me of that.

T Ball and Therapy... what an eventful week!

So, the last week in recap?  We have been a busy bunch!  Martial arts practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  T-Ball game on Tuesday, practice on Thursday, game on Saturday.  Tre is doing amazing at sparring; I wish he could see himself, maybe he wouldn’t resist going so much. He loves martial arts but some days he just wants to do other things.  He is amazing though and I would hate to let him walk away from something he is so good at. I feel like he would regret it later.

Dominic loves T-Ball.  I watched him out on the field at his game. He was dancing, and flapping his arms. He by far is the most animated player on the team.  No, that doesn’t make him the best player but it is really funny to see him out there swinging his hips around, dancing. Except we had to talk to him about pelvis thrusts on the field, those were a little awkward to explain.  Thanks to LMFAO and “I’m sexy and I know it…” My oldest thinks that is the best song ever… It’s a case of monkey see, monkey do… and Dominic was the monkey “doing” on the field.  A mom looked at me kind of laughing and I had to insert some comment about busting out the dollar bills, she almost fell off the bleachers laughing.

As I sat watching him though, I found myself inspired by him. He was so carefree out there. He was in his own little world, just full of imagination. He was so happy, so alive…  I wish I could experience that feeling a little more often.

Then Saturday afternoon, Tre had his first meeting with a therapist. She was wonderful, very pleasant. Bless her heart. Tre had decided before ever stepping foot in the building that he was NOT going to speak to her.  And he pretty much kept that vow of silence.

Upon walking into the room, he said “Tell her mom, now!” I took a deep breath when she looked at me with her eyebrows raised, wondering what he meant.  As politely as I could, I tried to explain to her that he simply did not want to be there, that he was adamant that he would not be speaking.  (She had her work cut out for her). 

Before going in for our appointment, he did his best to try to fall asleep in the grass in front of the building.  See he’s been doing what I call a passive aggressive technique.  Such as right now, he is sound asleep on the couch, because he knows that is the only way I won’t try to get him to do more school work.  So that was his attempt at not going into the therapy appointment. Until I promptly shook his little butt awake and made him walk in with me.

She got him to speak no more than a dozen words in all the time we were in there.  She had a great approach though. After detailing all of our “Issues” she stopped and said “Okay, now I’d love to hear all the good things about Tre!”  which was a strategy I’ve yet to see anyone take.  So I made my list for her.  He kind of liked it too, I saw the weight lift off his shoulders when he realized she wasn’t trying to make him out to be a monster.

She kind of laughed when she asked me “So, is he oppositional?” I just looked at her like with a big smile and said “Well, yes, you could say that!” At one point he hid his face behind my back, so she couldn’t see him…  then he decided to kick back on the couch and put his head in my lap.  He got up, took my phone out of my purse and said “I’m bored, I’m calling dad”…  ah, the independence.

I explained “No, you cannot call dad, that would be rude, we are sitting here talking…”  But he decided to try anyway.  How’s that for oppositional? J  I’m kind of glad she got to see it though, because so often he is overly composed in these type of settings and I get the look like “What’s wrong with you? You’re son is fine!”

Then randomly mid-chat, he says “I want to go to the game store after this!” I said “No, not today”, which lead to a little debate. Then he wanted a game on my phone, and I finally negotiated and said that if he sat, politely, I would download the game when we were all done.  Something she said to me that I needed to hear was “You really have tried a lot, you must get really tired sometimes”, it was validating.  I sometimes feel really judged by professionals or worry about what I must be missing.

She did ask him what he liked to do and said that next visit she’d like to play a game or do something with him.  They decided to do some origami. He told her about the ninja stars he makes, and she said she would love to learn how to make them. She also told him that she knows how to make a few things, so she could maybe share a few tricks with him.  Then she asked him if he’d come back in two weeks, and he said yes!

Hey, it’s a small victory.  He said he’d go back!  He said he will never, ever, ever go in there alone without me.  I hope one day he is more confident but for now I have to just celebrate his willingness to go.  I was very relieved when he was agreeable about it.  So, it looks like every two weeks I am going to be adding therapy to my to do list.  Which hopefully will lead to good things.