I guess I forgot to knock on wood...

Because homework has been awful!  I think there are two reasons that its been so bad recently.

First, G has hit a wall.  The novelty of the beginning of school is done, the shine is gone.  All that writing he has to do?  Not fun anymore.  Now it just sucks.

Second, the work is getting harder.  Its getting difficult for me to swallow my thoughts and just have him do what his teacher has assigned.  I don't always see the point of his assignments, but his teacher is also a colleague.  She's so nice and organized, and I see lots of positives.  I refuse to air negatives to G, and I also try very hard to never air negatives to our colleagues.  However, I don't like all the assignments, and the one time I tried to ask for an alternate way of doing the work, I got shot down.

What do I do?  Some of the assignments are pointless or could be done a different way.  I don't want to be the crazy parent that harasses her, especially since we work together.  I don't think we'd qualify for a 504 plan to get the assignments altered.

Rock and hard place.  That's where we are at.  For now, I'll just keep trying to stay sane while G is having meltdowns over all the homework, and I'll farm some of it off to Hubby.  I deal with kids with ADHD that don't want to do their work all day long.  It'll be his turn.

Halloween

Ugh. I absolutely hate Halloween. I think a large part of it comes from being a teacher and having to deal with the excitement leading up to it, then the candy coma on the flip side.  All day Friday, I felt anxiety clenching in my gut.  Wild kids at school.  Wild kids at home.  G hadn't slept well in days.

School was actually okay.  We worked hard this year on keeping the excitement to a minimum, hoping to decrease the number of significant behavior problems.  I don't know for sure, but I feel like it worked.  My students, 5-11 year-olds with disabilities, were great.  No major issues.

We had to stop by the grocery store on our way home to pick up a couple of staples.  G and J were monsters.  Not in costumes- just in behavior.  We made a mad dash and got out.

I fed the kids while waiting for Hubby to come home, all the while making sure the kids knew not to open the door if I was downstairs or in the bathroom.

We live in a quaint neighborhood with lots of smaller houses very close together.  We hire off-duty police officers to close our streets so that its safer.  It gets crazy.  For a town of 70,000 people, its a big deal to get 1,500 of those people in your neighborhood.  People were ringing my doorbell much earlier than they should've, but I ignored them since our porch light was off.  (Doesn't everyone know that's the rule?)

At 6pm, the kids were fed and in costumes, so out I went with them while Hubby handed out candy.  The first bit was great.  It was light enough out that I could easily visually track both boys.  J gets a little more nervous, so I hung with him.  G, with his poor social skills, was accosting people.  He'd walk up to other kids, get 12 inches from their face, and say loudly, "I know what you are!  You're a _________!"  I tried explaining that they know what they are, seeing as they picked the costumes out and were currently wearing them.  It didn't help much.

We made it through about a third of the neighborhood, then headed home to meet up with our friends who were going to go with us.  By this time, it was starting to get dark.  We were lucky that Ms. D, the mother who was going with us, was dressed as a giant glowing jellyfish.  She became our traveling meeting point.  We went by a few houses that we'd been to before, waiting for Ms. D's boys to get their candy.

Two houses down from us, G decided to practice his balancing skills by using a small retaining wall as a balance beam.  Sure enough, in the near dark, he toppled it.  Fortunately, we know the neighbors pretty well, so we went up to let them know.  I explained that we'd come back in the morning to fix it.

Off we went, turning down another street.  By this time it was pitch black.  Oh, did I mention what G was for Halloween?  Darth Vader.  In an all black costume.  "What about his glowing red light saber?" you may ask yourself.  He didn't have it.  I had to confiscate it since he'd been whacking people with it.  People we didn't know and who probably didn't like being hit with some random kid's light saber.

G got lost twice.  Took a couple of years off my life.  Ms. D and the boys, including J, would go one direction, and G would go another.  Fortunately Ms. D, the glowing jellyfish of awesomeness, took J with her while I went looking for G.  Both times, G showed right back up 3-5 minutes later near where he'd disappeared.  I tried not to panic, but you always hear those stories about abductions.  He sure came off looking like there wasn't anyone watching him at a few points.

Anyhow, I'd grab him, give him a good stern talking-to, then look around for the jellyfish.  After the second disappearance, I took him home and made him put on pajamas.  I did let him come back down for awhile after the candy was all given out.

I survived.  And I learned a really important lesson.  Next year, G will be dressed as something enormous and glowing.  A jellyfish, maybe?  A hot air balloon?  A twenty foot tall lightsaber?  Be prepared, people.  Its on.

Second Grade, One-Fourth In

We've finished the first quarter of the school year, and I thought I'd post an update on second grade so far.

- G is reading short chapter books independently.  He can read a Poppleton or Henry and Mudge book in one sitting, and then successfully take an AR test on it (a short comprehension quiz, giving points that can be used for rewards).  He can read a Magic Treehouse book over several days and take an AR test on it, although his scores aren't quite as good.  Maybe he forgets details in the two or three days he reads?

- G can do most of his homework independently.  Some days he does all of it on his own!  I talk to him before he starts about what all needs to be done.  I sometimes have to prompt him to keep going or to start the next activity.  When he's done, I look over it to make sure he did it correctly, then we pack it all up together so that nothing gets left at home.  Overall, I'm pleased with the progress he's making towards independence on homework.

- We've had one referral to the office.  He was fighting with another boy on the playground; they both got written up.  Unfortunately, he gets going over the dumbest things.  The playground incident was over his place in line.  He tussled with a girl over a piece of paper in the classroom.  These situations aren't anything for him to get worked up over, but it shows that he lacks self control.

- He's learning a whole lot.  I'm thrilled to pieces with his academic progress in reading, math, and other subjects.  The two teachers he works with seem to like him and enjoy having him in class.

I think there are several reasons that things are going well this year.  First, we've laid some extensive groundwork between the medication he takes and the teachers he's worked with.  We've put a lot of energy into helping him take responsibility for learning and behavior, while keeping him safe and secure in himself.  Second, I talk to his teachers frequently.  I know what's expected and I do what I can behind the scenes to meet those expectations.  I don't want to be the helicopter or the bulldozer, but I'm checking up on things often.  Third, (but just as important as others) he has teachers that are organized and consistent, along with caring.  We've handpicked his teachers, and its part of the success.

We have some areas that need work.

- His writing is awful.  His handwriting is illegible at times, although my OT friend says he's going to be okay.  He hates writing, so he doesn't practice much, and so he doesn't get much better.  Tough cycle.

- He's got his sensory issues still.  Picking, chewing, etc.

- Behavior will always be a work-in-progress.  We medicated him three years ago because the kids around him were getting hurt.  If his behavior was appropriate, we wouldn't medicate him.  It'll just take time.

Big picture?  Things are going well.  There's room for growth, but I'm pretty pleased.

A Tale of Four Shirts

The shirts I speak of are the four that my kids ruined this week.  We can start with J, who is mimicking his big brother without even knowing it.  J put holes in the waist and wrist areas of two shirts.  He enjoys putting his fingers through the holes, so he just goes for it during listening time at school.  He got off the bus Wednesday and handed me the whole cuff of a long-sleeved t-shirt.  He'd ripped it clear off after putting some holes in the sleeve.  One of the shirts was Hubby's favorite to see the kids in, and the other was a Superman shirt with a detachable cape.  I'm letting the Superman shirt stay in rotation for now, three holes and all.  Because I'm the kind of mother that doesn't mind her kid looking like a ragamuffin.

Now, on to G.  Man, oh man.  I was in a meeting with some parents on Thursday when G's face appeared at my classroom door.  He started to open it, his teacher appeared behind him, she noticed there was a meeting, and they left.  I was a little anxious, as they haven't shown up at my door all year.  It didn't look like an emergency, and five minutes later, I hadn't been called to the clinic or office.  So I knew no one was hurt too badly.  Once the meeting ended, I found Mrs. P, his teacher.

Mrs. P explained the situation to me.  The scab picking is still an issue.  G had picked a scab on his arm and then used his shirt to blot the blood.  He blotted the blood no less than 37 times.  How do I know?  I counted the dots of blood all over his new orange Cub Scout shirt.  (Thanks to All Free and Clear detergent, it all came out!  I forgot to pretreat it.  Not surprising.)

The second shirt for G was Friday.  He chewed through the neckline of another shirt.

So one shirt went into the trash, two are just ratty but usable, and one still looks fine thanks to modern laundry science.  I have ordered chewy necklaces for the boys to use, primarily G.  I may try them with J, too.  Hopefully we can have something for hands and mouths to do that won't involve ruining more shirts.  And I'm going to keep saying yes to hand-me-downs.  Then I won't feel so bad when the shirt doesn't survive these boys for very long.

More Medicine Antics

This morning G needed to take his meds so we could peacefully complete our fall activities with as little drama as possible.  We have no applesauce, so he would have to take it with yogurt or a drink.  He wasn't thrilled, so I left the pill by his breakfast and went about my morning routine in the kitchen.

I guess he was trying to beat me at my own game.  "If I walk away, he'll have to take it without arguing, because I won't be there for him to argue with."

"If I don't take it, she won't notice, because she's not here to see."

Stalemate for ten minutes until J says, "Hugo (the cat) is eating the thing G's supposed to eat."  I'm thinking breakfast bar or peanut butter crackers.

"Well, J, go take it from him."  I see J stick his hand in Hugo's mouth and pull something yucky out.  I figure he's just saved the eat-anything cat from some human carbs.  No big deal.

One minute later, G is yelling, "I can't take it now!  I can't take it now!  The cat had it!"

Realization dawns on me.  My cat nearly ate 10 mg of Focalin XR.  I jump up to investigate and find a slimy, chewed-up capsule that fortunately has no holes in it.  I'm relieved that I won't have to take the cat to the weekend emergency vet for accidental poisoning.  Boy, that would've been a fun story, right?  I'm sure it happens all the time...

I pitched the chewed up pill and get him a new one.  This time, I stand and watch him take it, and he takes it willingly with some yogurt.  And we both felt like winners.

Liar, Liar

We are currently having an issue with G and lying.  Up until the past month or so, he was faithfully truthful.  He would flat out tell you that he hurt someone or took something or climbed somewhere he wasn't supposed to.  I've cultivated that truthfulness and always told him how proud I am of him for telling the truth.  We've talked about the consequences of lying for years, so that he would understand why I am proud that I can trust him to tell me the truth.

Not anymore.  The lies aren't over big things.  One was about who made the mess in J's room.  G said it was J, while J said it was both of them.  G went to bed early over that, with lots of crying and promises to never do it again.  We had a long discussion about the consequences for the two situations.  If he'd told me that they both made the mess, I would've had them both clean it up.  Because he lied, there was a punishment involved.

This morning, the Lego city was partially deconstructed.  G insisted that J did it.  Upon arrival at the scene, J informs me that they both did it.  G immediately apologizes for lying and begins bawling.

So he's in his room for the day and has lost screen time for two days, at least.  I'm at a loss about other consequences.  Treat him like a younger child to show that I can't trust him?  Make each punishment longer and more severe since the earlier one didn't work?  I'm open to ideas, Internet.

How do you stop the lying?

Oh boy.

This afternoon, starting at 3:40 when G came into my classroom, was awful.  G had his hands on his brother for minor annoyances.  He shrieked and wailed about doing his homework, going so far as to stomp out in the hallway and throw his pencil.  He insisted that he needed help with his homework, which involved doing a spelling activity with 14 words.  He said he'd do "creepy writing", but couldn't get past scribbling on the paper.

I wrangled the boys home, and I emphasized the need to finish the homework the whole way home.  G kept talking about needed help, but he seemed game to get it done and move on to screen time.  Then we get home.

Homework?  Nope.  He was everywhere but at the kitchen table.  Quiet?  Nope.  He kept talking about needing help, which I told him I wouldn't provide.  Calm?  Nope.  We tried getting the blankie and the Smencils.  I yelled.  I begged.  I ignored.

Finally, I said, "G, What is going ON?  Why won't you just do your homework?"

G took a deep breath and then wailed, "Because you forgot my medicine today!"

Uh oh.  I thought and thought and thought.  Then I realized he was right.  I forgot the medicine today.

I had two realizations upon realizing I had indeed forgotten to give my kid his prescription stimulant. First, it hit me that it explains why he made some funny noises when I went in to visit his classroom and why he had to move his clip down for playing with all his crayons at once instead of doing his work.

Second, it hit me that NO ONE GOT HURT.  I sent my kid to school unmedicated, and no one got hurt.  I swear- the clouds parted, a beam of light struck me, and the Hallelujah chorus was playing.

 Okay, so I made up that last part.

But it makes me feel so amazing.  He handled it.  And thank goodness for his teacher.  She must have the patience of a saint and amazing teaching skills.  Sometimes we go forever without seeing growth and maturity, and then we get a great look at how wonderful our kids really are.

Bring It On Home

I used to forget things, lose things, and be generally disorganized as a student, so I understand this aspect of ADHD.  My dad could never understand why I lost my weekly homework page, but those of us in the world with ADHD understand that one piece of paper is like the needle in the haystack.

As a teacher, I'm able to be sympathetic and helpful, never judging when my students need help writing down homework and packing up backpacks.

Now it comes full circle.  G is unsure of his homework each evening and isn't bringing home what he needs.  Boy oh boy.  At least I can sympathize.

I'm lucky.  His teachers and his classroom are right down the hall from me.  When he comes in each afternoon, we check his backpack, and I'm able to determine if we need to get more information or some materials so that homework can be done.  I'm able to just slip in to his room and grab things without much notice being taken.

I think there are some things that will help in the future.  Second graders don't have a real agenda- they simply have a homework sheet that the teacher makes up each week.  Most homework is on here, but math isn't listed since G goes to a different teacher for math.  In third grade, he'll have an agenda that will list all subjects.   Hopefully G's executive functioning will improve, and he'll be able to remember more than one thing for more than two minutes.

Until things get better, I can just keep coming along behind him and double checking, sneaking into classrooms, and asking teachers for more help and clarification.  And I'll keep sympathizing with my parents and all the other parents out there that have to deal with this frustration.

The First Week of School

I may seriously shoot myself in the foot by writing about this week in a positive light.  It has honestly been great.  G has been happy to get up most days, and once we are out the door, he's ready to be at school learning.  It may help that he has his little brother as a playmate, or just someone to torture, for the hour or so between when we arrive at school and when he can go to his class.

The teacher got a good insight as to why G is the way he is, as I forgot all G's school supplies on the first day of school.  That's right- I sent him to class without a single pencil, crayon, marker, or piece of paper.  I was able to find the necessities amongst the extras in my classroom, but it sure made it look like I don't have my $#!% together.  Maybe its better that she knows right off the bat that I'm not June Cleaver?

I can't say that G has an abundance of friends in his class, but its a mixture of kids he hasn't been with and ones that he has.  They seem like a good group.

Homework has been light, but the routine is going well.  I sit down and check his list of assignments to make sure he knows what they are and how to do them.  Then he gets them done before he plays.  He's done well, but so far the homework has been to tell your parents about a couple of things and practice writing your words of the week.  He chose spooky writing.  Its a big deal to him, this spooky writing (you make your letters shaky and spooky looking).

He likes his teacher.  "Why do you like her, G?" I asked.

In the words of an innocent seven-year-old, he responded with, "She doesn't do mean things to me."  Really?  I'm thinking.  That's all it takes for a teacher?  These kids get so mad at me when they can't have juice or the last popsicle or a bath with color tablets or a Skylander.  Teachers have it so easy.

Little Steps

I've set two goals for G this year.  First, I want him to be able to do his homework independently.  I don't mean that I won't provide assistance if needed or check when its finished.  I mean that he needs to look at the homework list, get started, try to finish, and stay on task until he's done without hurrying.  The second is for him to get up and get dressed cheerfully with minimal prompting from a parent.

So far the homework is going well.  I know the load is only a fourth today of what it will be in a few weeks.  The start of school is never as hard as later on.  However, he did start and finish today's one assignment with no complaining and no prompting to stay on task.  BIG DEAL, people!  He spent a whole day at school, then did more work without any negativity.  What a relief!  Maybe all the terrible homework experiences of last year are behind us, and we can move in an independent direction.

Mornings are not going so well.  There were tears yesterday, along with wailing about Daddy being mean.  (Since I take the boys to school with me for before and after school care, Daddy is now in charge of waking and dressing the boys- my least favorite part of the day heretofore.)  Today was less painful to hear, but no one was having a good time.

There are things that G is doing that I didn't think we'd accomplish.  Maybe I'm a pessimist or I underestimate my son, but I don't always have tons of faith in his level of maturity.  I'll take the little wins where I can and keep working on the others.  I'm so glad every time I find these little steps that are taking us in the right direction.

For His Teacher

Dear Teacher,

Today, on the first day of a new school year, we send you my very best. I have bathed him and dressed him in a new shirt. He carries a backpack full of supplies and a lunch box with (mainly) healthy food.   He's had breakfast and a bit of Focalin.  He's so excited to be in your class. We don't know you well, but he loves you already, because he's seven and you're his teacher. Second graders nearly always love their teachers.

He's a miracle, you see.  How can two cells come together to create the magic of this boy?  He loves Lego, comic books, and science. He likes to learn by watching, touching, and doing. Sometimes he's loud and sometimes he's quiet. Sometimes he's goofy and sometimes he's serious.  He will share nearly anything with anyone. He also doesn't lie. He's honest to a fault.

We've been working on the rough edges of our boy. He's less likely to put his hands on others, although he does love to wrestle other boys like a little pack of puppies. He has a strict sense of fairness and a need for routine, but we know you are good at that. We asked for a teacher just like you.

There will be great times with our boy in your class. You'll laugh or shake your head in wonder. You'll look at him and think, "What an amazing child!"  We know, because we do that ourselves. There may also be tough times with our boy in your class. You'll want to yell or be mean or pull your hair out. You'll look at him and think, "What a difficult child!"  We know, because we do that ourselves.

We send you our very best. We've put all our love, whishes, hopes, and dreams in there. Please, please like him. There's a fragile little soul in there, waiting to learn and grow.  Show him some of your own miracles, things only a beloved teacher can give a student. He's the best of us, no matter how grand or humble our home, how fast or slow our cars, how big or small our pay checks. Take our gift, and love him well.

Thanks, His Mother

Depression

In light of the recent death of Robin Williams, my Facebook page is awash with messages about suicide and depression.  It makes me somewhat introspective.

I started antidepressants at 14, and I was told at the time that it was to treat my ADHD.  Really it helped me get some sleep at night, so the anxiety about insomnia went away.  I kept up my Prozac through high school and college quite nicely.

I have tried going off my medicine at various times, and the current medicines have stopped working several times.  Good times would come along, and I'd think I'd be fine.  Several months would pass, and I'd be back in the doctor's office because if I didn't get my chemicals under control, I wouldn't be able to function or survive.  Finally, my doctor sat me down and explained that this is chronic depression and I will have to be medicated for the rest of my life.

In elementary, junior high, high school, and college, I was self-injurious.  During times of extreme emotional stress, I would use my fingernails or some other object to scratch or bruise myself.  When things aren't going well, my mantra turns to, "I wish I was dead."  It could be a late assignment, an overdue bill, or a sick pet.  None of these things being truly traumatic, wishing to be dead is not a normal reaction.

Prenatal depression caused problems.  I started out my first pregnancy without medications, but went back on in the third trimester.  As my father was terminally ill, this doesn't seem too surprising.  With the second, I didn't go off my medication at all.  My ability to function as a parent to my toddler and was so very important, and the risks of my medication during pregnancy were minimal.  Postpartum depression was awful.  I remember the anxiety and gut wrenching stress.  I don't remember first smiles and giggles.  After the birth of each of my boys, I was in the doctor's office within weeks, needing my medication upped.

Besides the postpartum depression, I have had several major depressive episodes.  I can't explain how everyone experiences it.  I just know that it was a horrible place for me- living in a poisonous fog of my mind's own creation.  I'm a pretty smart person, but there is no reasoning to it.  There are usually no traumatic events, save the illness and death of my father.  Some events are supposed to be awe-inspiring!  I can't think myself out of the fog.  "This too shall pass" doesn't push out the wish to die and be done with it all.

One thing has saved me: my own ability to ask for help.  I'm a bit of a hypochondriac with no qualms about the doctor's office.  I also have no problems with taking necessary medications, which is how I see antidepressants.  So off I go when I realize how bad its getting or how long its been since the sun has come out.  My doctor trusts me, I think, and will let me go 4-6 months between appointments.  He knows I call when I need to make an appointment because things are bad.

There is one deep dark secret I keep from him and the people around me, until now, when it seems so relevant.  Even my psychiatrist doesn't know how often I've thought about suicide and, at times, how reasonable an option it has seemed.

Please know, things went bad a few months ago, so I went in and upped my medication.  While I don't discuss the suicidal thoughts, I feel like I successfully manage them as a symptom of my mental health issues.  So don't worry about me.  However, if you're worried for yourself, please talk to your doctor.

Sleep, or Lack Thereof

Tonight was not a good night for G.  He woke up at 3am, and we found him playing in his room.  He also opened his brother's door.  Shortly after, we discovered that a cat had wandered into J's room, as he woke us up crying about the cat in his room.  Then G awoke at 6am, woke his brother, and then went downstairs.

The boys attempted to parent themselves.  I'm okay with them having yogurt or breakfast bars while we sleep.  Unfortunately, we neglected to put away two bags of Doritos and a bag of Pirate's Booty, all about half full.  There was only one bag of Doritos left by the time I got downstairs and discovered the carnage.

So we are all tired and grumpy today.  Is it the time change and trying to readjust after returning from California?  Is it the Focalin?  Is it a lack of physical activity?  I've been letting G have a bit more screen time since he's got limited downtime coming in two weeks.  I wanted him to just chill out and relax.  Maybe he needs less relaxing.

Early bedtimes for everyone tonight, folks.

Wrapping Up Summer

Okay, okay.  I didn't post at all in two months.  I'll recap some things, at least as far as the ADHD goes.

- G won the "Most Improved Reader" award for his class at the end of first grade.  I got teary at the assembly.

- I took both kids and my mother-in-law to the beach for a week.  The tired-boys part was awesome.  Putt-putt in the evening when they had no coping skills, not so much.

- I rode across the country in the front seat of a CRV, navigating for my mom, the driver, and hanging out with G in the backseat.  We saw the Gateway Arch, "Rount Mushmore", Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, and the Great Salt Lake.  It was two weeks of travel, and I loved it.

- Halfway across the country, I called my husband to tell him to bring the Focalin when he came out to California to meet us.  We were trying to up the Intuniv, which made G sleepy.  He slept through most of Yellowstone!  (We were probably lucky- some of the overlooks were sheer drop-offs; we might have lost him at one of them.)  So we took him off the meds altogether.

- Yes, half of my trip across the country was with G unmedicated.  If alcohol didn't screw with MY medicine, I would've been drinking cosmos each evening.  But he was awake and enthusiastic!

- Once arriving in California, my husband arrived with Focalin.  Back to 10mg Focalin XR in the morning, plus melatonin and 1 mg Intuniv at bedtime.  Best we can hope for.

Its been a great summer.  Grand adventures, and of course, more to come in the months ahead.  I was just rereading the May entry that is the last post before this one.  G still has a dark grey mark where he stabbed himself with the pencil.  Really?  Really.

Today's Life Lesson

Don't walk around with sharpened pencils in your pockets. If you do, and you jump up then land a certain way, you will impale yourself with said pencil. That kind of puncture wound in your calf will hurt a lot. And your mother will torture you by cleaning it out.

Seriously, Parenting Karma?  Two days in a row?

The Tooth

My boys got teeth late in infancy.  Neither one had any at their first birthday.  I've known all along that they would lose their first tooth later than other kids.  Today, less than a month until his seventh birthday, G lost his first tooth.  It was not loose when I sent him to school this morning.

Just after noon, I was saying goodbye to a parent that had come for a meeting.  I see G walking up the hallway toward me with a worried look on his face and a wad of toilet paper held to his mouth.  I quickly say goodbye to the parent and head up to G.  We go into the nurse.

Me:  "G, what happened?"

G:  "My tooth is loose and bleeding."

Me:  "Yeah, I see.  How did that happen?"

G:  "I was playing tug-of-war and put the rope in my mouth.  This boy pulled on the rope really hard.  And now my tooth is LOOSE!"

Me:  Laughter.

I know its not funny to laugh at misfortune, but its just more of the absurdity of life with boys with ADHD.  I like to think of G as a really smart little guy.  However, there's a huge gap between factual knowledge and common sense with this guy.  I mean, he put a rope in his mouth during a game with "tug" in the name.  And he's surprised when there's blood?!?

I have written before about G picking everything.  This tooth was no exception.  He was adamant that it needed to come out.  I called the dentist, but they don't take out baby teeth, not even when the kid has OCD.  So I sucked it up and sent him back to class, bloody drool and all.

Forty-five minutes later I get word that the tooth is out.  Thank heavens.  True to form, he worried that tooth until it came out.  Its got a really long root, which worries me, so its good that he's going to the dentist tomorrow.  I have a feeling that little baby tooth was nowhere near being ready to come out.  I'll leave final judgement on that for the professionals.

And hopefully, G has learned a valuable lesson about ropes and teeth.

Update after doctor's visit

The pediatrician feels that the stimulant medication is making G more aggressive and increasing the obsessive-compulsive behaviors of picking at everything.  So we have stopped the Focalin and will be increasing the Intuniv.

Today I delivered G to his teacher in a seemingly unmedicated state.  There were no stimulants in his system.  I told his teacher about the medication change and told her that it seemed like a good idea the previous day.  It really seemed okay yesterday, but this morning, I was very anxious about sending G to class in such a wild state.  Don't get me wrong- he was happy.  I've seldom seen him in such a good mood.  It just also seemed like he was likely to literally swing from the ceiling if given a ladder to reach it.  And he was talking nonstop to the kids in the hallway.  His teacher and I talked about an incentive plan, one that I'm hoping will motivate him well.  My parting words?

"Try to hang in as long as you can.  Let me know when you just can't stand it anymore.  We'll go back to the stimulants for the rest of the year if we have to."  All the while, listening to G out in the hallway, chattering away at light speed.  Sigh.

By recess, he was a mess.  A total mess.  A total hot mess.  We spent twenty minutes trying to decide if he was being disobedient (teacher's thought) or just totally inept due to ADHD med switching (my thought).  He was noisy, fidgety, rude to the teachers, and just plain difficult.

We ended the day with me carrying a bawling G out to my mom's car so I could stay for a wedding shower.  No screen time.  No treats.  No happy thoughts about first grade.  I've called the pediatrician and am waiting to hear back.  I think we'll revert the meds, because bad on the stimulants was better than being without them for the next three and a half weeks.  I'll switch over the summer.

I'm exhausted.  I've done nothing but worry about my kid and wondering if I've done the right thing.  There's no way to know, though, for sure.  I'm back to blindly making decisions based on gut instinct and praying that I'm doing okay.  Hoping he'll make friends, have teachers who love him no matter what, learn something, keep his hands to himself, and actually get the urine in the toilet.

I'm reading about meditation these days.  I think I know what I'm going to be doing this evening while I wait to hear from the doctor.

Sick Joke

My life is starting to seem like the punch-line of a joke.

This morning on our way from the car to the school building, G was quite loquacious.  He was talking about anything and everything, skipping from topic to topic.  He couldn’t get out of the car because he was playing with the iPad, trying to get his backpack, and talking- too many things at once.

I finally got him to exit the car and he was heading toward the school building.  This is what I heard:

“I like Minecraft.  It has creepers and Enderman…

I’m going to keep playing.  Maybe I’ll play Subway Sur…  

(Insert wild motion of whipping head back and forth to look before crossing the parking lot.)

I can carry the iPad like this...

Maybe there are some crystals [small white rocks] here by the- SQUIRREL!”

Sure enough, a squirrel was by the front doors of the school.  My poor boy- he doesn’t need small furry animals jumping out from behind a pillar to be distracted.  He does just fine, all by himself.

Rats.

Things have not been going well at school for the past few weeks.  Unfortunately, its stuff that is making it hard for him to have friends and be in the good graces of a teacher.  Even the other boys are just tired of him having his hands all over them.  And no teacher enjoys having kids break their things.

So after two weeks of nearly daily tears over how he's sorry that he had a bad day, and that he just can't do it, and other things that break my heart, we are going to the pediatrician on Monday.  I realize that its May, and nearly summer, but another month of this will just tear down his self-esteem to levels I can't handle.

I'm projecting myself on my kid, and I know it.  I worry so much about his self-esteem because of how low mine is and has been.  I know the pain of wanting friends but being unable to maintain those friendships.  I know how it feels to look back on a situation and wish like anything you had done it differently.  So I'm going to see what I can do for him.  He's too awesome of a kid.

Camping, Take Two

Success!  I have to say that I was just as excited the second time around as I was the first.  Maybe more, since this time I wasn't feeling sick.

Hubby had a race, so the boys and I got the car all packed up.  Now, thanks to my ADHD, we did forget a few things; hubby had to go back for some pillows and we only had one flashlight.  Overall, however, I had most of our stuff packed up.

Once again, we had the campground area to ourselves.  We got everything all set up, during which time both boys proclaimed themselves "bored."  Hah!  Bored!  In the woods!  G has decided he doesn't like bugs, which made for a lot of shrieking each time something flew by.  I did pack some pirate figurines and monster trucks, so those provided a bit of entertainment for a brief period of time.

Then we went fishing.  I figured out how to cast, so I was having fun.  Hubby was showing J how to use his new little fishing pole.  Then there was G.  He just threw everything he could find into the lake.  Rocks.  Sticks.  Grass.  Bait.  Leaves.  Everything.  I'm guessing that's more of a boy thing than an ADHD thing, but it didn't help with catching the fish.

The fire is G's thing.  Once I got it started, he spent hours finding sticks, breaking them, and putting them in the fire.  Hours.  It was delightful for me.  He's actually quite good at tending the fire without getting injured.  I was quite surprised at his respect and love for the fire and his ability to behave appropriately.

We had some good food (a little burnt- I have to brush up) and enjoyed the nice weather.  Sleeping was hard at first as the boys talked and giggled to themselves for the longest time.  Once they fell asleep, though, they did very well.  I got too cold and couldn't sleep well, but I enjoyed watching the sun come up by the campfire while listening to owls calling to each other.

We spent several hours at the campsite in the morning playing with the fire, reading, exploring, and then went for a bit more fishing.

I felt like I'd accomplished something.  First, I camped with two young kids and got them started on the path towards outdoors enjoyment.  Second, I banished screen time for over 18 hours and made them breathe fresh air.  Parenting win!

I have to take those wins when I can get them.  They can be few and far between.

Ouch!

G is a picker.  Scabs, nose, ears, skin.  But there's one type of picking that I simply don't understand.  He will take a little piece of skin on the tip of a finger and pick and pick.  It goes in cycles, and its been a year or so since its been a problem.  Today he came to me and I thought he'd been painting.  Nope- that magenta colored spot on his pinky finger was his own doing.

How do we stop this?  I think what really bothers me is that I know it hurts him.  He's inflicting some pain on himself compulsively.  Or obsessively.  I don't know which.

I feel like painting it with NewSkin could help.  It would hurt, which would be a deterrent.  And it would cover the wound for awhile while it heals.  But it seems almost like torture to do that.  Bandaids just give him something else to pick at and mess with.  The pediatricians have no ideas for me.  I'm lost.

Mommy Guilt

This is the new "it" phrase in parenting.  I hear tell that in decades and generations past, there was no mommy guilt.  You parented how you parented, and you didn't gauge yourself against the other moms.  Maybe people whispered about how horrible it was that some mothers were nursing toddlers.  Maybe there was talk about how so-and-so circumcised their boys- isn't that horrible?  Or maybe there was no judgement at all.

Now there is judgement everywhere, and moms who get judged by others, or by themselves, and are found lacking, feel some terrible guilt.  I try not to get into all the guilt, but yesterday I got sucked in.

Two grades were out for recess- third graders who had just finished state testing for science and first graders for regular playtime.  I had given two state tests and wanted some fresh air.  Plus, I like getting a mid-day hug from G.  So out I go into the beautiful sunshine.

Within two minutes, even after he'd seen me, G is throwing sand at some girls.  Not lightly tossing- he's throwing like its the World Series.  I walk over to the two first grade teachers who are supervising recess.  "What's the consequence for throwing sand?" I ask.

"They sit out the rest of recess," came the reply.

Can you see where this is going?  Now, I'm not a quiet sort of teacher.  Even if the student isn't mine, I get involved when I see inappropriate behavior.  I'll stop kids in the hall that I don't know if they are running.  I'll go into the bathroom if the kids are noisy and read them the riot act.  I get involved.

So, since I'd do it for anyone else, I call G over.  "You're out," one of the first grade teachers says.  "Go sit on the sidewalk."

I know I did the right thing.  He can't throw sand.  Inappropriate behaviors need to have consequences.  But I felt rotten.  He sat on the sidewalk with his head in his hands, nearly crying.  Four days with no recess due to weather and testing, and he'd lost it on the fifth.  Because of his mom.  He doesn't seem to have any hard feelings today, but I hope I can forgive myself.

And maybe I'll just stay in during first grade recess.

Groceries for the Zombie Apocalypse

I have this problem.  I shop at Sam's Club like its the zombie apocalypse.  And not because I'm prepping for the zombies.  Its like they are after me while I'm in the store.  I lose all sense of what I need and what I already have.  Sometimes I make a list, but it doesn't help.  I usually forget to use the list or I forget to put important things on the list or I lose my list before I even get out of my car.

I went with my mom and G today, and I appear to have been a bit distracted by the living dead.  So I come home to find things like this:

I already have a dozen Uncrustables.  I don't really need two dozen more, especially not in the middle of spring break.

I have two boxes of breakfast protein bars for the boys, in four different flavors by two different brands.  Why did I think they were necessary?

Um, wait...  I had a box of six dozen packages of fruit snacks?  I thought we were almost out.

Never mind that I don't really have room for all this stuff.  I just have no concept of what we already have around the house (don't tell my husband).  I just buy more of what I know we use often, so that there's no way we'll run out.  I buy it more than we use it, so it just stockpiles.

I guess I'll be ready for the zombies, even if it's by accident.

The Camping Trip

So, it only lasted five hours.  We'd been preparing for a month with a new tent, new air mattress, and a sleeping bag for J.  We got all packed and prepped with groceries and everything sorted.  We intended to go Saturday at lunchtime until Sunday morning.

Then I got a migraine.  It came on early Saturday, and the aura and pain disappeared within an hour.  Unfortunately, the nausea didn't go away.

We set up our camp and had a few hours of hanging out and playing and (in my case) throwing up.

I tried to tough it out, but after five hours in the wilderness (okay, the Izaak Walton League isn't really that wild...), I couldn't take it anymore.  We took down the tent, packed up the food and sleeping gear, and headed on home.  But we learned some pretty awesome things during those five hours in the woods.

-  J, at nearly four, gets bored way to easily in the outdoors.

- The boys like to go in and out of the tent over and over.

- I still have my fire-starting mojo.  One match, baby!  And no dryer lint!

- Hobo packs are good for everyone: hamburger patties, potatoes, carrots, and onion.

- Sleeping bags make good worm costumes when you're bored.

- G LOVES maintaining the camp fire.  And he was pretty good at it.

I can't wait to try again, preferably without the migraine or other illness.  Of course, then I'll have to spend the night in a tent with the boys, and we probably won't sleep well.  But isn't that the funnest part of all about camping with kids?!?

The Play, Part 2

It went pretty well!  G had his moments.  Before changing into his costume, he stood around hitting himself in the head with the costume in a grocery bag over and over again.

During the play, there were two issues.  The poster board shield was all over the place- above his head, over his face, curled around his hands...  Everywhere.  It was cute, though.  Not too weird, just cute.  I did end up "working" by sitting next to a boy with autism.  To assist with good behavior, I had a handful of gummy bears that I was passing off to him.  G saw me and wanted some.  When I said no, he wanted to argue and pout.  During the play.  (We talked about this later; Mommy was working, so she couldn't share the gummy bears.)

As we were leaving, there were a lot of sticks and rocks banging against trees, but that's boy stuff, right?  I mean, he wouldn't listen and come, but the sticks and rocks really are more interesting that us.  And he was really far away from the other kids.

Overall, it was a success.  Even more so because it wasn't my kid started to undress during the play.  Its all a matter of perspective.

The Play, Part 1

For the last several weeks, G has been practicing with his class daily.  The whole first grade is putting on a play about a tiger shark that wants to find a friend.  My darling is a sword fish.  I managed to wait until today to watch, choosing not to stop in during rehearsals.  I figured he wouldn't need extra adults around.

The rehearsing has been tough.  This last week has been particularly bad, with lots of fussing and whining, plus some crying and getting in trouble.  There's a lot of downtime during play rehearsals, so I'm actually surprised that he wasn't getting into more trouble.  I can't imagine having to sit for an hour or two while listening to other people talk and sing, with only a few breaks for my turn to talk or sing.

G is a sword fish.  He has a poster board shield on a string around his neck and a plastic sword to hold.  My reaction?  "Who, in their right minds, hands six year old boys swords to just hold?"  Really?  You think he's going to just hold it nicely and not try to stab someone?  The first grade teachers assured me they thought it was all going to be okay.

One particularly bad day of practice involved him losing the shield because he was messing with it too much.  He was so pouty about it that he could even hold his sword up.

Today I saw the morning performance, AKA the play with Focalin.  G did a great job.  He stood up and sat down when he was supposed to.  He went backstage and walked out with the other swordfish. He sang and moved his hands with the music.  It was awesome.

Except for all the nose picking.

I feel bad.  He kept looking at me and I'd smile big or give him a thumbs up.  Until the picking started.  I motioned for him to stop, and he hung his little head.

Anger Management

There's only one person in the house who has control of their emotions all the time, and that's my husband.  G, J, and I are all pretty emotional and can be rather volatile.  At least G and J have an excuse; they are young and have yet to learn how to control their emotions.

Incidentally, this post is more about J, who will be four at the end of the month.  We are having trouble with him getting very angry at school and then stomping, hitting, and spitting.  I found something pretty awesome that we are going to try.

I was reading an article recently that resonated with me.  While my own boys haven't experienced trauma, I work with children that have.  I have spent years with kids that have parents that are dead or incarcerated.  In several cases, one parent is incarcerated because the other is dead.  Abuse and neglect aren't uncommon for most teachers, and in special education, there may be more prevalence.  I started to investigate the resources that are mentioned in the article.

One resource provided so many concrete resources, and I loved it so much that I have been sharing it with everyone I can find that may be interested.  Conscious Discipline is amazing.  Thanks to them, I've taught J some techniques to utilize in place of loud and physical behavior.  It took just a few minutes, and he's able to calm himself with just a verbal prompt.  I love that the strategies are accompanied by printables.  The strategies are good for little kids and big kids, plus kids with disabilities.  We have been using some at school for kids with Down syndrome and developmental delays.

This parenting stuff is hard.  I'm so glad there are some resources out there.  Thank goodness for the internet!  I'll let y'all know how it goes.  For now, I'm hopeful and excited.

Conflict Resolution

It shouldn't surprise me that G has one method of resolving conflict with his brother and occasionally other kids.  It usually involves some form of hands-on activity, aimed at submission.  We have worked so hard on this, but there's not a lot of methods for parents to approach the problem with.  They are all along these lines, always presented after the tussle:

"Use your words.  Talk to the person who is bothering you, then go tell an adult if the problem is still happening."

Once G has his hands on his brother, there's no stopping him to talk.  You have to physically separate him from J, with squalling from the both of them.  J will be crying in a whiny voice about whatever horrible thing his brother is doing to him, while G is screaming about whatever J did that set him off.

(The thing that always gets me is that J is in the wrong 99% of the time.  He will go into his brother's room, hit his brother, wreck some Legos, and refuse to leave when G asks him to.  If G would come to me, I'd definitely rule in his favor.  But G gets fed up and goes for the throat.)

I send the boys each to their rooms to calm down.  We talk- J gets told that he's got to stop being obnoxious.  G gets told that there's a series of steps he has to go through.  Words to J.  Words to a parent.  He'll win: J alone will get in trouble.

But that impulse control just can't wait for words to impact his little brother.  He can't wait for an adult to come and help get J out of his way.  G's feelings flare so quickly and intensely that there is no stopping the reaction.

It has gotten a bit better over the last year or so.  We haven't had many issues at school, and certainly none as horrible as the day he pushed a classmate's head into the asphalt.  (Thank goodness she was okay; I think this was the worst I felt as a parent.  I'm okay when my kids skin a knee, but I hate to see an innocent party injured.)  There have been minor scuffles, but the other kids haven't been entirely innocent this year.  How long until he outgrows it?  Not too long, I hope.  Little steps.  We'll get there.

Try It. You Might Like It.

For months now, my husband has been trying to convince me to go with him and the boys to the local Indian buffet after church.  I'm not a huge fan of Indian food from restaurants.  I've had several homemade Indian meals, and they were delicious.  I just have difficulty finding meals from restaurants that I like.  Today, though, I let him choose.  I explained to the boys, over the sounds of whining, that we should take turns choosing where to eat.

The boys were far from thrilled.  Now I know that most kids have picky phases.  Kids with ADHD don't have a corner on that market.  There are a couple of aspects of ADHD that make the situation pretty rotten, though.

First of all, G has no filter.  This is true of a lot of kids with ADHD.  It doesn't matter that the proprietor of the restaurant is by our table filling our glasses with water.  G will state his disgust at what we have tried to serve him.  I was quite thankful that he chose to simply say he didn't like the food.  He didn't use too many horrible adjectives to describe the various dishes we presented in small piles on the plate.

Secondly, G views situations like this as fairly traumatic.  The fussing and whining as we asked him to take a little bite, was about the intensity as his reaction to shots, early bedtimes, and losing his screen time for three days.  I think the booth behind us was imagining me pinching him under the table to elicit the crying.  G views all sorts of situations as traumatic.  Even the Indian buffet.

To G's credit, his plate was filled by his father, who really doesn't have a good judgement of "spicy" for our children.  The only things that weren't spicy were the naan and the rice.  Poor kid- the fried ball of dough and the chicken dishes that Daddy swore were fine were actually quite painful, even for me.

So the lesson we learned today?  Take the little brother to the Indian buffet.  Leave G and Mommy at home.  Everyone wins.

ADHD Does Not Exist

http://time.com/25370/doctor-adhd-does-not-exist/?hpt=hp_t3

Well.  I've read it twice now.  And I'm kind of angry about it.  I think part of what I'm angry about is the definitive way he states his case, as though he's the end-all-be-all on the topic.  No room for other ideas or theories.

I think the other reason I'm bothered is that I think he's wrong.  Don't get me wrong, now.  I do think that ADHD may be over-diagnosed, and perhaps even over-medicated.  But I've seen enough kids (and been the kid) with ADHD to know that there's something there.  And who's to say that ADHD is the made-up disorder and not the anxiety/bipolar/etc options?  (Don't get upset with me, internet.  I think ALL of the disorders are real.)

I do know that a vast majority of children and adults wouldn't need medication if our society were different.  The agrarian society of 200 years ago would've suited my son and I just fine.  My house wouldn't be all that clean, but I'd have been able to survive.  My son would spend his days collecting firewood, planting and weeding the garden, herding livestock, and all those other farmy sorts of activities.

But I was expected to sit through hours of classes each day, listening and taking notes and retaining information and inferencing.  And my son is required to do the same, on an even stricter level since the introduction of No Child Left Behind and high-stakes testing.  Doctors want to point a finger somewhere?  I think current educational practices are a large part of the problem.  All kids, especially high-energy children with the symptoms seen with ADHD, need to play.  Hours of play.

I'd like to see what other people think.  What does big wide world think of this?

Church Today

Thank goodness for a church full of people with a sense of humor, and full of other quirky kids.  Without them, I think I would've lost my mind this morning without them.

Our church always starts the service with greetings, opening announcements, and a song.  Then the director of religious education calls the kids up, does a presentation, and they all troop up to the RE rooms.  Usually its a short little story and off they go.

This morning, the story was about the shamrock and a gnome named Jasper and the three forms of the goddess.  It was a cute story, but about five minutes too long- it was a six or seven minute story.  The kids were definitely ready to go before the director was.  They got squirrelly.  Of course, it was the boys that were the problem (not just mine for once- all of them).

F was pretending he was choking himself then playing a seat-stealing game with a toddler.  Another little boy kept stage whispering bad ideas to the others behind a hand that didn't help keep his mother from noticing he was talking.  The toddler from above started running up and down the aisle with bookmarks from the pews.

And G?  He spent the entire time looking at his reflection in the side of a baby grand piano, thrilled that the curved wood warped his reflection.  Face after face after face.  Funny.  Scary.  Coy.  Sad.  All for the whole congregation to see.

A different version of myself would've been mortified.  In a different place, with a different audience, I would've hauled him out and given him an earful.  But in the safety of MY church, I laughed with the others.  No one told me that G was a bad kid and that I was a bad mom.  None of the parents, or grandparents, or non-parents, did anything but smile or laugh.

I'm so glad that I found a place where my kids are accepted and treasured, even when they aren't sitting quietly and respectfully.  Mommy shaming?  Mommy judging?  Not here!

Temper Tantrums

Without ADHD.

I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY.  NOW.  I WANT THAT NOW.
J, I said no.  

Cue ten minutes of high-pitched screaming.

Kicking of walls, punching of any animate or inanimate item within a ten foot radius.

More screaming, this time enough to make you afraid that the neighbors are going to call 9-1-1.

Red face, blood vessels bursting in the eyes.

Tears, coughing, and nearly puking.

Small person yelling, "I don't like you, Mommy.  You're mean.  You're not my mommy anymore."

Then a ten minute time out, only to discuss the incident and find out that said small person either isn't actually sorry or says that they can't remember why they were sent to time out.  Loads of drama.

With ADHD.

I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY.  NOW.  I WANT THAT NOW.
G, I said no.

Cue thirty seconds of screaming, to be followed by,

"Mommy, do owls eat birds?"

Every once in awhile, I can come up with the silver lining for ADHD.  And the inability to pay attention long enough to have a proper tantrum is one of those times.

Writing

G has always had some problems with writing.  It started with a lack of desire to scribble or color.  I know, as a teacher, that these basic skills lay the foundation for writing.  I get it.  But G had a horrible reaction to being forced to color when he was younger.  So I didn't force it.  It was an activity at daycare/school that he would participate in, albeit without much effort, and I turned a blind eye.  I get reluctant writers to work all day long.  I deal with crying, whining, and gnashing of teeth for hours a day.  Do I really have to do it at home, too?

So now we are in first grade, and writing is not coming along nicely.  For one, he forms his letters incorrectly.  They are legible, but he uses a poor method to form them.  The OT (gosh, it helps to be a special education teacher) says its not that big of a deal.  It slows him down, but it doesn't impact grades.

Secondly, it takes forever to write sentences.  I think part of it is this little streak of perfectionism.  He doesn't know how to spell all the words he wants to spell, and he doesn't like to guess.  Another part is a bit of laziness.  He'd rather have someone else write for him (we DO NOT give in to it).  I'm not sure that's all the parts, but I have to have a game plan.

We are going to practice writing more with him on the weekends when his meds are fresh and we might have some patience.  I've also been working some with him on using a computer to type some work.  His teacher is going to give me some ideas as well.

I just worry that we are headed down a path toward academic difficulties and frustration much sooner than I'd anticipated.  I kind of thought we'd make it to middle school fairly easily, as long Husband and I kept him on a short leash.  And even as a special education teacher, I'm not sure of all the best ways to help G.  We aren't at our best in the evenings, G and I.

I'll just keep reminding myself, "This too shall pass."

Snow Days

This winter hasn't seemed particularly long for me, as it has for so many others.  I realize that I have a completely different view on things, since I'm a teacher.  Snow has a whole other meaning for me: extra time in my pajamas, cuddling up on the couch, watching cartoons, knitting.  No one asks me to leave the house or do anything all that complicated; I just have to keep the kids alive.

Today was a totally different type of snow day.  Both kids were home and my husband was working from home.  It was not that much fun for me.

Hubby working from home means lots of phone calls.  The kids can't stay quiet unless there's duct tape involved.  I've seen how that has worked out for other parents.  I don't want jail time, thank you very much.  He was downstairs in the library/office, which is right near the kitchen and living room.  Finally I sent him up to our room so that there was at least a door between his phone and the herd of elephants/pack of hyenas.

G, in all his ADHD glory, can be very quiet and industrious with his medicine.  Add J?  There's arguing, yelling, stomping, whining, crying, hitting, etc.  This made today an unusual snow day since J usually still goes to daycare when the weather is bad.  Hubby takes him on-time or late, so G and I can have some peace and quiet.  No one has left the house today to go any farther than the mailbox.

On the upside, I have discovered that G can enjoy card and board games.  J isn't very good at it, but G is in his prime.  I love Uno, so that's awesome.  I'm not such a fan of Chutes and Ladders, but I was a good sport and played nicely.  Rummikub Junior?  It was painful to try and play with the boys.  No one under the age of ten in this house understands the concept of keeping your pieces a secret!  J yelled out everything he got and kept tipping his tile-holder over.  G wasn't paying attention, so J kept looking at his pieces.  Oh well.  There's time.

One day, I'll write about my game playing issues.  I'm just glad I didn't pass them on to my kids.

Hope

I try not to be superstitious, but I think I'm going to set myself up for a terrible week by writing this post.  I do want to make sure parents out there know that sometimes the stars align, the gods are smiling on you, and things go really well.  For G, this last week has been one of those great times.

School has gone well, at least what he's had of it.  It was a good week prior, then we had MLK and a teacher work day.  Can't get in trouble at school if you're not there, and he was at his grandmother's busy being the center of attention.  Then we had a snow day.  Back to school Thursday and Friday with two hour delays.  So it wasn't a great judge of how he's doing at school.

At home, he's been awesome.  He's had fewer meltdowns/tantrums/whatever-you-want-to-call-it.  I've been encouraging him to do some chores for allowance.  I don't pay by the week, I pay by the chore.  (There's an app for that!)  So we don't have much moaning about setting the table or unloading the dishwasher.  We do not pay him for chores that are directly related solely to him.  He has to clean his own room, pick up his messes, and put away clean laundry, all without pay.  He's been doing a great job of getting these activities completed without fussing.  Its not without us fussing some, though, because the Lego table is mesmerizing and far more exciting than cleaning up.

When out and about, he's been doing really well.  One thing that I've wanted him to pick up was the quiet negotiation without a tantrum.  Example: We are at Target, and I tell him to hop up into the cart.

Outcome 1:
"No!  NOOOOO!   I don't want to!  No!  I want to walk!  I WANT TO WALK!  Aaaaahhhhh!"

Outcome 2:
"Can I just walk beside the cart?  I'll stay close."

We've had years of Outcome 1.  I've been working on Outcome 2.  I'm not a stern mom (or teacher)- I very seldom draw a hard line.  I'm well-known at school for being willing to compromise with my students, and it really works well with some students that want control over their lives.  So with G, I've been telling him, "If you talk to me about what you want, you're far more likely to get it.  When you act immature and yell and scream, I know I can't trust you to walk by the cart."

And its working!  With, and at times without, the medicine!  Hallelujah!

Maybe one day I can let him loose unmedicated in the grocery store with the child-sized cart.  But I'm not holding my breath on that one.  We've tried it a couple of times.  I've got scars on my heels from being run over, and the floors at the store will forever hold the doughnut marks from his racing.

Hang in there, fellow parents.  There is HOPE!

It Has Come to This

I have written often about the medication struggles that families like ours have.  This morning we had a fabulous reminder of how G's Focalin sure isn't like a baby aspirin.

To give G his medicine, we take a little yellow capsule and open it up.  Inside are several dozen white balls, quite similar in appearance to nonpareils that you find on SnoCaps candy.  We open this capsule and pour the "sprinkles" into a spoonful of applesauce.  Then we give the spoonful to to G.

The spoonful has to be done a certain way, per G's directions.  You have to make a little hole in the applesauce, pour in the "sprinkles," and then bury them so that he only sees applesauce.  Sometimes the applesauce is a nice consistency for the hole, but some days its like trying to bury treasure in quicksand.

Sometimes it goes wrong, even with the years of experience and best of intentions.  Like today.

When I opened the capsule, I must have pushed in a side of it, because as I removed the top, there was a "sprinkle" explosion.  Little balls of Focalin bursting into the air.  Oh shit.

It would be one thing if I could just throw away the partial capsule.  But that's not an option I like to consider.  First of all, that's like throwing away $2.  Secondly, we get one per day.  Our prescription isn't written for mulligans.  You don't get a do-over.  If I throw away that pill, that means there'll be a day when he goes without.  So I have to try to salvage it.  And giving what's in the pill isn't an option- its usually not enough.  His dose is precise, and any less means noticeable behavior changes.  You can't just pitch this expensive and hard-to-get medicine like its an ibuprofen that fell on the floor.

I happened to have opened the capsule over a tomato I was cutting up to go with my breakfast.  Some some "sprinkles" were in the capsule.  Some were on the cutting board.  Some were all over the tomato.  I was reduced to picking "sprinkles" off of a tomato.

So like a madwoman, I was using a knife to quickly pick off the "sprinkles".  G is at the table, and I fear that he will come over and see what I'm doing.  If he sees "sprinkles" with tomato particulate on them, he will refuse the entire thing.  I'm cursing under my breath as I examine pieces of tomato, using the knife and my fingers to transfer "sprinkles" to applesauce.  There must have been 20 or so, and I was determined to get them all.  Every last one.  I felt like a gold miner.

Well, I did it.  I was victorious.  Although I did find a bit of Focalin in my breakfast.

Sometimes its normal.

I worry so much.  I'm okay with my kid not being "normal."  I'm not normal, and I know few people who fit into neurotypical boxes.  But sometimes I worry too much about behavior.  It doesn't help that I'm at school with G and know about everything that happens.  Not participating in music?  The music teacher stops in to see me.  You get a referral to the office?  I see you when I'm walking by.  You need to pee out on the playground?  One of Mommy's coworkers will let her know before you even make it to the office.  I doubt I'd be any different if I was at a different school from G.  I try to get the scoop on all of J's behavior as well.

So we've had a great week and a half.  Today, though, G moved his name.  He was on "Think About It" instead of "Ready to Learn."  I was prepared, though.  I had peeked at the end of the day and I knew he had moved his name down.  I was just really hoping there was no hitting or kicking or punching or cussing or takedowns or biting.  But I was prepared.  Just in case.

"G, how was your day?"

"Mmmm, I was on Think About It."

"Oh?  What happened?"

"I was squeaking my shoes when we came inside."

Wow.  WOW.  Yay!  My kid got in trouble for something all the other kids might get in trouble for!  It is sad how happy I am that he was reprimanded for something so minor and trivial.  (And don't start about how that's not something to get in trouble for.  Unless you're an elementary school teacher, you probably don't get it.)

Sometimes, the stuff he gets in trouble for is normal.

Bounce House

Today I went with both boys to the local indoor bounce house to meet up with my friend and her two sons.  It was a much anticipated event, and we used it to bribe J into not punching anyone for a couple of days.  We headed over, and it wasn't too crowded.  My friend and I got the kids signed in, and then we... GASP... went to sit on the couch.

I don't usually go sit on the couch.  I usually follow my kids around and watch them play and make sure no one is getting hit or kicked or pushed or punched.  But today, I didn't.

I was tired.  I wanted to talk to my friend, who has been a bit down.  We have tried for a week or so to get together, but life kept getting in the way.  So today we needed to talk.  Plus, the last several visits to the bounce house have been so uneventful.  I threw caution to the wind.

The first hour or so was fine.  J had to use the bathroom several times, and when I returned from one of the trips, G was in my friend's lap crying.  As it turns out, he'd been bitten.

I know how other people react during situations like this, because I've been approached several times after G has hurt other children.  A lot of parents get enraged at the thought of their precious little so-and-so being bullied or injured.  Some shrug it off- "Boys will be boys."  My reaction?  "What did you do to him first?"

So...  G wanted the kid to move out of his way.  Seeing as the kid couldn't read G's mind, G decided to push him.  The kid didn't like it.  He bit G.  Bit him.  Left a tooth mark and everything.

We go and find the kid, a three year old who is quite reluctant to come out of the bouncy thing he's playing on.  There's no parent around for him, but as a teacher, I don't let that stop me.  I yank that kid out, throw a string of obscenities at him, and tell him to leave.

Just kidding.  I explain that he and G have something to take care of, and the boy finally comes out of the bouncy thing.  G apologizes.  The little boy apologizes.  I show the kid G's arm, and tell him that he's hurt G and left a mark- biting's a big deal.  At this point the mom comes up.  She asks, "What's going on?"

I said, "The boys had a bit of a tussle.  G did push your son first, and then your son bit him.  We were just exchanging apologies."  I kind of expected some amount of concern from this other mother.  I mean, her kid bit him.  G shouldn't have pushed, but he didn't leave a mark on the other kid.  Her response?

"He's three.  He's going to be a bit defensive."  And she takes her kid and walks off in a huff.

We all need to learn from stuff like this.  First of all, watch your kid at the bounce house (that's for me, not this other mom).  Second, our kids may occasionally be aggressive towards each other.  While we might not like it, its a learning experience for all of us.  If our kids are defensive, we don't need to be.  She left shortly afterward.

Maybe her kid bites all the time and she was really upset that they couldn't enjoy the bounce house.  If she'd talked to me a bit, she would've found a kindred spirit. I still judge playdate success by whether or not someone gets purposely injured by G.  She could've come sit with us and laughed and talked about wild children and made a friend.

Maybe her son is an only child and needs to learn to deal with other kids.  Again, she could've joined us and we could've helped her out.

So, but wide world out there, what would you have done?  Should I have waited until a parent was around to get the apologies going?  Should I have just had the boys stay away from each other?  Am I  crazy to even be rehashing this interaction hours after its passed?

Honey, They Don't Need To Know That...

G will talk to anyone.  I'm not saying that people make eye contact, smile, ask his name/age, and start up a conversation.  G will walk up to anyone and let loose on his verbal stream of consciousness.  Even if they have their backs to him.

Today, in line at the grocery store, G decided to tell some lady about our cats.  The cats are his current most-often-discussed topic.  We were in the self-serve checkout line.  G had just taken ten minutes to scan our 25 or so items meticulously.  I was paying for the items, when I hear G start up.

The lady was trying to buy several bags of groceries, plus two enormous bottles of wine.  She was holding these two bottles, when she heard a little voice.

"We have two cats."

"Excuse me?" she said.

"We have two cats.  They are Hugo and Hermione.  (Mind you, if you don't converse often with a six year old who gets excited and trips over words, its all hard to follow.  I'm typing this like it was coherent; it wasn't.)  Hugo weighs five pounds.  Hermione weighs four pounds.  They pee and poop in a box.  One box is in Mommy and Daddy's room by the bed.  One box is downstairs in the basement.. in the room where they stayed when we first got them.  I used to use that bathroom, but now the cats use it.  Now the cats get to be all over the house."

Bless her, the woman looked at my kid with verbal diarrhea and asked, "Now, tell me.  What do they look like?"  She just stood there with those two bottles of wine, waiting for someone to come and card her, and took the bait.

We go through this a lot, and I'm not sure about cause or cure.  On one hand, his single-minded determination to randomly talk to strangers about a topic that is really only relevant to him is kind of autism-like.  Or he just is a kid with ADHD with poor social skills.  Or he's just a normal six year old.  I don't know if I should cut him off or let him keep going.  Older people tend to think he's adorable and don't mind a conversation about cats or Mace Windu or some kid in his class named Tristan.  I get worried that he'll eagerly strike up a conversation with a perverted kidnapper about some nonexistent puppy and ride off in a sketchy van.  We do discuss stranger danger, but it can be such an abstract topic!

I don't have any good answers.  I know I'm not alone in the problems we face or the lack of solutions.  I'll just keep telling myself its a phase.  Maybe a short one that we will outgrow soon.