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.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
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
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
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, August 7, 2014
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.
- 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.
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