When you become a parent you join a club. You bring home your first child and you spend your first moments marveling at the wonder of OMG!!! this is MY child, and then the panic sets in. It's not like you didn't know you were having (or adopting) a child, it's just that it was all so birth and/or arrival focused that you lost sight of the whole "after the big day" scenario.

You settle in at home, thrilled and excited and sometimes in lots of pain, and then you are watching your baby breath in and out and suddenly 3 hours have passed. You get a flash of comprehension and a glimpse of the utter mind-wrenching task you have set yourself, and you begin that terrifying journey with the certain knowledge that you don't know what the hell you are doing.

And then you multiply that feeling by the number of seconds in a day and then you realize you'll be doing that every day for the rest of your life... and ta da! Welcome to the club!

Start from there. We are all terrified and don't know what we are doing, and that is a big part of why we are so quick to judge other parents. If that person is doing something wrong, and I am not doing THAT wrong thing, then... I must be doing it RIGHT! Yay, me!

I certainly had my moments with Pepper. My Judgey McJudge-A-Lot moments. The times that I felt like I must be doing this parenting gig so right to have such a well-behaved, perfect, brilliant child. I admit it freely - I didn't get a lot of the chatter about "difficult" babies, because Pepper was simply delightful.

But then I learned that when you have a baby that is atypical, it takes a lot more to feel like you are doing it right. When we first started searching for some answers to why Peanut was such an odd little duck, I read a lot of blogs written by other parents going through the same thing I was. There were often discussions by parents about how they didn't want to "label" their kids, which I both understood and didn't. For me, I actually found relief in being able to name various problems, even though it was also scary to slap a one-size-fits-many label on my beautiful, perfect boy.

Peanut:
35-Week Preemie
Torticullis
Positional Plagiocephaly
Recurrent Ear Infections
Peanut Allergy
Eczema
Environmental Allergies
Sensory Integration Disorder
Speech Delay
PDD-NOS
Educational Diagnosis: Autism
Gifted...

and now, please give a warm welcome to the reason for this post and our most recent addition to the family corral: ADHD!
Woo hoo! Give it up for the latest diagnosis for the boy!

Here's the thing, though: after Peanut's recent ADHD diagnosis, I realized I've officially hit the point where the labels just bounce off me. They don't make an impact anymore. When the kids were younger, every diagnosis was weighted with fear and expectation. Every label held out the hope of an answer, and of a concrete plan, and eventually of more heartbreak when things didn't go according to that plan.

I know I've been posting quite sparsely these days. I've temporarily lost my taste for blogging, because so much is happening so fast and there are only so many hours in the day. I'm overwhelmed with the actual events of the day and have no time or energy left to turn them over in my mind and examine them and polish and chronicle them.

January was filled with doctor's appointments and the fun roller coaster of trying out some ADHD medication. We are still plugging away, and I am hopeful we will see some progress. I don't love the labels, but if they get my child the services he needs, then label away. After years of this I have come to the understanding that these things are not the measure of my child. Those labels just add to the picture. They bring might change the view other people get of him, but for me?

Another label is just another brushstroke that makes up the gorgeousness of my boy.

Labels: Abby Normal, kids

I'm tired of writing about my kids. They take up most of my time and energy, leaving very little left over in my days for ME, and that means when I sit down to write something, my brain is stuck on KIDS KIDS KIDS. How did I become this boring mommy person?!

But hey - let's not talk about boring old ME. Let's talk about... my KIDS. Blerg.

When last we heard about our mini-heroine, she was spending her time stressing out *about* but excelling *in* school while tilting from one emotional extreme to the next at home, all the while complaining of headaches and blurred vision and foot cramps and various other psychosomatic illnesses. Her mother attempted to assuage her worry by booking an appointment with the eye doctor 2 weeks hence, but our heroine continues to languish, convinced that she has something far more seriously wrong with her.

Enough of that. My week was filled with lots of volunteering and random moments. In a typical 5 minute vignette that ended poorly, I was collecting the kids in the lobby of the school for an after-school activity when I ran into Pepper's teacher from last year. As we stand there catching up, another teacher walks up and says she has some books for Peanut to read - her son is in class with him and is also an advanced reader, so she has some books from her classroom to loan him. As she leaves, yet another person walks up with information about yet another school activity, and suddenly, Pepper lets out a shriek of pain that silences the crowd in the lobby.

The adults scatter, and as we hustle to the nurse for an ice pack for her bloody nose, I ask what happened.

"I walked into the wall!"

"How did that happen?!"

"I had my eyes closed and I walked into the wall!"

"Why were you were walking around the lobby with your eyes closed?!?!""

"I thought H was steering me by the shoulders, but she steered me into the WALL!"

"How did that happen? Did she do it on purpose, or was it an accident, or what?"

"She had HER eyes closed, too!"

Oh. Kay. Then.

Multiply that scenario by, like, 70 and you've got my week. (And perhaps she *does* have something wrong with her, because that just ain't right. I KEEEEED, I keeeed....)

As for Peanut, after much discussion with all of the various highly-trained personnel in his life, we have started him on an ADHD medication. So far, so good - not a dramatic difference, but it definitely lessens the "pinballing around the room" behavior. He's only been taking it for a few days, so we'll see if it helps his at-school behavior. His finger is healing nicely, although we have to work on his tendency to hold it out away from the other fingers as he uses his hand, inadvertently giving the finger to everyone in view. And don't even get me started on the campaign I am waging to get him to stop referring to a certain Looney Tunes character as "Yo, Semite Sam."

Wish me luck - I'm hoping for a "Swear-Word-&-Bloodshed Free" afternoon.

Labels: blerg., kids, Peanut, Pepper, total randomness

Driving the kids to school after an early-morning doctor's appointment, Peanut is chattering away. I am, as usual, having trouble catching everything he is saying. That child can go on and on about his various obsession (the Titanic, the Beatles, the various intricacies of cultural life on Stomposia, the imaginary planet he says he was born before he came to Earth and became a baby in my tummy.)

In the face of non-stop 7 year old nattering, I admit it - I revert to the parenting "Uh huh... sure... okay..." response mode with him a little too often. It's usually when I can hear enough bits and pieces so that I'm pretty confident I'm not agreeing to let him hitchhike to Arizona by himself, but I should try harder, I know. Moving on.

"Mom, what's 'foreplay'?"

"Uhm... that is a grown-up word. It's not a swear, but it is like a swear - kids can't say it."

"But what does it mean?"

"Well, it's like kissing... but for grown-ups."

A pause, and then, "Mom? I want to foreplay you on the mouth!!"

Aaaand... SCENE!
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The perseveration continues, however. A day later, he is dancing around me in the kitchen doing his OCD/Tourrette-like version of the pee-pee dance, only for words. He can barely hold it in, he says... he wants to say "FOREPLAY!!" He is stricken! He SAID it! Oh no!!! He cries, we talk, life goes on.
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A few nights later, he informs his father that he knows what "foreplay" means, then quickly backpedals and says, "SEVENplay! I mean SEVENPLAY, because *I* am seven and... and... and... Mom forty-fourplays with you, right?" And there is another serious conversation, and then the next morning in the car, he tells me he is afraid he is going to say it at school, that he just can't stop thinking it and that he is worried he will say it out loud and get in trouble.

I suggest that he substitute another word for it, something silly that will distract him, like "walnuts." We have used this technique in the past for unacceptable verbal perseverations, and he does pretty well with it. "Mom, can I walnuts you on the cheek when we get home?"
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Another couple days go by, with him using the word "walnuts," but goofing around with it. "Walnuts me, baby!!" he says to his sister. "I want to walnuts your whole face, Mommy!" It tapers off, and then one morning, we are snuggling on the couch watching cartoons, and he turns to me and says, "Let's not say 'walnuts' anymore. We can just say 'kissing.'"
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And so we come full circle, back to appropriate word usage, after a week of consoling, correcting, threatening, and explaining? Too bad for Dr. V., but I need a little break from "foreplay."

Labels: autism, bad words, frustration, Peanut, social awkwardness

Have you ever noticed that I capitalize all the words in my blog post titles? Yeah, I don't know why I do that, either. Some sort of "new rules for new forms of media" thinking, I guess. Plus, I suck at titles.
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I've been trying to keep myself organized by using a calendar app on my iPhone called "Informant." But since I tend to talk to myself and hum and sing a lot and make all sorts of random connections in my head, I end up mumbling that "Informer" Snow song under my breath in a fake reggae accent when I go to enter appointments or add something to my to do list. And since I don't understand the lyrics, I end up singing "A licky boom boom down" over and over. It's probably something I should work on.
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I get a kick sometimes out of how ridiculously specific some business niches are, especially when they follow me on Twitter. I just got followed by a guy whose claim to fame is that he is considered "the father of modern chocolate." In fact, "the Dalai Lama's first bite of chocolate" was his creation. So he's got that going for him....
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I have to go comb my hair and brush my teeth so I can run to the library to pick up a book for Pepper on Abraham Lincoln. She has chosen to do her research paper on him. She thinks he is a good example of a hero. And the important part of this little nugget is that it is 1:10 pm AND I HAVE TO GO BRUSH MY TEETH. Sometimes I gross myself out.
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We have a crazy-busy weekend coming up, so busy that I am going to have to give away our tickets to go see Anthony Bourdain talk. Can you believe that shit??!!?

And now I'm done.

Labels: total randomness

It started out okay, what with the kids playing and the adults watching "Inglourious Basterds" in a room where none of the kids could see the tv screen if they walked by. We had fireworks, courtesy of a ridiculous store in my hometown that sells fireworks, weapons and candy (!) and where you can buy the good stuff if you have an out-of-state license.

But as the clock approached midnight, Peanut fell apart. He was exhausted and tired and embarrassed about something and lay sobbing in my arms that he wished he was dead. That sucked. And then he started to get all extra weepy that he was also going to miss the ball drop, so I carried him into another room and we watched the ball drop alone together as he clung to me, wiping his tears in my hair.

Then we crawled back into bed, me murmuring that 2010 was going to be a great year for him and that he was a great kid and that I loved him more than anything and everything was going to be okay and his hiccuping and tears quieted and we fell asleep. When I woke up at 1 a.m. and went out into the kitchen, no one had even noticed we were gone. All the grown-ups were talking and laughing and drinking, and all the kids were rubbing their eyes and yet still wired.

I was so angry right then, so empty and bereft and raw. I couldn't believe that I'd just been wrung inside-out and no one noticed. Then Pepper began crying that she didn't want to sleep with her cousins and I told her she could sleep with me and yelled at Dr. V. that he could just find somewhere else to sleep but that I'd kill him if he crawled into bed with Peanut and woke him and then I laid there crying silently in bed, denying my tears to Pepper when she asked in the dark if I was crying.

And in the morning, it was as if it never happened. Peanut was cheerful and happy, Pepper was goofy and playing happily with her cousins, Dr. V. was hungover and affectionate to his shrew of a wife. And I felt better, too, after a nap.

The end.

Labels: blerg., emotionally fragile, holiday

That pretty much describes Christmas for me this year. I'm feeling guilty because I have been posting so little here, but truly my brain is scrambled. Pepper was home sick for almost 2 weeks, and the same two weeks were filled with more bad behavior from the boy and therapy sessions and teacher meetings and just... blerg.

And now you would think those rough days never happened, because the children are thrilled with their Christmas presents and happily enjoying the new vacation schedule, which involves doing whatever the hell they want while staying in their pajamas all day. We are due to road trip to PA this week, although the schedule is still up in the air, depending on the weather. I'm definitely feeling less blue than I was last week now that all the holiday prep and party throwing is over, and I think there might be one last piece of cheesecake in the fridge, so I'm good for now.

Labels: blerg., holidaze, kids

It's been a bummer of a time around here, with some sunshine peeking through.

We are still waiting for an appointment for the psychiatric consult for Peanut to discuss some sort of medication to help him regulate, as per his therapist's recommendation, but in the meantime he continues to struggle. Earlier this week, there was an incident where he was already upset about something when he and his resource teacher ran into a classmate's mom in the hallway. She was there to deliver cupcakes for her child's birthday, and she very nicely told Peanut that she had already talked to me about making them peanut-safe just for him... and he erupted and screamed, "I KNOW! MY MOM ALREADY TOLD ME THAT!!!" at her.

He apologized insincerely after being prompted, but his resource teacher sat down with him later (after the emotion had subsided) and helped him write an apology note. When we talk about these episodes at home, he is embarrassed and squirmy and gets very upset again, and it is so damn hard to navigate the path of how much to talk about before he shuts down or erupts.

I myself am having a hard time and often feel on the verge of tears. I've had two periods this month, two weeks apart, and while I'm sure this is stress related it totally SUCKS. The cherry on the shit sundae is that Pepper has been sick for over a week. She has missed the entire last week of school, and although I want her to go back tomorrow and she wants to as well, she sounds like she is coughing up chunks of her lungs. We'll see how her vitals are tomorrow - her temp has not gone above 100.5 this entire time, but she is obviously miserable.

After all of this angst and misery, today was a weirdly fabulous day. I ran into Pepper's school this morning to drop off the homework she had done and pick up the current stuff. After last week's Parent/Teacher conference where we discussed how AWESOME my girl is, I could hardly love this teacher any more than I do... and yet it never gets old, hearing how amazing your kid is. Funny, that. She showed me what Pepper's report card would look like at the conference (B+, A, A, A+, A+) and I said, "Wow - that is so nice to see after last year, when her teachers told the kids not to expect 'A's because they didn't give 'A's at all."

THIS teacher looked at me, cocked an eyebrow, and said, "I don't give 'A's... my students EARN them." After the craptastic time I've been having as a parent lately, she is lucky I didn't french kiss her right then and there. I LOVE this woman - I mean, I really like her in and of herself, but as a good fit for Pepper? I luuuurve her. So anyway, I went in to pick up the homework and got some more positive affirmation about my girl, and then I went and checked in with the gifted enrichment teacher, who ALSO had nothing but wonderful things to tell me. Stuff like, "I teach a lot of smart kids, but she's really a special one."

To top off my completely roller coaster day, Peanut had the best day he's had in weeks. His teacher even texted me to tell me how great he was doing, and then when I took him to counseling, the therapist again told me that she thinks we are doing everything right, at home and at school and everywhere in between.

I guess this post should have come with a warning label about how my kids are CRAZY and yet still manage to BRING THE AWESOME, but I'm just fried, frankly. Assuming Pepper is well enough to go to school tomorrow, I have a full day of holiday prep in front of me to try to recover from a week in a black hole at home with a sick child. From a glass-half-full perspective, I guess it is good that I've kind of hit the wall - there so much crap flying around me these days that I can't even muster up any more energy to stress about the holidays and what I SHOULD be doing, which - if you think about it - is a nice change from the regular holiday madness. Or maybe I'm just completely done with 2009, you know?

Labels: teh crazy, the Universe maybe has a little crush on me, WTF?