Tag Archives: Raising Children

Nobody likes change

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Once we are past the tantrum and everyone is thinking with a clear head I often say “nobody likes change” in my head. 99.9% of the time it’s in Ross Gellar’s voice and I picture him and Rachel fighting over the girl from the copy place. It makes me smile every time, which is good because at this point I need something to break the tension.

It’s true. We have a little girl that doesn’t like change and apparently two parents who are really bad about realizing something has changed until we are strung out and have lost all patience and are trying to regain some composure and patience. Then it hits us “oooohhhh, we had a new bus stop today”. Molly won’t ever tell us why she’s anxious or what has changed or how she’s feeling, it’s like a guessing game from hell.

You’d think we would better at picking it up the subtle changes to our day. After all, we are five years into living with a child that needs uber-consistent days and regular schedules but there are times we just fail at it. I don’t feel guilty about the failing, life is what it is and sometimes it means change. I just want to be better at preparing for the tiny things that will occur during the day that won’t seem so tiny to her.

Normally speaking, change brings about tantrums and the inability to function. She seems to have difficulty getting one foot in front of the other and putting two words together. Little eye contact is made on these days and there is a lot of crashing into objects around her. There are super strict routines that must be followed lest we break out into a 45 minute crying jag which always results in a loss of a shoe. Usually it’s this part of the tantrum which sends Stampy and I to the mental ward and we end up losing our patience. There are no incentives or rewards on these days to change her, it is what it is and it leaves us all drained wondering “what just happened?”.

Today, she handled change differently. Today she sobbed, hunkered down in her bedroom and clutched one of my old stuffed animals while she stared out the window waiting for me to come home. Schools were closed today. My in-laws are back to their babysitting duties for the first time in six months but my father-in-law didn’t come today, he always comes on Tuesdays. Molly pointed that out. Today was different.

Today was different in the fact that once I came home, Molly told me what she did. She told me what she didn’t like and told me how it made her feel. Today was one of the first days she expressed rational thought to her emotion and how it made her feel. And that is a big change. That is a change I love.

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Everything changes

This week was a big week here. Both kids are starting to show that they are growing up. Molly got on a school bus and rode to kindergarten camp and has her first loose tooth. Charlie decided he is now going to wear underwear. We are officially a house with “kids”. No more babies, no more toddlers, we have kids.

Part of me is super excited to embark on this next path. Full school days and no more diapers??? Could it be? We’ve reached the point where we have time to get something done and I don’t have to feel guilty as my child runs by with a diaper down to his knees. (Honestly, after five years of changing diapers, I’ve become lazy). We are on the road where I no longer feel like I’m herding cats into the pool and everyone is carrying a bag. I’m not going to lie, I LOVE IT. However, I see them growing and I want to cherish each and every moment now. I want to hold onto who they are and enjoy it because I know that soon it will be Charlie loosing teeth and Molly will be running off with friends at the pool, only coming back to me for ice cream money.

Wanting to enjoy this moment in time made me realize that I’ve had a parenting shift. Not that I wanted to rush through the babies years, but like almost every other parent, we are waiting for the next milestone. When a baby rolls, we wait for the crawl. Once they crawl, we are excited for them to walk. There’s always a next step. First baby food leads into first finger foods and self feeding. I spent 6 long months waiting for Charlie to sleep through the night. Each of these milestones are exciting and they happen fast. I thought I would never forget their stats at certain ages or the dates they crawled, walked, ate, slept, etc and now I can’t even remember (nor do I try) when these things happened. I just think, “eh, it happened”. We waited impatiently, then the milestone happened and before I could truly enjoy where we were, I was already thinking “what’s next?”.

I once had a yoga instructor tell the class that we can’t enjoy our present if we are too busy holding onto the past. I think the same goes for looking forward into the future. The past five years have taught me that the little people I put to bed tonight are not the same people that will wake up in their beds tomorrow. They will be a day older, a day smarter and a day more advanced. So instead of trying to remember each “milestone” or look forward to the next, I plan to take this moment and enjoy it because everything changes.

Starting Again

Today we started over again. 

We have been on and off the therapy bus several times. We’ve been through testing several times. I don’t know why I thought today would be different. Maybe it was because we were going to the big name institute that has credentials and multitude of services and reputation. Or maybe it was just because I’m in need of answers as we travel down this road again.

I didn’t get them today.

What we got was the same thing that therapy always starts out with. An interview. Questionnaires. History. Imagine telling a perfect stranger all of the worst possible character traits of you and your child, retelling your struggles and remaining neutral about them as if you were giving a list of what you had to eat that day, going over and over your child’s issues, and your less than perfect parenting moments. Now, imagine doing it for the third time. 

It’s hard to do. It’s exhausting. For some reason, I hadn’t planned to do it today. I don’t know why. Maybe I should have asked what the appointment would entail when I set up the evaluation. Maybe I should have looked more into what we were getting involved with. I was am so desperate for answers that I wanted one today. I wanted for us to go in and say “our problems are….” and have them ask a few questions and BAM! treatment plan, diagnosis, something. I wanted information. I wanted hope. What I have is two more appointments. Our observation appointment, which is basically what it sounds like, they observe you interacting with your child (not at all awkward or unnatural) then the “parents only” appointment where they tell you all the disturbing things about your child and how they plan to fix them. 

Two weeks. Two weeks until I need to mentally and emotionally prepare. 

I’ll need to get another box of wine. 

 

Dear Lifeguards, I’m sorry.

I was once a lifeguard. It didn’t seem like that long ago, until I started talking to the now assistant manager of our pool and realized I sounded like Grandma telling him about my days as assistant manager at the pool when he was five years old. Ugh. I’m older than I like to realize. So that being said, I feel like I need to apologize in advance to the lifeguards at our pool this summer.

Dear Lifeguards,

I was once you. I was once 19 and fancy free. I had lots of opinions and little experience to actually back them up. I’ve lived your carefree life and I know what irks you and makes you roll your eyes. In no particular order, I apologize in advance for the following things.

1. We will be there any day that does not have lightening. If it’s raining, we will probably be there and I’m sorry. However, I can’t keep my kids in my house and our backyard just doesn’t cut it when they can go to the pool. I also need to get out. Staying home makes me realize that I have carpets that need to be vacuumed, dishes that need be washed and a bathroom that is need of cleaning. None of these things will get done no matter what, so I might as well not have to look at them.

2. Charlie will run on the pool deck. I will tell him to walk but he will be the kid you yell at all summer long. 

3. Molly will scream in fear for no apparent reason. Don’t worry, she won’t get her head wet and is extremely cautious so the chances of her going under are minute however her voice will be loud. 

4. One child will insist on being in the baby pool, the other in the big pool. This will mean I will have to stand at the gate and divide my attention and yell at them from away. It also means that I might not actually be in the baby pool gate with my child as your rules so apply.

5. Speaking of rules, I grew up there, I life-guarded and managed there, I was on the swim team and my face is all over the club house in many picture collages, I didn’t follow them back then, I may not now. 

6. Molly will not flush a toilet. She doesn’t like the noise. 

7. One of my children might be naked. It’s just how it is.

8. I might talk to you about the old days. Thank you in advance for being polite.

 

We made a decision

For almost two years now I’ve had a little noise in the back of my head saying “Kennedy Krieger”. I usually hush it up and go back into my denial world. I’m usually up front and open about “we need help” and “things aren’t right”, but somehow making the phone call to the children’s hospital seems extreme. It means we’ve hit the big time. I’m not totally ready for the big time.

Almost two years ago when we started with behavioral therapy, we were warned at that point we might not get all we need through local services. We weren’t promised cures, just a good ole fashion try. We were willing to go the least intensive route. Local behavioral therapy, local occupational therapy. And why not, even the school psychologist couldn’t give us 100% diagnosis. Everyone hovered over autism, PDD, anxiety disorder but were in agreement that something was off and most likely Molly was not a case of pure Sensory Processing Disorder. But, then again, she could be. We had a 3 1/2 year old and 18 month old. Least intensive seemed to be what would suit our family best.

We aced behavioral therapy and felt we could breathe. We plateaued in progress in occupational therapy. We started therapeutic riding. We couldn’t deny her improvements. There were many. She was becoming more social with peers. She was wiling to get on her bike. She occasionally would eat something other than pasta. She started using the bathroom at school. Occasionally. We also couldn’t deny the massive behavior problems that continued. The unwillingness to break from routine. The violent, and I mean violent, tantrums. The unwillingness and inability to be independent. The denial of what her body was telling her.

For those of you who don’t really know what Sensory Processing is (and I realize I’ve never really explained it here), it’s a incorrectly wired nervous system. Problems arise in hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling, seeing, balance and internal regulation. The Sensory Spectrum has a great picture, and article explaining SPD here. With Molly, we deal with noises, with balance (proprioception) and internal regulation mostly. And although it seems small, the anxiety and need for perfect routine are enough to drive you crazy. Then we deal with the fact that she doesn’t know she’s hungry, thirsty, hot, cold or any other body sense you could think of. Ever tried to get a picky eater to eat that doesn’t think they are hungry??? It’s impossible. We eat noodles every day. She becomes “hangry” quite often.

So here we stand. We are two months out of going to kindergarten and six months into some of the worst behavior problems we have seen in a long time. Each time we get through one batch another creeps up and we have more defiance, more stubbornness and more battles over every. little. thing. 

Our social worker thought we needed to go to the big guns. We were past what she could give us. We had done everything on their treatment scales. What we need is not here in town. It’s time to call Kennedy Krieger. However, knowing that I am in denial, she also gave us a few names of in town people that might be able to help. Might. I am tired. I am tired of going from therapist to therapist. I am tired of resolving and living through melt down after melt down. I’m losing patience. Fast. It took a week of deliberation between Stampy and myself but we agree. We need it. Our family needs it. Our daughter needs it.

I make the call tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

 

Imperfectly Perfect

“Every mom wants their child to be perfect.”

Those words felt like a punch to my gut. Anymore these days, it doesn’t take much for people’s comments about parenting (or how I choose to parent) to really get me riled up. I am who I am and I make the best choices I can make in the situation I have to make them. For some reason, this statement made me think. 

I don’t have perfect kids.

I don’t want perfect kids.

I am the mother to one child who had to have his urethra reconstructed (he was born not perfect) and now has a malfunctioning immune system. I have another child who has a malfunctioning nervous system and digestive tract. I know a lot about imperfection. 

It’s those imperfections that make us a perfect family. 

We cry together, we flip out together, we laugh together. We all avoid overly loud places that Molly can’t tolerate and restaurants that will easily send Charlie to the hospital. Molly teaches people how to use an epipen and Charlie hugs Molly and tells her everything is OK when she can’t quite get it together. My kids learn compassion and fairness. They learn that everyone has a bad day and that sometimes you have to wait your turn.

More importantly, it’s those little non-perfections that make those kids MY KIDS. It’s what makes them unique. It makes memories and multiple hospital issued baby blankets. It gives us great little personalities. It gives us little fighters.

It is what makes our family imperfectly perfect. 

We are off to a rocky start

Four days. I made it four. long. days. 

When I put it like that, those that don’t know me must think I’m some lunatic, bat-shit-crazy mom that just screams at her kids all day.

I promise, I’m not. 

Some days I’m just at the end of my rope and internally pleading for the ability to do one thing without a child openly disagreeing with whatever that decision may be. Yesterday, on day 4, that decision that was ludricus was going outside to play in the 50 degree sunny weather after a winter of gray, snow and below freezing temperatures. I know, it was a bad idea. The work it took to get my kids outside for some sunshine was exhausting. I would’ve given up, only we’ve been trapped in doors for so long and I had an errand to do shortly so we had to leave the house anyway.

That wasn’t what made me yell yesterday.

It was actually a lot of things.

It was the lack of sleep I had the night before which made my patience short on a day I needed it the most. It was the constant battling to get the tiniest thing accomplished. It was the continuing education course I was trying to work on and the video wasn’t playing. It was the 2 week period of atrocious bedtimes. It was the fact that my partner was gone and I couldn’t tap out. It was everything. So after an hour of back and forth over every little thing imaginable, I lost it, yelled and sat her in time out for the umpteenth time that day. That time was the only time that it changed her behavior and mine. She shaped up, went right to bed afterwards. First time in 2 weeks she fell asleep before 9 PM. 

I would feel bad about it, normally I do, but we had a 9,000x better day today and bedtime tonight. So, maybe in that instance it did some good. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself as we head into another week. With a time change. Awesome.