What do you do when you don’t know what to do anymore?
When you tell yourself daily to call the doctor, to push for a second opinion…but you fear ‘the look’ you know will happen on the other end. The one that says, “You’re overreacting.”
When your child throws themselves into such an intense, self-injuring, shriekingly horrible fit that she is unable to pull herself out of it?
When the comfort you try to give her leads to pained cries – deep, gut-wrenching sobs filled with tears that tear at your heart – and you’ve never known what caused it?
When the two years of therapy have done nothing to help a problem that only seems to be getting worse, but no doctor seems to think that your fears are justified?
When you think there’s more wrong that they just haven’t gotten a fix on yet…but you have no clue where to start…and the one venue you can think of using could cause you to lose all support you currently receive – or at least have to have it re-evaluated?
When you are faced with watching your child – every day- struggle to be…anything?
Watching her struggle to be just like her sister, but unable to compete in an uneven battle?
When you see her grow tired every two hours, but have to force her to stay awake and still playing so that she will sleep when it’s actually appropriate?Â
When you see that the moment she has gotten tired all possible control she had weakens, and her feet turn in, and the clumsy begins, and the tantrums come quicker and stronger?
When you watch her destroy toys and property, without the faintest idea how to stop her?
When not even the trained psychologist is sure how to help with all of her issues?
When your own faith in your motherhood is tested and you doubt your own instincts on whether there is a problem or you’re being a hypochondriac?
You do the only thing you can do. You sit back. You watch her play, you give her hugs and kisses when she runs up to you. You find the amazement and wonder at her intelligence when she surprises you by showing it off. You see the happy in the smiles she grants you liberally between tantrums. You note the way she’s like you – dancing at every little bit of music, the way her toes point when she’s at rest, the cheeks, the smile, the crazy buck-teeth, the eyes.Â
You remember that you are her Mom. That in your heart you know the truth. You remember that your instincts ARE on, and fight for them, and for her.
You take a break, you revel in the love of your little angel…and you fight anew tomorrow to give her every bit of life, love, and help that she deserves.
My mother hated Halloween, and I guess she passed it on to me.
Walking around to stranger’s houses and begging for food. Bratty teenagers creating havoc performing more tricks than treats. The cost/hassle of costumes, pumpkins.Â
I was predestined to dislike it.Â
Then during high school my dad’s employee vehicle was egged. The neighborhood we lived in was filled with the rich, snobby kid set…and it sort of sealed Halloween’s fate for me.
I hated it.
As Brandon has gotten older, my dislike grew. I leave my house dark, not like our neighborhood gets many hits (it’s sort of off the beaten path) anyway. I have Archie take Brandon out, the girls don’t go (Riley went her first year, Angel has never gone). I cringe and blah my way through the day.
So why am I finding myself getting excited now? Planning on going to the pumpkin patch for the harvest festival/corn maze? Getting ideas for pumpkins that don’t necessarily involve carving? Recipes for pumpkin-involved dishes? Thinking of cheap, easy costumes to MAKE for the girls? Why do I have visions of them dressed as a princess and an angel?Â
Is it possible that…I’m starting to…LIKE Halloween? Or at least get interested in it?Â
Or am I just facing serious mental illness? Because I’m also already making plans to expand our Christmas decorations, too…which I’ve always done (planned), but never followed through on…
Last Thursday Riley came home from school. As usual we took off her little backpack and opened it up to see what she had brought home and read her report. Inside was a little craft they had done at school. This is what she brought:
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It’s simple and pretty, and I have no idea what it is. No explanation existed in her daily report. So I told Riley it was beautiful, and then asked “What is it, Riley?”
Riley turns to me with big, serious eyes, and a wide smile and says, “It’s PAPER!”
~ That having truncal hypotonia and a daredevil are a VERY bad combination?
~ The the above mentioned combination can lead to a face plant from the height of the back of a couch resulting in an unexpected $60 trip to the dentist for X-rays?
~ That a fasting glucose level of 160 is BAD?
~ That such a fasting glucose level can cause grown men to be diagnosed with diabetes?
~ That being diagnosed with high cholesterol AND diabetes in the same week can lead to an ultra-restrictive and ultra SUCKY diet?
~ That mastering such a diet is TOUGH?Â
~ And have I mentioned that it SUCKS?
~ That I have soooo many things that occurred during blog closing/deletion that I can’t seem to compose one REAL post out of the mess?
~ That this is a thinly disguised bullet list?
~ That Riley has become an abusive big sister that likes to hit her sister on regular occassions?
~ That Brandon has started going to Wednesday night bible school…with the neighbors…NOT us…and that I (as a non-christian) am not sure how to feel about that?
~ That I feel hypocritical for saying that because I believe that my children should be able to make their own choices in life and religion?
~ That sometimes not even the internet can help you locate an old friend?
~ That I am TOTALLY obsessed with True Blood (and the Sookie Stackhouse book series)?!
~ That I was SO obsessed with it, that I switched to DirecTV because it was the cheapest way to get HBO?
~ That I was SOOO obsessed with the books that I got Archie reading them?
~ That having a book discussion with a spouse of the opposite sex (which mine happens to be) brings about points (and viewpoints)Â that you seriously never considered, and might not understand?
~ That I could go on for another fifty points, but I don’t want to annoy you so soon back into re-posting?
Angel has anger issues. We’ve discussed this in the past (in a deleted post, sorry folks, they ain’t every comin’ back…I really wiped them clean). We met with the Behavioral Psych a couple of months ago and it was determined that she needed services.
Then it stopped.
Okay, it didn’t STOP…but it slowed significantly. Suddenly it wasn’t daily that we had a horrible shrieking, ear splitting, head banging, body throwing fit. It was every few days…one time we went almost a full week.Â
Our first appointment with the psych was about a week and a half ago. I had to say, it had calmed down…I was being honest. There were still plenty of issues to deal with (no sense of danger, mixed with daredevil stunts – another post on this soon), so we kept on as we had been. We planned for our next appointment.
And the she-devil returned…in full force.
Since that appointment naptime has been a joke. I put her down and she’s fine for twenty minutes and it becomes the seventh circle of Hell in the girls bedroom. With no catalyst, she starts shrieking and throwing herself around the crib, literally throwing herself into the bars. She beats on the wall, she tears up her bed (literally), she throws all of her bedding out. For at least fifteen to thirty minutes straight this happens.Â
Then she comes out of naptime and it’s a crapshoot. Some nights she’s jsut the sweetest angel you ever did see. The others – nothing makes her happy. Now, granted, Riley has taken to picking on her and hitting her – which certainly does NOTHING to help matters.Â
There are days when after nap time it’s an hour and a half of screaming…then Daddy walks inthe door and the angel magically appears and I just look crazy.
There are days when she’s perfectly good all day long, and then Daddy walks in the door and BOTH girls descend into madness. Like the stimulation of Daddy being home is the straw that breaks the camels back.
The next appointment for psych had to be cancelled (due to a full house of sickies), and has yet to actually be rescheduled because the psych never called me back the next day.Â
I’m at my wits end. I don’t know what to do with her when she descends into madness. I watch in terror as she flings herself into very hard surfaces without a care to possible injury. I need the psych to return and give me tips on what to do when she’s like that. I hate seeing my baby like this.
Traditions can make or break a holiday. The traditions we grew up with as a child are translated into something we try to do with our kids. Every year we add traditions or drop them, but if we don’t have any…our holiday can be only ho-hum. In my family there are several traditions that I continue to follow to this day. Christmas is not Christmas without them.
The first thing that makes it Christmas is listening to the The Oak Ridge Boys Christmas Album. How can you not hear Thank God for Kids with lyrics like “When you look down in those trusting eyes; That look to you, you realize; There’s a love that you can’t buy; Thank God for kids…” and not melt? There’s just something about this album that brings Christmas to our family. We ALWAYS listen to it on Christmas eve (there’s a song for that, too!!)
There are two movies that we must watch, too! First is Scrooge. It’s the musical version of a Christmas Carol and it’s just bright and cheery and perfect for decorating the tree with! And we canNOT live without Alastair Sim, the original Black and White version of A Christmas Carol. His pure joy when he wakes up on Christmas morning cannot be beat…even by the drool-worthy Patrick Stewart.
Beyond media, though…there is one specific tradition that has meant very much to me for the past 9 years. Christmas Eve.
When I was growing up as a child every Christmas Eve my brother and I would climb into one or the other’s bed (alternating every year) and my Mother would read The Night Before Christmas. The linked version is the one she read. The pictures were so magical to me. The way she read it brought life to the pages and made me so eager for Santa’s arrival. I can still remember the giddy joy of clamoring into bed, me on one side of her, my brother on the other.
When my oldest was born the tradition was passed on. My dad took up the tradition with his grandson, who meant so much to him. I bought myself the exact same version I’d grown up with, and my dad would read that – and then the bible story of Jesus’ birth (Luke 2:1-20).
Now my oldest is almost 10. I have two very young girls at home. The torch has been passed again – onto me. Now on Christmas Eve, I gather my babies close to me on the couch and we read The Night Before Christmas . I quote the bible scripture, having memorized it years ago. We play our Oak Ridge Boys and set out Cookies and milk for Santa…and if I’m thoughtful enough to remember, carrots for the reindeer.
I don’t know for a fact that my brother also carries on these same traditions, but I like to think that he does. They meant a lot to us growing up…and I’m so happy to pass them on. I only hope they mean as much to my children as they did to me.
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This post was made in honor of a contest over at Sue’s Navel Gazing…but I probably would have made it anyway 😀 I love the holiday! Thank you, Sue for the prompt!!
Album. How can you not hear Thank God for Kids with lyrics like “When you look down in those trusting eyes; That look to you, you realize; There’s a love that you can’t buy; Thank God for kids…” and not melt? There’s just something about this album that brings Christmas to our family. We ALWAYS listen to it on Christmas eve (there’s a song for that, too!!)
. It’s the musical version of a Christmas Carol and it’s just bright and cheery and perfect for decorating the tree with! And we canNOT live without Alastair Sim, the original Black and White version of 
. His pure joy when he wakes up on Christmas morning cannot be beat…even by the drool-worthy Patrick Stewart. 
. The linked version is the one she read. The pictures were so magical to me. The way she read it brought life to the pages and made me so eager for Santa’s arrival. I can still remember the giddy joy of clamoring into bed, me on one side of her, my brother on the other. 