Neighbors - you can't live with them and you can't make them move. A three part series in why I wish we could move to the middle of nowhere so I didn't have to nagivate difficult social interactions with other adults. Part 2.

I love the neighbors on one side of us. They are a very nice family. Their kids are adorable. They are kind. And tolerant. And quite honestly, since I don't think living next to us is the easiest thing to do, they get extra props in my book just for putting up with us as long as they have!

Unfortunately, they are in the process of selling their townhouse and will move away in the next month or so. (Hmmm....maybe you can make them move. Does this require a title change above?)

I'm super nervous about another family moving in. Not so much nervous about who they are and what they are like. I mean really, when you have a teenager that plays the drums on the other side of you just how much worse can it get?

No, I'm nervous about what they will think of us. 

It's another family, or maybe just person, that will be involved in our life, even if only on the periphery.

Living as close to us as they will, and knowing that despite our efforts, they will hear screaming and raging from our house, I think that it is important that I fill them in at least a little bit. They haven't had the benefit of watching my boys grow up and seeing the progression. 

To be forewarned is to be forearmed, right? Or perhaps more accurately to forewarn them results in us being forearmed? Do I even know what that means?

The likelihood is that they won't really get it. They will hear the screaming, or see Noah's behaviors, (or even Kiel who has been quite the little monster lately) and be horrified. Or even worse I suppose, witness Rich or myself momentarily lose our minds because OMG if we find one more broken item, or hear the word NO screamed at us one more time, or witness Noah do something to Kiel again, our heads just might explode.

The good piece is that because of the elevation between their house and ours not as much noise is transferred as is between our house and our neighbor on the other side. Noah's room is also not on their side, which I'm sure makes a big difference as well.

Still, I'm always nervous when new people move into the neighborhood in case they see or hear something and misinterpret it. I'd really prefer not to have another experience with CPS.

What would you tell a new neighbor in our situation? Just how much detail would you give? I have a tendency to share too much I think.


 

Neighbors - you can't live with them and you can't make them move. A three part series in why I wish we could move to the middle of nowhere so I didn't have to nagivate difficult social interactions with other adults. Part 1.

I hesitate to say this out loud, but I think it may finally be spring. The windows are open, the birds are singing, the cats are happy alternating between sleeping in front of the open windows and chattering at the birds.


The basketball hoop is set up in the driveway and the boys just want to play outside! When the kids (mine and the rest of the neighborhoods) aren't in school I hear them whooping and laughing all around us. It's a happy sound. A normal sound.

It's good seeing neighbors outside again, as if the long winter hibernation is over, and we are all coming out of our caves, stretching our faces up to the sun and sighing in relief.

And yet, because there is always a yet in MNT land, despite the joy of warmer weather and being able to be outside, I stress and worry over how this is all going to play out. Especially after the events of last fall.

During the winter I could protect my boys better. We were more isolated. Not completely, but there weren't as many kids out. They didn't want to stray as far from home. It is so different when the weather is warmer.

The interactions with the neighbors, all of our neighbors, is so much trickier than it should be (at least in my opinion). It just sucks living in a townhouse and having families share a wall the way we do. You hear too much, know too much. Yet you never hear enough or know enough to really understand.

I'm not positive, but I think the neighbors on one side of us aren't talking to us. Two of their boys are between the ages of Noah and Kiel. You would think that would be perfect, wouldn't you. Four boys between 7 and 12 that love to play outside, especially basketball and hockey. We share a driveway and it's hard, if not impossible, for the boys (theirs and ours) to keep to one side of it when playing. Frankly, I think it's ridiculous to even try. I have no problems with their kids playing on our side when the cars aren't there. I don't think they care either, but I'm not positive.

Unfortunately, our boys don't get along. Their boys know too much, but understand too little about my boys. They hear Noah's rages through the wall. In the past they have been the recipient of some of his actions (a broken window, a rock thrown at one of their heads when they threatened him with a baseball bat). Last year both families did our best to keep the boys apart. If they were playing in the front of our houses, my boys played in the back. It mostly worked okay, but this year we have the basketball hoop and that's what my boys want to do all the time. Just like their boys do with their hoop. 

The youngest boy has a mouth and my boys have been the recipient multiple times, especially Kiel on the school bus. Sadly, I haven't been able to get Kiel to keep his own mouth shut. We have spoken to the other boys parents a couple times, but I'm uncomfortable complaining about it when I know Kiel is running his own mouth. Plus, our neighbors have been more than understanding through the years with Noah's behaviors, even if I know they really don't understand. 

One of the problems as you know, and I suppose it is a mixed blessing, is that Noah has a special needs brain in a "normal" kids body. I'm not sure that any of our neighbors truly grasp what is going on with him. He looks just fine, and sometimes he can act just fine. Even when I explain it, most people don't "get it" because to them he looks "normal."

Noah doesn't understand why the neighbor boys don't like him. He's really trying to be friends with them, albeit often awkwardly. He struggles socially and the other boys just don't get it. I've heard them say some very mean things to him. I've also heard him say some pretty stupid things back to them, so again, I find it difficult to complain when he is also part of the problem.

It's tricky. It's also complicated a bit because the mom is partially deaf, so she doesn't always hear what her boys are saying. And like all kids, they are good at knowing just when they can get away with it. I know they have verbally threatened my boys, but I can't guarantee that my boys haven't responded in kind. I know she doesn't think her kids are angels, and I know mine aren't, but I'm not quite sure how to handle this. She's a good mom and she doesn't let them get away with crap when she knows about it. It was actually her idea to keep the boys separated, and at the time I agreed. It was during a very difficult period for Noah and keeping him away from other kids that easily triggered him was just smart.

I like our neighbors. They have helped us out over the years, as we have helped them. They have their own struggles, and I know life isn't any easier for them than it is for us. Different struggles, but still struggles.

Obviously I will need to talk with the other mom. If we've done something to upset them I need to know so we can resolve it. Or maybe I'm just misreading her actions and nothing is wrong. 

Ultimately, I just want to find a way for our boys to get along. They don't have to be best friends, but they should be able to share a driveway and play a game of basketball together, without acting like they are enemies.

How do I declare our shared driveway an enemy free, threat free, space for fun and play, when I only own half of it?

And of course, just to make it all more fun, and by fun I mean ridiculously complicated and ugly, I really have no idea what The Other Family (TOF) has said and to whom.



 

And the walls came tumbling down around us

 I wrote this a couple weeks ago but didn't have a chance to finish it at the time.

For the first time in many years we aren't living in constant crisis mode. There are still moments with Noah, sometimes even daily, but we are handling them better and we are seeing progress despite them. Noah is doing better right now than we have ever seen him. It's amazing. 

Now that Kiel is in first grade, both boys are home at the same time in the afternoon. That means less individual mom time for both of them. It also means more time for the two of them to be together. The boys are making more friends in the neighborhood now that Kiel has classmates living on the same block. There are other kids running in and out of the house after school and on the weekend. The door bell rings and someone is asking if Kiel and Noah can come out and play. It's pretty awesome and NORMAL and I love it.

Having some normal in our life is amazing and encouraging and well, kind of weird. It's sure is something I could get used to. 

You would think I would know better than to put something like this in writing. To admit to things going well. To write out loud that we aren't in crisis!

Hahaha. What nerve I had to write that. We aren't meant to live a normal life. How dare we not be in crisis the universe says.

Last Friday something happened and our life exploded again. Right now I feel like I'm living in a snow globe that someone is shaking the crap out of. The pieces inside have rearranged themselves. The person finally put it down, but left it on it's top, upside down. Everything I once knew has shifted and tumbled. 

As we are managing this crisis we realize that Kiel has become a victim of our family. I've spent the last several years educating people about trauma and how it affects Noah and his brain and yet I never considered how the chaos in our house was traumatizing Kiel. 

We don't have an official diagnosis but I believe as this crisis teases itself out Kiel will end up with a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder.

CPS is involved, which has always been one of my biggest fears. So far it hasn't been bad. Just a few phone calls and an appointment set up for Kiel to be interviewed next week. 

This part of the crisis I'm good at. I know how to get services and find therapists. While I'm making appointments and searching for resources I'm OK. When I'm updating providers I'm OK.

When I'm not doing those things I'm a mess. Any time to think and I'm obsessing about it. Forget going to sleep. Even with drugs the sleep is hard to find.

I knew that our time out from crisis wouldn't last forever.  Noah is maturing and going through puberty. He is almost a teenager. It is inevitable that something will happen with him in the next few years. I know that and while it will undoubtedly suck, we will be prepared.

This. This I was not prepared for. This has rocked my world in a completely different way. 

I know we will get Kiel through it, because that is what I do. I don't give up. I move mountains when I need to. It will take some time, but with a good therapist we will lay that trauma monster to rest and we will make the changes in our family that need to be made.

The guilt though is overwhelming, and it's amplified because another family is involved and I'm watching them fall apart in front of me. The fucked-upness of our family intersected with another family and the walls came tumbling down around us all. Even though it wasn't something I could ever have anticipated, the guilt I feel about it is more overwhelming than what I'm feeling for Kiel in some ways. 

It hurts too, because I let down my guard and started to get close to someone. Something that is very difficult for me. I doubt it will make it through this. Keeping to ourselves causes less pain to those around us, and to us. I won't forget that again.


 

And finally - I bring you the NOW

I promised you an update weeks ago and clearly my follow through sucks.

The concise version is that Noah is doing so much better.

The longer version starts with Noah being discharged from the hospital after 22 days. He wasn't really better, he was just different. His emotions were back. All of them, not just anger. He wanted to come home. The next step typically would be a week or two of outpatient treatment, but he did a trial  run that went spectacularly awful for him and he refused to go back. So he jumped right back into school.

I had a meeting with the school before he went back and made many demands requests, most of which they put in place. It was interesting how they were finally taking Noah's needs and my concerns seriously.

Noah was back. He was happy. He had a full range of emotions again. But he was still so fast. Too fast. Exhausting to those around him fast. His speech, his body, his thoughts. All too fast!

But he was happy. And he hadn't had a single motor or vocal tic since he left the hospital. A lot of medication changes had been made and we were trying to keep him off stimulants because of the tics and the anger.

School was trying hard to work with him and help him be successful. They finally put regular/consistent movement breaks into his schedule. They put an exercise bike into his class room. Each kid was given a laminated pass kept at their desk to use if they needed a break. They changed the aid that was working with him from a stern grandmotherly woman to a young male. And they gave him his own bus to ride home in each afternoon. (Did I ever tell you about his afternoon bus driver and aid for the first part of his year? Oy, disaster.)

All great stuff. Yet he was still struggling. His point sheet that they use to monitor his behavior throughout the day was coming home with similar numbers as before the hospital. It was obvious Noah was trying, and the school was trying, but he was still struggling - behaviorally and academically.

At home things were better, but his speed was causing big problems. It really was exhausting being with him. He never stopped talking or moving. He had very little concept of where his body was in space, so things got knocked down around him all the time. He really struggled with Kiel too. Lots of jealousy going on there.

This went on for several weeks until one weekend when Rich was working. By 10am I was ready to lose my mind listening to Noah, especially how he was terrorizing interacting with Kiel, which meant Kiel as crying every other minute. So I caved and gave Noah a half dose of the stimulant that he was on prior to the hospital.

OMG People! It was like a magic pill. Within an hour he was able to have a real conversation. He was interacting appropriately with Kiel. He even told me that he felt better in his head, which was a first!

We sent him to school on that dose the next Monday and his teacher called midday to ask me who I sent to school because the kid that looked like Noah was amazing.

It continued for the rest of the school year. Just like that he was bringing home point sheets with 99's and 100's, instead of 75's and 80's. And even better he was learning again!

This summer I hired a college student to work with him 32 hours a week when I'm at work. It worked out very well and Noah enjoyed being with her every day. They played lots of basketball and went bowling almost every day. I had hoped they would spread their wings a bit and try some new things, go on some different adventures together, but Noah's anxiety is still an issue, and he preferred staying close to home or doing things he was comfortable with already. I did send both boys to a week of soccer camp (locally run, 9-1) in both July and August. Noah did well the first week, but struggled the second with his anxiety. Overall it was a good summer for Noah.

Right now it's the end of August and we have ten days until school starts. He's nervous about starting sixth grade, which he has told me several times. Soccer season has already started and he struggled going to the first practice but once he got into it he did fine. He did fine the next practice, but then fell apart at the first academy practice. Too many kids and the commands were too fast and too many steps. He was so afraid he was going to embarrass himself that he froze and refused to participate.

So that's where we are right now. Gearing up for school, worrying about his anxiety, hoping we can still keep soccer his positive place.

Maybe next time I'll write about something totally not related to Noah. How novel...




 

The During - You don't get casseroles when your child is in the nut house

Another post from the time Noah was in the hospital. 

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I get that people don't always know what to say to me. My honesty about what is going on with Noah is uncomfortable for some.

Having a child at a psychiatric hospital isn't the same as if they were in a "real" hospital. At least that is what most people think.  Noah might not be fighting for his life (right now anyway), but we are damn well fighting for Noah's future right now, and for our family. 

If Noah was in a regular hospital we would be able to stay. We would be able to be with him 24/7 if we wanted. At this hospital we can visit twice a day for an hour. On the hospitals schedule, not ours. They give us a few minutes leeway on either side, but don't bother asking for anything different.

The house is staying neater without Noah here, and the kitchen isn't getting as messy because we aren't eating regular meals. The laundry is clean but still in baskets. The vacuum hasn't been touched in a while or the toilets cleaned. A wonderful friend of mine has gifted me with a visit from her cleaning woman. She will come sometime next week. I feel guilty accepting what feels to me like an extravagant gift, but I am accepting it gratefully. Very gratefully. As awesome as it will be to have someone clean our house, it is even more wonderful to know that we are being thought of and that someone understands how difficult this time is and that help is appreciated.

Two other friends of mine, teachers that have worked with both Noah and Kiel, sent me a gift bag with chocolate and a gift certificate for a massage. While the gift itself is wonderful, it is another reminder that we are not alone. We have isolated ourselves in the past, but as we go through this I am learning how much we need help and that we can't do this alone.

My trauma mommas have been unbelievably supportive. So many of them have been through this themselves. There is no stigma when talking about it with them.

The parent's of Kiel's best friend have been very helpful, especially taking Kiel at times so we could visit Noah together.

Unfortunately, it's situations like this that show you who you can't count on as well. I'm incredibly sad that my brother and his wife have not contacted us at all. I think that hurts me more than anything else as we go through this with Noah.

 

The During - A day in the life of a psych unit mom

Another post I wrote but didn't go back and publish. I thought about not posting it at all, but someday another mother will be going through this and maybe they will find this post. If it can help her by reading about someone else having been there, well, then the words stay. 

I wrote this about two weeks into his stay.

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For the most part I feel like I have my feet back under me. We have a routine now. One of us visits Noah at noon (usually me), one of us at 5:30pm (usually Rich). It depends on the day and if Kiel is at home or school.

I don't have to get Noah on the school bus in the morning obviously; therefore, I have the luxury of sleeping in twenty minutes later. Technically anyway. Most mornings Noah calls and wakes me up. His calls either involve his lunch request or him crying wanting to come home. Sometimes both. Either way the calls are difficult. If his call is just to ask for something he feels distant. If he cries begging to come home I feel cruel.

I shower and get ready for work in a quiet house, since Kiel and Rich have already left for the day. There is no yelling downstairs to remind Noah to eat his breakfast or put on his socks then his shoes. No running down stairs to find Noah waiting for the bus in front of the door...with it closed so he can't see if the bus is there or not. The quiet is more disturbing than it is peaceful.

I get to work. Late. But with no excuse right now other than I'm not a morning person and the motivation to get out of bed is not there.

I check in with Rich to see if he talked to anyone at the hospital or to update him on my call with Noah. We confirm who is seeing him at noon, and who is going in the evening. Who is picking up food for him or what we have at home already.

I missed almost two weeks of work so now I'm trying to catch up. Projects don't stop just because I feel like our life is on hold. I'm concentrating better than I did two weeks ago, but I still find myself drifting off into worry at random times throughout the day. I have no choice but to commit to meetings and deadlines even though right now I find it difficult to see the future at all - be it next week or next month.

I'm very fortunate that my coworkers and my boss have been supportive. One of my coworkers completely took over the final piece of a project I had due earlier this week. My boss has stepped up and is taking a bigger role in another project I'm leading. I feel guilty. In the past I've managed my commitments at work, even when life with Noah was a struggle.

It's not a secret where Noah is right now, but most people at work don't know outside of the team I work with. It's not something that comes up naturally in conversation, although I have been known to just blurt it out.

At 11:45am I leave to visit Noah. Most days I'm slipping out of a meeting early, or trying to rush a conference call so I don't miss any time with Noah. If he's having a good day he might be at the gym, and not notice that I'm not there right at noon. If he isn't at the gym sometimes he is waiting for me. Even if he isn't I'm guaranteed a huge hug when I do arrive, which is the first time I've felt whole all day.

Most days I'm the only parent there visiting at that time. I'm lucky that the hospital is so close to both my office and our home. Some of the children receive no visitors. I don't know if it is because they do not have families or their families are too far away. The other day I watched a child leave dragging her belongings with her in a black trash bag. It made me sad. I don't know for sure, but I don't think she was leaving with a family member.

The noon visit is almost always our best visit of the two. It makes a difference when we are the only ones in the small classroom that is where families are allowed to visit. When it is just the two of us, after we talk for a bit I read to him while he eats lunch. Then he curls into me as best as he can since we are sitting in plastic desk chairs. Some days he falls asleep. The new medication combined with the lack of sleep at night makes him tired. Some days he looks drugged, especially the first day the dose is increased. Before that his body was fast. He was up and down during my visit. The only thing keeping him in the room was my reading to him. He constantly moved in his chair, or paced, sometimes climbing on the desks until I made him get down. He wanted to be there though, and I knew that listening to my voice reading the story was keeping him connected to me in a way that just talking with him could not. Perhaps not having to respond removed some of the pressure on him.

After an hour I have to leave. Visiting time is over and I have to go back to work.

Since I don't have to get home in time for the afternoon school bus I can stay until almost 5pm. I've turned off the alarm on my phone that used to go off at 2:45pm as a reminder that I need to leave by 3pm. I stay as late as I can to make up for my time away at noon, and to try to catch up. It isn't unusual for me to bring work home with me to finish up after Noah's homework is done, or after the boys are in bed. Right now though I don't have the energy to work in the evening.

I get home in time for Rich to drop off Kiel and head to the hospital for his visit. Or, if I'm visiting I go directly to see Noah.

Whoever is at home feeds Kiel dinner. We have only had one real meal at home with Kiel in the last three weeks, and that was because a good friend came to watch Kiel so both Rich and I could visit Noah together. She also brought us dinner! I've learned you don't get casseroles when your child is just hah fucking hah in a psych hospital.

It's 7pm by the time Rich and I are both home. Kiel has a lot more freedom right now since he can handle a less structured schedule than Noah can. We've moved his bedtime to 8pm instead of 7:30pm. We take turns putting him to bed. One of us snuggles with him until he is asleep. Sometimes when it is my turn Rich comes up soon after and goes to sleep himself. Most times when it is Rich putting him to bed he falls asleep with him.

Noah usually calls between 8 and 8:30pm. We both talk with him, and most nights he and Kiel talk too. Some nights, like tonight, the call is good. Other nights he cries wanting to come home. Some nights he doesn't sound completely connected to the world.

I spend most evenings by myself. Rich deals with the stress by going to bed early. I'm tired, but can't sleep.  I watch TV, or check in on Facebook. Sometimes, like tonight, I try to write a blog post. I flit between activities. I don't have the emotional energy to fully concentrate on one thing, or to do anything but sit on the couch. The kitchen is dirty and I don't really care.

I force myself to bed around midnight. It's hard to see Noah's empty bedroom. I've never been a good sleeper and it is even harder to fall asleep now. If it's a good night I'm asleep before 2am. My stress shows up in my dreams.

The alarm goes off, far too early considering my lack of sleep. Then I do it all again.


 

The Time Between

I wrote this shortly after Noah came home from the hospital. I was letting it sit overnight before I posted it. Obviously I never came back to it. 

To those of you who have commented recently asking how we are doing, and to all my other readers, thank you! Thank you for caring about us! Thank you for pushing me to update! 

This post is about how things were. I will post again about how things are. They are good! Right now things are good! I thought about just posting that, and deleting this all together, but I think it's important to know what the in between was.

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If it isn't obvious to you by now, let me just put it out there.

I only come here anymore when I need to wallow. Roll around in all my drama. Like a pig in shit you might say.

There is no time to come here with the good stuff. Hell, I have half a dozen partially written posts waiting for me to finish that have nothing to do with the good stuff.

There is good stuff. There is. Kiel is full of the good stuff. And Noah has plenty of it too.

I get overwhelmed by the crap we are dealing with, and then as I start to write it down here, I feel like kicking myself in the teeth for all the damn self pity that surfaces.

For cripes sake woman. You are the mom. You don't get to fall to pieces.

Noah is doing differently since his hospitalization. I wouldn't say he is doing better however. He's full of energy and emotion, but it comes out in overwhelming ways. He's too fast. His body, his thoughts. He's defiant yet loving. Stubborn and reactive yet more connected than he has been in months.

He constantly picks on Kiel, and as I understand from his teacher, a couple of the more vulnerable kids at school.

For whatever reason, he has decided that he's going to act crazy. I guess he figures if that is what people expect from him he's going to give it to them.  

That's how I roll, he says.

He's loud, obnoxious, a step beyond just silly. He won't stop when asked. He won't lower his voice. He says really strange things.

I think it's an act. Most of it is an act. I think. I don't always know. I hope it is an act.

Last week he told me he can't stop thinking about killing me. He was helping me put away dishes and when he was doing the silverware he handed me a sharp knife and said "get this scary thing away from me." Then a few minutes later he threw himself into me for a hug, his head pressed into my chest, almost in tears. He tells me he doesn't understand why he can't stop thinking about killing me because he loves me so much and he doesn't want me to die. This was not an act.

We are on top of it. I spoke with the psychiatrist and he thinks it may be because of a recent medication addition. It freaked me out, still does actually, but I talked to him today and he said he only thought that the one day, but I probably shouldn't let him have any knives.

Last week I offended the psychologist. Well, it seemed like he was offended. Perhaps it was just irritation. I questioned him on why we were continuing to do a behavior program that wasn't working. I asked the same questions I have previously about applying behavioral modification to a child with brain damage, when the current info says it doesn't work. When our history says it doesn't work. I told Rich I can't waste my time on this when it isn't getting us anywhere. Tomorrow I will officially end our professional relationship.

I interviewed a behavior specialist (BSC) last week for Noah. I got the impression that most families don't interview prior to them taking on a case. I guess they aren't used to working with someone that has been playing this game for so long. I asked her about her education and experience. I asked about her knowledge of trauma and trauma based therapy. I asked about neuro-behavioral theory and what she knew about the brain when exposed to alcohol and when it doesn't receive appropriate care as a newborn and infant.

I found out today I scared her away.  I am not surprised.

I'm tired of spending months working with someone that doesn't understand what we are dealing with, and tries to apply traditional methods to my very non-traditional child, despite all my explanations of what we have tried in the past and what didn't work before.


Mostly though, I'm just tired. Very, very tired. Bone tired. Hard to get off the couch tired. Napping almost every day after work tired. Struggling to get even the basics around the house done tired. The stress is not just affecting my mind now, it's affecting my health.

His Empty Room

I have looked forward to Noah's first night away from home for several years. It is a right of passage after all.

I always thought it would be his first sleepover with a friend, or a night with grandma and papa. Maybe his first time at summer camp.

I always thought his first night away would have happened by now.

I have mourned the absence of invites from friends and grandparents.

I never imagined his first night away would be at a psychiatric hospital. Or that one night would turn into fourteen. Or that fourteen would turn into sixteen and then more.

At night as I get ready for bed I look down the hall at his empty room. He sleeps with his door closed, but for now I keep it open. I keep his night light on. I won't pretend he is here, even if I cry myself to sleep most nights because he isn't.

I know he's not sleeping well at night. Yesterday he asked us to bring him one of his blankets from home. (The blanket you made for him when he was a baby Aunt Robyn.)

This morning we were told he is having auditory hallucinations. The door is telling him if he sleeps he will die. When I talked to him about it he said it was a dream. That isn't what he told the psychiatrist though. 

Tonight he asked if I remembered his blanket. I didn't. Now I'm awake at 1:30 am worrying and hoping nothing is talking to him, even in his dreams.

 

Decisions: When the head knows, but the heart is saying "la la la...shut up bitch, I can't hear you."

We find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to make a very difficult decision regarding Noah. The most difficult decision we have faced yet.  It's not that we haven't made difficult decisions about his care in the past, and I know we will likely face even more difficult decisions in the future, but this one just sucks. It means we have taken that next step forward on the path of mental illness.

Noah has been spiraling downward for several months. We've watched it happen, but kept hoping with every doctor appointment, medication change, and relatively good day scattered amongst the difficult, that maybe it would get better.

It isn't though. It isn't getting better. He is getting worse. The line is getting thinner, and more and more often I see him leaning perilously close to the edge of reality.

There are times that I am not sure if he's walking in the same world that the rest of us are. 

He needs to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. He needs his medications changed and we can't do that safely at home. He needs a set of eyes on him 24/7 that aren't mine or Rich's. 

My head and gut know what needs to be done. My heart though is fighting me and fighting me hard.

I'm scared. I'm scared to leave my little boy somewhere that I can only visit twice a day for an hour at a time. 

I'm scared because he has never been away from home without us.

I'm scared that he will be scared.

I'm scared he won't be able to take GG's blanket. Or worse, that he will and it will get lost.

I'm scared that he will hate me for doing this.

I'm scared that something bad will happen to him there.

I'm scared the other kids will teach him things, or behaviors, that he doesn't need to know.

I'm scared if we don't do it he will keep getting worse.

I'm scared if we do that they won't be able to help him. 

I'm scared that I'm going to feel relief when he isn't here.

I'm scared that if we have a few days of normalcy and peace in our house, days where we aren't constantly dealing with behaviors and meltdowns, that it is going to be even harder to go back to it when he comes home. And yes, I do want to throw up after writing that because I know it is awful. I also know it is true. I don't doubt my love for him, but I am so tired. What does that say about me? 

I expected the psychiatrist to tell me today that he needs to go. Instead he left it very much up to us. He didn't say it was the wrong thing, but he also didn't say "yes, you need to do this now." He did remind me though, that I'm the grown up and that I need to look at the bigger picture, because Noah can't.

The psychologist thinks we should, and he's spent more time with Noah than the psychiatrist.

His teacher is concerned, and said today that Noah isn't the same kid he was last fall.

I know what needs to be done.

I know.

I hate it, but I know.

I'm just not sure I'm ready yet to tell my heart to shut up and let my head lead the way.

I'm scared for what is and what is yet to come.

Sometimes I bend, but I will not break.

There are times when the weight of the responsibility of raising Noah to be a decent, independent adult that is able to function in society threatens to break me.

I don't think I'm supposed to admit that though. 

As the parent of a child with special needs I should be worthy of hearing "I don't know how you do it," "I couldn't do what you do," and "he is so lucky to have you."

When I complain, and admit to not being perfect, to struggling, to god forbid needing help, it makes people uncomfortable. I rather think they prefer when I write about vibrators over sharing with the world that my son has a mental illness and it really, really sucks.

You know what? I get it!

The truth is, I lose track of that line between sharing and complaining quite often. Too often.

Yesterday, I found out that Noah will not be able to attend the special needs summer day camp he has attended for the last three years. They changed the age range of their program and somehow we missed the letter telling us that. It wasn't until earlier this week when I started to think that I have usually sent in his camp application by now that I thought to question why we had yet to hear from them.

Just as I finished a conference call with my team at work, I received the email telling me he wouldn't be able to attend this summer. 

It is without exaggeration that I say I came close to breaking. I bent, and I bent far. I thought I was going to snap. Like the snow and ice laden trees behind our house did in the storm the night before.

What are we going to do? Where will he go this summer? I will have to quit my job. I can't do that. How will we survive? What will I dooooo???

I cried. I sobbed. I took to my bed and wallowed in my tears.

Oh, the drama!

We are in the midst of snow and ice-storm school closings. Yesterday, we spent part of the day without power. My children forgot how to play with REAL toys, because Oh the injustice, there was no TV or cable or internet or Xbox. And LIFE IS SO HARD YOU GUYS! This house sucks! You obviously don't love us because we are SOOOOO bored! It's not fairrrrr! You are the worst parents ever!

I looked at them through my puffy, tear filled eyes, and said YUP. And then I cried some more.

Because I too was feeling that LIFE IS SO HARD. And IT'S NOT FAIR!

I was tired. Tired of the fight. Fighting to have a family, fighting to bring Noah home, fighting my body to get pregnant with Kiel, fighting to find Noah the help he needs, fighting the school, the system, the insurance companies, fighting my own needs and my own health. Why can't something be easy for a change!

I yelled at my children to pick up their toys, and put the coats away, and stop leaving your shoes and boots all over. 

I can't stand it! I screamed, Why can't ANYONE MAKE MY LIFE A LITTLE EASIER!

Again with the drama!

I texted Noah's behavior specialist and said "I can't do this anymore."

It didn't matter that this was far from the worst thing we have had to deal with - I bent as far as I have ever bent before. The only reason you could not hear the cracking was because my sobs were too loud.

~~~~~~~

Today I received a message from one of Kiel's teachers. Thank you universe for my boys amazing teachers - especially this one!

My dearest Kristine. I am having snack with your son and he happens to share how sad you are that you got fired from your job. He doesn't know why "that man would do that". Now she is home taking care of Noah. He was so sweet and concerned when he was telling me the story. Not sure if it is true but if it is I'm sorry you lost your job. :) I'm enjoying teaching your sweet boy. Have a good day.

This child! I am so blessed to have this boy as my son!

Kiel saw me cry at the same time he knew I was working. Both boys wanted to know what was wrong and all I told them was I received bad news. Kiel put two and two together, and since he doesn't know how to add yet, he came up with "the man fired mommy" as the answer.

It reminds me that they see everything. They see me bend, and they see me stand back up.

I wish they didn't see my tears as often as they do. Or hear my screams.

I know that I will continue to stand back up because I have no choice.

Today I know we will figure this out. We always do. We have no choice.

I just hope that when my boys see me bend like I did yesterday, then stand back up as I did today, that they realize they too can stand tall and strong after a storm.

Even better if they can do it with less drama than their mama.


 

This was last week. It's not over.

Since the incident at soccer Noah has become increasingly fast. Not fast like "wow, watch that kid run" fast, but "wow, this kid is manic" fast. Or in other words, Noah's been riding the wackadoodle express, and frankly, it doesn't look like he's headed for a station any time soon.

Typically, Noah holds himself together at school fairly well. He's able to do that because of his awesome teacher and all of the supports he has in place. He has rough days here and there, but for the most part his behavior is acceptable.

This week he hasn't been able settle at school at all. He's all over the place, talking fast, racing through his work, not able to sit still, and very argumentative.

When Noah's teacher says he had a rough day I believe him. When he says Noah is wild or a mess. I get concerned. Especially when what I'm seeing at home is the same thing.

Monday we had an intake visit with a new therapist. In the past Noah has barely interacted with doctors and therapists. Monday he wouldn't stop talking. He also wouldn't stop moving. In this 8 x 8 office he was all over the place. The couch, me, under the therapists desk, hanging upside down over the couch, jumping on the couch. You name it, if he could do it in that little room he did. He was so happy though, and kind of silly in a fun way. It was exhausting, but I couldn't really get mad at him because it was so different from his typical melt downs.

Tuesday he was like that as well, but he was more irritable and argumentative. He refused to come inside after playing and kept running from the front door to the back door. It was a little like chasing a puppy, except that I don't chase. And pork chops don't work as bait.

Wednesday his teacher emailed me saying he was concerned and that Noah again hadn't settled all day. I knew we had to do something, but I wasn't sure what. I emailed his neurologist and was told to take him to the ER. If I had any concerns that they weren't going to be able to handle Noah's psych needs before, I know it now.

Unfortunately, we are in between psychiatrists right now. We were asked to leave the last one (that's a blog post just waiting to be written) and can't get in with the new one until November. In the meantime we have been seeing a neurologist. I thought we would be OK in this "in between" time, but obviously I was wrong.

I paced my office Wednesday trying to figure out what to do. Do we take him to the ER? Am I ready for him to be hospitalized? NO. I'm not. He's bad right now, but I don't think we are there yet.

So I called our counties child mental health hotline and spoke with a crisis worker. We discussed options. An hour later she was at our house. We sat on our back deck and she talked with Noah. He paced back and forth but he did have a conversation with her. In the end we decided to take him for an emergency psych evaluation the next morning.

That was yesterday. I wasn't sure what to expect. We were seeing a psychiatrist I knew nothing about. I never even Googled the guy.

The doc was great. He really picked up on all of what was going on with Noah. Of course Noah made it pretty easy for him. Again he was all over the office. He was more like a two year old than a ten year old.

We have adjusted his medications and are hopeful. He wasn't manic last night, which is the first time in five days I've seen him settled.

I wrote this last Friday. I didn't get a chance to finish writing it until tonight. A lot has happened since then.


 

Update to "And then this happened...(episode two: the asshat parent)"

So after I wrote this post, we received a group email from the faux coach.

Hi Parents, I would like to sincerely apologize to Noah's parents. I should've handled it privately with them. My emotions got the best of me and I feel awful the way I handled it.  

I am VERY sorry. 

I appreciate that he apologized, and I'm sure he does feel bad. I wish I could accept it with more grace than I am.

It's like we tell Noah, words hurt, and sometimes an apology doesn't fix it. No child should have another parent (or worse, a coach) screaming about how horrible he is to everyone around him. 

Today we heard from Noah's real coach. The faux coach was told his actions were unacceptable and that he is no longer needed on the team, effective immediately. Between you and me, I think the coach was relieved to have an excuse to get rid of him. 

More importantly though, Noah's coach also told us that because Noah was aggressive and apparently harmed another player, he was being suspended from the league for two weeks. His coach had to report it to the commissioner of the league and they take it seriously. Noah won't be allowed to practice or play with the team for two weeks. He will be reinstated for the last game of the season and for playoffs

I have very mixed feelings right now.

On one hand I absolutely agree with this decision, and so does Rich. Noah needs to know there are consequences for his actions. I think this consequence coming from someone other than us, will have more impact on Noah than anything we do. 

When I told Noah he was suspended he was upset. I was actually pleased to see him react this way. Sometimes he closes down and refuses to discuss or even react when he is held accountable for his actions. He is still insisting that he didn't punch anyone though. I'm hoping I'll get more information tomorrow when I actually speak to the coach (we were given this information via email today because we weren't home when he tried to call). The more details I have about the incident the better I can discuss it with Noah and try to get him to understand that just because he alters the story, the details of the actual event don't change.

I tried to explain to Noah that the team will suffer too, because of what Noah did. Noah is a good player, and not having him there to play puts more pressure on the rest of the kids.

So the other hand? I'm sad. Incredibly sad. 

This fall I've been the one taking Noah to practice and I've enjoyed it. I've been able to relax on the sidelines with the other moms that stay for practice. I've actually formed friendships with some of the moms and have looked forward to seeing them at practice during the week. I don't make friends easily, and I often find the moms in this area intimidating. It's been so nice finding moms that I feel comfortable with.

Because of Noah's suspension I won't see any of the parents for the next two weeks. Because of the faux coaches little performance Saturday, I imagine they will assume that Noah was kicked off the team. I know I shouldn't care what other parents think, but I do. Some of them will think Noah is a horrible kid, especially because of the faux coaches little tirade. If Noah plays with their kids again, which is very likely between soccer and basketball, their view of Noah is likely to be pretty negative if they think he was throwing punches at the other team.

And to continue the "all about me" pity party - I look forward to the games so much because soccer is the one "normal" thing in Noah's world. The one place he fits in with his peers. The one place where I hear other parents cheering for him and saying "great kick Noah," "way to go Noah." So I'm really sad that we aren't going to have this hour of awesome for the next two weeks. It's been really nice pretending for that hour that we are just normal parents.



 

And then this happened...(episode two: the asshat parent)

Soccer today. Noah's been playing great this season. Watching him play is always the highlight of my week. Today was no exception while he was on the field.

Off the field however...*sigh*  Turns out when he wasn't playing he was dumping out the other kids water bottles. It wasn't just Noah, but my guess is he started it.

We played a team from a neighboring township. They are undefeated and until today had never allowed another team to score. The game would have ended 2-2 except our team scored their second goal with an extra player on the field. Want to guess who that player was? Yup. It was Noah. Just hanging out on defense.

Two of the dad's from the other team jumped up out of their chairs screaming to the ref that our team had eight players on the field instead of seven. So the goal didn't count and we lost, but our team still played an awesome game!

After the game is when the fun really started. And by fun I mean horror.

The kids on both teams line up and high five each other after each game. Today Noah decided he'd power high five the other team. Fists may or may not have been involved. Kids on the other team say he did. Noah said he only gave really hard high fives. As I explained to Noah though, I tend to believe the other kids since Noah has such a hard time telling the truth in situations like this.

Bad choice on Noah's part!

The absolutely best part of all of this though, and by best I mean most horrifying, was that one of the dad's, who likes to play "assistant" coach  (and yes, I did mean to emphasize ass. He only wants to coach during games, not practices. We call him the faux coach) blew a nut and came running across the field screaming for "Noah's parents."

Looking back it's kind of funny. I remember watching him run and almost turning to Rich and saying "wow, the faux coach is running."

So back to our story - the faux coach runs across the field screaming for Noah's parents.

If I'd been thinking on my feet better I would have turned around pretending to look for them and then told him I think they left. But I wasn't. Instead I stood up and said "we are, what happened."

Still screaming, the faux coach told us (and all the parents on both teams) that Noah "punched the other team" and he wants him "kicked off the team for unsportsmanlike behavior."

Rich and I of course immediately went over to Noah to deal with him; both of us thinking from what he said that Noah was actually fighting kids on the other team. (Noah, to his credit was sitting on the ground away from the rest of the team, well aware he was in trouble.) I know the faux coach was still screaming but I guess I'll have to wait to hear from the other parents at practice this week what he was saying.

We talked with the real coach, and Noah knows he made some pretty poor choices today. The coach assured us Noah isn't going to be kicked off the team and he apologized for the faux coach. In the future Rich may hang out on the team side to make sure Noah is behaving. We made him clean up all the trash on the field since we were the last game. Then he came home and spent some time "thinking" in his room before he wrote an apology letter to his coach. He also lost electronic privileges for the day.

It's taken a few hours for the tight feeling in my chest to loosen up, which is much more about the faux coach making this a public spectacle than anything else. I'm half tempted to ask him if he was at McDonald's approximately seven years ago and yelled at a mom in sweat pants because her son pushed his son in the play area.

The good news is that like earlier in the week, I think Noah really does get why what he did is wrong. That's new for him. It gives me hope. Now we need to work on thinking before acting. I'm not as hopeful about that.



 

Well this happened...(episode one: the gracious parent)

I kind of, maybe, hope anyway, that we kind of might have had a bit of a breakthrough with Noah this week. Or maybe not. It's hard to say.

The not so short version is that Noah and the boys next door (the ones we share a driveway and backyard with) got into it the other night. Noah's version includes the other boys threatening to kill him with a plastic baseball bat. (Now, to his credit I did see them with the bat and they are very mouthy at times, and definitely provoke Noah.) Noah's response was to throw a rock at them, which hit one of them in the head and cut his scalp. Much screaming and crying ensued, along with some blood. The other boys is fine, it wasn't a big cut despite the blood. However, the mom came over and told me that her kids would no longer be allowed to play with my kids. And you know what? I totally get it, and agree.

We agreed that none of our kids are angels and that right now the best thing we can do is keep them apart since all they do is provoke each other. That is going to be interesting considering the shared driveway and yard. I guess it will be first come first served and if they are in front we will stay in back. Like I said, it will be interesting.

It sucks though. I think mostly this is just stupid boy stuff but because Noah is Noah he gets more of the blame. I think the other boys did threaten him and since his brain goes into fight or flight so quickly (do not pass Go, do not collect $200) he reacted. He said he thought the only way he could get away was by scaring them with the rock. However, in the end, he was the one that threw the rock that hit someone. The other kids didn't actually hit him with the bat.

Our neighbors are really being pretty awesome about it, considering. (Especially since they are the neighbors whose window Noah broke in the spring. Did I tell you that story yet?) I don't think everyone would have been so gracious about it.

Noah and I had a long talk about what happened and he was unusually attentive and involved in the discussion. I know he was upset that he hurt the boy and when he threw the rock he never considered it could actually hurt someone. Typical thinking for him. I was very honest with him about what could have happened and that we are lucky no one called the police. We talked about what would happen if the police did come, and that because of things he has done in the past there was a good chance he would be taken to the hospital to see a psychiatrist and probably would have had to spend the night without Rich or me. Scare tactics on my part? Maybe a little. Did it work? I think so. Will he remember in the future? Hard to say. Probably not in the moment.

After all that I totally lost it and sobbed for a good hour. At one part I was crying so bad I started to hyperventilate. I don't think I've ever done that before. I know my reaction was way over the top, but at the time I felt like our world was ending.

That was Thursday evening. Today we dealt with another parent. Stay tuned for episode 2: the asshat parent.

 

Make the peace be with you.

One of the wonderful things Noah does is periodically give me letters/cards that he has written himself. They let me know that he really does think I'm the "pridyest mom in histery." Or that he loves me "so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so" much. It's some of the stuff that keeps me going.

This is what he gave me for Valentines Day this year.

I never doubt how much he loves me and how important I am to him. I save them all and often have at least one in my purse with me and one hanging in my office at work. I can't read them without feeling myself softening inside.

Today is my birthday, and Noah wrote me this "letter."

Do you know how much he loves me? He loves me infinity percent much!

He also drew me a picture. The picture is drawn over five pages that are liberally stapled together. He is a knight rescuing me (the princess) from a very tall tower.

There is so much I love about this picture. I love that he is rescuing me, but in doing so has armed me with my own swords because he knows I am badass. I also love his attention to detail by giving me purple hair. 

What I love the most however, is what he has written at the bottom. "Make the peace be with you Mom." I'd love to think he has written an incredibly profound statement, but in all truth I think he's just confused the message of peace I've been trying to share with him this week with the well known line from Star Wars.

What a gift he has given me!

Make the peace be with you Mom.

How much better as a person, a mother, a wife, could I be if I "make the peace be with me?"

I wonder where we would be as a nation, as a world, if we all followed this.

Make the peace be with You!

 

 

A red marker, a white napkin, and a brown paper sack

Noah's class went on a field trip Friday. He has been excited about it for months!

On field trip days the kids take a packed lunch. Every other school day Noah buys his lunch.

Rich packs Noah's lunch, but I always slip in a note, usually written on a napkin or paper towel.

Have an awesome day. 

I love you! 

Mom

Red marker on a white napkin. Thirty seconds to write and slide in the brown paper sack between an apple and a bag of chips.

.........................

Noah jumped off the bus steps when he came home and ran into the house. Full of  stories about the day.

Nate threw up when he got off the bus this morning.

They only let us go through the tunnel once this time, but it was still cool.

We didn't get to go to the gift shop, but I bought a snack from the vending machine.

Oh, I didn't want to throw this away (pulling a white napkin with red writing on it out of his pocket), so I kept it in my pocket.

Do you like it when I put notes in your lunch?

Yes. Because I know you are thinking about me and want me to have an awesome day. But I already know you always love me.  

.........................

Maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right after all.


 

Pulling back and reconnecting

I wrote this post several weeks ago. I needed it to sit for a while to make sure I was ready to post it. I think it's ready now.

Parenting is hard. It just is, and there is no way to really prepare for it. You jump in and hope you swim. Fortunately, Rich and I have managed to keep our heads above water, despite some very deep water and long periods of doggy paddling. Occasionally we have needed some help and managed to grab on to some floaty devices at just the right time.

I've learned from every wave we have managed to navigate ourselves through. I've learned to float when I can, but always have lungs full of air just in case.

And I think maybe I got a little over confident.

Amidst juggling Noah's medical needs, his academic needs, and his physical needs, I think I forgot about his emotional needs.


We had a pretty good summer, and his transition into fourth grade and a new school overall went smoothly (on the Noah scale of smoothness anyway). Soccer was great in the fall and although it took lots of encouragement he's loving playing basketball this winter. We've seen improvement with his reading, and he's keeping up in math. He even received an A in science last marking period and a B in social studies.

He has an amazing emotional support teacher and overall the school is very supportive of him. There were bumps to be sure, but overall we have been so proud of him.

While I am always thinking about what is coming up next and what more we should be doing for him, I let us float the last few months. We received the results of his neuropsych testing from the FASD clinic the end of October. It included several recommendations, medical and academic, that I was very slowly chipping away at, but not with any urgency. Mostly I was enjoying not feeling like we were always being chased by the shark.

Looking back, I think things started to change in November. Perhaps it was Kiel's birthday. Or the month of disrupted school attendance due to super storm Sandy and then school holidays around Thanksgiving. Or maybe it wasn't any of that.

What I do know is that Noah started to struggle a little more, both at school and at home. He created more chaos at home, got into more things around the house we thought he knew he shouldn't. He was plugging up the toilet again, the encopresis was back and I felt like poop was everywhere. He was taking longer to do homework and was almost impossible to keep focused.

He started picking his nose again and washing his hands obsessively. And new motor tics started in his arms and neck. 

It was getting to the point where I didn't trust him out of my site. Too many times he created chaos in minutes. Some of it dangerous. I questioned if I could keep him safe.

He was mouthier and brattier and ruder than ever. And so incredibly oppositional.

Words were said that should never been spoken. 

I was frustrated. Rich was frustrated. The things we used to handle OK started to drive us crazy.

And then we have Kiel. He turned five. He's sleeping in his own room (finally). I'm able to spend more time alone with him and LOVE our Mommy-Kiel days. He's a sweet, funny kid that loves to cuddle. He tells me a hundred times a day (if not more) that he loves me and that I'm his best mom ever. He's the best of everything a five year old little boy can be.

I love both my boys intensely, fiercely, with a depth I never imagined was possible. But the truth is that I like Kiel far more than I like Noah the last couple months.

Looking back, I realize it's an insidious, horrible pattern. The more frustrated we became, the more Noah acted out. The more he acted out, the more frustrated we became. More frustration, more yelling, more rudeness, more acting out.

He was in trouble all the time. And while I was saying we can't let this continue, I was handling it more like a a strict no-nonsense parent, than the therapeutic parent he needed. The parent that understood why he struggled.

He had several rough days at school this week, and on Wednesday he hit a new low. On Tuesday he was in trouble for rhyming "stick" and "dick" (except he didn't know what "dick" meant so didn't understand why he was in trouble) and because he ate like a dog at lunch (except it was like a pig and he can't believe they didn't know that). Wednesday at recess he jumped the property line fence (because they were playing chase and he was running away from the kid that was "it."), he was removed from art class, and screamed at his aid, his general ed teacher, and his ES teacher; all before 1pm.

When he walked in the door that afternoon his first words were "I had the worst day ever."

Those words changed something in me.

Instead of consequences, I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him and it was OK.

We sat on the couch together and I held him.  I asked him if he knew how much I loved him.

He told me "no."

Those words broke my heart. How had I let it come to this? How did I let him get to the point that he questioned my love for him?

You can't fix everything with love, but you are going to find it much harder to fix anything without it.

We talked and cuddled. We reconnected physically. I'm not sure the last time I sat with him like that was.

Before bed we sat on the couch together again. The hour between dinner and bed had been rocky. I could see a physical difference in him. He was more settled when we were together on the couch. Now he looked angry, and sad.

We sat together, although he wouldn't cuddle then, and I asked him why he was so sad. I wouldn't let it go. He covered himself, including his face, with a blanket. He didn't want to talk. He said he didn't know how to say it. He didn't know the words. I pushed a little more.

Finally he said "it's you and Dad." He didn't say much more than that, but I didn't need to hear more. The pieces were coming together.

I know I had pulled back from him. I know things were said that made him question the stability of his life here. I know he felt misunderstood.

He was in trouble all the time and more often than not he didn't understand why what he did was wrong, or couldn't understand why it was such a big deal. It wasn't like he planned on doing those things.

While I could tell other people that he had brain damage and it affected his impulse control and ability to connect actions with consequences, I wasn't using that knowledge as I parented him.

We talked. I made it very clear how much we love him. I apologized for my poor behavior. We talked about how we could both make it better. I reminded him that my job as his mother was to keep him safe, to raise him to be a good adult, to teach him how to be a good person, a good husband, a good father in the future. We talked about how the older I get the more I learn, and that when you are only almost ten you know a lot less than your parents, and that is why sometimes you just have to accept that mom and dad are in charge and even if you don't always like it you have to do what you are told. I'm sure I said far more than he could absorb. It seemed to work though.

Rich put him to bed with a quick whisper from me that he needed to reconnect and I would explain later.

I shared with Rich and made it very clear that we both needed to rethink how we were parenting because what we were doing was breaking Noah.

Noah went to school Thursday morning with a smile on his face. He told me he was going to have a great day. I emailed his teacher to tell him what I thought was going on, especially that I thought he was feeling misunderstood.

His teacher sent me this picture in the morning and said "This is the Noah I know!"

He had a perfect behavior day on Thursday. He also participated in his first after-school basketball program and did great. He was SO EXCITED when he came out of the gym to tell me he received a 100 points (perfect day). He was a different kid than the one we had been living with the last two months.

Sometimes I forget just how easy it is to screw up as a parent. Sometimes I lose sight of why this gig is so important. Sometimes I need reminders, like the sweet, silly face of this boy.