Tilting at Windmills

I am listening to the Lumineers play "Stubborn Love" and I am crying. It's been a frustrating couple of days. My firstborn has been struggling for some time with some emotional issues. I've blogged about it before, so my readers should understand these are not new struggles. They ebb and flow, becoming more and then less manageable. Right now, we are in a season of unmanagebility.

He has been seeing a therapist for a month or so. We've seen her 3 times. I missed one time because I was supposed to reschedule the appointment and lost track of time (and honestly thought the appointment was a week later than it was). It's been about a month since we've seen her. The other thing is that I've been not physically well for more than a week at a time since January. This has prohibited me from seeking more answers out. Honestly, I've just been exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

One thing that the therapist suggested was to have him evaluated for OT services. Seems simple enough, but I have been running into obstacles all day. I intially spoke with the intake person for Doug's therapy, thinking that they could start a separate file for Jeremy and get him evaluated. They don't do OT, and so she referred me to a place that does. That place isn't covered by my insurance. The place that is covered by my insurance seems understaffed. I called them last week trying to get Jeremy in for an eval and it was a nightmare trying to coordinate schedules.

I spoke with his teacher last week to see if she thought skipping school to get an eval was beneficial. I thought if I opened up our availabilty, an appointment might shake loose. She mentioned the Wehde Center, it's affiliated with the school district and according to her, they do evals all year long.

I hadn't heard back from the Milestones place and so I reached out to the Wehde Center. It wasn't what the woman said that made my blood boil, it was how she said it. There was a lack of caring in her voice. She matter-of-factly informed me that the last evals of the year are being performed this Friday, but they're all full. I tried to explain that I wanted him to be evaluated for OT before his kindergarten evaluation. Oh, don't worry, she said, you can just contact his home school to let them know about his issues.

Lady, you have no idea. I don't give a fuck whether his home school knows. I have a child who has something going on and I want to get him help. I have tried to help him but can't. I can't understand what's going on between his ears, I can't help him see what my point of view is. I know that his meltdowns, his tantrums, are somewhat normal but they have become a handicap for my family. I don't give a shit about your fucking protocol--I want to help my son. I am tired of not knowing what to do to help him. I am tired of feeling anxious about taking him anywhere.

I hadn't been in a church service for like a month and a half and got to go yesterday, only to be pulled out before it was over because of Jeremy's behavior. It's beyond behavior modification. We don't let him "get away" with his bad behavior, but it's becoming more clear that he is not in complete control of his impulses and emotions. It's becoming clear that he has some sensory issues. I don't want to wait 3 fucking months to find answers out. I don't want to spend a summer inside my house because I'm afraid to take him to a public place. When he gets frustrated, he just takes off. I have a 21-month-old that is also having struggles and is very busy. I can't have Jeremy going one way and Doug the other--who am I supposed to follow?

I was angry that she didn't appreciate the toll that this is taking on me. There is a mother's tea at Jeremy's preschool next Wednesday. I'm supposed to get there at 10:50, when the kids will come into the gymnasium and present us with gifts. They are supposed to come into the gym singing. I'm beginning to understand that being around loud noises physically hurts Jeremy. He's not going to enjoy all of the noise, which means he'll fling himself on the ground and throw a tantrum (he did that at the Christmas program). I will be by myself, with Doug and Bekah in tow. Bekah can stay put if I need to attend to Jeremy, but Doug can't. He will, as soon as my back is turned, take off walking through the church. I'm literally getting sweaty just thinking about it.

So I've decided to skip the tea, even though I know it's a big event the preschool puts on. I'm going to email his teacher and let her know that I'm just going to keep him home from school that day.

My small group is planning on going camping (for us, that means staying in a lodge somewhere nearby) in the beginning of June. I was initially excited but have been getting more anxious just considering taking Jeremy that far out of his comfort zone. He got upset when we took a detour down Route 31 on the way home from church last week. Last year, when we attended a funeral for Brian's uncle in Springfield, he spent most of the trip there and back complaining that we were too far away from home. Yep, that doesn't seem like a good time to me.

You never know what's going to set him off and you never know how long the fits will last. The main concern has become his safety because he will literally just leave places. He escaped from his preschool room twice last week, he's walked away (out of sight) from Brian when they are at the park, he wandered off from me when we were at Jewel.

So for me, waiting for August to get him help seems like a prison sentence. I lost my temper with the milquetoast woman at the school district and then tried getting back in touch with Milestones. At first I got their voicemail, so I called back. A nameless staffer answered and when I explained that I hadn't heard back from them in a week, she told me that strep throat has been tearing through their office.

All of this leaves me feeling so powerless. I ask for God's help but I don't think his plan is to cure Jeremy. Jeremy isn't eating a bunch of foods that (I believe) are triggering this behavior. He basically eats fruits, veggies and the bread I make from scratch. His behavior has been the same for the past couple of years, as has his diet. I don't believe his issues are compounded by or caused by environmental issues; rather, I think there is something organically wrong with him. I'm not sure whether he will need medication, but I know that he's going to need some active therapy to help him work through his issues. I have depleted any knowledge I may have had on how to deal with him. It's time to stop troubleshooting and call in the professionals.

I have no desire, none whatsoever, to homeschool him. I think it would end very badly for both of us. I believe very passionately that education should be left to professionals. I believe it will do him a lot of good to be in school full-day in the fall. I believe it will do both of us good to have a break from each other. I also don't want him to start the year without his teacher and other administrators having a plan in place. I am afraid of him leaving school and just showing up at our door (we live a block away from the school). I am afraid that, without a plan in place, he will be pigeonholed and unable to thrive.

I see past Jeremy's "issues" and recognize that there is a boy inside there that's smart as a whip. He has a lot of knowledge and understanding about things, but the way the world works is they are not going to spend a lot of time putting up with the behavior just to get to that part of him.

Meanwhile, Doug is receiving developmental therapy and speech therapy. Luckily those appointments happen at our home, but it's one more dimension to trying to plan and carve out time to help Jeremy.

Lastly, I'm losing my mind because I feel so isolated. The only time I could get Jeremy in to see his therapist is Thursday morning, which happens to be the last MOPS meeting before summer break. I will miss the last week of BSF (my Bible study) next week to keep Jeremy home and away from school for the mother's tea. I am not able to fully enjoy small group because I can hear Jeremy in the basement, with the other kids (and babysitters) having multiple meltdowns. It doesn't bother the rest of the small group, but it detracts from my ability to enjoy my friends' company.

I feel increasingly like an island. I am frozen until I can start to understand how to help my son. Is there a support group for moms of kids like Jeremy? I have no idea because I don't have a diagnosis, so I have nowhere from which to draw strength. It's good and well to tell me to pray and ask for God's help, but he's not going to show up on my front porch, offering to watch my kids so I can go talk to a therapist. I have no wish to subject any of my girlfriends to Jeremy's behavior, so I can't ask anyone to watch him while I go get help. And really, who's going to watch 3 kids so I can go cry to someone? No one, which is fine, I get it. I had 3 kids, I should suck it up and learn to deal.

I just want to fucking help my son. He's such a great kid, honestly. Funny as hell, kind to his brother and sister, a loyal friend, smart, loving. I can't imagine what it's like to see the world the way he sees it, in such rigid little boxes. I wish I could help him see the world the way I see it, but I don't know how. It breaks my heart because I know he doesn't wake up thinking about when his next fit is going to be. He isn't consciously walking away from me because he wants to hurt me. He is ruled by a set of conditions in his head that make perfect sense to him, even if to the rest of us they are not founded in reality.

How can you fight that? I feel like Sancho Panza, Don Quixote's sidekick. He's helpless to try to explain to Don Quixote that the windmills are not looking to fight him. I am along for the journey because I fear for Jeremy's safety, but that doesn't mean I can overlook how crazy I think he is. Sometimes, though, I have to admit that he is the one leading the charge. The most I can do is ride along beside him.

Nerves

I am taking a shortcut for this blog entry. There is a writing contest being held for a mother's group to which I belong. I am going to substitute a normal blog entry for this essay. I'm a bundle of nerves right now. The prizes for the contest are major and would go a long way in helping along my book project. Eek.

The focus of the essay is supposed to be "the memories that shaped your ideas about money." I'm quoting from the website press release. Now I'm even more anxious because I don't feel like what I've written has the right focus. I will say, though, that I prayed over it before I sent it. I thought I had sent it and started futzing around with this entry. When I tried to open the Word document file to cut and paste, it brought up the wrong version of the essay. Panicked, I opened my e-mail account only to find I hadn't yet sent the e-mail. After a couple more failed attempts to get the right file, I figured it out and sent the right one. Maybe that's an omen.

(As a side note, I hate these things because I spend time in false hope. I know my writing is strong but I'm also not the only strong writer entering the contest. I psych myself out and usually end up a nervous ball of energy until I find out the results. It's partly why I never did genetic testing for my kids. I had no desire to spend any of my pregnancies in any more discomfort than I needed to be.)

I did not intend to spend my retirement money by the age of 33. I began contributing to my 401k on my dad’s advice, even though I was sometimes struggling to afford groceries. I had a great job at a wonderful company, and retirement seemed like less than a haze at the edge of the horizon. I remember getting statements about my 401k and it was exciting to see the projections--little bars lined up neatly, one taller than the next. I was let go in 2004 but was proud of the money that had accumulated.        

By 2007 Brian and I were married and had our first baby, Jeremy. 2008 held high hopes for our family.  We purchased a home using some of the money I had accumulated and by mid-year were pregnant with Bekah. 2008 also held some lows. Jeremy took a harrowing ride on a Flight for Life helicopter and Brian was diagnosed with kidney cancer.

In 2011, the rest of my 401k paid the filing fees for Chapter 7 bankruptcy. The downturn in the economy and staggering medical bills meant leaning on credit cards. There was no other alternative. I have watched people on TV return to their homes after a tornado has leveled it. As we drove home from bankruptcy court, I had the same despair in my gut that I saw on their faces.

Over the years I’ve observed many natural disasters on TV. It seems like the disasters expose weaknesses in infrastructure. Rebuilding often means that stronger, more durable structures are erected. I’m hopeful the same is true of my disaster. I’ve not started saving again for retirement, but I am building a strong foundation. In time, I will rebuild and this time I’m confident it won’t all come tumbling down.

On Saying Goodbye

I've been watching The Office (US version) since it first came out. I like to think that I know the characters pretty well. I was sad when they announced Steve Carrell would be leaving, but enjoyed watching how they treated his exit from the show. I was pregnant with Doug when I watched his final episode and I'm not going to lie, I cried like a baby. I would love to blame it on pregnancy hormones, but I've watched it several times since then and have cried equally as hard each time.

The part that's toughest for me to watch is when Jim (John Krasinski) realizes that Michael (Steve Carrell) is scheduled to fly out to Colorado that day, not the following day (as he has lead the rest of the office to believe). Jim and Michael share an emotional on-screen moment; I have read that the behind-the-scenes moments were just as emotional. It is evident, in seeing these actors interact, that they have the utmost love and respect for one another.

There is something both sweet and sour about people leaving us. I have been to memorial services that seemed like celebrations and funerals where the mother's sobs still echo in my mind. People have moved toward better opportunities and away from hurtful situations, toward new endeavors and away from beloved friends and family.

I have a friend I met only several months ago. I was invited to join a playgroup made of women who had, at some point in the past, attended the same church. I was grateful for the fellowship but apprehensive about joining a group of women who were so connected to one another. I won't lie, I almost didn't attend playgroup one day because I was having a rough moment. I felt like I wasn't welcome, even though that was not the truth. Truthfully, these women greeted me with love and compassion. They were not the problem, it was my perception of myself.

Within the past few months, this friend's husband had an opportunity to interview to be a pastor at a church in Iowa. It's happy news; he's been without a church to lead for some time. I knew it was a blessing and yet found myself sad that she may not live around here anymore.

There are other women in our group with whom she is close; I could see the mixture of sadness and hope in their eyes as her family travelled to Iowa to meet the congregation. We all prayed for her before she left playgroup. I had words I wanted to share, but truthfully I was still learning everyone's name! (I'm not sure why, but it seems to have taken me months to learn everyone's name.) I felt bad hooking into the collective sorrow of missing such a wonderful woman; after all, I had only known her for a few short months.

We received word from her, at a later playgroup, that her husband had been offered and had accepted the job. "It's only Iowa," we said, to reassure her. She seemed (and still seems) hopeful about the opportunity this job offers. We brainstormed with her about how to start a MOPS group and how to connect with other moms.

I knew a month ago that she and her family would be leaving at the end of this coming week. A mutual friend threw a party for her yesterday. I missed it due to my ongoing lack of organizational skills, but decided to meet up with them for roller skating later in the evening. I abstained from roller skating but visited with this friend and others who had bravely set aside their humility and strapped on skates.

I feel ridiculous saying that I will miss her because I haven't known her as well as others, but what does that matter? I will miss her on behalf of the other women, whose lives she's obviously touched in a deep and profound way. I will miss her laughter, which we had in common--we both seem to love to laugh (at each other and other people). I will miss seeing her face and her kids at playgroup, I will miss going out with her, I will miss the opportunity to get to know her better.

I imagine, when people move away, that while they are looking small on our vision's horizon, to the people on the receiving end, they are looking bigger and bigger. I need to remember how fortunate the people of Iowa are to be receiving this friend into their arms. It's sad on our end, but in each end there is always a beginning. I hope that this friend finds the next horizon to be as beautiful as the one she stares at in the rearview mirror.

Sugar, A Bitter Tale

I am in the middle of doing a sugar awareness detox. It's not a complete fast from sugar; rather, it's the practice of finding ways to reduce sugar intake. I've been trying to add in more nutrient-dense food and eliminate empty, sugar-filled calories.

It's been interesting. I haven't been as hungry as I was expecting. I have not been rigidly following the guidelines. We have been encouraged to stay below 15 grams of sugar daily. It's tougher than it seems in some ways but in others it feels very natural.

I have always been very vocal about my struggle with refined sugar. It's been a huge addiction for me for many years. I once swore it off for a few years. I lost a lot of weight but was constantly looking for a replacement. It's a weird thing, that when you remove something from your life that's exactly the thing you want the most.

This detox lasts for another week. I took a detour today to try a new pancake recipe. I have decided that, for now, detours can be okay. The pancakes were delicious and I enjoyed them appropriately; sitting at the table, not hidden in the van, trying to hide it from everyone.

That's when detours are dangerous--when I'm hiding what I'm eating, when I'm too ashamed to let people know what's entering my body. It seems grotesque, I know, but when I'm eating hurriedly in the van or on the fly, I'm not eating for nutritive purposes.

I am trying to practice thoughtful eating. What I mean is, I want to make sure that I'm not so distracted by the TV or my phone that I have eaten my whole meal without realizing it. I have been working with a professional organizer to get my home in order. That has meant reworking our eating arrangements. Instead of sitting in the kitchen to eat (where we're in full view of the TV), we have been eatin in our dining room.

I have been encouraging my kids to be thoughtful eaters as well. They are disappointed that they can't watch "shows" while they're eating lunch. I let them know that "shows" will still be there when they're done eating. I try to explain that daddy and I are trying to break bad habits.

It's been kind of neat to have them do exercises (as they call my working out) with me. They don't always understand *why* I'm working out, but they know it's important. If I'm not following the DVDs exactly, Jeremy lets me know it. He will prod me along if I've said I'm going to workout and then get sidetracked. He knows to have his water bottle nearby and asks me if I need a drink during the workout. When I take a sip, so does he.

In the short-term, I'm hoping this detox will unstick my weight loss. I feel like I've been spinning my wheels for some time. If I can kick start the weight loss, that makes me happy. In the long-term, I'm hopeful that I can impart healthier eating habits to my kids. If nothing else, it's a great education and a good start. Here's to another week of detoxing!!

Cranky Monday

I'll admit it, I was set up to fail today. Over the past week of vacation my bedtime has been stretching later and later into the wee hours. I've not been really accomplishing anything constructive, like writing purposefully or working on setting goals or anything like that. Nope, I've been catching up on last season's episodes of Mad Men and playing SimCity obsessively.

I knew, when I went to bed last night, that I was going to have to wake up and immediately bake a batch of bread. I usually bake two batches of bread a week. Last week was a little unusual because we had the stomach flu. Typically, when that hits, we eat less of my fiber-rich bread. In any case, we made up for lost time this past weekend.

In a perfect world, I would have been in bed by 11 PM and ready to start my day at like 7 AM. Unfortunately, I went to bed a wee bit later than 11 and my sleep was jostled by the addition of Bekah and Jeremy to our bed. We do not co-sleep, but lately the bad dreams have been hitting Bekah hard. If I'm sleeping and she climbs in bed, I usually don't put her back in her bed.

I will say I'm a little suspicious of the bad dream scenario. Bekah knows this is the foolproof way to gain and keep access to our bed. She is world-renowned at manipulating circumstances to her benefit. The logical conclusion is that, when pressed, she is in our bed because of bad dreams.

I have a hard time sleeping in general, so the addition of another body hampers my ability to sleep even more. Then, for reasons I don't know, Jeremy joined us. Chances are he awoke to find himself alone in his room, got freaked out and came to sleep with us.

By sunrise I had only gotten a fraction of the sleep I should have. The kids were seemingly refreshed, but breakfast had to be delayed so I could make bread (which is what they normally eat for breakfast). On top of this, my brother invited us to go to Monkey Joe's (on his dime) and then we were going to head to Bekah's dance class.

It was going to be a full day but I was excited not to have the kids climb the walls. Monkey Joe's went reasonably well. Bekah and Jeremy love all of the "jumpees," as they call them. Doug spent the whole time walking back and forth among the jumpees. He was happy to have so much open space available to him.

The first sign that something was off should have been that Bekah insisted I watch her on every jumpee. Typically I spend my time at Monkey Joe's chasing Doug; the other two run off and burn energy. Today, she needed to have my full attention. She's always been the hungriest for my attention and the clingiest to me. It's a blessing and a curse, honestly. I am grateful that she wants to be so close to me; at the same time, it's tough to have someone be your shadow all day. I try to remember that one day she'll not want anything to do with me. This usually buys me 5 more minutes of patience.

There were problems when we tried to leave Monkey Joe's. It's not always an issue, but today she was upset that she had to leave to go to dance class. I didn't anticipate this; I figured it would be the perfect impetus to get her out the door. She threw a fit in the bathroom while I was trying to change her.

We arrived at the dance studio and she started telling me she was still hungry. Now, after I finished making the bread, I packed a quite sizable snack/lunch to take with to Monkey Joe's. I had apple slices, veggies, pretzels and peanut butter sandwiches. I also took sippy cups of everyone's beverage. She sat for a while and ate half a peanut butter sandwich, some apple slices, some veggies and pretzels. This is typically how much lunch she eats. I knew she didn't eat breakfast but that usually consists of half a piece of toast.

I told her that she could eat after dance class. Well, I might as well have told her that I was going to drown one of her dogs. She proceeded to start a fit that lasted for about 15-20 minutes. I tried everything, cajoling, bargaining, threatening, everything to get her to participate in dance class. Her dance instructor (whom she loves) also tried to get her involved. Bella, the other student in class, tried to get her involved.

It was no use. I fumed around the studio (because I had to keep an eye on Doug). One of her requests was that I come in and sit in her class with her. This would have been impossible because I still had to keep an eye on Doug and Jeremy. I was furious with her. Not only that, I was starving myself. I had a few veggies and apple slices at Monkey Joe's, but other than that I only had a protein shake for breakfast.

Bella's mom tried to talk to me because she could sense I was overwhelmed. I started crying (I hate crying in public) and just explaining how tough spring break had been. We didn't get out much because 4 of the 5 of us were struck with the stomach flu. We had one playdate and then spent the rest of the week recuperating from the flu. I didn't go out for coffee with anyone, didn't have Bible study, didn't have small group, etc. It was, socially, a drought of a week.

Bekah seemed to calm down but then the wailing increased in volume. Kim (the instructor) didn't know what to do with her. It's not typical Bekah behavior--usually she is super excited to be at and involved in dance class. April offered to drive Bekah home and let me leave but I didn't want to leave Bekah when she was so upset.

So I pulled her out of the class. She's been attending dance for a year and this is the first time I've pulled her out of class. I agonized about it because I wanted her to finish. I want to teach her that we sometimes have to do things even when we don't feel like it. That's been a valuable lesson with many different applications for me. At 4, though, it's tough to try and power through so much emotion.

We left and the anger swelled over. April was nice enough to get Bekah ready to go for me. I loaded Doug into the van, went back and got the big kids and off we went. The kids have been watching How to Train Your Dragon in the van for a few weeks (nonstop). I pulled the DVD out, turned the radio on and ordered Bekah to be quiet.

I don't know if I was more angry with myself or with her. Typically I feel it's foolish to be angry with a 4-year-old. I find that it's my expectations that cause me to get angry. I know that there are some things I can expect from her; my expectations tend to reach over her abilities. I try to find the balance between pushing her to do better (because I know she can) and not setting the bar too high.

It's a tough job and one at which I often fail. I am not sure if Monkey Joe's was the best call or not. If I was basing it on past experience alone, I don't think I made a poor decision. We don't typically stay more than an hour or so--today was no different. The kids were hungry--I brought plenty of food and drink to make sure they got filled up. Bekah was needy--luckily, my brother was there to help keep an eye on Doug so I could pay attention to her.

Was Bekah's mood at the dance studio hampered by my fuming? Could I have done a better job defusing the situation if I used tenderness instead of anger? Was the underlying issue a lack of sleep, would more sleep have caused me to have better perspective? I don't know. Should I have let April bring Bekah home?

Yeah, I would have to mark "I don't know" to all of those questions. I have no idea what precipitated her outburst today and I probably won't ever know. I am sure, though, that next week I will make sure we all have plenty of sleep and plenty to eat before we try to tackle dance class again.