Every few months, typically when my depression worsens during the winter, I go through partial mid-life crises. These past 5 years have been the worst, I think. Last year I was actually looking at apartments and nearly left my family. This year, I knew it was coming (only took me 5 years to figure out the pattern....) and was a little better prepared for it. Maybe prepared isn't the right word--but at least more aware of it. There are days I just can't cope. I look at my children, having separated them already 50 times and it's only 7:30, and wonder, "WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER???" Oh, wait.... What???
These are the days I start panicking. I'm almost 40, and I haven't done anything with my life. I literally can't think straight, and can't talk sense to myself. I have no purpose! My life revolves around my kids, my husband--and, and--wait, there's nothing else! Sure, I've done a lot of things; I'm raising two kids, I bake and cook, keep house, I volunteer, I used to teach--but what do I DO? At this point in my life, what would my epithet say? "Boy, she sure could bake a great loaf of bread!"
Time and time again, I feel as though life is just passing me by. I have trained for disaster response, I have trained for missions trips, I am educated as a teacher and an advocate, I've had some training in grief response, I have the heart to do it all. Let me feed Your poor and starving, Lord! Let me hold Your orphans' hands, hug Your mothers and fathers, play with Your children, clean up messes, build wells and homes!
And God says.... No. Not yet. It's not time.
And I stomp my feet and yell at the unfairness. BUT I WANT TO, LORD!
And God says.... It's not time. Your place is HERE.
When will it be my time???
Ugh. Sigh.
And yes, I know I'm not the only mom who goes through this. But there are times it feels like it. This is one of the reasons social media is so bad for me--I see #ilovebeingamommy, #beingamommyisthebestjobintheworld, #mykidsaresowellbehavedandawesomeandbeautiful... Blah blah blah. And yes, I also know most of those mothers are lying through their teeth. I want to vomit when I read that kind of stuff. I allow their perfectionism to make me feel like even less of a mother than I already do, and that just continues my downward spiral. Oh, look who's doing snow day crafts with their kids again! Seriously? When my kids have been fighting since 6 am, and the neighbor's rooster has been crowing (we live in a neighborhood, by the way) since 4:30 am, I can barely keep my eyes open by 8 am, much less, perform the thought processes necessary to keep mine from fighting while trying to even attempt a craft project. I figure as long as we're all still alive at the end of the day, we're doing pretty well.
Here's the thing. I'm a pessimist, and a realistic, and cynical, and sarcastic. Makes for an odd combination, but there you have it. Sarcasm and cynicism are my defense mechanisms. I never have, and never will, poop rainbows. I smile at strangers, and gripe at my family. I've never been easily satisfied, and a life of optimistic, grateful satisfaction has never felt real to me. It feels more like I'm faking it and putting on airs. It's not who I am. But, it's who I need to be.
I know God has things planned for me--once the kids are grown. Right now, they are where I'm needed. I'd love to have an "outside life" but I can't imagine having to give my kids up to a daycare to raise. I see my single mom friends who don't have nearly enough time with their kids, who want that time, and I know I'm blessed. We don't have much, but I'm grateful for what we do have, and I'm grateful we don't need much so I can stay home. I have to remind myself that I asked for these children, prayed for these children, and wanted this life/lifestyle... And the fighting, and endless drudge work, and chores and errands are all part of it. Life is not passing me by, but it will if I continue to forget that. It will pass me by if I continue to focus on the fighting, and forget to focus on the good moments.
God reminds me, thank goodness for His cool head when I go off the deep end, that my time is better spent here with my kids. Even in the bleary eyed, not-enough-coffee-in-the-world mornings, my kids are my current missions work, they are my ministry, they are where I'm needed. This is how I'm building my knowledge and love to do what God has prepared for me next. I may not always like where I am, I may feel that pull when disaster happens or the next missions trip is announced, but I know I need serve my family with a grateful heart, here and now. This is where I am, this is where I need to find my gratitude and satisfaction. My time is now, and I need to live it, rather than take it for granted. Yes, my life revolves around my kids... Because I'm a MOM.
I'm only almost 40. I've done, and I'm doing, a lot with my life. I'm raising young gentlemen, Christ followers, boys who will be good men, husbands and fathers. I'm providing for them in my own ways. Life is not passing me by, it's happening right here and now.
There will be plenty of time to find Amy, to start a new chapter, when this chapter is written.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Valentine's Day
Hate is a strong word, but, I hate Valentine's Day. There, I said it.
For the record though, it is not my husband's fault. He's a good man. We've been together for almost 20 years, married for 14 of those, and even in our poorer-than-church-mice years, he's always tried to do right by me, even when I've asked him not to.
And no, it's not because some mean boy broke my heart, either.
It's me. No, really, it is. It's all me. This post is going to make me sound like a bitter old hag.... But here goes. I do have a point in here somewhere. And no, I don't hate love. Love is great! It's the holiday I can't stand.
Growing up as a young naive girl, I listened to my mother rant about this pointless holiday: It's merely a market for card companies to rack up their earnings. It's expensive, a waste of money, flowers die, candy melts (if it doesn't add 10 pounds first), cards get thrown away, jewelry sparkles for only a little while. I can even vividly remember an instance when my father tried to surprise her with flowers and she exclaimed they were such a waste of money. Maybe if my father had done the holiday (and every other day) 'right,' her attitude would've been different, but I can't know that for sure. Wanting to be a hopeless romantic, I silently berated her for being so bitter, so cynical, so jaded. So WRONG!
Anyway, as that young naive girl, I believed that once I had a boyfriend, I would be complete. Then I could celebrate Valentine's Day properly! And a husband--oh, surely that would complete me, complete my life. After all, God made me to love and be loved! He molded me to be a Psalms 31 wife (ok, so that molding there might be just a little cracked....)!
And I realized--Valentine's Day is a yearly prom. All that build up, and one single day can ruin it if it's not done 'right.' Did you know that suicide rates and divorce filings skyrocket more on Valentine's Day than any other in the entire year? More than Christmas or any other holiday? Yup.
For much of society, this holiday is not even about showing our love. It's about proving to the world that we do, in fact, have someone to celebrate with... And the rest of you don't. Nanny nanny boo boo. It's about one-upping each other, bragging, singling people out. It's a holiday that tells young girls they are incomplete without a boyfriend, spouse, life partner. You are destined for crazy cat-ladyhood without a special someone. It's a holiday that tells 'old marrieds' that if he didn't do the holiday for you the way your friend's husband did for her, well, your marriage is doomed and he know longer loves you.
When expectations aren't met, arguments ensue. Boyfriends and husbands alike end up in the doghouse, if they don't put themselves in deep debt first. Young girls without beaus watch other girls with envy, wishing they could crawl into their lockers and die. Parents who fail to properly shower their children with commercialized love on this one particular day are resented. Christian women and girls (usually the ones with significant others) proclaim that "Jesus will be your husband!"
So, here's my thing with the holiday--it's a serious cop out for the other 364 days of the year. Human beings across the planet wrongly assume that they can make up for the rest of the year with this one day. We can be bitter, we can fight, we can take for granted, we can be anything we want to be, as long as we buy balloons, dinner, candy, flowers and jewelry on this one single day to prove our love. The truth is, I don't want all of that on this one single day if I'm not receiving confirmation of love on the other days. Sure, flowers are nice--but I kind of like receiving them during other months too. And ladies, let's be honest--a back or foot rub, a day without the kids, grocery shopping done for us (while sticking to the list....), having a clean house without having to lift a finger--well, those things often go much further than the obligatory flowers, candy and jewelry any day of the week.
Someone pointed out yesterday that we love because God first loved us. YES! But, what would happen if God said to us, "Okay, I'm going to set this one day here aside, and this is the only day I'm going to show my love and prove it to you"? Just let that settle in for a minute.
If you are already carrying out your love every day, if every day is already Valentine's Day, I applaud you. If, however, you think you only have to celebrate your love that one day every year, you might have some thinking to do.
Just sayin'.
For the record though, it is not my husband's fault. He's a good man. We've been together for almost 20 years, married for 14 of those, and even in our poorer-than-church-mice years, he's always tried to do right by me, even when I've asked him not to.
And no, it's not because some mean boy broke my heart, either.
It's me. No, really, it is. It's all me. This post is going to make me sound like a bitter old hag.... But here goes. I do have a point in here somewhere. And no, I don't hate love. Love is great! It's the holiday I can't stand.
Growing up as a young naive girl, I listened to my mother rant about this pointless holiday: It's merely a market for card companies to rack up their earnings. It's expensive, a waste of money, flowers die, candy melts (if it doesn't add 10 pounds first), cards get thrown away, jewelry sparkles for only a little while. I can even vividly remember an instance when my father tried to surprise her with flowers and she exclaimed they were such a waste of money. Maybe if my father had done the holiday (and every other day) 'right,' her attitude would've been different, but I can't know that for sure. Wanting to be a hopeless romantic, I silently berated her for being so bitter, so cynical, so jaded. So WRONG!
Anyway, as that young naive girl, I believed that once I had a boyfriend, I would be complete. Then I could celebrate Valentine's Day properly! And a husband--oh, surely that would complete me, complete my life. After all, God made me to love and be loved! He molded me to be a Psalms 31 wife (ok, so that molding there might be just a little cracked....)!
And I realized--Valentine's Day is a yearly prom. All that build up, and one single day can ruin it if it's not done 'right.' Did you know that suicide rates and divorce filings skyrocket more on Valentine's Day than any other in the entire year? More than Christmas or any other holiday? Yup.
For much of society, this holiday is not even about showing our love. It's about proving to the world that we do, in fact, have someone to celebrate with... And the rest of you don't. Nanny nanny boo boo. It's about one-upping each other, bragging, singling people out. It's a holiday that tells young girls they are incomplete without a boyfriend, spouse, life partner. You are destined for crazy cat-ladyhood without a special someone. It's a holiday that tells 'old marrieds' that if he didn't do the holiday for you the way your friend's husband did for her, well, your marriage is doomed and he know longer loves you.
When expectations aren't met, arguments ensue. Boyfriends and husbands alike end up in the doghouse, if they don't put themselves in deep debt first. Young girls without beaus watch other girls with envy, wishing they could crawl into their lockers and die. Parents who fail to properly shower their children with commercialized love on this one particular day are resented. Christian women and girls (usually the ones with significant others) proclaim that "Jesus will be your husband!"
So, here's my thing with the holiday--it's a serious cop out for the other 364 days of the year. Human beings across the planet wrongly assume that they can make up for the rest of the year with this one day. We can be bitter, we can fight, we can take for granted, we can be anything we want to be, as long as we buy balloons, dinner, candy, flowers and jewelry on this one single day to prove our love. The truth is, I don't want all of that on this one single day if I'm not receiving confirmation of love on the other days. Sure, flowers are nice--but I kind of like receiving them during other months too. And ladies, let's be honest--a back or foot rub, a day without the kids, grocery shopping done for us (while sticking to the list....), having a clean house without having to lift a finger--well, those things often go much further than the obligatory flowers, candy and jewelry any day of the week.
Someone pointed out yesterday that we love because God first loved us. YES! But, what would happen if God said to us, "Okay, I'm going to set this one day here aside, and this is the only day I'm going to show my love and prove it to you"? Just let that settle in for a minute.
If you are already carrying out your love every day, if every day is already Valentine's Day, I applaud you. If, however, you think you only have to celebrate your love that one day every year, you might have some thinking to do.
Just sayin'.
Monday, February 3, 2014
The Rantings of a Mad Mommy
I debated for a bit what to call this one--Stop the Mommy Wars, Stop the Hate, Don't Judge--then I decided, oh heck, let's just call it like it is.
I'm mad, I'm feeling defensive, and I'm tired of being judged as a mom. I'm tired of my decisions regarding my family being judged by complete strangers who have never walked an hour in our shoes, and wouldn't last five minutes. I resent feeling so defensive as a parent, I resent feeling so attacked. So here I am, once again, ranting and explaining my decisions to you.
I'm sensitive, I take things personally, even blanket statements made by strangers who are unaware of me being in the room as they spout off intolerantly, unaware of my walk in life, unaware of my child's walk in life. I am unable to let criticism roll off my back. Instead, I bang my head against it for several days, allowing it to build up. Ironically, I am also unable to confront it head on--but I'm convinced this is most likely God's way of saving lives....
I know I've harped on this point before--but please, think before you speak. Especially in public. Especially when others are present, especially when you don't know their life journey, especially when you have no freakin' clue what you're talking about.
I had a run in the other day with another ignoramus. This woman was spouting off to the cashier about "those lazy parents who medicate their poor kids when all those kids really need is extra love and attention, but the parents are just too self centered to understand that." I REALLY had trouble stepping back, not sticking my finger in her face, and not giving her a piece of my mind (again, saving lives....). Seriously?
I was tempted to introduce myself to this woman and tell her about a day in the life of us. I wanted to ask her if she feels parents of children with diabetes, epilepsy and cancer are also lazy because their children require medication. Would she have me withhold Avery's asthma and allergy medication from him during a severe attack, instead telling him that my extra love and attention will save him? I wanted to ask her what her experience with kids like mine is: Is it limited to the grocery store line where she glares at the parent with the out of control child, wondering why the parent is so lazy and doesn't do more to control her kid? I wanted to invited her to spend a day in my shoes, knowing she wouldn't last an hour.
Okay, here's the thing. Medicating Noah does not make me lazy--it makes me a smart parent. It may not seem life saving to you, but to us, it is. His antidepressant keeps my child from wanting to harm himself. It has allowed counseling to be helpful so we can 'retrain' his thinking, self esteem and life. It has allowed him to choose a healthier path in life. Noah's ADHD medications keep him from walking into traffic, from failing in school, they help him concentrate better on tasks at home, and help him pay attention better so he, and others around him, are safer. So yes, Noah's meds are life saving.
I am not a lazy parent. I am on top of Noah. We have various charts, notes and reminders on just about every single wall of our house. I did not medicate Noah and throw him to the wolves. We are active parents. We also do not use medication as Noah's only means of support. Noah currently receives counseling and equine therapy (which is so much more than merely riding a horse, thank you very much), and he is an active member of Boy Scouts. He's been through social skills groups, we homeschooled for a year, he's been in OT, received speech therapy, and physical therapy. My husband and I keep current on journal articles and the latest studies. We make sure he gets the supplements and extra protein he needs, we use alternative therapies when we can.
Administering medication to my child was not a decision I made lightly. You don't understand the turmoil in my heart, and in my head. I used to be one of those ignoramuses who spouted off unintelligently about lazy parents! The self criticism I put myself through, and how the decision almost caused the end of my marriage. Once I came out of my own denial and realized Noah needed this extra support, I almost had to choose between my child and my husband. We put off the medication decision as long as we possibly could. We were unnecessarily hard on Noah, telling him he could do what he really can't, expecting the unfair and impossible from him. I felt as though I was giving up on Noah when I gave him that first dose. I felt like such a failure as his mom when I dropped that first prescription off at the pharmacy. I prayed over each and every single bottle of pills. When teachers had to have the "your child is a danger to himself and others because he's so clueless" discussion with us numerous times, we realized he needed more help than we were giving him. To some, it may sound like an excuse when I tell you Noah literally cannot control some of his impulses, but to me---this is our life. This is our daily life. He really, honestly cannot help it. My hope, my prayer, is the meds give him the boost he needs as he matures to learn these things. Until then, I will continue to choose what is best for my child, and that includes medication. It has taken me a long time to realize I did not fail him, I am not a failure, and I did not give up on him. I am giving him the tools he needs to be a functional, successful member of society.
Are there parents out there who medicate because it's just the easier thing to do? Are there doctors out there willing to provide prescriptions to those parents? Yes, and sadly, yes. But for the record--our family, and Noah's doctors do not fall in that category.
Now please, shut your mouth. Keep it shut. Keep your judgment and ignorance to yourself. Take your opinions, and just walk away.
I'm mad, I'm feeling defensive, and I'm tired of being judged as a mom. I'm tired of my decisions regarding my family being judged by complete strangers who have never walked an hour in our shoes, and wouldn't last five minutes. I resent feeling so defensive as a parent, I resent feeling so attacked. So here I am, once again, ranting and explaining my decisions to you.
I'm sensitive, I take things personally, even blanket statements made by strangers who are unaware of me being in the room as they spout off intolerantly, unaware of my walk in life, unaware of my child's walk in life. I am unable to let criticism roll off my back. Instead, I bang my head against it for several days, allowing it to build up. Ironically, I am also unable to confront it head on--but I'm convinced this is most likely God's way of saving lives....
I know I've harped on this point before--but please, think before you speak. Especially in public. Especially when others are present, especially when you don't know their life journey, especially when you have no freakin' clue what you're talking about.
I had a run in the other day with another ignoramus. This woman was spouting off to the cashier about "those lazy parents who medicate their poor kids when all those kids really need is extra love and attention, but the parents are just too self centered to understand that." I REALLY had trouble stepping back, not sticking my finger in her face, and not giving her a piece of my mind (again, saving lives....). Seriously?
I was tempted to introduce myself to this woman and tell her about a day in the life of us. I wanted to ask her if she feels parents of children with diabetes, epilepsy and cancer are also lazy because their children require medication. Would she have me withhold Avery's asthma and allergy medication from him during a severe attack, instead telling him that my extra love and attention will save him? I wanted to ask her what her experience with kids like mine is: Is it limited to the grocery store line where she glares at the parent with the out of control child, wondering why the parent is so lazy and doesn't do more to control her kid? I wanted to invited her to spend a day in my shoes, knowing she wouldn't last an hour.
Okay, here's the thing. Medicating Noah does not make me lazy--it makes me a smart parent. It may not seem life saving to you, but to us, it is. His antidepressant keeps my child from wanting to harm himself. It has allowed counseling to be helpful so we can 'retrain' his thinking, self esteem and life. It has allowed him to choose a healthier path in life. Noah's ADHD medications keep him from walking into traffic, from failing in school, they help him concentrate better on tasks at home, and help him pay attention better so he, and others around him, are safer. So yes, Noah's meds are life saving.
I am not a lazy parent. I am on top of Noah. We have various charts, notes and reminders on just about every single wall of our house. I did not medicate Noah and throw him to the wolves. We are active parents. We also do not use medication as Noah's only means of support. Noah currently receives counseling and equine therapy (which is so much more than merely riding a horse, thank you very much), and he is an active member of Boy Scouts. He's been through social skills groups, we homeschooled for a year, he's been in OT, received speech therapy, and physical therapy. My husband and I keep current on journal articles and the latest studies. We make sure he gets the supplements and extra protein he needs, we use alternative therapies when we can.
Administering medication to my child was not a decision I made lightly. You don't understand the turmoil in my heart, and in my head. I used to be one of those ignoramuses who spouted off unintelligently about lazy parents! The self criticism I put myself through, and how the decision almost caused the end of my marriage. Once I came out of my own denial and realized Noah needed this extra support, I almost had to choose between my child and my husband. We put off the medication decision as long as we possibly could. We were unnecessarily hard on Noah, telling him he could do what he really can't, expecting the unfair and impossible from him. I felt as though I was giving up on Noah when I gave him that first dose. I felt like such a failure as his mom when I dropped that first prescription off at the pharmacy. I prayed over each and every single bottle of pills. When teachers had to have the "your child is a danger to himself and others because he's so clueless" discussion with us numerous times, we realized he needed more help than we were giving him. To some, it may sound like an excuse when I tell you Noah literally cannot control some of his impulses, but to me---this is our life. This is our daily life. He really, honestly cannot help it. My hope, my prayer, is the meds give him the boost he needs as he matures to learn these things. Until then, I will continue to choose what is best for my child, and that includes medication. It has taken me a long time to realize I did not fail him, I am not a failure, and I did not give up on him. I am giving him the tools he needs to be a functional, successful member of society.
Are there parents out there who medicate because it's just the easier thing to do? Are there doctors out there willing to provide prescriptions to those parents? Yes, and sadly, yes. But for the record--our family, and Noah's doctors do not fall in that category.
Now please, shut your mouth. Keep it shut. Keep your judgment and ignorance to yourself. Take your opinions, and just walk away.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Thirteen Years
Thirteen years ago I was given a gift I frequently took for granted, and often still do.
Thirteen years later, I'm grateful we hung in there. I've learned more from that little baby than I ever could hope to teach him. He's taught me about life, love, happiness, and even about myself. He's taught me about heartache, loss, and true sadness. He's taught me about faith, hope and never giving up, always putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how much sludge we're trudging through. He's taught me how to be okay after great, unbearable loss. I didn't give life to him, so much as he's given life to me.
Thirteen years later, I call us survivors. We've overcome so much, on our own, and together. I can't imagine life without him. I don't ever want to have to imagine life without him. We still don't have it together, but we're learning together, and that is what matters.
Today, my Timothy Noah Paul is officially a teenager. I've watched him grow and mature, stumble and get back up. I've kissed his wounds, raised bloody hell in his defense, sealed his heart with my own. I've watched him venture out into the world with a mixture of pride, fear, trepidation, maternal anguish, frustration and fierce love. I've had both tears and laughter well up from depths within me I never knew were there.
I'm proud of you Noah. I love you fiercely, always and forever. I love your heart, your sensitivity for animals, the way you just keep trying even when you want to give up. I love our Uno games, our private talks, our deep discussions, our silly moments. I love when you reveal a part of yourself to me, when you share something, trusting me with it. I love how you've overcome challenges that would have stopped others. I love watching you when you ride, the freedom and joy you have on those horses. I love YOU. You are my child, my pride, my joy. No matter what you do in life, I will always look upon you proudly, saying "That's MY boy."
Happy 13th birthday, Noah. I love you.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Saving Grace
It's been another one for the books. Good grief, aren't they all????
My kids have been home from school for 8--EIGHT--days. Factoring in weather, a post-exam break, and more weather, they haven't seen a full week of school since before their winter break. We've done our best to keep busy, but cabin fever has set in quite readily. I've been just a *little* emotional, and prone to frustrated, exhausted tears the past few days.
An hour ago, this was going to be a much different post. Over the past 7 days, I've been trying to refill Noah's ADHD medication. I've been to, or called, so many pharmacies I've lost count. I started crying about 10 ago. At a few, I may have ranted how this recent shortage has left my child high and dry, and unmedicated. Millions of kids on this medication, mine is one of the few hundred thousand who truly need it in order to function, but I can't access it for him because of our overmedicated society. We went through this last month, but were finally able to get it through our regular pharmacy. This time, I was told by several pharmacies that they weren't sure anyone in our area has been able to get it in several weeks. It's not as though I'm waiting until the last minute to fill this prescription, I'm starting out as soon as insurance will clear it. I keep thinking, it really should not be this hard to get my hands on the one thing that helps Noah function. The hardest part in this is when Noah blames himself--"Well, if I didn't have autism and ADHD, you wouldn't have to go through this and it wouldn't be an issue." I can't make him see he has no control over any of it, and neither do I. Not only that, but aside from it being my job as his mom, I want to be able to provide him with the one thing that truly helps him.
Noah is unable to take just any ADHD medication. With the autism factor, many of the ones we tried made him manic. Manic Noah is even less fun than Just Plain Out of Control Noah. It was debilitating, and emotionally damaging, for him to realize he literally had no control physical control over what he was saying and doing. We're talking running out of his seat in the middle of the sermon to do jumping jacks and shout as he counted kind of lack of control.... So, we found this one that works, and I plan to stick with it as long as possible. I do not want to put Noah through any more med changes and mishaps if I absolutely do not have to.
The whole way home, I kept praying, "Come on God, PLEASE give this mama a much needed break." I knew that if I didn't find something today, I wouldn't be able to send him to school tomorrow because he won't be able to function.
I had one last resort before I called the manufacturer and unleashed my wrath upon whatever poor soul happened to answer the phone: A small locally owned pharmacy. I called, in tears of course, and explained our situation. I'm really not sure I even made sense to the pharmacist. He doesn't carry it in stock, but had a game plan in play before we even hung up ten minutes later, and before I was in his parking lot five minutes after that. When I thanked him profusely, he made me laugh by saying it really isn't rocket science, any pharmacist could've, and should've, done it. That may be so, but to this mama, it really was rocket science because no one else had been willing to help until we happened upon him.
I'm feeling incredibly grateful, because now it looks as though it will be okay. He's working with our insurance, and Noah's doctor, to change the prescription so Noah still gets the dose he needs of the medication he needs, and so we can have it before we officially run out tomorrow morning. And, he's going to order enough of it to keep it on hand for Noah's next refill.
Thank you, Jesus, for that much needed break today.
My kids have been home from school for 8--EIGHT--days. Factoring in weather, a post-exam break, and more weather, they haven't seen a full week of school since before their winter break. We've done our best to keep busy, but cabin fever has set in quite readily. I've been just a *little* emotional, and prone to frustrated, exhausted tears the past few days.
An hour ago, this was going to be a much different post. Over the past 7 days, I've been trying to refill Noah's ADHD medication. I've been to, or called, so many pharmacies I've lost count. I started crying about 10 ago. At a few, I may have ranted how this recent shortage has left my child high and dry, and unmedicated. Millions of kids on this medication, mine is one of the few hundred thousand who truly need it in order to function, but I can't access it for him because of our overmedicated society. We went through this last month, but were finally able to get it through our regular pharmacy. This time, I was told by several pharmacies that they weren't sure anyone in our area has been able to get it in several weeks. It's not as though I'm waiting until the last minute to fill this prescription, I'm starting out as soon as insurance will clear it. I keep thinking, it really should not be this hard to get my hands on the one thing that helps Noah function. The hardest part in this is when Noah blames himself--"Well, if I didn't have autism and ADHD, you wouldn't have to go through this and it wouldn't be an issue." I can't make him see he has no control over any of it, and neither do I. Not only that, but aside from it being my job as his mom, I want to be able to provide him with the one thing that truly helps him.
Noah is unable to take just any ADHD medication. With the autism factor, many of the ones we tried made him manic. Manic Noah is even less fun than Just Plain Out of Control Noah. It was debilitating, and emotionally damaging, for him to realize he literally had no control physical control over what he was saying and doing. We're talking running out of his seat in the middle of the sermon to do jumping jacks and shout as he counted kind of lack of control.... So, we found this one that works, and I plan to stick with it as long as possible. I do not want to put Noah through any more med changes and mishaps if I absolutely do not have to.
The whole way home, I kept praying, "Come on God, PLEASE give this mama a much needed break." I knew that if I didn't find something today, I wouldn't be able to send him to school tomorrow because he won't be able to function.
I had one last resort before I called the manufacturer and unleashed my wrath upon whatever poor soul happened to answer the phone: A small locally owned pharmacy. I called, in tears of course, and explained our situation. I'm really not sure I even made sense to the pharmacist. He doesn't carry it in stock, but had a game plan in play before we even hung up ten minutes later, and before I was in his parking lot five minutes after that. When I thanked him profusely, he made me laugh by saying it really isn't rocket science, any pharmacist could've, and should've, done it. That may be so, but to this mama, it really was rocket science because no one else had been willing to help until we happened upon him.
I'm feeling incredibly grateful, because now it looks as though it will be okay. He's working with our insurance, and Noah's doctor, to change the prescription so Noah still gets the dose he needs of the medication he needs, and so we can have it before we officially run out tomorrow morning. And, he's going to order enough of it to keep it on hand for Noah's next refill.
Thank you, Jesus, for that much needed break today.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Booger Bullets and Nerf Guns
It all started at 7 this morning, with Avery yelling he couldn't find his booger bullets.I'm sorry, your WHAT????
He helpfully explained that's what Noah calls the bullets for their Nerf guns.
*Side note: For the past four summers, I've bought--and returned not even a day later--Nerf guns for our family. Noah quickly gets out of control with them, can't differentiate between game and real life, can't put them down, thinks he's super-ninja-commando-secret-spry-agent-man, resulting in Call of Duty: Black Ops in my backyard. SIGH. I don't like them. Not at all. I resist them. And this Christmas, I agreed with Shawn to give Them. One. More. Try.*
*Side note to the side note: No, Noah is not allowed to play Black Ops or any games like that. Just so we're clear.*
"NOAAAAHHHHH!"
When I asked about booger bullets, he explained to me that he heard that Army soldiers call the bad guys boogers, so that's what he decided to call his Nerf bullets.
Soooo.... You thought it would be okay to teach your four year old brother this sort of thing? And really, I grew up military, and 'booger' is definitely not one of the words soldiers use in reference to bad guys. AND, they are DARTS, not bullets. We've had this talk. AND, they are NERF guns--TOYS--not weapons of mass destruction. Yes, we've had that talk too. So many, many times.
I confiscated the Nerf guns, possibly for the 5th or 6th time since Christmas day.
Then we sat down with Noah to talk about how much his obsession scares us. Noah in tears, myself in tears, I explained that when he talks like that and behaves this way with toys, I fear the police showing up on our doorstep because of something someone overheard him say in school. I fear what goes through his head, what he's thinking when he does these things. Does he think before he speaks (yes, I do know the answer to that one)? I read the news; when we have to have these conversations with Noah, I hear words like "active shooter," "hit list" and "school shooting" in my head. It scares me.
We had to get ready for church, so we sent him to change while I showered. Later, when I was helping him comb his hair, I asked him again: "What makes any of this okay in your head? What about any of this makes sense? Because none of it makes any sense to me! Help me understand this!"
Noah's answer? "Well, the real reason I called them booger bullets is because Avery caught me putting one up my nose and I didn't know what else to tell him."
I can't even PRINT what went through my head then, as relief and frustration and disbelief and a million other emotions went flooding through my body. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Two hours later, in a matter of five minutes, we went from possible school-shooting-in-the-making to something just plain weird, but still oddly reassuring. Not once during all the crying and whining and yelling did he think to just tell us the truth right off the bat.
It all started when Avery couldn't find his booger bullets.....
PARENTHOOD: 10000000000 AMY: 0
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Truthful Tuesday: Random Thoughts
My favorite herbs to cook and bake with are rosemary, thyme, sage and marjoram. Dill is another favorite (sometimes it's just fun to say "dill weed"....). And yes, occasionally I do sing "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymmmmmmme" to myself in the kitchen. I'm not a fan of parsley though--it doesn't add much to the dish.
Learning how to bake artisan bread was one of the most freeing experiences I've ever had.
Writing is the next most freeing thing I'm able to do.
I'm very rigid, schedule-oriented, a rule follower. My kitchen is the only place I can free myself from all of that and do as I please. It is my haven, my comfort zone, my zen. I don't really follow the rules with writing, either.
My college granted me special circumstances my sophomore year to move off campus. Turns out, I needed a cat more than I needed antidepressants.
My freshman year of college, I snuck a stray cat into my dorm room and snuggled with it overnight. That same cat gave a floor mate an ER-worthy asthma attack that same night.....
I can be aloof and distant one minute, demanding and in your face the next. If I believed in such a thing, I would say I was a cat in a former life.
We have opted Noah out of the public school health class/sex ed forum. As his parents, he needs to learn these things from us, and it needs to be a team effort. In addition, my hope is that in the heat of the moment, hearing his mother's voice in his head saying words like "penis" and "vagina" will kill said moment.
Avery has met his sister in his dreams, although he does not know she is his sister. The first time he told me about playing with a girl named Gwace and then waking up when she had to go, it was like a sucker punch. Another time he bopped into the kitchen to tell me that "Gwace and Gwetta pway wots of fwisbee in heaven" and bopped right back out. Avery does not know he has a sister in heaven, nor does he know her name is Grace.
I've learned the difference between "fair" and God's timing.
I hate cleaning my house. In fact, I might actually be putting it off right now.... I might also still be putting off putting Max's favorite toy--I mean, the Christmas tree--away.
I've always been high strung and easily stressed out. When someone asks what relaxes me, I usually draw a blank.
I love the sound of snow falling at night, especially when the moon is bright.
I love the sound of snow falling at night, especially when the moon is bright.
I've learned there are friends we never meet, friends for a time, friends we talk with daily, and friends we talk with once in a blue moon, but always pick up right where we left off. I'm grateful for my friends in each of those categories, as I need each and every one of them.
2010 and 2011 were the most difficult years of my adult life, even more so than the year Noah was born, and the year my parents divorced. My college years were difficult, but I think of them more as 'the stupid years' rather than adult years.
I've seen We Bought a Zoo so many times I've lost count, and it still leaves me sobbing. It has become my go-to when I need a good cry. Typically, my people run and hide when they see me take the movie case out of the rack (you just pictured them running for cover, yelling "SHE'S GONNA BLOWWWWW," didn't you?!).
I still won't let Noah ride in the front seat. I made him ride in a booster seat until middle school, when there was an epic household battle over the issue (I wanted it, he didn't, Shawn sided with him). His safety is more important to me than being the cool mom. I think the new standards for the car seat laws are stupid. Not all 8 yr olds are created equal, so you can't make a blanket statement saying it's okay for the child to be out of a booster at 8 years old. I abide by the old laws, which used weight and height, and the guidelines for my car. Related, Avery is still in a 5 point harness.
My yard is scattered with logs, sticks and branches. They are Lilly's favorite outside toys. I don't bother picking them up anymore--it's a lot like trying to pick up the Legos inside.
I hibernate October-March. Winter months are the worst for me. I know it's coming, but it still slams into me like a freight train. Think of me more as the bear roaring out of her cave after being disturbed, and less like the caterpillar turning into the butterfly.
I have a lot of fears, but I'm trying to have more faith. My faith is the only reason I'm still here. Oh, and my college cat. Don't forget her.
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