The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Sometimes, as Monday approaches, I am chomping at the bit to sit down at my computer and blog about some crazy experience, or “ah-ha” moment from earlier in the week – and other times, I sit at my computer with a blank mind.  This is one of those times.

It’s been a pretty uneventful week, and I’m grateful for that.  However, an easy breezy life doesn’t make for very good writing!  As I toss ideas around, I keep coming back to the same thought – I am so enjoying being DJ’s mom right now. At 18 months old (my gosh, almost 19 months!), DJ is an absolute blast.  She’s my little sidekick.

And so, today I have decided to list 18 (of the million) things that I am absolutely loving about DJ (because she’s 18 months old).  Consider it a love letter to my daughter, as I’ll be writing directly to her.

(I encourage you to write your own list of things that you love about your kid/s, spouse, best friend, etc. – and share it with them this sunny day!  I am learning how quickly time passes, and these lists help to preserve memories).

DJ, I love:

1.     The way you hold my hand when we walk around town, through the grocery store, toward the slide at the park, down the street….

2.     All the new words that you’re learning, and the ways you pronounce each one.  My current favorite is “nando,” for “candle.”

3.     When you point to me and say “Mum Mum” as you nod your head up and down – as if to add certainty to the fact that I am, indeed, your mommy.

4.     How you are so eager to help around the house, and I’m especially grateful for your new chore of feeding the dogs.

5.     The way you say “Baby, Baby” every single night right as I scoop you up out of the bath – as it’s your way of requesting that we sing “Rock-a-bye baby.”

6.     How you lay down on your back in the sandbox at the park each and every time we go there to play.  I always like seeing you so relaxed in the midst of kiddo-chaos all around you.

7.     The ways you love our cats and dogs.  You are just so sweet to them as you pet them and play ball with them.  (How you love animals in general, really – including snails, squirrels, and birds).

8.     When you pucker up your little lips and give mommy, daddy, and your baby dolls kisses.

9.     How you look forward to “naked time” every night when we let you run around the house in your birthday suit before bath time.

10. When you do your “happy dance!”

11. That you never say no to yogurt, goldfish crackers, or strawberries.

12. How you pretend to be sleeping, and with squinted eyes say “Nigh nigh” while pulling the covers over your head.

13. How absolutely and incredibly fearless you are.

14. Your new bangs, and how your soft hair looks in pig-tails.

15. Speaking of pigs, I love how you say “Piggy” every time you see coins because you want to put money in your piggy bank (smart girl, keep saving!)

16. How your eyes light up whenever you see something that amazes you (which happens daily, multiple times a day).

17. The way your hair smells, and your head feels against my chest as I rock you to sleep.  BEST THING EVER.

18. When I bring you into bed with us, and you lift my arm up and over you – molding my grasp to hug you tightly.

You’re simply the best, my baby girl. I love you, and I love being your mom!

It’s been a long morning – the kind of morning lead by gross imagination, by negative stories, and by worst-case scenarios.  I have only just exhaled.

A few weeks ago, DJ had her 18 month well-check.  As you know from reading my blog, her shots were traumatic, and her growth was slow.  While I am still taking steps to manage her growth, I have also finally made peace with the fact that she is just small.  She is small – and totally healthy.  So, I can cross that worry off my list.  For now.

However, since getting her shots that wretched afternoon, DJ has been steadily complaining about her knee.  She whines, holds her knee and repeats, “knee, knee, knee” in this gentle, yet tearful voice.  For the first few days, my husband and I chalked it up to pain related to her shots, along with the enjoyment for the sympathy we readily showed.  Every time she’d complain, we were quick to offer her knee kisses and sweet, warm touches to her leg.

Fast forward two weeks, and DJ is still complaining about her knee.  Her complaints are now mixed in with her tantrums.  So, last night, after throwing herself to the floor and sprinkling complaints about her knee in with her newfound growl – we decided it was time to take her in.

Her doctor asked a few questions, made a few harmless speculations about what was likely causing the pain (if in fact it was really there, and not a trained response to hoard more compassion from us).  And then she said, “But, I think we should be thorough and do a few blood tests.”  “A few blood tests?  For what?  What would we be looking for?”  “Honestly, Gina, worst-case scenario, leukemia.  Leukemia causes bone pain.”

The world stopped.

For several minutes.

“OK, can we do that today?  How long will I have to wait for results?”  Oh my gosh.  Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.  Is this really happening?

“Yes, go to the lab now.  I will have results in 1 hour and will call you.”

I have been to that hospital a million times and suddenly forgot where the lab was.  I did a few laps around the main entrance before I remembered what I was doing there and where I was going.  We entered the lab, and my heart sank.  I had promised DJ a dozen times that morning that she wouldn’t be getting any shots today.  I was sick.  I had to break that promise, and I knew that having her blood drawn would be far more traumatic than getting an immunization.  DAMNIT.

It took two nurses, a tourniquet, and a previously untapped strength to get through the blood draw.  “Be strong. Don’t cry.  Be strong.  Don’t cry,” I kept telling myself.  It was horrific to see my baby girl so scared.  She was a trooper though, and stopped crying immediately after we left the sterile room.  I, on the other hand, cried all the way home.

I waited. And waited. And waited.  I stared at my phone for an hour and a half.  Paralyzed and unable to do anything but wait.

My husband called.  The doctor had called his number instead.  “Everything looks great, Gina.  She’s just waiting for one more test to come in, and she’ll call you once she has all the results.  So far, though, nothing to worry about.”

In between his call, and the doctor’s call – I logged into my health account and pulled up DJ’s results.  Some of the numbers were outside of the “normal” range.  I did what my husband has warned me not to do seven thousand times before, and turned to Google.  In reading other cases, and what this and that meant, I had convinced myself that DJ’s bone marrow was abnormal.  I had diarrhea.

Then, my phone rang.  The doctor.  “Everything looks great.”  She went on to explain everything she tested for, what the results meant, and even confirmed that my fears about the abnormal results.  DJ’s numbers were in fact, more favorable than the normal range!  I felt like she was talking forever, and I couldn’t comprehend any of it.  I finally interrupted, “So, she’s OK?  Not a chance of leukemia?”  She reassured me – not a chance.

Oh, thank you God.

DJ is napping peacefully now.  She is healthy.  My baby girl is healthy.  Our plan is to lay off the “knee sympathy” this week, and then return for a possible x-ray on Friday if the complaining doesn’t subside.  I can deal with hairline fractures, pulled muscles, or strained ligaments.  I can totally deal with that.

Today, I realized that there are some moms who get the call that their babies are actually sick.  Today, my heart absolutely ached for those moms.  I had ever-so-briefly put myself in their shoes and realized that they posses a strength and grace that I pray I will never know.  Today I realized that we are all in this parenting thing together – and that while my baby isn’t sick, I now have a sense of empathy that I wouldn’t have ever had if our pediatrician hadn’t said the word “leukemia.”  As of today, I will never be able to see, read about, or hear of a child with a life-threatening disease without thinking of the two miserable hours I waited to hear news about my own child.

I am stopping myself from being consumed by what-ifs, and I’m instead devoting that energy to praying for the sick children whom I know of.  I hope you will all do the same.  How wonderful to imagine a community that stops and prays, or sends positive energy, or well wishes, every single time we hear of a family suffering?  Let’s be that community. Our babies are so, so precious.  I will be holding mine close today.

No news to report except I got my period again..NATURALLY! yaaaah! This is really amazing news because it’s finally the 2nd month in a row, where I got my period naturally. Had all of the normal symptoms…I feel good things coming ahead.

It’s funny, I used to see pictures of my friends with their babies and just be like whatever or they’re cute, but nowadays, I get really giddy looking at them. Looking at facebook postings of their kids really puts a huge smile on my face and really warms my heart. I think I really am ready..

I remember some blogs ago, I was ready but still was hesitant. I mean, did I really want this now, I tell myself this but did I really want this for me or for other people. My parents or parents in law haven’t really been asking me anymore, which is good. I’ve really just been letting things happen. The only comment that came up was when we saw a baby at a restaurant this week and my mother in law goes, ” I wish you could have twins.” Believe me, so do I, but whatever..as long as they are HEALTHY!

Lately, I’ve been so busy with work and other things that I haven’t even been able to stress about not being able to have kids that things are really looking up, I mean first my period and then another..what’s next?? Baby? Perhaps! I’m just not going to stress over it..just let God work his magic. At this point, I have so much going on that I can’t even think about kids, but I think that’s a good thing. You don’t know how many times I hear people tell me that once I stop worrying or stressing about it, let alone, think about it, it just happens.

I consider myself to be an optimistic, glass half full type of person.  I like to believe in the inherent goodness of people.  I often leave my car doors unlocked when the car is just sitting in my driveway.  I walk away from my grocery cart to grab something at the other end of the aisle while my purse sits ripe for the picking.  Admittedly, I sometimes don’t take the necessary precautions like having an earthquake kit handy or a family fire escape plan because I tend to fall into the “it’ll never happen to me” camp.

My husband balances me out with what I consider his over-cautiousness.  He gets it from his parents who I think have a slight, inherent mistrust of most people.  He is the one who locks the car doors in between trips to and from the house while loading the car for a family road trip.  I am not even kidding.  He calls me to let me know his plane has landed safely when he travels and to make sure I se the house alarm before I go to bed.  He makes sure our kids are in the proper car seats, then checks and double checks in the installation of the car seats.   We are well stocked for a power outage with radios, batteries, flashlights and bottled water thanks to him.

The other day I arrived at school for my weekly stint checking out books to kindergartners and another mom stopped me in the parking lot.  “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” she said.  I gave her a puzzled look and she told me they were about to have a lockdown drill.  If I didn’t want to get stuck  in a dark room with 20 five year olds for the next half hour, I should rethink going inside.  I figured it couldn’t be that bad so I braved it and went inside.

As soon as I walked into the office, I ran into the principal.   She said she had just announced the drill and asked if I would like to go along with her on her rounds of checking all the classrooms.  I said sure.  It was eerily quiet in our normally bustling elementary school.  Our school was built in 1971 and instead of traditional classrooms with doors, the classrooms all flow together in “pods” separated by bookshelves and screens.  Within the pods each teacher has a Small Group Interaction (SGI) room where they can take their class to escape the often noisy pod areas.

As we passed through the library on the way to the lower grade pods, there was a group of fourth graders who had barracaded themselves in one of the teachers restrooms.  Each teacher was required to go into their SGI and, cover all windows, barracade doors if possible and huddle with their students in a corner.  As I followed the principal from room to room she gave instructions to teachers about what they were doing well and complimented the children on staying quiet and following the lockdown rules.

The experience was chilling.  The whole time we were walking room to room and looking at the faces of all those little kids huddled into the small rooms I felt myself start to choke up.  I kept picturing some terrible person walking around the school looking for victims.  *shudder*

But what really got me was the looks on the teacher’s faces.  I could tell they were taking this very seriously and you can bet they would do everything in their power to protect those kids, drill or real thing.  My kids.  I had to fight back the tears.

Perhaps my tendency to want to stick my fingers in my ears and sing la la la la la is easier for me than picturing the “what if.”   The reality is that while it’s nice and lovely to live in “it will never happen to me”-land, it’s much smarter to live in “maybe it could happen to me so I better be prepared”-land.  Because in an instant nice, peaceful lives can be shattered by shaking earth and monster waves.   I think we are all well aware of that right now.

DJ had her 18 month check up last week – and it was awful.  I wish I could say that the shots were the worst part, but they weren’t.  Well, not to me anyway. I am certain that if DJ could talk in sentences, she’d fight that one to the bone!  I do have to say though, that for some reason, this round of vaccinations were traumatic for her.  She cried – wait, she wailed, for what seemed like hours.  She also took full advantage of the situation and is STILL (3 days later) making me kiss her “knee” – the only word she knows for the anatomy of her leg.

So, what could have possibly been worse than the giant needles jammed into her innocent skin?  THOSE DAMN PERCENTILE CHARTS.  Damn those wicked, debilitating, fear-mongering percentile charts.

DJ has always been small.  She was 6 lbs 7 oz when she was born, and while always healthy, has just never grown exponentially.  When I look at her, I see perfection of course – and it’s only when her pediatrician mentions her ranking against “other kids” that I begin to panic.  Can someone tell me who these other kids are?

Leading up to DJ’s appointment, I was feeling incredibly confident.  I had suspected that she had gained weight, and had even been getting taller.  Because I have always been slightly obsessed with her size because she’s always been ranked below the tenth percentile, and because people always comment on how petite she is – there was a lot, in my mind, weighing (no pun intended) on the numbers from this doctor’s visit.  I was telling myself that I would finally put this obsession to rest when the doctor was able to reassure me that DJ’s numbers went up.

“Well, she’s actually lost weight since her last visit 4 weeks ago.”  Wait, what?  I felt my whole body tense up, and I froze.  Well, everything except my mouth froze – and I began rattling off how this couldn’t be, and what did it mean, and how worried this all made me.  DJ’s doctor told me that she wasn’t concerned for a number of reasons – because DJ was going to be petite based on genetics (my husband and I are both shorties!), because developmentally DJ was ahead of the gang, and because she “looked wonderful.”

We left that appointment with another check-up scheduled in 2 LONG months (yes, I will be obsessing over this for the next 2 months…..daily) – and with me on the very edge.  I was so snappy with my poor husband – and later had to apologize, then admit that I was just so, so stressed out.  I had never prepared myself for news other than that DJ was soaring UP the growth charts.

I took DJ to the park when we got home.  I was texting my good friend (and fellow worrier) while I was watching DJ walk up the playground stairs and slide down the big kid slide.  I was desperate to find comfort, encouragement, support – even if just through a simple text.  While my friend was amazing, and said all the right words, I still vomited this story all over the first mom who even looked my way.

“She just had her 18 month check up.  She’s in the first percentile for weight.  I’m devastated.”  This poor mom was probably thinking, “Get a grip, psycho – and stop airing your dirty laundry.”  However, the really amazing thing about her was that she poured out all these candy-coated words of wisdom and assurance, and sprinkled them in with a little humor, “At least she’s not short and obese – that’s a yucky combo.”

My laughter must’ve been the green light for a playground dad to interject.  He told me that two of his three children were always under the tenth percentile for height and weight – and that by the time they both turned 5, they had caught up.  He was so sweet, and helped me reason through some of the inaccuracies associated with a percentile chart.   He even made it a point to comment on how much more advanced DJ was then either of his daughters were at her age – and even compared his 16 month old son with DJ, noting how she seemed leaps and bounds beyond his capabilities.  I was super touched that for a moment, this dad was willing to say that I had the smarter, more agile kid, because he knew how desperately I needed to hear it.

When I got back home, not only was I in a better mood – but, I was ever so slightly less anxious about the appointment.  I also remembered that DJ was in all of her clothes, shoes, and most likely pee-filled diaper at her last appointment.  This was an important detail to me because I remember briefly celebrating her weight last month, only to think “Oh, well, she is wearing a few pounds of clothes.”  So, really, I don’t think DJ lost weight from her last appointment – which was my greatest concern.

I can’t pretend that I haven’t been tossing “failure to thrive” around in my mind every other hour these past few days, but I am feeling more and more confident in DJ’s individuality.  She is never going to be a big person – there are no big people in either my or my husband’s family (by that, I seriously mean no one over 5’7”).  So, really, what do I expect?  If the doctor isn’t worried, why am I?

I will keep buying every toddler recipe book that I see, will keep up the butter-on-everything approach, will keep my cookie cutters readily available to make sandwiches and fruit more attractive, and will continue allowing a scoop of whole milk ice cream here and there in combination with all the rest of the uber-healthy food that I prepare fresh for DJ everyday – oh, and will keep surrendering my fears.  In my gut, I know she’s fine.

My baby girl is perfect – and I am so, so grateful for the strangers in the park a few days ago who were selfless enough to let me have the most perfect kid on the playground that evening.

P.S. I stayed awake until 2:00 this morning making food charts, lists of calorie-rich foods, and even new snack recipes.  Whether or not there’s something to worry about, taking control makes me feel like a better mom.

She likes us. She really, really likes us.

Last weekend, my husband and I had an impromptu afternoon snuggle session on our bed with DJ. As she was turning back and forth between us, being sure to face each of us for a few seconds at a time, it occurred to me – she likes us. I said to my husband, “She won’t think we’re this cool forever.” My heart welled with sadness, and soared with joy while I allowed that thought to really resonate.

On Saturday, DJ turned 18 months old. We celebrated her half birthday with all of her favorite things. It was a small-scale party all day, minus the guests and gifts. One of my dad and stepmom’s favorite stories to tell is about the day I woke up crying on one of my half birthdays because there was no party. As legend goes, I kept saying with a tiny, sad voice, “But I’m half-and-a-two.” So while DJ couldn’t quite comprehend the reason behind her candle-topped scoop of vanilla bean ice cream – I knew we were celebrating another six months of incredible love, growth, and memories.

DJ is amazing, and she thinks that we’re equally as great. That kind of blows my mind. As I get caught up in my daily insecurities, fighting off lies about not being fit enough, not keeping the house clean enough, cooking the turkey meatballs for too long, not being fashionable, not remembering important dates, etc. – I am reminded that my precious daughter overlooks all of that. She sees me as a fantastic mom, her favorite playmate, and someone who is brave, compassionate, consistent and dependable. She thinks I’m a great cook (minus the days when I try to feed her peas), and couldn’t care less about how often I vacuum.

As parents, we always talk about the wonder of seeing the world through fresh eyes again as our children make discoveries, observations, and draw conclusions. We discuss our renewed trust in all things good, and we might even marvel at the way water runs through a gutter. Our children make us see the simple beauty that surrounds us each and every day. They force us to stop and pay attention to the things that we have taken for granted – the things that, over time, we have just stopped seeing.

It makes me wonder, when’s the last time I really saw myself? When’s the last time I stopped and took inventory of the woman who DJ sees in me?

DJ likes me. She really, really likes me. And not just because I’m her mom, and she has to – but because she thinks I’m awesome for a million different reasons. Have you ever seen that bumper sticker that reads, “I want to be the person who my dog thinks I am?” Well, I want to embrace the person that my daughter knows I am.

No news to report at this time. Just been sticking to my yoga, which has really helped me in all different aspects. I feel more stretched out and flexible. I’ve been burning about 400-500 calories an hour. I have been sleeping better because I also work on focusing on my breathing and relaxing at the end. Even though it’s not intense, I get an awesome work out that I’m sore the next day. I’m really happy with this and will continue with it. I am even reading that its pretty safe to do yoga throughout your pregnancy, but towards the 2nd and 3rd trimester, you’ll have to make some modifications or eliminate some of the moves. I also came across prenatal yoga tapes, so I’m excited to continue with this workout.

On another note, just a couple days ago, I started experiencing the same symptoms as last month. Breast and nipples are very sensitive and sore. Lower back has had sharp pains, but luckily, I had my monthly massage appointment and they were able to help with that. I’ve also noticed some mood change and fatigue. All of the signs that either point to getting a period or pregnant. You don’t know how exciting this is…when I started feeling the symptoms, I was telling my husband about them and was jumping up and down. Is my body finally normal? This would be another huge step. At this point, I’m going to wait and see. If my calculations are correct, I should be getting my period on March 7 or 8, which sounds about right, having these symptoms a week before my period. If there is no period, I might give it another week. Last time, my period came late, so I might be on the 32 day cycle?

I’m a little hesitant on taking clomid again. I was suffering from insomnia for a year and half. I think the reason behind it was my hormones, stress, and coming off of Lorazapem. I would toss and turn until 3:30 -4:30 am and get up around 9. After a few days, this will catch up to you. I felt out of it all the time, not focused, and I even felt like my insides were weak. After doing yoga, eating oatmeal/crackers late at night, staying away from chocolate after 3 pm, I started to finally fall asleep around 12-12:30. I would wake up easily, if my dog moved around or if the weather was acting up, but I was able to sleep. I noticed that when I took clomid, I’d have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, but when I was off of it, I was fine. I don’t want to go through that again..it’s HELL to not be able to sleep, but my doctor recommended me stay on it for 3-6 cycles. Hopefully I get a period because then I can see if I could discontinue this. Perhaps just let it come naturally…

About a week ago, my son and I were cooking dinner together, chatting about the day.  We don’t often eat dinner together anymore, but when we do, it reminds me of the days when eating dinner together was always an important thing to do.

While we were spooning with spoons and flipping with flippers, he told me how he had talked to some of his friends and family about a story he partially remembered, from sometime back when he was much younger, and had asked them if they knew of the story or where it had come from.  Nobody knew.

He spoke of how it was a fond memory for him and that he remembered hearing it often.

When I asked him to tell me what he remembered, he said he remembered it had something to do with wild horses running and grabbing hold of one of them as they ran by.  When he paused, I immediately knew the story.  I knew it because I created it and I told it to the kids.  Almost every night when they were much, much younger.

He was excited that I knew of what he spoke about and wanted me to refresh his memory.

It was at that moment that I knew that I had done something right.  When I used to tell the kids bedtime stories, I always tried to come up with a ‘franchise’ story, the same way Hollywood looks for a blockbuster they can write sequels to so they keep paying off.  Likewise, I would search for that story the kids would want to hear again and again.  Something they might continue doing with their kids when they got older.

And so, it took a couple of decades, but I had confirmation that the franchise was alive.  Not many blockbusters in Hollywood have a life like that.  James Bond is the only one that comes to mind.  Not even Harry Potter can top it.

It wasn’t long.  It wasn’t much.  But it helped them go to sleep when they thought they couldn’t.  As I put my hand to the side of their face and gently brushed their silky hair back over their heads, I told the story in a soft voice.  And it went a little something like this…

“I want you to close your eyes and dream of large fields of grass with wild horses running across them.  The sun is warm and the wind is gently blowing through your hair.  The horses are beginning to run past you, all around you.  And as they do that,  you look for the most beautiful horse, the one that catches your eye.  And as it runs past you, I want you to grab hold of that horse and pull yourself up onto it and ride it.  Ride it as it takes you to anyplace you want to go tonight.  And when you wake up in the morning, I want you to tell me all about it.”

And they slept.  Goodnight kids.

A few weeks ago I found myself knee deep in the “should we medicate kids”  portion of my life.   In real life, I am pretty easy going most of the time. Frankly, I don’t have time to worry about anyone else and their opinion of my parenting or choices.  I have my hands full just taking care of myself and the 5 people that I feed on a daily basis.  There are many topics in motherhood that foster lively discussion; working moms vs. stay at home moms, breastfeeding, attachment parenting and the ever popular “what is the right way to potty train/sleep train a child” issue (I never get tired of that one).  I am confident in my parenting choices, not because I know I always choose the right thing, but because I do the best I can and that is all anyone can do.  It seems to be working.  

I seem to remember a time when it seemed like all anyone could talk about was how ADHD med’s were over prescribed and doctors were handing out perscriptions like tickets to Lady Gaga.  The word Ritalin took on an ominous meaning.  It seemed like the overwhelming dialogue was “beware the evil doctors that want to dope up your kids”.  That didn’t seem to be the case with us.  Frankly, it took us multiple evaluations, many thousands of dollars, three therapists and a psychatrist before the subject was even brought up (and trust me, I asked).  I think the pendulum has shifted pretty far the other way.   I kept asking if  med’s were an option and I kept being told that there was “no pill that was going to magically make everything better”.  Finally, after three years of behvior therapies and much pressure on my end, we started the conversation.  There is a lot of information out there. A LOT.  Books, websites and plenty of conflicting antecdotal evidence about medication for kids.   I am not talking about cold medicine for the under 2 set, I am talking about stimulants, Type A anti-psycotics and using other kinds of medicines off label to treat the slice of the childhood population that struggle to function in everyday life.   

We have spent the last month educating ourselves and trying out different typs of meds.  There is a buffet of issues that we are trying to address with our boy and we have kind of started at the top of the list in order of things that are the hardest to live with.   We tried stimulants (to address impuslive behavior that manifests itself in agressive and anti social ways).  They worked.  It was like I had a different kid.  Once we knew those were working, we took a break from those and are trying to address the anxiety issues and we will add them back into the mix later. Next we attacked his anxiety.  This one is trickier. Each type of medication comes with a host of side effects and we are trying to figure out what brand and doses give us the most impact and the least side effects.  One med that managed his anxiety beautifully also made him feel like his skin was crawling with bugs.  Another seemed to help him sleep better, but he would rage the second they wore off.  The one we are on now works ok, but he has no appetite and we have to take him off them every so often and try to make him eat.  And so it goes. 

The biggest change is that I can see a light at the end of the tunnel for this boy.  He no longer acts like he is so uncomfortable in his skin.  The pills have bought Cubby a split second between his impulses and his actions–and we are starting to see the thought process take over and less agressive behavior.  He is calm.  He is peaceful.  Sometimes I do feel like we are extinguishing the spark and is my Cubby.  His impulsivity and charm and energy are part of who he is, and I hope we are able to eventually find a balance where he can have his personality and some peace too.   I understand the debate and I even understand why some people don’t want to depend on drugs to help their kids find solutions to their daily success. There is a good reason that some people don’t think using med’s on kids this young is a good idea.  The side effects can be awful and long term use comes with it’s own set of problems.  Sometimes, we just have to look at the opportunity cost.  It is not a choice we are making without research, compassion and prayer.  But it is clear to me that there is NO QUESTION that they are the right choice for this particular child of mine.

I can understand the caution, really.  What I cannot argue with (or understand the aversion to) is the difference the medications have made in our family.  I have a son that can interact with his siblings, he can have empathy for others, he is helpful and kind (in between spurts of normal six year old blockhead behavior).  Our family functions on a vibe of “all for one”  instead of “tag team the crazy” for at least some of the day.     We still have a long, long way to go. We are working our way closer to a diagnosis that will likely make the world a very tricky place for my son to navigate for the rest of his life.  It’s not fun to learn about the mental health system and see first hand the obvious and “there is nothing we can do about it” flaws the system presents.   Another chapter and another cause as far as I am conserned– but for now, I have a kindergartener who has finally made a friend, walked into his classroom by himself, is learning his letters and numbers and can be left alone for minutes at a time.  I feel like I have a bit more room to breathe, to pay attention to my other children. It no longer feels like one child is sucking the oxygen and life and energy out of me every single minute of the day.    When those doctors told me that there wasn’t “a pill for that” they were totally, totally wrong. All of those changes feel like magic to me.