Status: Inpatient :(

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Doctors want to know when this downward spiral began, and strangely enough, I can only answer really with her date of birth. I realize that sounds somewhat fatalistic or hyperbolistic or something like that, but I’m not really exaggerating. It’s not like we’ve had some sort of graph showing some nice ups, some good plateaus, etc. Overall, life just seems like some sort of downward spiral that seems to change color and spin. Bad things come and go, skills change and grow. She learns new things. We all change. But I can’t say that there has been any sort of reprieve more than a week at a time from the challenging behaviors, overall aggression, and ongoing anxiety. They don’t really like that answer. They want something more helpful that they can easily correlate with a medication change or a shift in my family life. I don’t blame them; I do too.

The downward spiral tightened and shifted intensity mid-October, with increasing rage, a lower grasp on reasoning and logic, and physical maladies/hypochondriism taking over on an hourly basis. December was awful. I didn’t go one single day without a phone call from the school. I had to leave early many days, several days I literally could not get her to even go to school due to some sort of real or perceived physical malady. Her foot hurts. Her back hurts. Her throat is killing her.

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The Victim

 

 

(This is screamed, raged, loudly and insistently-whined. Think meltdown, anger, pain. But sometimes will walk around a few minutes like everything is totally normal and nothing hurts at all. Then sometimes mid-pain meltdown, start raging and melting down about something completely and totally unrelated and totally illogical, random, like, “WHY WON’T YOU GIVE ME HIGH HEELS!!!!” or “I NEED A SMARTPHONE!!!!” Do not read this calmly:) “I need an xray! I need to go to the hospital! I need to see the doctor, call 911 now! I am in so much pain! I can’t handle it, call 911, now! I need to go to the emergency room! Take me to the doctor now! Take me to the doctor!” (crying, sobbing, whining, raging, hobbling, clutching body parts, dragging me around, etc)

I cannot physically manipulate her, and there are no threats to make her go. One day, the meltdown that lasted for hours over going to the doctor was so insistent I finally just took her.

I sat in front of the doctor, holding my head between my hands because by that time my head was killing me, “Yes, doctor, she says her back hurts. No, I’m not sure there is anything wrong with it at all. I couldn’t get her to go to school today.”

The onslaught of verbal attack when I ignore her malady is just horrible. I’m the worst mother in the world. I hate her. She is going to tell everyone how horrible I am. I don’t care about her, I never did. She should just go die. She should just go kill herself now, because even her own mother doesn’t care about her. Because everything hurts, and her very own mother doesn’t even care about her pain. She is going to tell everyone about it.

“Why wont you just take me to the doctor! I can’t handle it, I need a doctor! Now! I need an xray! Now! I need the emergency room! Call the doctor! Now! Call the doctor! Call 911!” Again, like before. Rage. Anger. Pain. Meltdown. Random meltdowns about miscellaneous other things thrown in for good measure, like glitter from hell. Fucking demons always messing with stuff. Then she’ll be doing things and walking around, and I swear, her foot/arm/leg/back MUST be fine. It’s enough to make me think I’m going insane.

Anyway….

Im rambling. This stuff is just a small part of the awfulness that’s been going on at my house lately. The random pain and fits about the pain and trying to get her to go to school amidst the pain. The pain does happen at school too, the poor school nurse and front office staff…. >>sigh<< They deserve medals. I try to bring them baked goods when I can. I should do more. I just can’t. I should do more for Emma, my husband. I should do more for myself, because I’m falling apart, but I can’t.

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The Husband

So. Random insertion: Imagine for a moment that you are married to a veteran. (Together 3 years, not her father) Yeah, this dude, he’s really a decent man. He’s got a good heart. He’s actually pretty reasonable, and  very logical. He’s got PTSD, he deals with things from a pretty even keel. Especially since I encouraged him to start some meds that have helped with automatic fight/flight response. Anyway, so, here I am. I’ve got this guy that has served 2 tours in Iraq. He’s helped pick up his buddy’s body parts. He’s cleaned up some blood, brains, held bleeding friends. Sorted out dead bodies, it’s a part of the deal. He’s been injured, blown up a number of times… I forget the count, over 20 IEDs. He doesn’t brag, but these things are under his skin. And here is my daughter (on a daily/hourly basis) running around screaming and raging in my face with her imagined broken ankle as she curses me and tells me I’m the worst mother in the whole world because I won’t call 911, acts like she can’t possibly walk or carry her bowl to the kitchen from the table one minute and then run around with the dogs the next. Yeah, it’s stressful. He holds it all in check and just walks the other way. It’s small, but I just thought I’d express another small element of the whole ordeal.

There’s so much to explain.

Christmas Break was a nightmare. She spent most of it trying to break her legs, break her ankles, threatening suicide, wanting to die, and telling her dad and myself to fuck off. In between throwing hysterical fits wanting to know why she can’t have an iPhone, a fin-fun-mermaid-tale, and a $500 silicone baby doll. She hates herself and me, and everything sucked. She had no interest in drawing or stamps or any of her usual crafty stuff that she would have spent hours entertained with a year or 8 months ago. She wants to eat about 900 pounds of food a day, and rages when I don’t give it to her. She made numerous attempts at breaking her ankle, tried to run away once, and told some extremely scary manipulative lies regarding her self-injury attempts. She physically attacked her teacher twice in the two weeks before break. She threw herself off the top of her bunk-bed at least two times.

Long story short, over the last 10 days, we made 3 separate trips to the Children’s Hospital Emergency room, trying to get her into an in-patient psychiatric program for treatment. After nearly 24 hours total spent at the ED, Emma was admitted to the Neuropsychiatry Special Care inpatient unit.

That has been horrible and good. I’m telling you now folks, if you’ve never committed your child, you have no idea the roller coaster of mixed emotions. I’m so thankful and grateful to have the help and support. I’m so glad she was able to get in. I’m glad that they are so good there, and that she is relatively happy and being treated so well. I have hope that in the end she will get some sort of treatment that will help save her and my sanity, and therefore our family life.

AT THE SAME TIME, oh my god. The guilt. And I’m just so incredibly heartbroken! It’s like there’s a part of my spirit that will forever be so sad that my little girl is not okay. It’s not that she’s abnormal; I don’t give a rat’s ass if she doesn’t fit in. I don’t care if she stands out, doesn’t assimilate, etc. It’s that she’s so incredibly unhappy, miserable, in pain and constant suffering. It’s that her world is intolerable, awful, abusive (she feels) so much of the time. I don’t know if I will ever just ‘get over’ having a miserable disabled child.

Random Tiny Clip Emma: NEEDED HEELS RIGHT NOW

Does that make any sense?

Fuck. I never thought it would boil down to this. Give me an ugly, disfigured child. Give me mental retardation. Give me feeding tubes, shitty diapers, enemas. I don’t care.

But the rage, hate, and HORRIBLE UNHAPPINESS.

I am always heartbroken that my child is so damn miserable….

Anyway. She is there, at the hospital. At the bizarre form of Emma Disneyland (she loves hospitals, being that medical stuff is still her #2 autism obsession and she thrives off the attention/etc). That was last Tuesday night, this is Monday. I saw her Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Not Saturday. Her dad visited her on Sunday. I was supposed to see her today, but the roads were so bad I had to cancel. I told them she could call me from 12-1 when I was supposed to visit. She didn’t call. I want to cry. Why didn’t she call me? Now I’m crying. Fuck.

I will be there tomorrow, I have an appointment in the afternoon and will visit her before the appointment. I think they might release her tomorrow, if not – likely Wednesday for sure.

The goal is for her to do the outpatient program once released. That is IF (Oh, please say yes,) Medicaid approves for her to attend. The outpatient program is every day from 8:30am-2:30pm mon-fri. This would be for approximately 3-5 weeks or so, there isn’t a definitive timeline, as it depends on her progress. I wouldn’t be able to work during this time, and that sucks big time, as I will obviously have no income. I’ll also have to drive, and eat out while up there. I’m trying to see if we can stay at the Ronald McDonald House while there, too. It’s $20/day, but the driving to/from will kill me. The good news is that my work informed me over the weekend that they will hold my job for me until Emma’s treatment is done. I cannot tell you what a relief that is; I’m so incredibly fortunate!

I have a lot more to write about all of this, about what is going on with me throughout this process and the last few months, about Barnes and Noble, about Emma’s obsessions, about blogging, and some more. But I have to stop sometime.

At the moment, I’m trying SO hard to see this glass has half-full, because it’s so easy for it to be half-empty. Thanks for reading. Hope this wasn’t too boring. I feel like I kind of just rambled on and on. Adios.

Here’s something more happy to leave you on:

Video to go with the above photos: Emma and her Mermaid Costume

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A good moment at Grammy’s House in October, 2016

Wheaties Will not Turn Emma Into a Gymnastics Star, but Perhaps a Prize-Winning Boxer. And I Don’t Mean the Dog.

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Too much time has passed to adequately fill you in on the last year+ of life with Emma. There has been change, and much has stayed the same too. We still have: -Challenges, -Ups and Downs, -Good Days, -Bad Days, -Times we Laugh, -Times we Cry, -Late Nights, -Tired Eyes, -Broke Backs, -Happy Hearts, -Screaming Tirades, -Loving Hugs, and Autism.

I’ve been wondering exactly how to ease the upcoming subject into my post without alerting any autism-ma’s and pa’s about the material. Why? Because a year ago, I would have started reading one of my favorite blogs, and gotten to a certain point where the dreaded initials are typed, and started to fade out. “Crap,” I might have thought, “there goes the neighborhood!” I would have likely been annoyed at losing a blog that I thought was maybe going to remain sane, down-to-earth, and not jump on the Autism Bandwagon that I detest so much.

The subject? The material? The DREADED initials?

GFCF.

(Phew. Okay. I said it. Are you still here? Still reading? I hope so ~ Because it’s become a part of our lives, and I’d like to tell you my little story about it.)

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Emma has ongoing digestive issues, like many children with autism. She also had many stomach aches. We went in to see a GI specialist about a year ago, and he took an x-ray. He said she was so full of poop, and impacted/etc, that it was causing her ‘leaking’ and tummy aches. He told us to do this GI cleanse, and then put her on a daily dose of Miralax.

“What the hell else?” I thought to myself during and after the appointment. I tend to be pretty honest and straightforward. I told the GI guy that I just didn’t see myself being able to implement this for at least several weeks, but that I’d give it a shot when I could. He thought that was incredibly rude of me, but I didn’t care. School, Driving, Autism, Not potty trained at the time, and all the other stuff going on led to constant overwhelm and an inability for me to take on anything new, especially a committed regime like daily Miralax. Let alone the cleanse he recommended. So, time went on… And in the end, Emma was ‘going’ every day. I felt that things were probably moving along just fine, as she didn’t seem constipated any more. We solved potty training (mostly, more about that another day). Whatever.

Stomach aches ensued, we ended up going back to him in February of this year. He did an x-ray. Showed her “backed up like a freight train,” (his words, not mine) and he then got very irritated with me for not having taken his advice. He said that he would not see Emma again unless we did the GI cleanse. >SIGH<

So. GI Cleanse. It involved putting my daughter on 48 hours of clear liquids only, and on something like 8+ cap-fulls of Miralax. Oh, By the way, did I mention that her behavior had gone completely out of control? She had become increasingly violent, angry, aggressive, you name it. She was screaming horrible things at us that we had no idea where she got in her head, like, “I’m going to BURN YOU!!!!!!” and “I want you to go get SHOT!!!!” and etc. She was attacking us physically, and …life was hard. So. I anticipated 48 hours of physical abuse. I went and spent over $200 I didn’t have at WalMart buying games, toys, new playdough, etc. I figured I’d better be ready to take on anything and keep her very, very happy.

We started the cleanse. The cleanse went on. She ate about a million popsicles, and I got her every kind of soda and juice imaginable. She only asked for food 3 times.

(Do you want me to repeat that?!?!?!)

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She never broke down. In fact, she was nicer and better than she had been for a long time. There was no violence, minimal tantrums, no heavy meltdowns with head banging. I didn’t get kicked or hit. I only opened 2 of the toys I bought.

And I wondered first, Who replaced my child with this new and improved unit? Was there a recall I missed? And I wondered second, What in the world is my daughter eating that would cause such a sudden change?

That’s when I knew we’d better go ahead and give the GFCF diet a try. It wasn’t sugar or food dye affecting her, that’s pretty much all she’d been consuming for 48 hours straight. My husby and I decided we’d test one full month and check in with everyone at school and home about if it was worth continuing.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

Now. My daughter was in no way cured of autism. At all. She is still and does still have a developmental delay, a diagnosis of autism. However, she stopped being so violent and angry. The irate meltdowns disappeared, and the regular meltdowns seemed to lessen. That is what we saw at home. Less screaming, no hitting and kicking.

School? Emma’s para summed it up by saying, “If it was my daughter, and I firsthand saw these results – I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to keep her on the diet.” So, despite the cost and added workload on the mother (me), we kept her on the diet.

I’ll be honest, in most ways it sucks. It’s more expensive, it takes way more time to come up with lunches and breakfasts to send to school that she will eat, and it’s just …more work. My son is not a fan of most of my GFCF treats, but hey, I guess that means he won’t eat them all, eh?

The strangest parts: Emma has lost a little weight (a good thing. She was not obese, but a bit overweight, which is a huge concern to doctor’s these days. I was tired of fielding the questions about her restricted eating patterns and what I’ve done to try to overcome them). She is eating a wider variety of food then before, definitely. Also, she is eating way less food. (She’d have these crazy hungry days where all she would want to do all day was eat – It was all I could do to keep the eating to some sort of minimum. Other days she could eat more than my teenaged son.)

Most strangely, she has totally and completely accepted her diet. My 5 year old daughter that hates change and only wants her way? She says, “Okay mommy, I can’t have that. It has (wheat/dairy).” We call it her Allergy Diet. She’s only broken down about not having a grilled cheese sandwich ONCE in the last 9+ weeks.

(Is this post long enough yet???? ha! I’m making up for lost time, folks. Hang in there.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Two days ago Bob and I decided that we needed to test this diet out a little bit, and see what some wheat would do. I let her have a hot dog with the bun. Then, I let her have two slices of bread, and then three pretzel crackers. She had been normal all day. About 45-60 minutes later she turned into the bride of satan. Bob kept looking for pea soup, and I literally sat in the front seat of the car plugging my ears and trying to smile to hide my ear-pain. She went ballistic; she screamed for hours, she repeatedly kicked us in the car while in her carseat, she banged her head back over and over again, and nothing was right. She sobbed and sobbed over nothing relevant. It went on and on… 4 hours later? A little bit better, but not much. The next day? A little iffy sometimes, but better than the previous evening. Today? Fine. Although she has asked for more bread about 10 times, which is more than the last 9 weeks. Hmpf.

-Gads-

No more wheat. Please, dear people, no more wheat.

Why did we do this? Because I feel it’s important to not blindly trust something, especially if it’s not easier and cheaper. I want proof. I also wanted to try to see if it’s both wheat and dairy, or just one that is more of a problem than the other. Obviously we figured a little something out this weekend. I am making her lunches and breakfasts with a renewed vigor. Also? I have a secret weapon I can use to get out of family functions… (Ha ha ha ha! Please know I’m joking!!!)

Stay tuned though, because next weekend we’re going to give dairy a try.

 – – – – – – – – – – – –

PS: I did one of my big research papers in my abnormal child psychology class on the subject of the efficacy of the GFCF Diet in treating children with Autism. The reports are that it is inconclusive; there is no proof of it curing or changing a child’s autism in any way. So. I used that to back up my stance that I was not going to put Emma on the diet. The results are still inconclusive, and so I don’t mean to tell anyone what to do. I can however say that our experience has been somewhat drastic and specific. The end. For now. xoxoxo

Photo on 2-10-13 at 12.34 PM #3

Small Victories

There I was, crouched on the floor in front of Emma with tears of pure joy streaming down my face. Did I mention she was sitting on the toilet? Pooping? No?

When I talk to others about the ecstasy of the small victory I’m not sure they get it. Right now it’s the most beautiful and important gift that autism has brought to my house; it cannot be underestimated. It brings me to my knees – and sometimes on a daily basis.

You know, other parents have to wait for successes. Their kids need to win something, exceed their peers in some way, show an amazing aptitude, keep their room clean for a month. (Hell. I can’t even do that!)

Not my girl. She just needs to sit there, legs swinging on the porcelain god, humming a little tune under her breath. It’s been six months since she would get within 5 feet of a toilet. I have renewed hope, and there are no gold or jewels that could compare to the preciousness of that.

small circles

One thing I’ve recently absorbed, is that nearly everything really does change. With the exception of lack of sleep (which is a big deal), many of Emma’s challenges have morphed. Even slight change leads to new feelings of elation and at times desperation. But hey – at least its a new desperation.

It’s forcing me to come to new alignments with parenting, patience, positivity and hope. I mean – to really internally register that “XYZ” won’t be  in its exact same form forever is liberating. I know that there are certain actions that we, as parents of a child with autism, may have to deal with on a long-term basis. But I’m focusing on all of those other things…

I think the trick to “the allowing” is to do your best to SHHHHHH- fear responses. I’ve found that I try to protect myself from further disappointment by fearing the worst. That “XYZ” will NEVER change, that it will get worse, that it will be bigger and heavier and stronger than ever. This same protective fear doesn’t allow me to appreciate when things lighten in a certain area. I sometimes don’t even see my little reprieves, because I’m fearful of it changing back – or turning into something WORSE.

Here’s a funny example: Emma went from wearing only dresses and sometimes pants, to suddenly only wearing stretchpants (leggings). This has become very problematic. After about 6 months of this, I went ahead and got rid of a bunch of new jeans I’d gotten her. Why wait? Several weeks later, she suddenly wanted to wear JEANS. Of course, right?!?! I found myself just fearing that she’d go to ONLY wearing jeans, and not any of the 900 new pairs of leggings we’d gotten her. I saw $$$, I saw fits, I saw my daughter refusing to wear another pretty dress.

But this new little voice speaking let me know that it’s all right – – It’s okay to enjoy progress. It’s okay to celebrate her victories. It’s okay to take a big, HUGE  >>sigh<< of relief that a behavior might be going away, however momentary.  There are always new challenges. But I’m discovering that preparing myself for future challenges by NOT enjoying current victories is really short-changing and ineffective.

NOT that any of you ever do that, with your autistic child, typical child, or any other part of your life. Heh-heh!

Anyway. Enough introspection. Whatsup here????? Well, I’ve been very bad at posting, obviously. For those that don’t know, I’m working towards my bachelors degree at a local state college. This last semester I had to take 6 classes at once, four of them studio classes. Translation = CRAZYTOWN. I’ve also been working hard with some very impressive and dedicated women in Oregon on our new non-profit, The “A” Team Justice League, AKA “The A Team” (You can find this group on Facebook). Lots of details we are still working out, etc. I’d love for you all to check out and befriend our website at www.theateamtoday.org. I’ve also edited and produced our second publication of LoveABLE News. ‘Folks with autism in your lives (and those that don’t!) PLEASE check out this newsletter. It has so many hysterical articles, and some wonderful perspectives, reviews, etc. You don’t have to live in Oregon to enjoy and participate; I live in Colorado!

I was working a bit on the website, and decided to throw all of my blogroll on there. They’re all great, wonderful, articulate people dealing with autism in their own or kid’s lives. It suddenly made me SO homesick! I miss reading everyone’s words, and lives, and used to feel like I knew what was going on with the peeps. But it’s okay. I’ll be a loyal reader/commenter again, hopefully soon.

Emma is just growing like mint. 🙂 She’s cute, cuddly, and as non-negotiable as ever! She’s really making some great progress. She can write her name sometimes, and has started drawing some figures. She also made up her first song last week, it goes:

“Momma likes peanut butter, Emma doesn’t.” (refrain)

So cute. Two days ago she started switching Momma and Emma around, for humor effect, I was really impressed and have to tickle the stuffing out of her when she does it.

Her anxiety and OCD issues have increased drastically, but hey, that’s for another post. We’re sticking to the positive right now. Right???? Lots of love to my loyal readers. Love you all!

Summertime and Dinnertime

Hmmmmm…..

I’ve spent the last two weeks transporting Em and myself [and my momma, that was kind and valiant enough to join us!] to and from Denver for her intensive feeding clinic. It had its ups and downs – but I tell you – she ate! If any of you out there have a child with restricted diets and eating issues, and would be interested in learning some of what we did, please let me know. I’d be happy to share! 

We also got to take her to the Zoo.  She enjoyed the animals for the first 30 seconds, and was then in total and complete awe of the strollers, babies, and curbs/sitting benches to climb and jump off of. 🙂 I took lots of pictures though, because she did SEE the animals, and might be really happy to look back and talk about it later. She has a really great memory, so we’ll see.

I’ve been cleaning my house and trying to get some semblance of normalcy before my foot surgery in < two weeks. Emma has been having a BLAST lately, in absolute heaven. We go outside, she plays in the mud and the kiddie pool. She helps water the flowers and plant new ones. She changes her clothes every 5 minutes. She runs outside to pee in the grass. {Yeah, I know, not the greatest thing} There are underwear and pull-ups all over the house and property right now.  Ha ha ha ha! 

She’s continuing to broaden her vocabulary and language ability, which is wonderful, mostly. It’s when we’re having dinner [or whatever] and she starts screaming at us to “STOP TALKING, BE QUIET!!!” over and over, until we eventually DO shut up that I wonder.  😀

Her play and imagination skills are also vastly improving. No, they still aren’t anywhere close to ‘normal’ or typical… but they do exist, and are rapidly increasing. What more could I ask for? [besides a mute button]

Sunshine is here. We’re all pretty happy…

On a last and final note, food for thought… would you give up your child’s disability? The chance for the same ‘chances’ as any other child? For reaching expectations? For more peace and security????  BUT, would you be willing to give up the incredible uniqueness of your child? The poignant lessons they bring to others? The fact that your child is never forgotten, never leaving a person untouched and unchanged? What would you ‘lose’ if you lost the ISSUE? 

I dont know, I don’t have any answers. I just found myself in a very very strange and confusing place [emotionally] when trying to consider this question.  I couldn’t say one way or the other. Isn’t that WEIRD?????

Any other parents out there that have a non-typical child, how do you feel about this?

good days, and not-so-good-days

Today wasn’t an especially good day with Miss Em.  I left this morning before she woke up and headed over to my sister’s office.  It was empty, quiet, and perfect to get my Autism Presentation finished.  I have my first actual presentation scheduled this week [holy cow!].  Anyway, apparently she was mostly normal for DH and R while I was gone.  Then, I got home, and the damn dam broke.

She spent nearly the entire waking day screaming, clinging, desiring ridiculous things.  She wanted her blanky, there, now.  No, now she doesnt want cereal, and she’s going to SCREAM about it.  What the heck are those dogs doing near her?  [scream, hit, scream, hit].  Pull on mommy’s hair, pants, shirt.  Oh, lets bite mommy’s shoulder now.  She wants the park, she wants Dora, she wants spongebob, she needs a new diaper NOW [we just changed it 2 seconds, literally, prior.]  Ugh.  She wants the dishwasher soap.  She wants the OTHER lotion.  [scream, cry, scream, cry.]  Cry. Cry. Cry. Scream. Throw. Cry.

Did you ever know that a child could be so incredibly unhappy?

She needs me to hold her, ALLL the time [she weighs 45 f.ing lbs].  She wants to wear the bra that I’M wearing.  Why the HELL is that dog chewing on it’s bone across the room???? [SCREAM, SCREAM, “NOOOOOOOOOOOO ZEUS!!!!”  For godsake.  I was NOT about to get up and punish the poor dog this time.  Scream, scream, she wants soda.  juice.  chocolate milk.  a lollypop.  cereal.  chips.  chocolate.  NO, she doesnt want ANY OF THAT.  Cry, cry cry.  OH WAIT, the little blanket she went to sit on had a FOLD IN THE CORNER.  She went ballistic.  UGH.

Are you guys getting the point?  I’m actually not making this up.

And these are only the parts that I wasn’t able to put out of my head.  I think my ears are bleeding.  Why does she save this all for me?  Why?  I mean, ultimately I’m glad that she’s so much more contained and happy for other people.  But the poor mom needs some love too, you know????

[this is emma last week, when her poor nose/upper lip was sore from blowing her nose so much.  She HAD to have a bandaid on it.  It was interesting watching her eat a grilled cheese sandwich like this…]

…and from the back row-

Oh sweet mother of all, does it have to hit from all sides?  I’m dealing with:

1) The chaos of my autistic toddler [sorry, PFL aside] who is now exhibiting some horrible compulsive habits to go along with the rest of it all

2) School, which I seem to be about 2.15 steps behind where I need to be, at all times

3) Trying to recover from going-on-three-months of ridiculous colds/influenza, a horrible now-9-month plantar fascitis, a leaky bladder [I know, too much information] and a diet that doesn’t fit well to life on the run

4) My grandma’s death, and my mother’s overwhelming grief at losing her mother [I just can’t stand it when my mommy is sad… 😦 ]

NOW.  LET’S ADD MY 15-YEAR OLD SON, R. TO THE MIX…  Gads.  I’ll just go with today: 

He let his friend come over to hang out [no friends allowed at the house when we’re not home, unless approved by us parental units].  So, when my DH came home for lunch, R. got scared, and his friend decided to leave via R.’s second-story bedroom window.  Then, R. forgot to SHUT the window, leaving it wide open with curtains trailing outside.  It’s winter time, remember?

At dinner we are eating, and it comes up yet again that my 15-year old doesn’t know the months of the year.  We’ve been working on this for a loooong, looooooooooong time….  :/   He doesn’t remember what month Halloween or Thanksgiving is in, and he doesn’t know what month we are in right now.  He guesses, “Uh, January???”  :\  I still don’t know for sure if he understands YEARS and all that, in connection with dates.  Ugh.

Later, R. is downstairs watching TV, I’m up here trying to study for a big psych test.  He comes up with an empty bottle of gummy vitamin-D supplements.  “Uh, Mom?  I sort of had a couple of these, and then I forgot that they were vitamins, and I forgot that I was eating them, and I finished the rest of the bottle…”  GREAT.  I looked online, and couldn’t find anything too conclusive for a person ingesting over 30,000 IU of vitamin D in one sitting.  So I make him get the phone and the poison control center magnet off the fridge…  and call.  He calls, and at the end of the conversation I ask to talk to the woman.  We had a nice chuckle over me making him call and deal with the situation, and with him eating the bottle of vitamins [especially because I thought it was my 3 year old I had to watch out for].  Ha.  R. is embarrassed as could be, OH WELL.  I asked him if he remembered to take his medicine, and NO.  He hadn’t.  It’s hard to get your ADHD kid to remember to take a pill every day, and it looks like we are going to have to instigate some new methods around here.

About 30 minutes ago, DH comes home from installing our car DVD player headrests and drove up to find our dogs running around outside.  They’d been out forever, as, I’d asked R. to let the dogs out an hour or so previously.  [He knows that entails letting them BACK IN, he’s only done it a few million times.] 😦

OH MY GOD.  And I just ended up in tears, being that he’s expecting to get his learner’s permit in less than 6 months.  Have a job.  A life.

Am I going to have BOTH my kids living with me for the rest of my life?  Are they going to reproduce, and then I can have all my kids and my grandchildren living with me forever?  What in the world is going ON?  I feel very sad right now.