As it is Halloween season I thought I'd talk about some of the scary aspects of being a mom (funny & not so funny):
Not Funny:
- Watching your child having a seizure after growing up with a brother with Grand Mal seizures. (Never want to go through that again)
- Seeing that your kids have no fear about everything they should be fearful of.
- Waking one day to see your son having gotten the knives out of the knife block and line them up one by one in a row next to his sleeping brother. (I'm not sure he intended to use them. He just likes to line them up).
- Worrying about what the future will be like for your children and if a day will come that, for your safety and theirs, that you will have to put them in a care facility. Or that they might never be able to be independent enough to move out.
Funny Scary:
- When you realize you're kids are stinkin' brilliant and you feel a few potatoes short of a pound.
- When you become an expert at locks because you're constantly trying to find one that your kids can't bypass.
I had a whole list earlier, but my mind went blank from keeping eyes on my children & their mischief ways. I guess that's kind of funny/scary too.
So what are some of the things that you find scary (funny or not so funny) about being a parent?
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
The Power of 3
No I am not referencing Doctor Who when I talk about the power of three. I'm talking about two aspects of three:
1) When you have 3 children,
2) When any of them turn 3 years old.
Aspect #1:
After Frank and I had our second child the doctor wanted to convince me that I was done and that I should have my tubes tied. It was too dangerous. Each pregnancy took such a great toll on me and was life threatening to me and the baby. But I knew in my heart that there was one more. I begged him to let us wait to have one more. He reluctantly agreed.
By the time our second child was 11 months old I went into the doctor and told him, "Yes, I want a third, but they HAVE to be further apart." He laughed. Our daughter Rose and our son Cyprus were only 22 months apart and I couldn't handle it (it was only years later that I learned they had special needs). The doctor and I laid out a plan, he gave me the fertility meds and told me to go home and take a pregnancy test. I did. It was positive. I cried.
I still wanted that third baby no matter what, and YEAH I got pregnant without the fertility drugs, but (insert cuss words) I couldn't handle the two I had. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was weary. The pregnancy was hard. SO HARD. And a month into it my husband lost his job through cutbacks. Rough rough times for our family. A month prior to delivery I ended up in the hospital with severe migraines, high blood pressure and pre-eclampsia. I was hospitalized for 4 days and sent home on strict bed rest. I was only 33 weeks. And then my husband started work and had no time off and we had two toddlers at home. Enough said.
Anyway, through prayer and major support from friends and church members we made it and little Juniper was born. He and Cyprus were only 20 months apart. I gladly allowed my doctor to tie my tubes (though its often been an internal battle since whether or not that was the right decision, I still couldn't risk it).
A few weeks later my husband and I crashed in bed after an exhausting day and he sighed. "We miscalculated." When I asked him to clarify, he said, "The kids now outnumber the adults."
That's where the first Power of 3 comes in. When you hit three kids, suddenly you no longer have enough hands (whether or not they are special needs). It takes a good year or two before you can find a natural rhythm as husband and wife to adjust to who keeps track of whom. There were some days I dreaded even stepping outside of my house, it was so bad.
Aspect #2
For some reason when all three of my kids hit 2 1/2 to 3 years of age they put on this armor of anxiety polished with a coat of desire for control and it is bad. It is so rough sometimes. They become bossy, stubborn (okay they have good examples of that from their parents to start with), and full of tantrums. And if you DARE even think of stepping two feet of where they expect or want you to be they start screaming "MOMMY!!!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!!" loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
Talk about laying on the guilt.
I've really struggled these last few weeks dealing with this second aspect of threes for many reasons. Juniper is my last child to be 3. In fact in just over a week he'll be 4. And sometimes that's hard to deal with knowing that I will never have another child. I can't physically, mentally, emotionally or financially handle it right now. It just won't happen, no matter how much my heart hurts and longs for another daughter, in spite of all the difficulty.
But its also been hard because now I know what my children are going through. Thanks to working with amazing specialists I understand better what my kids see, why they think the way they do, what battles they are fighting internally. I get it.....logically. But my soul is weary. We've had another extremely hard year. Harder by far than many in the past, even the year I was pregnant with Juniper. My body aches, my heart aches, my soul aches. And my little ones do not, cannot, understand. So as they scream "MOMMY DON"T LEAVE ME!!!!" I cry. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I hide in my shower and let the water wash away the overwhelming weakness that I feel.
How can I make my little ones understand that I'm only going upstairs to turn on the swamp cooler? Or I'm just going around the corner to flip a light switch. Or going to the store to by bread and milk and that they are still safe because Daddy or Grandma or whoever is still with them, without their world crashing down on them and the fear overwhelming all of us. How can I stop getting into arguments with a three year old who only hears what he wants to hear (and sometimes only what he can hear because his special needs have blocked everything else out)?
I'm never going to give up on my little ones. I still count them as my miracles each and every day. I'm still grateful to have them as part of my life and wouldn't give them up for anything. But man the POWER OF THREE is hard. And I look forward to when we move beyond the second aspect and my children will understand that me going upstairs to get a load of laundry does not mean that I no longer love them. I long for the day when they trust that my love is there no matter what. The day that they realize that I will never give up on them. They day when they can let me go and know that I will always do whatever is in my power to come back (even if I'm only gone for 5 minutes).
I love to watch my garden grow. These children are amazing. They are my heart. And one day they will know.
1) When you have 3 children,
2) When any of them turn 3 years old.
Aspect #1:
After Frank and I had our second child the doctor wanted to convince me that I was done and that I should have my tubes tied. It was too dangerous. Each pregnancy took such a great toll on me and was life threatening to me and the baby. But I knew in my heart that there was one more. I begged him to let us wait to have one more. He reluctantly agreed.
By the time our second child was 11 months old I went into the doctor and told him, "Yes, I want a third, but they HAVE to be further apart." He laughed. Our daughter Rose and our son Cyprus were only 22 months apart and I couldn't handle it (it was only years later that I learned they had special needs). The doctor and I laid out a plan, he gave me the fertility meds and told me to go home and take a pregnancy test. I did. It was positive. I cried.
I still wanted that third baby no matter what, and YEAH I got pregnant without the fertility drugs, but (insert cuss words) I couldn't handle the two I had. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was weary. The pregnancy was hard. SO HARD. And a month into it my husband lost his job through cutbacks. Rough rough times for our family. A month prior to delivery I ended up in the hospital with severe migraines, high blood pressure and pre-eclampsia. I was hospitalized for 4 days and sent home on strict bed rest. I was only 33 weeks. And then my husband started work and had no time off and we had two toddlers at home. Enough said.
Anyway, through prayer and major support from friends and church members we made it and little Juniper was born. He and Cyprus were only 20 months apart. I gladly allowed my doctor to tie my tubes (though its often been an internal battle since whether or not that was the right decision, I still couldn't risk it).
A few weeks later my husband and I crashed in bed after an exhausting day and he sighed. "We miscalculated." When I asked him to clarify, he said, "The kids now outnumber the adults."
That's where the first Power of 3 comes in. When you hit three kids, suddenly you no longer have enough hands (whether or not they are special needs). It takes a good year or two before you can find a natural rhythm as husband and wife to adjust to who keeps track of whom. There were some days I dreaded even stepping outside of my house, it was so bad.
Aspect #2
For some reason when all three of my kids hit 2 1/2 to 3 years of age they put on this armor of anxiety polished with a coat of desire for control and it is bad. It is so rough sometimes. They become bossy, stubborn (okay they have good examples of that from their parents to start with), and full of tantrums. And if you DARE even think of stepping two feet of where they expect or want you to be they start screaming "MOMMY!!!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!!" loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
Talk about laying on the guilt.
I've really struggled these last few weeks dealing with this second aspect of threes for many reasons. Juniper is my last child to be 3. In fact in just over a week he'll be 4. And sometimes that's hard to deal with knowing that I will never have another child. I can't physically, mentally, emotionally or financially handle it right now. It just won't happen, no matter how much my heart hurts and longs for another daughter, in spite of all the difficulty.
But its also been hard because now I know what my children are going through. Thanks to working with amazing specialists I understand better what my kids see, why they think the way they do, what battles they are fighting internally. I get it.....logically. But my soul is weary. We've had another extremely hard year. Harder by far than many in the past, even the year I was pregnant with Juniper. My body aches, my heart aches, my soul aches. And my little ones do not, cannot, understand. So as they scream "MOMMY DON"T LEAVE ME!!!!" I cry. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I hide in my shower and let the water wash away the overwhelming weakness that I feel.
How can I make my little ones understand that I'm only going upstairs to turn on the swamp cooler? Or I'm just going around the corner to flip a light switch. Or going to the store to by bread and milk and that they are still safe because Daddy or Grandma or whoever is still with them, without their world crashing down on them and the fear overwhelming all of us. How can I stop getting into arguments with a three year old who only hears what he wants to hear (and sometimes only what he can hear because his special needs have blocked everything else out)?
I'm never going to give up on my little ones. I still count them as my miracles each and every day. I'm still grateful to have them as part of my life and wouldn't give them up for anything. But man the POWER OF THREE is hard. And I look forward to when we move beyond the second aspect and my children will understand that me going upstairs to get a load of laundry does not mean that I no longer love them. I long for the day when they trust that my love is there no matter what. The day that they realize that I will never give up on them. They day when they can let me go and know that I will always do whatever is in my power to come back (even if I'm only gone for 5 minutes).
I love to watch my garden grow. These children are amazing. They are my heart. And one day they will know.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
When They Tug At Your Heart
The other day I made a dinner that I knew that my children wouldn't eat. They have sensory issues, but we're trying to learn to live within our means (a.k.a. not to pick up dinner anytime Mom just doesn't feel like cooking).
My Rose took one look at that and said, "I'm not going to eat that. I know what you need to do, Mom. You need to make chicken nuggets."
I told her that we no longer had the money to just go out and buy chicken nuggets, that we needed to learn to eat what was in the house.
Rose jumped up from the table and said, "I have the solution." She ran to her backpack and dug deep, tossing things onto the floor as she went, then came running back in the dining room and handed me an envelope. It was pink with a pig on it. She explained that she'd learned all about money today and that this was her piggy bank.
She gave me the bank and said, "Here Mommy, you can have my money so you can go buy chicken nuggets."
It was the sweetest thing ever. I pulled her into a hug and thanked her (trying hard not to cry)......but couldn't bring myself to tell her that the money wasn't really. I just couldn't.
However, I still didn't buy chicken nuggets.
My Rose took one look at that and said, "I'm not going to eat that. I know what you need to do, Mom. You need to make chicken nuggets."
I told her that we no longer had the money to just go out and buy chicken nuggets, that we needed to learn to eat what was in the house.
Rose jumped up from the table and said, "I have the solution." She ran to her backpack and dug deep, tossing things onto the floor as she went, then came running back in the dining room and handed me an envelope. It was pink with a pig on it. She explained that she'd learned all about money today and that this was her piggy bank.
She gave me the bank and said, "Here Mommy, you can have my money so you can go buy chicken nuggets."
It was the sweetest thing ever. I pulled her into a hug and thanked her (trying hard not to cry)......but couldn't bring myself to tell her that the money wasn't really. I just couldn't.
However, I still didn't buy chicken nuggets.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Public Service Announcemetn: DRINK WATER
It's hard to be a person, let alone a sane one. Then you throw in things like jobs, marriage, kids, life, etc....and things get really hard (j/k--life itself is often hard all by itself). Then you throw in the random things, oh say, like being a klutzy person like me....and you're really in trouble.
A few weeks ago I walked the race route for a local 5K that's happening this summer to raise money for cancer patients. I wanted to practice the race route several times prior to the race as its my first one ever. 2/3rds of the way into the route a crossed a bit of road that lets down onto an a non-sidewalk section of town . . . and rolled my ankle. Being the stubborn person that I am I figured I'd already passed the street that led back to my car and I had less than a mile to go so I might as well finish walking the route. Yeah, not the smartest decision I've made.
I knew it wasn't broken but it was a pretty painful sprain. I had the chiropractor adjust the foot to help it heal more smoothly and had been wearing an ace bandage on and off for two weeks before the next incident happened. Last week, I was carrying a load of laundry down the stairs (wearing my ACE bandage) and stepped on the edge of a stair instead of the middle and slipped rolling down the stairs, laundry basket tumbling, laundry flying through the air, and my ankle being pulled at a painfully awkward angle until something popped. Definitely not one of my more graceful moments.
I screamed so loud that Juniper (my 3 year old) broke out of quiet time in his bedroom, hopped the safety gate, ran down the stairs, and sat down beside his sobbing mother, wrapped his arm around my shoulder and said, "Oh poor baby. What hurts." I was laughing and crying at the same time. The pain was excruciating.
Well, the ankle wasn't broken, but due to the swelling and the amount of pain the nurse practitioner put me into what I call a Darth Vader boot (basically a removable walking cast) and told me to elevate and ice, ice and elevate.
Have you ever tried to recover from an injury with kids in the house...HA!!!! Throw in the fact that my kids all have different special needs and I think I deserve a double-HA and a kick in the pants! As I lay propped up on the living room couch with my leg in the air, remotes and phone at my side, a water bottle, and kids running amok (literally) I was doing my best to "recover". But when my kids run amok that means whatever is mom's is theirs.
You may ask, "What does that have to do with the Public Service Announcement?" Here you go....
If I had a water bottle, they would take it and run away and drink it, dump it out around the house, wear it, or hide it. And being in the pain I was in, I wasn't too eager to get up to get a replacement bottle. So I failed to drink my daily dose of water for four days straight. Then Saturday I didn't rest as often as I should and pushed my body past its weakened physical limitations.
By dinnertime I felt like crap. By bedtime I was shivering uncontrollably and had a migraine. By 11 pm I was waking my husband up, asking him to take me to the hospital. After a lovely visit in the ER it was determined I was severely dehydrated and had a bladder & kidney infection as well as a migraine to boot.
Did I mention that my awesome husband was scheduled to leave on a business trip, for a week, the very next day? No, my bad.
If it weren't for so many amazing neighbors & friends helping with prayers, food, breaks from the kids, etc., I wouldn't make it out of this a live (and its only day three).
So when I say DRINK WATER, I mean DRINK WATER. Granted it would have been nice if I weren't accident prone in the first place, but things wouldn't have gotten nearly as bad if I had just taken the time and effort in my attempt to do everything else to stop and drink a glass of water. If you want to take care of others, make sure you take care of yourself too.
This is the end of the public service announcement (this is your cue to go get yourself a glass of water). Have a great day!
A few weeks ago I walked the race route for a local 5K that's happening this summer to raise money for cancer patients. I wanted to practice the race route several times prior to the race as its my first one ever. 2/3rds of the way into the route a crossed a bit of road that lets down onto an a non-sidewalk section of town . . . and rolled my ankle. Being the stubborn person that I am I figured I'd already passed the street that led back to my car and I had less than a mile to go so I might as well finish walking the route. Yeah, not the smartest decision I've made.
I knew it wasn't broken but it was a pretty painful sprain. I had the chiropractor adjust the foot to help it heal more smoothly and had been wearing an ace bandage on and off for two weeks before the next incident happened. Last week, I was carrying a load of laundry down the stairs (wearing my ACE bandage) and stepped on the edge of a stair instead of the middle and slipped rolling down the stairs, laundry basket tumbling, laundry flying through the air, and my ankle being pulled at a painfully awkward angle until something popped. Definitely not one of my more graceful moments.
I screamed so loud that Juniper (my 3 year old) broke out of quiet time in his bedroom, hopped the safety gate, ran down the stairs, and sat down beside his sobbing mother, wrapped his arm around my shoulder and said, "Oh poor baby. What hurts." I was laughing and crying at the same time. The pain was excruciating.
Well, the ankle wasn't broken, but due to the swelling and the amount of pain the nurse practitioner put me into what I call a Darth Vader boot (basically a removable walking cast) and told me to elevate and ice, ice and elevate.
Have you ever tried to recover from an injury with kids in the house...HA!!!! Throw in the fact that my kids all have different special needs and I think I deserve a double-HA and a kick in the pants! As I lay propped up on the living room couch with my leg in the air, remotes and phone at my side, a water bottle, and kids running amok (literally) I was doing my best to "recover". But when my kids run amok that means whatever is mom's is theirs.
You may ask, "What does that have to do with the Public Service Announcement?" Here you go....
If I had a water bottle, they would take it and run away and drink it, dump it out around the house, wear it, or hide it. And being in the pain I was in, I wasn't too eager to get up to get a replacement bottle. So I failed to drink my daily dose of water for four days straight. Then Saturday I didn't rest as often as I should and pushed my body past its weakened physical limitations.
By dinnertime I felt like crap. By bedtime I was shivering uncontrollably and had a migraine. By 11 pm I was waking my husband up, asking him to take me to the hospital. After a lovely visit in the ER it was determined I was severely dehydrated and had a bladder & kidney infection as well as a migraine to boot.
Did I mention that my awesome husband was scheduled to leave on a business trip, for a week, the very next day? No, my bad.
If it weren't for so many amazing neighbors & friends helping with prayers, food, breaks from the kids, etc., I wouldn't make it out of this a live (and its only day three).
So when I say DRINK WATER, I mean DRINK WATER. Granted it would have been nice if I weren't accident prone in the first place, but things wouldn't have gotten nearly as bad if I had just taken the time and effort in my attempt to do everything else to stop and drink a glass of water. If you want to take care of others, make sure you take care of yourself too.
This is the end of the public service announcement (this is your cue to go get yourself a glass of water). Have a great day!
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Bubblesnot
There are days. . . oh man are there days. . . (whether or not your kids are special needs) when they just push you too far. Sometimes I make good choices and handle things surprisingly well considering. That's when I often get a little too cocky and say, "You got this thing."
Then there are days where you call for a "do-over". I think that's today for me.
My kids sent me into SPD overload today and I didn't handle it well. My daughter was specifically doing negative things to get a reaction out of me (and honestly I know this is what kids just do because they are kids, but I just don't get it). After Rose received her consequence I felt horrible because I went overboard in my reaction. That's when I have to take a moment to look inward and say, "Okay was that handled well or was that all wrong." After a really long day of pushing buttons I know I could have handled the situation heaps better.
Once I was able to step back and calm down I went back into her room, sat down on the floor with her and we talked. We talked about what happened, what was good, what needed improvement on both of our parts. Then we came up with a code word -- Bubblesnot. When I'm helping her to do something that she knows she can do herself than she is supposed to say, "Hey Mom--Bubblesnot!" That's when I know I need to step back and just let her do it so that she gets the practice and realize that she can be responsible. Then again, if she is balking at doing something without my help when I know perfectly well that she can do it herself I am supposed to say, "Hey Rose--Bubblesnot!" Then she'll know that I believe in her and that she can do it.
We both apologized to each other, sang a few songs, and then we both said prayers.
I know some people say I apologize to my kids too often, but there's something in my soul that makes me want my kids to know that I'm human too and that we're both learning as we go, but together we can accomplish anything. I also apologized in my prayers to God because I believe that she was his child first and that he entrusted her into my care. When I have a mommy fail moment I feel he deserves an apology too so he knows that I'm not giving up and that I do see her as a precious gift from him. Hopefully, each step we take in the process will help us grow together and closer to heaven. I want my kids to know that family does really matter and that everyone deserves being treated with respect, even children.
Then there are days where you call for a "do-over". I think that's today for me.
My kids sent me into SPD overload today and I didn't handle it well. My daughter was specifically doing negative things to get a reaction out of me (and honestly I know this is what kids just do because they are kids, but I just don't get it). After Rose received her consequence I felt horrible because I went overboard in my reaction. That's when I have to take a moment to look inward and say, "Okay was that handled well or was that all wrong." After a really long day of pushing buttons I know I could have handled the situation heaps better.
Once I was able to step back and calm down I went back into her room, sat down on the floor with her and we talked. We talked about what happened, what was good, what needed improvement on both of our parts. Then we came up with a code word -- Bubblesnot. When I'm helping her to do something that she knows she can do herself than she is supposed to say, "Hey Mom--Bubblesnot!" That's when I know I need to step back and just let her do it so that she gets the practice and realize that she can be responsible. Then again, if she is balking at doing something without my help when I know perfectly well that she can do it herself I am supposed to say, "Hey Rose--Bubblesnot!" Then she'll know that I believe in her and that she can do it.
We both apologized to each other, sang a few songs, and then we both said prayers.
I know some people say I apologize to my kids too often, but there's something in my soul that makes me want my kids to know that I'm human too and that we're both learning as we go, but together we can accomplish anything. I also apologized in my prayers to God because I believe that she was his child first and that he entrusted her into my care. When I have a mommy fail moment I feel he deserves an apology too so he knows that I'm not giving up and that I do see her as a precious gift from him. Hopefully, each step we take in the process will help us grow together and closer to heaven. I want my kids to know that family does really matter and that everyone deserves being treated with respect, even children.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
When Mom Is The One With Needs
Last September my little Juniper gave me a concussion. As a result my doctor sent me to the hospital for an MRI. They found more than injuries from my concussion. They found several locations of "changing white matter" which are "signs of MS (multiple sclerosis - which my grandfather died from when my mom was a pre-teen). Between all the new doctor appointments I faced and dealing with my kids several doctors decided that I needed to be on depression medicine to better cope with what I was going through.
At the time I agreed with them.
Over the last six months we have learned many things about me and my children (after many many doctors visits):
1) Juniper is struggling with Primary Communications Delay and Aggressive Behavior. But he is a very empathetic kid when he can see beyond his special needs.
2) Rose has Sensory Processing Disorder and ADHD.
3) We're waiting for the official write up, but when talking with the specialist, Cyprus is Autistic with sensory issues and communication delays.
4) Depression medicine is bad for mommy.
I had briefly been on depression medicine for post partum depression after having Juniper. I had to get off of it because (depending on the brand) it either gave me a completely foggy brain to where I was doing things like putting the window child-safety locks so that the kids couldn't close windows instead of not being able to open them OR I had full-blown hallucinations. This time around I started binge eating and gained 20 pounds in the last two months after having lost 50-60 the previous year. I also cried all the time and wanted to sleep all the time.
The last time I went to the doctor I asked him to take me off and he agreed. Then, because of my reaction to depression medicine, he had me fill out a questionnaire and it turns out that I had ADHD, just like my Rose. So the doctor set me up with a transition period where I would wean off the depression medicine and start on the ADHD medicine.
It was night and day. I don't know if it was simply being off the depression medicine or the added combination of being on ADHD medicine. I was happy. I was singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around the house. I could handle things once again. I even took my boys outside to play for four hours, whereas during the previous life there was no way I could handle it unless my husband was there to help, and sometimes not even then. I got to see neighbors that I hadn't seen in months and meet neighbors who have apparently lived her for a long time and I had never met them. I was even taking care of things around the house that had needed to be done for longer than 6 months that I couldn't bring myself to face. I was productive. I was happy. I was able to help my kids. I had answers. It was great.
Only one problem. . . when you have lived nearly 40 years and always been diagnosed with the wrong thing there is a transition time when your body has to catch up with your spirit. I have SO completely over done it since being on the new medication that my body has been having muscle spasms for three days now (even in my hands). Then, yesterday my Rose turned 7. So I made sure the house was cleaned (but I cleaned the entire house, including vacuuming every room and the stairs. I mopped everything I could mop. I decorated her a My Little Pony cake. I went to the store to get things for her favorite dinner - chicken nuggets and fries.
Then the boys came home from preschool. Yeah. SOOOOOOO. I got them fed. We played a bit. Then we went upstairs for quiet time. Now, Cyprus has a habit of when he's done being in his room he escapes. He hurdles fences, runs downstairs, etc. To say the least, Quiet Time is usually the least quiet and least restful of times for this mommy. So yesterday I decided that I would stay in the hallway to keep an eye on him while reorganizing my linen closet (and hopefully find the Kindle that disappeared two weeks ago). By the time I was done with that he still wasn't asleep. So I organize the bathroom cupboard in the kids' bathroom. Then I organized the closet in the second bedroom. When he still wasn't asleep after that I went into my room and started folding and putting away ALL of the laundry. Then I started organizing my tornado of a walk-in closet.
Cyprus never napped and neither did Juniper. So finally we went downstairs and put in a movie for the kids while I did more work upstairs. Then I got Rose from her friend's house after school and while she and her daddy went bowling for her birthday I attempted to decorate the house, with the help of two special needs boys who have a different understanding of helpful than I do. They tried to force balloons in my mouth while I was still blowing up others. Then Cyprus took the hand soap from the bathroom and started pumping it into my hair. At first I thought he was just playing with it, until I found the goop sliding throughout my hair. I started sobbing.
I still worked at decorating but everything fell a part from there. The birthday sign wouldn't stay up, or the boys helped it come down, and I couldn't find thumbtacks to use to keep it up. And the boys lovingly wouldn't leave me alone. It became to the point were my sensory issues totally overloaded and I couldn't even handle the thought of being touched. I ran upstairs, took a shower and curled up on the floor of the shower crying and praying for God to help me calm down so I could not take away from my daughter's special day.
Finally I got dressed and tried to wrap Rose's presents, but all I could find was double sided tape that didn't want to stick. I got to the point I just started wrapping the tape in circles around the presents. Then I went downstairs and tried to clean the living room, but I just sobbed while my sweet Juniper tried to console me, but I couldn't handle being touched. Then I tried to get out the paint pen to decorate the windows and I broke the lid so that pink paint spilled all over my door mat. Juniper didn't want me to work on dinner, though he wanted to eat. Cyprus wanted to jump on me as I past by, but then my muscles were screaming. I went ahead and took my anxiety pills that I'm only supposed to take when things get beyond what I could handle.
When my husband called to say they were done bowling and did I want him to come straight home or to go get the candles for the cake I plead for him to come home because I wasn't doing well. I had just taken the dinner out of the oven when he walked home. I started sobbing and hyperventilating again so bad that my stomach started cramping with incredibly sharp pains. I fell to the ground and my kids wanted to help and hold me but I couldn't handle it. Frank helped me to the couch were I lay and he gave me a special prayer to help me through.
Once I calmed down I went to the store did get the candles so that I could get a break (and I got me something to eat, since I'm not supposed to eat chicken nuggets or fries). Then I could handle the rest of the day (except every muscle in body screamed bloody murder for what I'd put it through).
So here is what I have learned.
1) There is a transition time period that occurs in your body when switching medications and it can be a veritable minefield as to what might happen during that time.
2) When your body has been treated for the wrong thing for 40 years there is no way your body is ready to immediately pick up where it should decades ago once you are on the right medicine.
3) Depending on what your body needs and what medicine you are on you're body may start communicating its needs to you in a manner totally different than what you are used to.
4) Be kind to you. You need a break.
A morning later and I'm okay (other than feeling like I ran a marathon). I'm going to take things easier today and strive to learn my body's new language so that I don't over do it like I did yesterday. And I am so grateful for a family that sticks by me when I'm the one falling apart.
At the time I agreed with them.
Over the last six months we have learned many things about me and my children (after many many doctors visits):
1) Juniper is struggling with Primary Communications Delay and Aggressive Behavior. But he is a very empathetic kid when he can see beyond his special needs.
2) Rose has Sensory Processing Disorder and ADHD.
3) We're waiting for the official write up, but when talking with the specialist, Cyprus is Autistic with sensory issues and communication delays.
4) Depression medicine is bad for mommy.
I had briefly been on depression medicine for post partum depression after having Juniper. I had to get off of it because (depending on the brand) it either gave me a completely foggy brain to where I was doing things like putting the window child-safety locks so that the kids couldn't close windows instead of not being able to open them OR I had full-blown hallucinations. This time around I started binge eating and gained 20 pounds in the last two months after having lost 50-60 the previous year. I also cried all the time and wanted to sleep all the time.
The last time I went to the doctor I asked him to take me off and he agreed. Then, because of my reaction to depression medicine, he had me fill out a questionnaire and it turns out that I had ADHD, just like my Rose. So the doctor set me up with a transition period where I would wean off the depression medicine and start on the ADHD medicine.
It was night and day. I don't know if it was simply being off the depression medicine or the added combination of being on ADHD medicine. I was happy. I was singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around the house. I could handle things once again. I even took my boys outside to play for four hours, whereas during the previous life there was no way I could handle it unless my husband was there to help, and sometimes not even then. I got to see neighbors that I hadn't seen in months and meet neighbors who have apparently lived her for a long time and I had never met them. I was even taking care of things around the house that had needed to be done for longer than 6 months that I couldn't bring myself to face. I was productive. I was happy. I was able to help my kids. I had answers. It was great.
Only one problem. . . when you have lived nearly 40 years and always been diagnosed with the wrong thing there is a transition time when your body has to catch up with your spirit. I have SO completely over done it since being on the new medication that my body has been having muscle spasms for three days now (even in my hands). Then, yesterday my Rose turned 7. So I made sure the house was cleaned (but I cleaned the entire house, including vacuuming every room and the stairs. I mopped everything I could mop. I decorated her a My Little Pony cake. I went to the store to get things for her favorite dinner - chicken nuggets and fries.
Then the boys came home from preschool. Yeah. SOOOOOOO. I got them fed. We played a bit. Then we went upstairs for quiet time. Now, Cyprus has a habit of when he's done being in his room he escapes. He hurdles fences, runs downstairs, etc. To say the least, Quiet Time is usually the least quiet and least restful of times for this mommy. So yesterday I decided that I would stay in the hallway to keep an eye on him while reorganizing my linen closet (and hopefully find the Kindle that disappeared two weeks ago). By the time I was done with that he still wasn't asleep. So I organize the bathroom cupboard in the kids' bathroom. Then I organized the closet in the second bedroom. When he still wasn't asleep after that I went into my room and started folding and putting away ALL of the laundry. Then I started organizing my tornado of a walk-in closet.
Cyprus never napped and neither did Juniper. So finally we went downstairs and put in a movie for the kids while I did more work upstairs. Then I got Rose from her friend's house after school and while she and her daddy went bowling for her birthday I attempted to decorate the house, with the help of two special needs boys who have a different understanding of helpful than I do. They tried to force balloons in my mouth while I was still blowing up others. Then Cyprus took the hand soap from the bathroom and started pumping it into my hair. At first I thought he was just playing with it, until I found the goop sliding throughout my hair. I started sobbing.
I still worked at decorating but everything fell a part from there. The birthday sign wouldn't stay up, or the boys helped it come down, and I couldn't find thumbtacks to use to keep it up. And the boys lovingly wouldn't leave me alone. It became to the point were my sensory issues totally overloaded and I couldn't even handle the thought of being touched. I ran upstairs, took a shower and curled up on the floor of the shower crying and praying for God to help me calm down so I could not take away from my daughter's special day.
Finally I got dressed and tried to wrap Rose's presents, but all I could find was double sided tape that didn't want to stick. I got to the point I just started wrapping the tape in circles around the presents. Then I went downstairs and tried to clean the living room, but I just sobbed while my sweet Juniper tried to console me, but I couldn't handle being touched. Then I tried to get out the paint pen to decorate the windows and I broke the lid so that pink paint spilled all over my door mat. Juniper didn't want me to work on dinner, though he wanted to eat. Cyprus wanted to jump on me as I past by, but then my muscles were screaming. I went ahead and took my anxiety pills that I'm only supposed to take when things get beyond what I could handle.
When my husband called to say they were done bowling and did I want him to come straight home or to go get the candles for the cake I plead for him to come home because I wasn't doing well. I had just taken the dinner out of the oven when he walked home. I started sobbing and hyperventilating again so bad that my stomach started cramping with incredibly sharp pains. I fell to the ground and my kids wanted to help and hold me but I couldn't handle it. Frank helped me to the couch were I lay and he gave me a special prayer to help me through.
Once I calmed down I went to the store did get the candles so that I could get a break (and I got me something to eat, since I'm not supposed to eat chicken nuggets or fries). Then I could handle the rest of the day (except every muscle in body screamed bloody murder for what I'd put it through).
So here is what I have learned.
1) There is a transition time period that occurs in your body when switching medications and it can be a veritable minefield as to what might happen during that time.
2) When your body has been treated for the wrong thing for 40 years there is no way your body is ready to immediately pick up where it should decades ago once you are on the right medicine.
3) Depending on what your body needs and what medicine you are on you're body may start communicating its needs to you in a manner totally different than what you are used to.
4) Be kind to you. You need a break.
A morning later and I'm okay (other than feeling like I ran a marathon). I'm going to take things easier today and strive to learn my body's new language so that I don't over do it like I did yesterday. And I am so grateful for a family that sticks by me when I'm the one falling apart.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
The Difficulties of Daylight Savings Time
There are many times of the year that our family struggles with - summer, start of school, end of school, Christmas break, when their half-brothers go home from visiting, and worst of all Daylight Savings time changes. The reason is because our three special needs kids do not handle change well especially when it messes up their sleep. Their lives run best on consistency. So when anything changes we just have to be prepared for battle. Plans get thrown out the window, stressful moments increase, and hugs are given more and more frequently. We tip our kids on their heads to reset their world. We have them swing, go down slides, jump on trampolines (all inside our home). And we wing it. We find anything that helps our children cope and reset their inner clocks until things are okay again for them. So when things happen like Daylight Savings time that messes royally with everyone's sleep schedule we usually end up not going to church. It's just calmer for everyone and helps the kids feel things a little less overwhelming. Yes I miss out on the joy of going to church for my benefit, but I have begun to learn which battles are worth fighting. . . and this one isn't. We still try to make our home feel like its Sunday and a time for family, but no we don't go to church. We'll go again next week when things are a little more regulated for our little kiddos.
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