Development Assessment

Development Assessment

Reflection – Friday evening.  I’m sitting here with a Smirnoff’s Ice – Raspberry and listening to Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy.  I recount the day’s events, as well as the dreaded child development assessment. 

I had one of those days today when I wake up and get the three kids out the door to their three different schools.  Then I get to have my time.  My time to fall apart.  It’s ok to cry.  And it happens.  A day when everything yucky comes to the surface.  Like the children’s book by Judith Viorst.  I had a crappy, weepy, awful day.  Could anything go well to lift my spirits?  My week started with a few appointments Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday afternoons for my daughter.  The child with special needs.

I endured a three hour interview on Monday at a children’s hospital’s development and rehabilitation unit.  My daughter got to draw, eat a snack, and answer a few questions, like:  Who lives in your household? Do you have friends?  I got asked all the other questions filling up the remainder of the three hour time. Questions like:  Could you talk more about that? Could you describe situations?  Could you talk more about that so I can visualize how that looks?  This was precisely the reason why I had dreaded this appointment, I was wiped out that evening. 

I will receive a detailed report in a few weeks.  But at the end of this interview, the psychologist offered a brief assessment:  Most likely, my kid was deprived her first year in life and also in her foster home of three years.  She didn’t get her emotional needs met.  There was likely a food scarcity in BOTH homes.  I interrupted to point out that several of the people in the foster home were morbidly obese…

The clinician reported that food scarcity is common with obesity — the unstructured meal times, the ups and downs of food amounts.  She went on to tell me that my child received little to no structure and stimulation in the foster home which would explain the simplistic play behaviors, the lack of coping skills and the obsession with food and tv.

I thought to myself while she talked: I know, I have heard this, why were we on a six month waitlist to be seen here?

The psychologist said to lower my hopes and expectations as she won’t be changing anytime soon. “You basically need to lay down a different foundation, as you slowly remove the old one.”  Really? I said, somewhat sarcastically.   She continued, “Yes, expecting her to change quickly would be like letting your original foundation just crumble and fall apart without any support in place.”

Somewhere I hear my sister and brother-in-law laughing.

She said my kid CAN change over time, a long time, if the parents and every teacher is consistent each and every time with the same rules and repeated direction of adaptive coping skills.  Wow, I thought. Long time. Each and every time. Every single adult at home and school. Yeah! No problem.

Perhaps my depression is now better understood. Tuesday I informed my child’s therapist after another play therapy sand table session what was discussed at the children’s hospital.  She had more to say on this matter.

Friday rolls around and I couldn’t stop crying.  Every time I thought I had gained composure, I looked at myself in the mirror to get cleaned up. And every time, I saw my puffy eyes and eyelashes coated in Kleenex dust.  And every time, I whimpered: is she ever going to change?!  

I picked up my child at dismissal time at her school.  She tossed her name badge to her teacher when she saw me.  I waited for her teacher to make eye contact with me and to call out my child’s name.  Then my kid turned to face her teacher and pestered:  Did I have a good day? Did I? Did I? Did I have a good day? Did I?  Her teacher continued to dismiss the other twenty first graders, but stopped.  “Well, let’s talk to your mom about what happened.”

As I hustled closer so that Ms. T could tell me how my child stole a dinner roll from someone, I bumped into another mom’s arm.  I looked back and apologized.  The woman was wincing and rubbing her right shoulder.  Yup.  That was the finishing touch to my sh*tty day.

Parenting and Sports

Parenting and Sports

Reflection – Sunday

I’m sitting here with a chilled Warsteiner, drinking straight from the bottle thinking about this past week. I’m listening to Mumford & Sons’ Babel.

My eldest went to sleep away ultimate (frisbee) camp this past week. Yup, it was expensive. It was also the only away from home experience for him this summer. Plus, I want to encourage him to remain in sports.parenting and sports

We got a few text messages the first two nights– complaints of how it was not fun, the opposite of what Mom had said it would be, and that it was demoralizing. He wrote he was hating it. My son admitted to feeling troubled over being at the bottom of the heap in terms of skill. I cringe and laugh every time I get blamed for something. How would I possibly know what sleep away ultimate camp is like?  From my years of running track and playing on the tennis team at my small town public high school?!

Where I grew up and when I was growing up, most of us played at the rec level. We did not have tryouts. We did not have club. There were a handful of kids whose parents invested in private lessons. There was a country club in our town and a tennis club in the next one over. But a week long camp at a college where he slept in a dorm room? I felt thrilled that we could give him this opportunity.

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Mammogram Results

I had my annual mammogram done mid-May. I started going in for yearly ones in my late 30s; I’ve done the routine many times now. Yes, I know you will call me if there are concerns.

I got the call two days later. The radiologist saw something that was apparently not visible in the  year before– she had compared the films. I was instructed to come in for a more detailed mammogram. I returned later that week. This time the focus was on my right breast – a few specialized images were taken. The technician waved me over to look. In the magnified film of my breast are 5 white dots. Teeny tiny round dots, likes ones a finely sharpened white pencil would make.  A few together and two scattered. My initial reaction was: how did they see those in the one taken during my first appointment?  The radiologist came in and explained the dots are circular in shape, there are only a few, they were not noticed last year and appear to be new, and many women in their aging develop breast calcifications. All of these factors are not red flags. However, she continued, one time she let it go and her patient developed cancerous cells a year later.  Again, I was urged to continue with another more detailed procedure. I agreed to a biopsy for the following Monday.

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Giving Advice, Getting Advice, Wanting Advice

Giving Advice, Getting Advice,Wanting Advice

Reflection

I am listening to the new Radiohead album. It’s layered, moody, and sophisticated;  I play it every day while I sit with my pen and steno pad. I listen a little. I write a little. I think some more. I write some more. I listen some more. My initial reaction is conflicted. The music critics are lauding it, so I attempt to be patient and learn.

My therapist has told me it is time for the next move. She is no longer gently nudging me and giving me support around my household needs. She tells me I have lost too much of my identity. She says my kids keep getting older and I am not progressing. She points out that addressing my social isolation, identity voids, and personal interests will be better served with experiences outside the home. She reminds me that my volunteer activities were not satisfying. She tells me I am missing out. Basically reminding me that the world has continued to spin and I am stagnant. I have actively job hunted for over a year and remain unemployed.  She tells me that by our next appointment I need to meet with the Admissions Counselor at the local university to explore Master’s Programs. In our last session, I felt she was pushing her agenda. I returned home and cried my eyes out. Do I really need for someone to decide what is right for me and tell me what to do?  I don’t want to get another Master’s; I don’t want to return to school. Instead I am signing up for a six week series of writing workshops this summer. So there.

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Starting on Ritalin

Starting on Ritalin

Week 9

We started Ritalin the beginning of this month. “You’ll know within two weeks if this is working, it’s pretty fast acting,” said the psychiatrist. I am strangely excited and encouraged. Why can’t most difficult situations have a fast acting response time.

Last weekend my husband took the boys and the dog to stay in a cabin. One night, two days away, four creatures not around the house. Just the two of us left behind to deal with each other. The pair that has had difficulties tolerating and enjoying each other. We had a delightful time.

 She had been on the medication for four days. We had tried another ADHD medication, a non-stimulant, for over a month and the only change we saw was irritability. Uh, no thanks, could we take that off the plate? So here we are, going into week 9 after that initial medication evaluation and trying out Ritalin.  Our doctor told us that most kids respond well, most respond quickly, and most experience only a few side effects. Since our medical specialist informed us that her heart murmur is in no way a reason to avoid stimulants, we received the green light to proceed with this category of medications.

Starting on Ritalin young child

Changes could occur from a pill

Off they went with a frozen pizza, sodas, Fruit Loops, pancake mix that requires only adding water, dog food, one change of clothes and toothbrushes. Not my choice of foods, his idea. Not my idea to pack so lightly, his choice. Have fun! I yelled. I braced myself for endless difficulties of being with my daughter. It’s not pleasant to feel this way towards your child. Sometimes I need to be nudged, if not pushed into certain situations. I really don’t think of myself as overly cautious. But I’ll admit, I am not eager to enter an arena of battles. I know that  I need certain circumstances to be in place to make me deal with a problem.

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Parenting and Partnering

Parenting and Partnering

Reflection – Friday

I’ve had this CD on repeat — Lord Huron’s Strange Trails. I am drinking a glass of white wine, a Pinot Gris I bought to use in a pasta recipe I will tackle in a moment. But for now, I wonder about having guidelines for us.

I cannot see her playing in the backyard; I had asked her to play in the driveway with her toys. Can you say something? I ask my spouse. I’d like for her to follow directions.

He sighs. “It’s just that you’re so restrictive with her.  She’s outside, she’s playing.” He shrugs for effect.

Wait, what? Come again? Could you repeat that? I laughed and said, “Yeah, whatever!”

There are so many guidelines that I put into place when it comes to her. It’s true. Where she can play, with what exactly, in sight, certain amount of time and so on. Why? Because I have learned with her, that if I give an inch she takes a mile. And if there aren’t any guidelines she will do as she pleases– at the risk of safety and civility. It’s my job to keep her alive and well-mannered. 

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Social Isolation – Parents

Social Isolation – Parents

Week 6

WeeWMrs. M tells me my six year old had a rough day in her classroom– she snapped at others and snarled, “Don’t look at me, stop staring at me!!” while screaming and crying. Mrs. M and I wonder if this irritability is a negative side effect of her current medication. She’s been on it for over 5 weeks. I am frustrated and disappointed and sad for her.  I know she wants friendships. I know she wants that closeness, that special feeling of being understood and accepted. That shared giggle. The eye contact and physical closeness when seated together by choice at the lunch table. The request to play a game and she says yes. The yearning to disclose an experience, to tell another of a personal situation. I know she wants it.

I feel like I have had difficulties forming meaningful friendships the past ten years. Do I unintentionally annoy people, do I snarl? We’ve moved a few times, I have three kids a range of ages, we have not joined a congregation, I have not worked outside the home, we live in a city. I could go on and on with possible barriers.  My therapist tells me I have justifications every time she explores this area of difficulty. I don’t want to come across as defensive. I want to be a good client– open, receptive, honest, willing to try.  Why do I even have any struggles? There’s famine in the world. People are serving our country and returning disabled. There are refugees risking their lives seeking a safer place.

I hate being a whiner.

I want to connect.

I feel more alone now as a parent of a child with special needs.

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Eating Issues – Kids

Eating Issues- Kids

Reflection – Monday

I think my life could be a reality show on the Lifetime channel. Unscripted. The stuff that happens, the stuff that goes down, the stuff that I experience would make most people gasp and laugh. I’m sitting with a glass of Trader Joe’s cabernet sauvignon, listening to Radiohead’s In Rainbows cd and thinking back on a recent day.

The other day, a typical day, I had just placed the baby gate in the doorway to prevent my youngest from taking food from the kitchen. There is a lock on the fridge doors, a lock on the cabinet doors where we keep the garbage, and the yummies are placed high above the fridge. I got the bowls of cat food ready to take upstairs. (FYI- the cats seem to enjoy their space away from the dog.)  As I ran upstairs with the bowls, I heard the baby gate get pushed outward which woke the dog from his nap. I plopped the bowls down and sprinted down the stairs, opening the kitchen door to assess the situation. The dog ran by me and upstairs. I snatched the food item out of her hands, gave her a nudge back to the playroom and placed the gate back in place. I then ran upstairs — AAAAAAAAAaaaaack! Too late. The dog had eaten the cat food.

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Parent Needs

Parent Needs

Week 5

We have completed a few weeks on medication for ADHD impulsivity. Maybe by the next appointment, we’ll feel or see some improvement. I think it is too soon to expect results. It’s too soon, right? I’m not missing something here, am I? I’d like some kind of sign that I have permission to job hunt. I have parent needs too.parent needs

I’ve lost a lot of self confidence over the years of staying home. I am efficient with running errands, planning meals that garner leftovers for another meal, and scheduling the kids to have appointments at the same time.  But with the outer world, the one outside my front door, the world is changing. Fast. Sometimes I feel like time is running out. When will it be the time for me to leave the house, when she’s in high school? Who knows what behaviors she’ll need professional help with then? There is always a good reason with special needs kids to remain a stay at home parent. 

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ADHD Medication

Waiting for the Effects of ADHD Medication

Week 4

We did not go away for Spring Break. Get the tissues out, boo-hoo. This happens for us with my husband’s career. I’ve been really supportive to his work and demanding hours. I get it. It’s just that sometimes seeing everyone around us pack up their cars, hearing everyone’s plans for the week off, and feeling the need for something different to our routine, I feel sorry for myself when we stay home during any of the school year breaks. This year I changed that.

My solution has been to rent a cabin for a few days about an hour away. We take the dog, we bring food for all the meals, and for two nights he is able to put work on hold. The boys take a respite from their electronic devices. They flip a coin over who will sit next to the pooch; the loser sits near her. My husband attempts to delegate duties of packing the car. This never goes well. He does most of it, huffing and muttering up and down the driveway. I opt to stay inside programming the auto-feeder for the cats. Every time we go on this kind of trip, we manage to leave an hour later than planned, our bodies are crammed into the vehicle, trash bags for suitcases stuffed in every space and my hubby annoyed that his guitar never fits. The excitement increases over car ride games. I pop in an old Pearl Jam cd. We’re off!

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