A day in the life

My middle son has a behavioral disorder. It still remains undiagnosed. We have several guesses on the table ranging from ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder) to a sensory disorder, to adjustment disorder.

At this point I don't really care what it is called I just want him to be normal.

He's a wonderful boy. He's handsome, athletic, smart as a whip and very sweet. The problem is, you never when he is going to snap. Just when I think I have a handle on things, they go south again.

Nobody said parenting was easy. Yeah...but nobody told me it would be this hard.

Don't get me wrong, I love him. I love him so much it actually physically hurts. Some days this stuff rolls off me like water on a duck's back. Other days I just look at him and my heart clenches. Things are better than they were, but now I see we have so so so far to go.

I really debated sharing too much about this...airing laundry and all. But the truth is, this blog is about me...who I am...what my life is like. And not expressing this part of it isn't really expressing who I am.

My little man loves me. I know this. He tells me how pretty I am every single day. Over and over and over. It's like he contains these wild emotions and he so desperately has to share them. Good ones and bad. So when he is feeling loving, he feels it BIG. So much that it oozes out his pores. He wants to hug me constantly and share everything he has within himself. He will kiss me and compliment me like it is our last chance. It's like he aches inside to make sure that I know he loves me.

Ten minutes later he could be the exact opposite. The contrast is staggering. He is prone to violent outbursts. Just when I think I know what is causing them, the pattern changes. Or there is no pattern. It used to be concentrated on me. That was bad enough. He would infuriate me to the point where I would completely lose it. Screaming, shoving him into his room and shaking with anger and understanding how easy it would be to go too far. Then he would cry and run to me and we would hold each other weeping and confused. Other times, I would feel so broken I would lay on the floor and just let him hit me. How do you defend yourself against that - emotionally or physically?

In those moments, I wonder if he really does hate me. But I know he doesn't. I can sense his frustration all around him. I know it is something he fighting against. I know in those desperate moments when he hugs me so tight and says over and over and over, "I love you mommy", that those are his truest feelings.

Nowadays, his rages are less severe. But there is underlying anger still there and he lashes out at other children. Which to me is worse. The extreme violence has been tempered and now he just hits unprovoked. But it is short lived, generally.


I've come a long way. That giant gift wrapped box of guilt that they handed me the day he was born is just a little bit lighter. I've learned to get thicker skin when I am judged by strangers...or even people that I know. I've learned not to (always) crumple inside when I hear criticism of my parenting. I've learned that it really isn't my fault. And that was a tough one to let go. That one still creeps up on me if I am not careful. It slips through the cracks and I have to beat it back out again. I've learned that NOBODY could do a better job with him than Dan and me because God hand selected us to be his parents. And for some reason, he thought we were the ideal ones to guide him through this challenge in life.

I think I have been able to overcome the depression that I was sinking into. There are days where I have to fight tooth and nail against it. But most days, I grab onto my faith in the Lord with both hands and march forward into the mire.

I believe Stinky is special. I believe there is a purpose for him that is beyond the norm. I believe he will be an extraordinary man and a great joy in my life. He already does bring me joy. Lots of it. It's just that many times, the joy just doesn't outweigh the worry.

I hesitate here, before I publish this, thinking - how could a mom write these things about her son? But it is truth. It's my life. It's who I am. And also, I have spent hours, days even poring over other mom blogs of people experiencing the same things and it has been a source of comfort to me.

I love my son. And not a day has gone by, even at it's worst, that I haven't felt that way until it hurts.

Irrational Fears

I have alot of irrational fears. Like my whole bird of paradise paranoia. I know that one is irrational. Or my fear of dairy nearing the expiration date. I have come to realize although icky, it might not actually kill me if I have a sip of milk that is going to expire one week from now.

However my irrational fears over bugs and rodents are live and well and currently living in my garage. Dan casually mentioned that he was going to run an errand over to his mother's house last night and encouraged me to forget about the laundry and just enjoy some quiet time. Instantly my suspicious hackles are up. Why are you going to your mother's house now?? Why should I relax?? He assured me all is well.

I sat there scowling most of that time, eyes darting about and conjuring up ideas of what MIL must have done NOW to cause my husband to dash over to her house in the dead of night. (OK, OK...it was 8pm...so it was the dead of dusk).

When Dan returned he was armed with rat poison. R-A-T poison. I almost vomited. Where are they? Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY???

Dan thinks they are in the crawl space above the garage. Ick. I feel like my skin is crawling. Dan actually had the nerve to balk when I told him I am no longer parking in the garage until the vermin are gone. Blech!

My loving husband kept making jokes about hearing the rats in the ceiling and making scratching sounds. I had nightmares all last night. I just know they are coming to get me. I just KNOW it. I kept dreaming that they ate my baby. They do that you know. People keep laughing at me when I say that, but it's true.

This morning I had to open the garage door to get the stroller out before I left to run my errands and drop the kids off at school. As I was grabbing the single stroller I realized my double stroller had been chewed on. CHEWED I said. I started screaming for second and then realize my kids are watching. I turned my back to them and bit my hand so as not to wail uncontrollably.

After dropping of my kids at school, Boo and I made a trip over to Home Depot to gather us some extra rat killing apparatus. I felt that skin crawling sensation just being in that aisle of store. The rats know I am here and are going to get angry. I was standing there looking bewildered and terrified when a clerk walked up and offered help. He only needed to say "breeding season" one time before I got woozy and almost passed out on the floor. He handed me some rat traps and walked away quickly.

I hope to GOD these things are gone soon. My husband would like his semi-sane wife back too I am sure. For now neurotic, twitchy, jumpy Gingers Mom has taken over.

What are your irrational fears?