Meltdown Monday

So the boy got into some serious mischief today. The girl was taking her nap, and the boy went upstairs to "play". I was cleaning downstairs. After a while, I decided it was too quiet....and...any parents out there know where this is going? Yes. He'd gotten into my bathroom, gotten a bottle of shampoo, one of my cosmetic brushes and my husband's shaving cream brush, and decided to "wash" his model plane and some of his other trains. The model airplane was a gift from his uncle Matt (that he had made) and the black paint was coming off (thanks to all the frothy shampoo). Yeah. So, you can imagine the scene I walked into. Not to mention the shampoo wasn't the cheap variety. Well, I'm proud to say, I kept my cool. I wasn't happy, but I didn't lose it. I made him take a shower (he was covered in shampoo) then "help" me clean up the mess. So I took a detour on my afternoon plans, but, oh well. I guess that bathroom needed some cleaning anyway.

Move forward an hour or so. The girl is awake now, and I'm back to my original cleaning I was trying to do downstairs. The boy has decided he wants to play trains downstairs, but doesn't want the girl to touch any of his toys. He has also started freaking out (and I mean really flipping his lid--crying, whinging, hitting himself) because he doesn't like the "trains with faces" (his Th.omas trains). Now this might sound really freaky (and it is, it's disturbing when he gets like this) but again, I kept my cool. I remembered that he had really, really, really wanted some generic wooden trains we had seen at Tar.get the other day. He's also really into watching The P.olar Ex.press right now, and, as you KNOW (if you are a mom of a boy who is obsessed with trains) that the Polar Express train does NOT have a face. After one time out to calm down after pushing his sister (to get her away from his assorted tracks, etc.) and some more crying, I was able to get him onto my lap....where I was able to get him to talk through his thoughts. (Do you like the trains with no faces because they are more like Polar Express?) He kept asking if we could go get some RIGHT NOW, to which I kept saying, "we are not buying any new toys right now, but we can ask Santa" (cue more crying). Eventually, after calmly taking all the trains "with faces" and putting them in a paper bag, where he couldn't see them, and talking through the scenario of Christmas, and gifts, and potential for new trains, and WHY he liked the trains "with no faces" right now (Pol.ar Ex.press) and that we could go find all his no-face trains and make a train together, etc.,etc., he eventually calmed down. And, a little diversion later (making some cookies together, er, sort of) well, he was calm and back to playing nicely and being sweet to his sister.

We have not had a major freak-out like this in a while--they used to be an almost daily occurrence, and I admit, it shook me a little. However, I kept my cool (yay me!) which I can also tell you is not always the case, I'm just going to admit it. Sometimes he just goes on and on and on--he gets so STUCK on some weird thing that I just don't get--and he won't let it go, and he gets so furious, and....pretty soon there is steam coming out of the top of my head, and...well, it doesn't make anything better when I have my own tantrum. But today, I kept my cool, and everyone seems happy. Now, it is officially after five and I opening some wine. Yeeesssssss.

Oh, and Santa? I need some new cosmetic brushes for Christmas. Thanks.

The Boy, Part 2 -- I'm Just Going to be Honest, Here

I am going to say some things here that I have never said in a public forum before.

But before I say any of it, please know that I love my son. I love my children more than anything... The day my son was born was, up until that moment, the very happiest day of my life. I have loved him every day since and my love is fierce. He is a treasure and being chosen to be his Mommy and Daddy was a incredible gift. What I am about to reveal is not to complain or look for pity in any way, shape or form. I am just telling a story. This is what happened to us, to him, to our family, and I wish I had had the knowledge then that I have now to help my little boy sooner. So if anyone can benefit from this, then I hope this helps.

There was a time, amazingly not that long ago, when I cried on a daily basis. After I had shut the doors of my business and decided to stay at home full time (with a second child on the way, and the economy not doing my business any favors) I really got to spend a lot of 'quality' time with Handsome. No more Kinder.care program. Just him, and me. Mister was gone at least 13 hours a day thanks to his awful commute and demanding job at a start-up company. I was all alone with a toddler, who, frankly, was out of control. And, me, myself, my hormones--also out of control (during 3rd trimester of pregnancy and, for a while post-pardum).

It was bleak.

This time, that was supposed to be so wonderful: the last month of my pregnancy, the anticipation of the birth, and then the newborn phase--bringing our baby home, Handsome becoming a big brother....

But it was not that way at all.

Things only got worse after Grace was born. I know some sibling jealousy is to be expected. I know extra acting-out is normal. What transpired was beyond anything I considered 'normal'.

At one point, his rages were so severe, we (I) was so unable to control him--I really feared for his sister's safety. We had to put a latch on the outside of his sister's door, so that we could lock it from the outside to prevent him from getting in there when she was sleeping. Or from just getting in there and messing up her stuff. But mostly I was afraid of him doing something to hurt her.

It also was a fact that when he misbehaved, we were unable to put him in 'normal' time outs. During his rages, holding him was not an option. Not if you didn't want a broken nose. I have had a tooth cracked and I've got the veneer to prove it. He would not stay in his room or in any given spot for a time out. There was no way to help him gain control, or learn the lesson of bad behavior=consequence. He would just scream, throw, hit, flail, launch his body at you with amazing force. We got to the point where we had to take everything--every toy, every book, everything out of his room, until all that was left was his bed, his blankets and his stuffed animals. That way he was left with nothing he could throw, or anything he could hurt anyone (or himself,...or the house) with. We put a lock on his door, too. It was the only way. Please don't write me hateful letters. We were beside ourselves. We didn't know what else to do. At least this way he had somewhere to go where he was safe, and I was safe, Grace was safe, and he could cool down (eventually). There was one evening, when my husband and I held each other, me sobbing, and sat frozen in horror and disbelief as he raged away in his room. What was happening to our little boy, our baby? Were we the worst parents in the world? Was there something really terribly wrong; would we have to hospitalize him? Institutionalize him? What could be done? Surely a family could not survive this.

Finally, a friend of mine, who had seen these things first hand, who had known Handsome since I brought him home, a friend who knew me, and loved me, gave me the encouragement I clearly needed--to call my insurance and find a psychologist, NOW who could evaluate him. She even offered to come and watch him and the baby just so I could sit on the phone and make the necessary calls and endure whatever hoops they made me jump through until I got an answer and a name. Which I did. Against everyone else's advice (he's too young to be evaluated. It will pass. It's just a phase. He's just 'all boy'. He's 'spirited'.) I made the appointment, and I started the long process of righting this ship that was clearly capsizing.

Introducing the Rug Rats--The Boy, pt. 1

THE BOY CHILD (part one)

First, is our son, known on my old blog as "Handsome Man". Well, I think the name is pretty apt. He is one handsome guy. Of course, I have nothing to do with how handsome he is, from a genetic standpoint. He became 'ours' through domestic, open adoption in 2007. His beautiful Birth-mother E., and his handsome Birth-father, M., get all the credit on his good looks. We have a very open relationship with E., and her mom and dad, too. We've had several visits. Unfortunately, thus far we haven't really had much contact with M. He is just not in a place in his life where my husband and I really feel comfortable with Handsome Man having contact. But, time will tell. I guess I am kind of waiting to see if M. reaches out (he has our contact info and he is also still in contact with E.) but eventually we will have to make a move and see if we can establish some more contact. But so far, the relationship with E. and her family has been really comfortable, I only wish we got to see them more often (they live in a different state).

This is a picture of him after his new haircut, this past summer, before he started his first day of school. I love how impish he looks. I was so excited that he was starting school! (Probably more excited than he was!) It had been a long journey to get to this point (and I don't just mean the journey from California to Las Vegas.) When he was 3 (he's 4 now) I had enrolled him in preschool back in California. Let's just say it didn't work out too well. During this time I was also pursuing an evaluation or a diagnosis. I just knew something was 'off'. And considering he had been 'asked to leave' his first daycare at the age of 2, and then at the age of 3 I was getting called in to talk to the teacher after school, like, EVERY day, well...yeah, I figured something was going on. Not to mention I was pretty much brought to tears on a daily basis because I just didn't know how to parent him. We had so many conflicts. I was really scared that either something was really 'wrong' with Handsome, or, something was really 'wrong' with me, and I was just not made to be a mother. I was doubting myself so much and I was so confused and saddened. By October 2010 we had seen a child psychologist who did an evaluation over several visits and concluded that he had ("severe") ADHD along with ODD. The diagnosis was hard, confusing and scary (because I knew nothing about ADHD/ODD or what to do next) but it was also a relief because now I had a real professional tell me I was not crazy, and that raising Handsome was going to take more than your average color-by-numbers parenting.