There May be Money in Our Future

  Tonight the A and Bug were playing in their room.  Bug asked me if I wanted to come see his office.  I did, and sat down on the makeshift sleeping bag/chair.
  When I asked what his job was, he said "prescriptions."
  He then asked me what prescription I needed.  The first one that came to mind: Prozac (easy name to spell, short word, easy to remember).

  "How do you spell that?" he asks, as he prepares to write each letter as I tell him.
  A said, "what about Zyrtec, Momma?"
  Ah, yes, that would have been a better choice....

  So he wrote me my scripts and I was done.  Future pharmacist?  Perhaps.

  A also had an office.  Her profession?  Therapist.
  She invited me into her office.
  A: So do you have any anxiety?

  And the conversation went  on from there...

  Future therapist?  Maybe

  Now A is writing prescriptions for her patients and those imaginary patients are taking them to Bug to be filled.

  I'm glad I have the ability to see the humor in this whole scenario.

She's "All About that Snack. 'Bout that Snack. No hunger."

  Yesterday was a beautiful day where we live!  We were able to take a picnic to the park, ride bikes, walk some trails, and throw some rocks into the creek.  At the end of January!
  On the way home from the aforementioned outing, and after listening to A yell and sob about snack, the following *conversation* ensued:
  Me:  Ok, you can have some of this peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich.
  A: No! I don't want that.
  Me: it has protein and it's a little sweet, it's the perfect snack.
  A: No!  I don't want that!
  Me:  It's all I have.  It's either that or nothing, kiddo. *talking to the Bug and his friend in the back*: You boys want some of this pb and j?
  Them:  yeah!

  I divided one fold-over sandwich in half and passed it back to the boys.  When they were finished, I faced the following dilemma:  I had one fold-over left.  Do I offer the boys seconds or do I save it just in case A decides she wants some?
  I waited a few minutes and then offered the boys seconds.
  Sure enough, A decided she wanted some.
  I divided the fold over into thirds and passed it back, explaining that this was all I had.

  A:  What?  But I want seconds!  That's not fair that the boys got seconds and I don't!

  *Insert a 5 minute fit about how unfair it was that the boys got seconds and she didn't [on a snack she didn't want in the first place]*

  Whew.  SMH.

Routine or Bust!

  In my blog post yesterday, I mentioned that A had been clinging to our routine lately.
  Today I wanted to share a shining example of how drastic things got.
  With all the holidays we've had lots of time at home together.  The Hubby, A, Bug, and me.  We had a few lazy mornings (your typical stay-in-your-pajamas-all-day-and-eat-breakfast-at-11 kind of day).
  By the second day (not in a row--we aren't heathens ;) ) I found myself thinking "this is nice!  We don't have nearly enough of these days in our lives."
  My peaceful, lazy morning quickly came to a screeching halt.
  You see, the kids watch a show when they first get up.  They also have snack on the couch.  That particular morning the kids had eaten saltines.  I needed to go into town, and as I was getting ready to leave, A asked for seconds of snack.  I knew she had eaten plenty--but had never had "official seconds."
  She was adamant that she was starving, so I asked how many crackers she had.
  Twelve.  She'd had 12.  Now that might not seem like much, but I always give the kids 5 to start with and 5 for seconds (annnnnd there's a reason for that, too....but that's another story).  She had already had more than that and wanted seconds?!
  I noted that it was 11 a.m., so I said "If you're that hungry, go ahead and eat lunch."
  Looking back I see what a ridiculous offer that was to make.  Hindsight and all...
  "I can't have lunch! I haven't had breakfast yet!"  was A's not-so-calm response.
  Breakfast?  It's 11 o'clock and you've been eating saltines All morning...?
  I tried to reason with her, but soon discovered that it was useless.  Logic and reason are among the first things to go when she starts her downward spiral.
  I finally told her she was welcome to have breakfast.  When I left, both of my adorable children were eating breakfast basically at noon.
 
  I got home about two hours later, during rest time, and A came running up to me, crying.
  "Daddy won't let me eat lunch!" she sobbed.
  He was dumbfounded.
  "I thought they were eating lunch when you left" was his (logical) response.

  Nope.  It certainly wasn't as *simple* as that--so she sat down to lunch at 2 in the afternoon.

  Take away from this:  we don't skip meals in this house.  Ever.  Even if we wake up at noon, there's a certain order to things: breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner.

  Whew.  Lesson learned.

Birthdays. Who Knew?

  A just had a birthday, but the preparation for it began months ago.
  I don't mean the prep on my end. Sure, I am making a Ton of things for the party, but I began my projects about a month before the party--so I'm in pretty good shape.
  It was the preparation on A's part that wasn't coming together well.
  A few weeks ago that I noticed an increase in meltdowns.  Thankfully I was able to see that they weren't as bad as they used to be, but they still left me scratching my head.  She was clinging to our routine, and the smallest change was Not acceptable.
The problem was that I couldn't see what had changed.

  I finally did some analyzing and realized that these meltdowns were similar to her "transition meltdowns" (going from one activity to another was a big deal) that we struggled with desperately  when she was younger.    

  After thinking about it, I had a major Light Bulb moment!  She was afraid to turn 8.  She was scared of her birthday.  It made total sense to me!  Anxiety stems from a fear of the unknown.  She's never been 8.  She is the first one of her group of friends to turn 8.  From anxiety's point of view, there are tons of unknown variables involved with age and unknown = scary.

  I resorted to what I do best, and began research.  Guess what?  There aren't any fantastic books (parenting or juvenile fiction) to help prepare a kid to be 8--or any age.  Several parents on an SPD Facebook page said they have the same problem, but no one had answers.
  I e-mailed A's therapist, and started brain storming.  All of a sudden, I realized the answer was incredibly simple.  I decided to just ask her.  I chose a time when she and I were sitting at the kitchen table together and the house was quiet.  She was working on an art project, and I was working on some birthday party stuffs.  I just said "So, A, how do you feel about turning 8?"
  She stiffened a bit and said "When's my next Paula [her counselor] appointment?"
  It obviously bothered her, so I dropped it--as far as talking about it goes, anyway.  Instead, I made an appointment for her with Paula that week (instead of waiting another week for her next appointment), and then I made a point to comment on all the "Big Kid" things she was doing.  She has made her own drawings and snowflakes as decorations for her party, she made an incredible tent in her room, she asked me to teach her how to sew and I did (and she totally rocked it!).
  I made a point to say, "Wow, you're so ready to be 8," or "Building a tent like that is definitely something an 8 year old would do." I could see her self confidence increase, and then I heard it.  I asked if I could take a picture of her and the amazing tent to post on Facebook, and she said, "Sure.  And I'll look proud of myself because I am proud of myself."
  Let me tell you, that was one Proud Momma moment for me!  Internally I was cheering and turning cartwheels.  But on the outside I just smiled, took the picture, and posted it.
  She's an amazing kid and she's going to rock this whole being 8 business!

Let The Good Times Roll

  There has been much drama in my life lately and it's been stealing my sunshine.
  I decided to drag the family on a vacation (not really, we were all actually excited to go!) so I could re-center myself.  My focus needs to be My immediate family: The Hubby, A, and Bug...and me, of course.
  It's been hard to keep that perspective with so many other things trying to demand chunks of my time.
  Vacation was just what we needed.  Even though we were tired when we got home, we had a wonderful week together.  No other worries, just spending time with each other!
  Things have been falling into place for me since our return home.
  I was really struggling with A and found myself doing more research, reading, digging, discussing, etc, to try to find a solution.
  She grew 1.5 inches in about 5 months, and as a result, her psychiatrist increased her anxiety medicine about 3 months ago in order to catch up with her growth spurt.
  I saw some difference at first, then we stalled out, but the last 4 days have been amazing!
  A has been happy.  Genuinely happy for more than 30 percent of the day!  She's giggling, making up her own jokes, and acting goofy.  Quite honestly, the first day she was like that, I was convinced I was living in the Twilight Zone.  It really threw me off not having to tiptoe around her.
  She has been taking initiative.  This kid who had to be regularly coerced into doing even the piddliest of chores is now racing me to the kitchen so she can set the table without being asked.  She's putting away laundry without being asked.  She's cleaning up without being asked.  Notice a trend?  Initiative.
  A has been helpful.  She has done what I ask when I ask without whining and carrying on like I'm killing her.
  She has been affectionate.  Running up to me, The Hubby, and Bug at random times and giving us hugs, kisses, or words of encouragement--"You're the best little brother, ever!"
  Honestly, even her hugs and kisses were awkward for me because it was so foreign.  She's never enjoyed giving or receiving kisses--I always assumed it was an SPD thing.  Perhaps it still is, but it's obviously not as big a deal anymore.
  It's times like this when I remind myself *this* is why I never stopped asking questions, digging, searching, and getting evaluations when I wasn't happy with the answers I was getting.
  *This* is why I sort through my own traumas and work hard in my counseling sessions: so I can be there for A and support her like I need to.
  *This* is why I'm ok with my 7.5 year old seeing a therapist regularly, being on anxiety medication, and seeing a psychiatrist.
  *This* is the A who has been buried under SPD, anxiety, timidity, etc.
  I live for moments when I get to see that precious, kind-hearted baby girl.
  The last 4 days have been well worth all the struggles we have endured together over the years.
  I love my little girl!

Logic In My House 101

  I found this gem in a journal entry of mine from about 5 months ago.
  Since the last post was a bit heavy, I thought I'd follow it up with a funny story.
  A little history before you read: A had been struggling with her SPD, which led to this (something I can laugh at now...)

"This morning we were getting ready for Church and A wore a new dress.  She tried it on without an undershirt first.  Then she put a t-shirt under it.  That worked, but it was a VERY delicate situation.  
Apparently I messed that up when I touched the tag. It took her 10 minutes to settle down after completely melting down.  When I fixed her hair, she *gently* reminded me to be careful of the tag.

So I was very careful.  And when we were done (we made it without a complete meltdown) I said “look, I didn’t even touch the tag.”

Ya know what she said?????

“What tag?”

What the….?

What just happened there?????  

I know, “WHAT TAG?!”  The blasted thing wasn’t touching her because she had an undershirt on to serve as a buffer.

Oh for crying out loud."

  And that's how logic works in my household...

Tough Love

  My family seems to be getting a head start on the whole "winter is the season to be sick" mentality and so we've started in late August/early September.
  Over the last six weeks, I have noticed that while the maternal instinct in me wants to cuddle A and pull her onto my lap when she says "I don't feel good," I can't do that.  Not with A.  We, as mothers, can easily fall into the trap of thinking that we are a bad mother if we don't pay attention to our child's every ache and pain.
  For a lot of parents, that's an ok approach.  Unfortunately when it comes to me and A, I can't afford a reaction like that.
  Let me explain:  A comes to me multiple times a day with various complaints from tummy aches (could be anxiety, could be gas, could be a stomach bug), to her eyes not working right (she saw an eye doctor last year--her vision is perfect), to bumping her toe on something and now not being able to walk right, to miscellaneous scrapes/bumps/bruises.
  Don't get me wrong. I don't brush her off.  I know that won't send the right message.  I do, however, have to make sure that my reaction is a good balance of loving concern and confidence in knowing she'll be ok.  I acknowledge her discomfort and offer an appropriate low-intervention (read: not medication) solution (usually ice or rest), and go on.

  Not only have I had practice in tough love w/ A lately, but with my mom, too.  Life hasn't been easy for the past month, and one of the issues has involved Mom's health.
  I have come to the hard realization that I don't actually know how to love my own mother (another post for another time).  As a child I was shown conditional love.
  Over the past month people who know my history have been saying "hey, you've gone above and beyond the past few weeks for your mom,"  while the child in me says, "she's your mom" and encourages me to say yes to things I shouldn't agree to.

  I've had to set some hard boundaries that seem cold to others.  I've had to stop being concerned with what other people might think of my choices, and draw the line.  I've come to realize that this is in the best interest of everyone involved (me, A, Bug, The Hubby, and Mom).
   The best way I can show my mother deep, unconditional love is to set boundaries and let her figure some things out on her own.  Enabling her to be dependent on others isn't helping anyone.
  Whew.

  Positive take away:  I'm doing what's best for everyone involved...even if it is hard.