Normal is boring, right? RIGHT???

So I am officially giving up home-based feeding therapy. My child will starve himself rather than eat pizza without pepperoni. He cried last night when I asked him to try a french fry. Going to other friend's houses is dicey: if they have little tiny ones I can usually count on there being something for Sam to eat, but otherwise I haul in my own food for him, mostly consisting of macaroni and cheese packets.

The constant fighting to try to get him to try new foods is exhausting, and it doesn't seem to be working. I've tried "chaining" food, and we make no progress. We were making some good progress with tolerating new vegetables on the plate, but it pretty much stopped there. I could get him up to licking the new food but no further.

It's the anxiety around food that is worrisome to me. He's not just picky--he has a clearly defined set of allowable and non-allowable foods, and attempts to add to that list bring about some pretty severe reactions. I know that lots of parents think you can just ask them to try a new food and as long as you keep presenting it that everything will work out, but dude. We are not there. We haven't been there. We've been working towards that for like, four years. And I. Give. Up. I am out of my depth with this.

Sam has an evaluation for occupational therapy in May, and they assured me that feeding therapy can be part of that. I've always thought he doesn't have sensory issues informing his feeding problems, because texture doesn't seem to be a problem for him. But there is something off about his reaction to food, and man. I just want someone professional to either say "This is all in your head, he's a picky eater and he'll grow out of it and he's fine" or "Yeah, you're right, he needs some help with this issue and here are the tactics we can use to help him."

Part of having a kid with special needs is you start to see everything through the special needs filter. Is he just a picky eater who gets dramatic about being asked to try new foods or does he have Food Issues? Is he just a kid who laughs at things that aren't that funny or is it Inappropriate Laughter? Does he just like to dance and contort his body or is he Having Sensory and Proprioceptive Issues? Sometimes I feel like I don't even know what "normal" looks like anymore.

I'm really looking forward to getting him into OT so we can figure out what we need to work on with him and what is just a normal part of being four.

Oh hai.

So instead of blogging I've been editing academic dissertations, which is evidently my new job. I've been trying to build up a freelance business for a while now and I feel like I'm starting to reach a tipping point where I can actually say "Why yes, I'm a freelance editor specializing in dissertations" rather than just every so often editing a dissertation for a friend of a friend. It's kind of awesome, because I love editing, and it is nice to have a little extra income, and it does my ego good to be considered an actual editor adult-type person. But on the other hand, being a Work Out of Home Mom kind of sucks. I like using my brain, I  like that my son sees me doing some productive work and sees me being a professional, but I hate spending so much time ignoring him while I try to meet a deadline. Clearly I need to do some work on finding balance with that. I try to do most of my editing while he's in school or on weekends or after he's in bed, but there inevitably comes the days when I'm trying to wrap up a job and the poor child is plunked in front of the television for four straight hours.

Yesterday I just threw him out in the backyard with a squirt bottle full of water and some kid-sized gardening tools and let him do his thang. It was great. He came in covered in dirt and starving. I'm hoping with the gorgeous weather we've been having that I'll be able to exercise this option considerably more frequently than the tv option.

Today he goes back to preschool after his weeklong spring break, and we'll see how that goes. We've been doing a lot of work on "good choices vs bad choices," which is something he really seems to respond to. Although he's been telling me that he's going to make bad choices and then change them into good choices. I'm trying to figure out a way to communicate that while it is always okay to make mistakes and that it is wonderful to catch yourself in the middle of a mistake and change course, it is not acceptable to set out to make a bad choice. Sigh. This kid is too smart for his own good sometimes. He can always find the loophole in any rule.

Don't rock the boat, baby, don't rock the boat.

So the little man seems to have hit his stride at school. I mean, it only took six months, but hey, who's counting? If he does well today he will have had two straight weeks of excellent days. Which I do not think has EVER happened. So what are we doing to achieve this magical event?

Sam goes to school with a LOT of extras. He has a special sit-upon cushion which provides some additional sensory input. He gets to hold a koosh ball during circle time to help calm him down. He has a series of charts that help give him some external order throughout his day. His awesome awesome awesome teacher Miss M. comes to school with him one day a week to help him focus. He has a sorting game for good choices and bad choices. We talk about when choices are hard and who he can ask for help. I'm giving him ridiculously expensive Omega-3 supplements because there's increasing research that indicates that may have a beneficial effect for kids like mine.

I'm not under the illusion that we've "fixed it" and it will be smooth sailing from here on out. Sam is a major limit-tester--he doesn't do it to be defiant or rude, but more like out of scientific curiosity. He is always going to have days when he wants to push the envelope and we'll have to smack him back down (metaphorically) so he knows exactly where those boundaries are. As he gets older I'm hoping it will be easier and easier to channel that tendency into more productive pursuits. We're already starting to do some "science experiments" around the house and I think I need to really buckle down and dedicate one day a week during the summer to those kind of projects.

Running might be your Prozac, but PROZAC is my Prozac.

So the whole fam-damily headed off to the gym on Sunday, to dump the little man in the kids center where he could run wild and scream at girls ("LOTS of us boys were doing it, mom. We thought the girls were ants.") and his father and I could hit the pool. On the way in I saw an SUV (because mini-vans are just so uncool) with this bumper sticker: Running is My Prozac.

Which. Like. Well. Yay for you. Seriously, I'm not being sarcastic there. If you can manage your mood through diet and exercise, that is great. That is WONDERFUL.

BUT. It doesn't work like that for everyone. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely use diet and exercise to help manage my depression. They make a HUGE difference. But unless I'm also taking the meds, I can't function at a high enough level to manage my diet and exercise. Hell, I can't function at a high enough level to do laundry. (Although sitting on the couch and watching The Real Housewives of Orange County and silently sobbing didn't seem to pose much of a challenge, oddly enough. (I lie. It was Wife Swap.))

And while I totally support the idea that there are a lot of steps you can take to help manage mental illness, I get so leery of bumper stickers like "Running is my Prozac," because part of me feels, rightly or wrongly, that it implies that if one tried a little harder one would not be depressed. Maybe if you just got more exercise, or helped others more, or went to church, or were a better fucking person you wouldn't be such a sad sack of shit all the time. And although I have no reason to think that is the message behind sayings like "Running is my Prozac," I think a lot of people take that message away, and it is not helpful.

Depression is not a reflection on who you are. It is not necessarily caused by an unhappy childhood, or unresolved issues, or being a repressed housewife. Sometimes it is just brain chemistry.

Miscellaneous.

So the last couple weeks have been, I don't know. Busy. A little nuts. Sam probably has a malfunctioning ear tube, so he's been murderous at school (ha ha, not really. I think the only thing he murders is his teacher's will to live) and a poisonous devil at home. Then we started bribing him with peanut butter eggs if he takes his ear drops, and suddenly all is well again. He heads to the ENT on Friday, and I have the sinking feeling we are going to have to replace at least one of those tubes, DAMNIT.

He went to the dentist on Friday, and I was expecting Sam-hijinks. But he was a MODEL patient. He held still, opened his mouth wide, and was great. It certainly didn't help that our hygienist was unbelievably good with him. She knew EXACTLY what he needed. It was amazing. I did some major prep work, talking a lot about the dentist and making a plan--he wouldn't have to lie down all the way in the chair, he could sit on my lap, he could wear sunglasses so the light didn't hurt his eyes, and he could hold a new angry bird plush that he could keep ONLY if he was a good patient (or at least gave it the old preschool try). But he really surpassed all my expectations. The only snag was when he puked because of the fluoride treatment. Next time I'll remember to bring another shirt to the office.

10 pounds of awesome

Having a child with ADHD is kind of like having 10 pounds of awesome in a 5 pound bag. Or, in our particular case, 66 pounds of awesome in a 33 pound bag. Yeah, there are times (a lot of times) when trying to contain all that awesome in a bag too small is a pain. You are scrambling around, picking up spare pieces of awesome here and there, trying to shove them back in the bag, trying to convince the bag it is time to hurry up already people are looking at us. There are often forgotten bits of awesome strewn about the house and left at the neighbors and the friends. All that awesome spills over in school, when the bag is supposed to be sitting still, neatly containing what you know is impossible to contain. There is no doubt it can be a gigantic pain in the ass.

But the thing about it? All those random pieces of awesome floating all over the place and complicating your life? They are made of awesome. Having a child with ADHD means you are never, ever, EVER bored. You learn more than you ever thought possible, not just about yourself and your parenting skills and stretching your limits and all that jazz, but about whatever insane thing your child becomes obsessed with this week. You learn because your child just will not take "I don't know" for an answer, and while that is not always ideal before you've had your first cup of coffee, it is a wonderful and amazing thing to discover new worlds with your child. ADHD kids are likely to approach things from a different angle, noticing things other kids might not, making new connections.

ADHD kids won't sit on the couch and cuddle with you quietly while you both enjoy a movie. They'll ask for a movie to go on, then grab their toys and act it out right along with the screen, often improvising and adding new details. You'll always know who is talking, because they have different voices for each character.

Your ADHD child probably won't color inside the lines. But they'll amaze you with their artistic vision. They are the innovators and the improvisors. They might not follow directions to the letter, but what they come up with is often astounding in its difference and creativity.

Make no mistake--ADHD is a gift. Unwrapping that gift is often messy and hard, leading to cut fingers, tears, and a lot of frustration as you figure out how to get past the paper and reach the child inside. But WOW. What's inside is amazing.

Stop me if you've heard this one before...or the curious case of behavior deja-vu.

So we'll go along for a few weeks at school with Sam's behavior being "okay-ish." Not especially great, but also not especially bad. Then he'll have a few really good days, and I'll start to think one of two things: A--we've got this whole thing figured out, and I am such an amazing mother for getting my child what he needs to really succeed; and/or B--maybe we were all over-reacting, and he doesn't really have a problem after all. He's just spirited, but now he's getting the hang of it (side note: if it is MARCH and your child is still working on getting the hang of it please to talk to your doctor objectively about possible behavioral issues.).

Then he'll have a couple really bad days. Days when the future looks so dark for both of us, because he just cannot do school things in an appropriate fashion. Things like sitting down for 10 minutes. Things like working on an art project, or waiting his turn without giving up on the whole idea and finding something totally different. You know, things like focus. Persistence. Self-control.

Today I forgot Sam's awesome air cushion, which is supposed to provide sensory input. To be honest, I don't understand the reasoning behind it 100%, but it has a success rate of about 75-80% with my kid, so we use it. Except today. So of course he had a bad day, earning an actual frowny face for his second circle (story-time), a frowny face his teacher hardly ever gives. I guess he was hiding under the table the entire time. JE. SUS. CHRIST. Or, as we sometimes say around the little man, CHEEZITS. Dad gum.

I know, I really really do, that this is a long-haul process. But sometimes it can be dispiriting to know that a single dropped component sends the gears screeching to a halt.

On the bright side, I told him that if he lines up on the playground without being asked more than once 4 days in a row he would earn the Mighty Eagle setting on my Angry Birds. That worked like a motherfucking charm.* So now he's going to go 6 days in a row (which translates to 3 weeks) to earn another app.

*No, I don't know why telling him he needs to line up doesn't work. Threats don't work. There is basally no punishment severe enough (outside of like, beatings) to overcome the momentary thrill of exercising that power on the playground. But positive rewards work, as long as he wants them badly enough.