Powell has been doing so well lately. So well, in fact, that some days I can almost forget he has these diagnoses which I try not to let define him.
Yesterday my husband and I marveled at how he played quietly and intently with his dinosaur sensory box all by himself for half an hour, then spent another half hour in his room drawing pictures. On actual paper. Six months ago this child had no interest in picking up a marker for anything other than scribbling on the couch or the wall, and was afraid to be alone in any room of the house. He truly has come so far.
And then, today. Today, I am reminded how I was feeling on a daily basis six months ago.
Powell woke up at 6:30 this morning, completely manic from the time his feet hit the floor. Running around the house, climbing the furniture, crashing into the walls, laying on top of his sister despite her angry protests, yanking pictures off the fridge, basically spinning out of control. I tried to get him to jump on his trampoline. Daddy let him squish cream cheese and shredded cheddar between his fingers for the breakfast omelets. Still manic. Then, all is quiet for a few minutes. This sets my radar off. I find Powell on the couch with a tube of cortisone cream, half the tube emptied out and smeared all over his body. “I felt itchy,” he says innocently.
OK. So maybe a long soak in a warm epsom salt bath will calm down the wild beast in him a bit. And it does. After his bath, he and his sister watch “Land Before Time” and color in the living room (it’s a rainy day, in case you’re wondering why I haven’t thrown his hyperactive little rear out in the back yard to run around). After a while, I walk through the living room and happen to notice a green Sharpie lying on the couch. Uh-oh. (How does he manage to find the Sharpies, when I am always so careful to stash them high out of reach?!) Sure enough, there is a huge slash of green across the back of the couch. The same exact shade of green that’s in Powell’s picture.
Not wanting to scream at him, I put up the Sharpie and retreat to my room for a few deep breaths. I’m already frustrated because I can’t for the life of me find a clean surface anywhere in the house on which to fold a load of laundry. Powell follows me to my room. He begins grabbing containers off my dresser and nightstand. “What’s this, Mom? Can I open it and see what it is?” as he is already opening tins of hand cream and lip balm.
“NO! Put my stuff down! This is my room! Go to your room and play with your stuff!!” I shout as I burst into tears.
“Mom, are you sad? Mom, are you crying? I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault buddy,” I muster, ashamed. “It’s not your fault.” And I embrace my sweet child in my arms.
Today has been a challenging day, and it’s only noon. But tomorrow will be better.
Comments
joyce
We need the hard days to remind us of how far they have come. Sad but true as I found out last week when my son had such a horrible meltdown lasting over an hour, probably due to lots of stuff outside of my control – no proper food throughout the day (as on an excursion and so ate lollies from other kids), noisy bus ride home, out of school routine… and me not patient. Oh man, but thankful they are less frequent and I am not walking on egg shells all the time.
Hugs
Joyce
Sybil
Thanks for talking about the good and the bad. I recently started blogging about my life and realized I had been focusing on many negative things. So, I have been attempting to celebrate the good this week, thinking about all the progress my son has made. It’s made the bad times more bearable.
oneofeach4me
As I read this.. and tears flow down my cheeks, I know just how you feel. This is a typical day for me, and being that we will begin OT training this summer, we haven’t had many quiet play days. I used to love to wake up on a Sat morning and hear rain, cause that meant a lazy day. Now… I dread that sound because I know the day will be FAR from relaxing. As parent’s we do the best we can, and just like our kids, some days for us are better than others. Oh, and as I side note… I think Sharpies grow legs and find their way to the kids hands because I KNOW I hide them in my sock drawer! lol I hope the day gets better for you (hugs)
Jenny from the Block
So true, so very true. It is amazing the progress they make, but the bad days do still show up. I suppose we have bad days,too, so the kids are really no different in that, except that their bad days can be really challenging in a whole different way! More bad days here lately with the change of routine at school due to the end of the year. It really takes me back to when it was daily with my daughter. Maybe we became somewhat numb when dealing with it daily, and then when things are good and a bad day visits again, it seems to hit us harder. I hope you do not feel bad. It is OK to cry or get mad sometimes, and for me, I think sometimes it can even be good for kids to see this from their parents. Not only does it show we are not perfect, but it can makes them feel more able to express their emotions and be imperfect, too. Hugs
Heather
I could have written this. We are a long way from the kid who would bang his head for hours but still so far from what I expected “Normal” to be. For us, the good days are amazing and the bad days are hellish.
You are so not alone.
Carissa
Thank you to all of you for the kind words. I am so thankful for this group, the supportive energy expressed here, and just knowing there are people out there who truly get it. ♥