Tonight was L's first trampoline lesson. He was soooo excited to start! I was excited for him to have something else to look forward to in the week.
Now I'm just disappointed, and anxious, and upset.
I don't know why I thought this was going to be any different than any other sport he's ever tried. It was the same for ballhockey, ice hockey, t-ball, soccer, gymnastics, and to an extent, swimming. He starts off gung-ho and excited. I think in his mind he's sure and positive that he's going to be awesome at this sport, he's going to excel, and he's not even going to have to try! I just wish that positive thinking would last.
10 minutes into his jumping, I could see his body language change. I was watching him from the parents' area, set above the gym. I could see that he was becoming winded, tired and that he had a stitch in his side. I willed him mentally to take a break, to remember how we always used to tell him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth.
But he didn't. It wasn't until I could tell that he couldn't continue, that he had a break on the pretence of having a drink. By then I could see that his side was killing him, and that this was a cramp that wasn't going to go away quickly.
Eventually he did go back to jumping, but with about 15 minutes left in the class (it's 60 minutes total), I could see him pulling back his sock to check his foot. And from my vantage point, even I could see the redness. Then, he quit. And started crying.
He wouldn't jump anymore, I could see the coaches asking him questions, but had no idea what was being said.
Now that I have a much better understanding of his thought process, I could understand what was going on. But that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I was looking around at the other kids wondering to myself, "why can't he just be like them?" One girl practically ripped off a toenail on the trampoline and she wasn't even upset. She got a bandaid and went back to it.
I can't help wondering as well what others may be thinking. "Why is that kid crying?" "What a wimpy kid, his parents must coddle him," "What's wrong with him?"
I know I shouldn't care, and I guess in time, I'll learn to not think about that sort of thing (or not) but I still feel like I should explain his behaviour to people. I didn't though.
After ten minutes of crying, I went to fetch him.
Here are the things he said on his way home:
"It's just like school all over again! They're pushing us too hard!" (This was in reference to the fact that they were, god forbid, actually trying to teach him something! Oh the horror! Can you believe it? I mean, come on, it's a lesson!)
"I hurt myself"
"I can't do it"
"It's boring"
And of course, lots of tears and crying about it, because aside from the two blisters he got on either foot, he said he twisted his foot. I'm not sure about that, I think it's just an aching muscle from underuse, and his feet are not strong, he is very flat footed.
I tried to remember and think of what the psychiatrist had said. I decided against my instinct to talk about it and to try to talk him around, and instead tried desperately in my mind to figure out how to switch tacks.
I remembered the dr. saying he needs a positive focus, and the only thing I could think of at the time was the coupon in my purse for a DQ Blizzard. So we went and got some ice cream for him and his brother.
The sobbing stopped, and upon returning home, he seemed to be brightening a little. That is, until we walked in the door.
"L," called R. "I have bad news for you."
I looked at L in horror, and all I could think was that his fish was dead. I prayed no, please.
"Jasper (our dog) chewed up your goose call!"
His goose call is something he'd made himself, painstakingly I might add. He was proud of it, but the outside of it was made with bamboo, something the dog would easily chew through. And unfortunately for L, he had left it on the floor.
This immediately resulted in tears, great, sobbing, gulping tears. We tried to console him, promising him that daddy would help him make a new one on the weekend, but it didn't help. To L, his mind was probably cataloging all the reasons now why trampolining was a huge NO-NO.
1. I get hurt.
2. I get tired.
3. The coaches push me too hard.
4. I get cramps.
5. It's boring.
6. I suck at it.
7. I come home to find my stuff destroyed.
Would you go back? I can't blame him too much for not wanting to go again. His mind doesn't balance it out with the positives, like, despite what happened, and the fact that the injury was minor, it was FUN!!
So now, I don't know what to do. Make him go back? Every parenting book would tell you to do just that, but here's the thing; with a normal kid, they would soon come to realize the positives after a few sessions. Your persistence would pay off, and just as you knew they would, they'd learn to love it. But with L, he's going to fight me on it every week. That is my number one reason I don't want to continue. I fight with him on everything, this is one more thing to add to the List Of Misery.
He very likely won't learn to love it. His brain has already decided its a hazard to his health, and I have NO IDEA how to change that! I have a small idea, but it involves "incentives" (bribery, really) and it just really goes against the grain here.
And if he's going to be miserable and fight me on it every week, maybe I should try to get my money back now, before too many classes have gone by.
DH says that would be sending him the wrong message; to quit straight away. He's very much a get-straight-back-on-the-horse type of guy. Of course,I agree, I don't want to let my kids grow up thinking that quitting because something is challenging is an option.
So, I don't know. I'm lost here.
Oh, and BTW, he did cheer up after I suggested he come eat his Blizzard treat, along with a little joking that I was hoping he wouldn't want it so I could have it.
The strangest thing I find about L and his episodes, is that come morning, he seems to have forgotten it. Well, not forgotten it, but he's not dwelling on it. But I am. It's the first thing I think of when I wake in the morning - what happened the day before, and it puts a sinking feeling in my stomach. But he seems fine.
Weird.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Blah
Blah, blah, blah. That's how I'm feeling today. I'm just feeling so....bored. Apathetic. It's not like I don't have things to do, because I do. I just can't seem to find the will to do them.
Every week it's the same thing: get up, work, make food, clean up food, look after kids, drive kids around to activities, sit for an hour in the evening bored because DH is watching some sporting event, and go to bed. Weekends consist of laundry, errands, R's ball hockey, cleaning, watching movies at home, and torturing myself and L with homework.
I'm tired of the same walls, the same outings to the grocery store, library, etc, even the same neighbourhood we walk around with the dog. I'm tired of terrible weather that keeps us from enjoying outdoors, or even doing DIFFERENT chores outside for a change. I'm tired of making the same meals, in the same kitchen. I'm even tired of eating them. I'm tired of being envious of other people's vacations, of their adventures. I'm tired of wearing the same clothes, and not having money to buy myself even one new outfit.
I'm tired of looking back on the day and seeing how little I accomplished vs. what I did want to accomplish. I'm even tired of the same things running through my head constantly: L, and his issues, the voice telling me to exercise, the fact that I really need to see a dentist and am too scared to go, the task list of things I need to do and keep putting off, worrying about my family, what should we have for dinner, all the things I ate that day and shouldn't have, and so on.
What I need is change! A new look, a new body, a new perspective, a new job, I don't know. Just something.
Bah. I'm depressing myself. I hate when I get like this. Boredom, for me, leads to eating. I don't know what else to do, so I start snacking. That's not good. But I find myself constantly thinking about food. Of course it doesn't seem to help that half my life revolves around food - preparing it, cleaning it up, eating it, shopping for it, planning for it.
Ok, I need to remind myself that I'm bored because everything is good! I'm not having to run myself or anyone around to the doctor, or treatments, or anything like that. My children are healthy, my husband and I are too (mostly!) and nothing tragic has befallen us.
Ok, I feel better about my boredom now.
So where did those chips go?....
Every week it's the same thing: get up, work, make food, clean up food, look after kids, drive kids around to activities, sit for an hour in the evening bored because DH is watching some sporting event, and go to bed. Weekends consist of laundry, errands, R's ball hockey, cleaning, watching movies at home, and torturing myself and L with homework.
I'm tired of the same walls, the same outings to the grocery store, library, etc, even the same neighbourhood we walk around with the dog. I'm tired of terrible weather that keeps us from enjoying outdoors, or even doing DIFFERENT chores outside for a change. I'm tired of making the same meals, in the same kitchen. I'm even tired of eating them. I'm tired of being envious of other people's vacations, of their adventures. I'm tired of wearing the same clothes, and not having money to buy myself even one new outfit.
I'm tired of looking back on the day and seeing how little I accomplished vs. what I did want to accomplish. I'm even tired of the same things running through my head constantly: L, and his issues, the voice telling me to exercise, the fact that I really need to see a dentist and am too scared to go, the task list of things I need to do and keep putting off, worrying about my family, what should we have for dinner, all the things I ate that day and shouldn't have, and so on.
What I need is change! A new look, a new body, a new perspective, a new job, I don't know. Just something.
Bah. I'm depressing myself. I hate when I get like this. Boredom, for me, leads to eating. I don't know what else to do, so I start snacking. That's not good. But I find myself constantly thinking about food. Of course it doesn't seem to help that half my life revolves around food - preparing it, cleaning it up, eating it, shopping for it, planning for it.
Ok, I need to remind myself that I'm bored because everything is good! I'm not having to run myself or anyone around to the doctor, or treatments, or anything like that. My children are healthy, my husband and I are too (mostly!) and nothing tragic has befallen us.
Ok, I feel better about my boredom now.
So where did those chips go?....
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Update And Other Stuff
Ok, we're lazy, I admit it. We haven't been doing much that's drastic to follow through with the psychiatrist's recommendation. All I've done is to keep what I learnt about how is brain thinks in mind. Which is helping - me, if anything. I did go and buy some candy to use as an incentive to get him to go to bed easier, and it works somewhat. I guess we're both dreading the whole "taking everything away" issue.
But the other day, we had another incident. L was playing with a homemade bow and arrow. He had made it himself, probably a year ago. At one point, I was making dinner, and he came into the kitchen moaning because the wood had dried out and the one end had snapped. I suggested he just retie the wire he'd used for the string part, but that was shot down.
"It won't work!" he screamed, and cracked the bow in half and threw it into the garbage. I ignored him, thinking to myself of how childish this behaviour was (and in hindsight, yeah, duh, he's a child!)but I guess he was more upset than that. He stormed off to his room.
DH came home shortly after, and I asked him to coax L downstairs. He said L wouldn't acknowledge him. So I went up a bit later, and found him sitting on the floor, next to his dresser with craft wire wrapped around his neck and tied to the dresser handles! It was a bit shocking, to say the least. I won't go on with all the details, but as soon as I called DH up to come and see what was going on, L untangled himself quick as could be. I suppose it was alright for mom to find him in that state, but not dad.
At this point, we both had a big talk with him, which now that I think about it, wasn't the right thing to do I don't think. We're not supposed to dwell on the details, on the negatives, but that's difficult when you find your son in that situation! He was trying to strangle himself!
Now, this psychiatrist said that kids this young don't really know how to kill themselves, but I beg to differ. He was definitely on the right track!
At this point, I told L that I couldn't continue to leave anything in his room that could be harmful to him. I said I wanted to be sure that when he's quiet upstairs in his room, it's because he's busy or asleep, not hurting himself. I then gathered all his invention bits and pieces, his hammer, his scissors, all the wire, and anything else that I could see as potentially dangerous, and put them all in my room under my bed. The thing is, that he didn't even get mad about it. Either he was too busy being upset about whatever his brain was dwelling on, or he was genuinely relieved that I had taken harmful things away from him. The second choice scares me to no end.
DH and I tried to discuss with him that we knew that his brain was telling him lots of bad stuff, but that when he felt this way, he needs to let us know. DH suggested he could even just say a word, or hand us some sort of token, if he couldn't find the right words to say. And we would do our best to try to help his brain get back on the right track.
I managed to redirect his thinking enough to get him to come downstairs and make his stir fried veggies for dinner. After that, he cheered up. The redirection thing works, it's just figuring out how to redirect him; I can't always let him cook or hand him candy.
So that wasn't so great, I'd thought we had moved on from the "I'm going to kill myself" stage. But at least now I have his invention stuff in my control.
Last week I also had an appt with his psychologist. That left a sour taste in my mouth. DH had taken him to the first meet-and-greet appt, and then the second was a two hour test they do for seeing if they have LDs and whatnot. So this appt I didn't bring L, since I was just getting the results of the test.
This woman didn't seem to know much. She said there wasn't much "wrong" with him that she could see. She said that he's above average intelligence, and aside from the troubles with his writing and (in my own opinion, not hers) reading, he could have been considered for an enriched program. Well, while its always nice to hear from someone else how smart your kid is, I just don't swallow all of that. He'd never have the drive to participate in an enriched program. And yes, I know how smart he is. He amazes me every day with the things he says. And so does R.
But there's nothing wrong? Really? Because I just don't get how he can't spell "could" and "use" and simple common words like that when he was supposed to know them in grade one or two.
This is how he wud rite if he wuz riting this now. He can't remember the "theres", he can't remember the "yours", I'm looking at a paper right now on which he wrote "atacers team" (attackers team). I'm actually surprised team wasn't spelled teme.
How is this not a problem? He's mid-grade four! The woman suggested Kumon, which I have briefly looked at on the Internet, and woah, it's pricey! There was no mention by her at all about his behaviour, and part of the session was her telling me about her own son and his friend! Do I care? Uh, NO!!
I'm going to pick up the test results on Friday,or rather the write-up, and view them myself with DH. Then I guess we'll show them to the school.
On a completely unrelated topic, I just found out my mom is going to visit my nan in England next month. She'll be there on Mother's Day. Is it selfish of me to feel glad about that? I always feel so much guilt on Mother's Day, about how I'd like the day to be about me (and really, it never is) and how I have to choose between making my mother happy or DH's mother happy, because its too difficult to see both on the same day (again, what about me?) This just takes some pressure off me!
But the other day, we had another incident. L was playing with a homemade bow and arrow. He had made it himself, probably a year ago. At one point, I was making dinner, and he came into the kitchen moaning because the wood had dried out and the one end had snapped. I suggested he just retie the wire he'd used for the string part, but that was shot down.
"It won't work!" he screamed, and cracked the bow in half and threw it into the garbage. I ignored him, thinking to myself of how childish this behaviour was (and in hindsight, yeah, duh, he's a child!)but I guess he was more upset than that. He stormed off to his room.
DH came home shortly after, and I asked him to coax L downstairs. He said L wouldn't acknowledge him. So I went up a bit later, and found him sitting on the floor, next to his dresser with craft wire wrapped around his neck and tied to the dresser handles! It was a bit shocking, to say the least. I won't go on with all the details, but as soon as I called DH up to come and see what was going on, L untangled himself quick as could be. I suppose it was alright for mom to find him in that state, but not dad.
At this point, we both had a big talk with him, which now that I think about it, wasn't the right thing to do I don't think. We're not supposed to dwell on the details, on the negatives, but that's difficult when you find your son in that situation! He was trying to strangle himself!
Now, this psychiatrist said that kids this young don't really know how to kill themselves, but I beg to differ. He was definitely on the right track!
At this point, I told L that I couldn't continue to leave anything in his room that could be harmful to him. I said I wanted to be sure that when he's quiet upstairs in his room, it's because he's busy or asleep, not hurting himself. I then gathered all his invention bits and pieces, his hammer, his scissors, all the wire, and anything else that I could see as potentially dangerous, and put them all in my room under my bed. The thing is, that he didn't even get mad about it. Either he was too busy being upset about whatever his brain was dwelling on, or he was genuinely relieved that I had taken harmful things away from him. The second choice scares me to no end.
DH and I tried to discuss with him that we knew that his brain was telling him lots of bad stuff, but that when he felt this way, he needs to let us know. DH suggested he could even just say a word, or hand us some sort of token, if he couldn't find the right words to say. And we would do our best to try to help his brain get back on the right track.
I managed to redirect his thinking enough to get him to come downstairs and make his stir fried veggies for dinner. After that, he cheered up. The redirection thing works, it's just figuring out how to redirect him; I can't always let him cook or hand him candy.
So that wasn't so great, I'd thought we had moved on from the "I'm going to kill myself" stage. But at least now I have his invention stuff in my control.
Last week I also had an appt with his psychologist. That left a sour taste in my mouth. DH had taken him to the first meet-and-greet appt, and then the second was a two hour test they do for seeing if they have LDs and whatnot. So this appt I didn't bring L, since I was just getting the results of the test.
This woman didn't seem to know much. She said there wasn't much "wrong" with him that she could see. She said that he's above average intelligence, and aside from the troubles with his writing and (in my own opinion, not hers) reading, he could have been considered for an enriched program. Well, while its always nice to hear from someone else how smart your kid is, I just don't swallow all of that. He'd never have the drive to participate in an enriched program. And yes, I know how smart he is. He amazes me every day with the things he says. And so does R.
But there's nothing wrong? Really? Because I just don't get how he can't spell "could" and "use" and simple common words like that when he was supposed to know them in grade one or two.
This is how he wud rite if he wuz riting this now. He can't remember the "theres", he can't remember the "yours", I'm looking at a paper right now on which he wrote "atacers team" (attackers team). I'm actually surprised team wasn't spelled teme.
How is this not a problem? He's mid-grade four! The woman suggested Kumon, which I have briefly looked at on the Internet, and woah, it's pricey! There was no mention by her at all about his behaviour, and part of the session was her telling me about her own son and his friend! Do I care? Uh, NO!!
I'm going to pick up the test results on Friday,or rather the write-up, and view them myself with DH. Then I guess we'll show them to the school.
On a completely unrelated topic, I just found out my mom is going to visit my nan in England next month. She'll be there on Mother's Day. Is it selfish of me to feel glad about that? I always feel so much guilt on Mother's Day, about how I'd like the day to be about me (and really, it never is) and how I have to choose between making my mother happy or DH's mother happy, because its too difficult to see both on the same day (again, what about me?) This just takes some pressure off me!
Monday, April 8, 2013
Tele-Psychiatry Appointment
This morning we had a virtual appointment with a children's psychiatrist. I thought that originally my DH had said the paediatrician had told him that this was through Sick Kids, but I'm not so sure. That wasn't mentioned at all during the set up of the appointment, or when we signed the papers. Something was mentioned about Ross Memorial though, but I don't know where that is.
It doesn't matter though, because in the end, this guy we conferenced with was great. It was via Skype, basically. And it didn't even matter to me that he wasn't actually there in person, since we could still see him face to face.
The appointment started off with him asking L if he knew why he was there, which led to us telling him what we were there for. There was a preliminary bit where we basically told him what prompted us to get help, but he already had a lot of info there with him, from forms that I had filled out previously.
Then he asked us to step out of the room while he talked with L. That lasted for about 20 mins or so, and then L was asked to step out while we talked to the doctor.
I should also mention that they gave us a couple of handouts to read while we were waiting, that explained pretty basically about kids with anxiety issues. It explains how their mind thinks. Let me see if I can break it down simply and not bore the crap out of you.
For example, L loves to invent. So it was suggested to us that he have all his inventing stuff taken into a different room. His access to that room is limited by us. He has to earn access to the room (or more likely, box of stuff). Perhaps we will make up tickets or something that give him 10 minute increments or something. He will be rewarded a ticket when he brushes his teeth for bed in a timely fashion, or goes to bed without fuss. It's to give his pleasure seeking drive a chance to take over, by giving him something to look forward to in the morning, rather than letting the harm avoidance drive take over and letting him lie in bed worrying about all that he does.
The doctor said that by punishing L for not say, getting ready for bed, is using the harm avoidance drive. So while it seems the right thing to do to take away his iPod for not getting ready when told, it's just feeding into the whole situation. Instead, we take possession of the iPod, and he is rewarded its use by doing as he's told.
I'm not sure if I'm coming across clearly here, as the doctor was so much better at explaining all of this and made it seem so simple. I'm sure many parents balk at the thought of taking away their child's possessions, as I am doing right now. But he put it very simply: legally, children do not own anything until they are 16 (I think is what he said). It is something I have never thought of, but makes perfect sense. We own everything, and whether he thinks a certain toy is his or not, it legally isn't.
Now, I've never had much issue with taking away my boys' toys as punishments as long as it was reasonable, but this I'm struggling with. We are looking at potentially emptying L's room. It goes against my motherly instinct to take away his "pleasure" when he so clearly seems to need it. But in order to achieve a result, we may have to do that. His room is full of distractions; stuffed animals, toys, kits, clay and plastercine, art supplies, and of course, his inventing stuff.
The thing with bedtime is that he won't get ready for bed. It takes nearly an hour from the time I say "bedtime" to the point that he's actually in bed and I'm walking out the door. No matter how many reminders, no matter how positive he's feeling at the moment, he still walks up those stairs and does god knows what instead of putting on his pjs. And even if I stand over him, I'm still repeating his name over and over again and telling him to "come on", and "get undressed!" like some sort of weird mantra. And I hate being a nag!
So that is our next step, to try this reward system. The doctor said it could be forever (yay) or at least until he moves out (ha ha). He did say that medication was not even something to be considered until he is at least grade seven or eight. When I asked it if was considerable to be still taking him to the psychologist, he said no. I'm quite relieved about that. That will save a lot of money! He said that because of the way they work, talking out the negative stuff, it wouldn't be a good thing for anxiety-riddled children. You want to make them forget their needless worrying, not rehash it.
We have an appt with the psychologist on Friday, to get the results of this test they did on L. Some of me is tempted to cancel it because it's unnecessary at this point, but the other part of me desperately wants to see what these tests say. I'm so curious. But then, why should I have to pay to find out the results of a test that I had to pay for already? It doesn't seem right. And what if they have something outlandish or outrageous they've "found"? That would just make me worry about L more, and cause me to continue on this cycle of doubt of each professional we talk to. Perhaps I can convince DH to call and ask for the results verbally over the phone. Really, after $300 I think they owe us that much. Then he can share whatever parts he thinks are necessary, be a filter of sorts.
So that is the story so far. I've got to suck it up and stick with the plan. No one said parenting was easy, right?
It doesn't matter though, because in the end, this guy we conferenced with was great. It was via Skype, basically. And it didn't even matter to me that he wasn't actually there in person, since we could still see him face to face.
The appointment started off with him asking L if he knew why he was there, which led to us telling him what we were there for. There was a preliminary bit where we basically told him what prompted us to get help, but he already had a lot of info there with him, from forms that I had filled out previously.
Then he asked us to step out of the room while he talked with L. That lasted for about 20 mins or so, and then L was asked to step out while we talked to the doctor.
I should also mention that they gave us a couple of handouts to read while we were waiting, that explained pretty basically about kids with anxiety issues. It explains how their mind thinks. Let me see if I can break it down simply and not bore the crap out of you.
- The brain has two drives - a pleasure seeking drive and a harm avoidance drive. When you are afraid of something, your harm avoidance drive is in charge, telling you to be afraid (whether it's for a legitimate reason or not). You have a list in your brain, essentially, telling you that such and such are dangerous, and are to be avoided. It could mean you're afraid of spiders, or heights, or get really anxious about speaking in public, or many other things. Kids that have anxiety disorders have a very loud harm avoidance drive. Their brains are basically lying to them, telling them that school is harmful, bedtime is harmful, going outside is harmful, or whatever. The only time they can relax is when the pleasure seeking drive is in command, when they're doing something they like, such as eating chocolate, or playing a video game, or again, whatever.
For example, L loves to invent. So it was suggested to us that he have all his inventing stuff taken into a different room. His access to that room is limited by us. He has to earn access to the room (or more likely, box of stuff). Perhaps we will make up tickets or something that give him 10 minute increments or something. He will be rewarded a ticket when he brushes his teeth for bed in a timely fashion, or goes to bed without fuss. It's to give his pleasure seeking drive a chance to take over, by giving him something to look forward to in the morning, rather than letting the harm avoidance drive take over and letting him lie in bed worrying about all that he does.
The doctor said that by punishing L for not say, getting ready for bed, is using the harm avoidance drive. So while it seems the right thing to do to take away his iPod for not getting ready when told, it's just feeding into the whole situation. Instead, we take possession of the iPod, and he is rewarded its use by doing as he's told.
I'm not sure if I'm coming across clearly here, as the doctor was so much better at explaining all of this and made it seem so simple. I'm sure many parents balk at the thought of taking away their child's possessions, as I am doing right now. But he put it very simply: legally, children do not own anything until they are 16 (I think is what he said). It is something I have never thought of, but makes perfect sense. We own everything, and whether he thinks a certain toy is his or not, it legally isn't.
Now, I've never had much issue with taking away my boys' toys as punishments as long as it was reasonable, but this I'm struggling with. We are looking at potentially emptying L's room. It goes against my motherly instinct to take away his "pleasure" when he so clearly seems to need it. But in order to achieve a result, we may have to do that. His room is full of distractions; stuffed animals, toys, kits, clay and plastercine, art supplies, and of course, his inventing stuff.
The thing with bedtime is that he won't get ready for bed. It takes nearly an hour from the time I say "bedtime" to the point that he's actually in bed and I'm walking out the door. No matter how many reminders, no matter how positive he's feeling at the moment, he still walks up those stairs and does god knows what instead of putting on his pjs. And even if I stand over him, I'm still repeating his name over and over again and telling him to "come on", and "get undressed!" like some sort of weird mantra. And I hate being a nag!
So that is our next step, to try this reward system. The doctor said it could be forever (yay) or at least until he moves out (ha ha). He did say that medication was not even something to be considered until he is at least grade seven or eight. When I asked it if was considerable to be still taking him to the psychologist, he said no. I'm quite relieved about that. That will save a lot of money! He said that because of the way they work, talking out the negative stuff, it wouldn't be a good thing for anxiety-riddled children. You want to make them forget their needless worrying, not rehash it.
We have an appt with the psychologist on Friday, to get the results of this test they did on L. Some of me is tempted to cancel it because it's unnecessary at this point, but the other part of me desperately wants to see what these tests say. I'm so curious. But then, why should I have to pay to find out the results of a test that I had to pay for already? It doesn't seem right. And what if they have something outlandish or outrageous they've "found"? That would just make me worry about L more, and cause me to continue on this cycle of doubt of each professional we talk to. Perhaps I can convince DH to call and ask for the results verbally over the phone. Really, after $300 I think they owe us that much. Then he can share whatever parts he thinks are necessary, be a filter of sorts.
So that is the story so far. I've got to suck it up and stick with the plan. No one said parenting was easy, right?
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Overwhelmed!
Ok, this post is about me this time. I'm thinking there must be at least a few other moms who feel the same way as I do.
I used to love shopping. Like, clothes shopping. Well, I used to really enjoy grocery shopping too, before it was such a chore. I used to be able to go into a mall and peruse for hours. I had no problem trying on clothes and buying new outfits for myself.
That was before I had kids.
Now, when I go to a mall, I'm usually there for the boys, or on the rare occasion, for DH. But it's almost NEVER for me.
I love shopping for my boys. I could spend hours picking out outfits, although they couldn't stand that. They hate shopping. I don't like shopping for DH though. It makes me feel resentful, like, why should he get to have new clothes when I don't? I know, I shouldn't feel like that, because its not like he is a clothes-horse, or even has much sense of fashion at all, and he does need more presentable clothes for work than I do. But that's not the only reason. He is also very picky, and will try on item after item of whatever he's looking for, and it's sooooo boring!
But my title is overwhelmed, and I put that for a reason, because you see, when I enter a mall or department store, I feel completely overwhelmed! It's like, I don't even know where to begin, and I start to shut down inside. If I'm there to actually buy myself something (like that EVER happens!), I feel awkward and stupid. I look around me at all the people who seem to know what they're doing, and I feel lost. I don't know what's trendy anymore. I enter a store and I'm afraid to touch anything. I can't tell if something looks good or not. I can't figure out if I'm looking at something that's WAY too young to be seen on an almost-forty-year-old, or if it belongs on a 70-year-old. Especially when it comes to shoes! Give me runners any day!
We were at the mall today. DH needed to return a shirt his Nan bought him (size XXL, what was she thinking??) and he insisted he needs work pants. I also needed underwear. Not a difficult task, since I always buy them from LaSenza with the 10 for, or in this case, 7 for $xx deal. Most of my underwear was embarrassingly (well it would be if anyone saw them!) holey.
I was looking around at the people, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Many of the young girls, who looked like they were too young to be wandering around on their own, were wearing clothes from the 80's. Tight-legged, brightly coloured pants, neons, big bows in their hair. The eighties always seemed to me to be an era of fashion we should have left behind permanently, but not so, it seems. The clothes in the stores were such a mish-mosh of things, I wouldn't know if something made an outfit or a fashion eyesore. Any pre-conceived notion I had of actually maybe picking something up for myself was laughable the moment we walked through those doors. I instantly felt like I shouldn't be there, that I was out of my depth.
And then there's the guilt. Oh, the guilt of spending money on myself. We've been in "we-have-no-money" mode for so long now, that my brain is pre-programmed to abhor the thought of selfish spending. There's always someone else who needs something more, like the boys need shoes, or coats, or underwear, or whatever.
I did pick up the underwear, but we left the mall in less than an hour after arriving. Gone are the days of spending a whole day shopping.
My sister S is actually the only one that seems to be able to get me in the mood for shopping and buying something for myself. But we haven't had a spree since she had her first child, three years ago. I think the last new clothes I actually bought for myself, aside from the undies, were a couple of t-shirts from the grocery store. Yeah, the grocery store. And that was about a year ago.
It's a good thing I stick to fairly neutral clothes - jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, all plain. If you were to look back on pictures of me (what few there are, but that's another story) over the past ten years, you wouldn't be able to tell what year it was from my outfits, or haircut, lol.
I used to love shopping. Like, clothes shopping. Well, I used to really enjoy grocery shopping too, before it was such a chore. I used to be able to go into a mall and peruse for hours. I had no problem trying on clothes and buying new outfits for myself.
That was before I had kids.
Now, when I go to a mall, I'm usually there for the boys, or on the rare occasion, for DH. But it's almost NEVER for me.
I love shopping for my boys. I could spend hours picking out outfits, although they couldn't stand that. They hate shopping. I don't like shopping for DH though. It makes me feel resentful, like, why should he get to have new clothes when I don't? I know, I shouldn't feel like that, because its not like he is a clothes-horse, or even has much sense of fashion at all, and he does need more presentable clothes for work than I do. But that's not the only reason. He is also very picky, and will try on item after item of whatever he's looking for, and it's sooooo boring!
But my title is overwhelmed, and I put that for a reason, because you see, when I enter a mall or department store, I feel completely overwhelmed! It's like, I don't even know where to begin, and I start to shut down inside. If I'm there to actually buy myself something (like that EVER happens!), I feel awkward and stupid. I look around me at all the people who seem to know what they're doing, and I feel lost. I don't know what's trendy anymore. I enter a store and I'm afraid to touch anything. I can't tell if something looks good or not. I can't figure out if I'm looking at something that's WAY too young to be seen on an almost-forty-year-old, or if it belongs on a 70-year-old. Especially when it comes to shoes! Give me runners any day!
We were at the mall today. DH needed to return a shirt his Nan bought him (size XXL, what was she thinking??) and he insisted he needs work pants. I also needed underwear. Not a difficult task, since I always buy them from LaSenza with the 10 for, or in this case, 7 for $xx deal. Most of my underwear was embarrassingly (well it would be if anyone saw them!) holey.
I was looking around at the people, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Many of the young girls, who looked like they were too young to be wandering around on their own, were wearing clothes from the 80's. Tight-legged, brightly coloured pants, neons, big bows in their hair. The eighties always seemed to me to be an era of fashion we should have left behind permanently, but not so, it seems. The clothes in the stores were such a mish-mosh of things, I wouldn't know if something made an outfit or a fashion eyesore. Any pre-conceived notion I had of actually maybe picking something up for myself was laughable the moment we walked through those doors. I instantly felt like I shouldn't be there, that I was out of my depth.
And then there's the guilt. Oh, the guilt of spending money on myself. We've been in "we-have-no-money" mode for so long now, that my brain is pre-programmed to abhor the thought of selfish spending. There's always someone else who needs something more, like the boys need shoes, or coats, or underwear, or whatever.
I did pick up the underwear, but we left the mall in less than an hour after arriving. Gone are the days of spending a whole day shopping.
My sister S is actually the only one that seems to be able to get me in the mood for shopping and buying something for myself. But we haven't had a spree since she had her first child, three years ago. I think the last new clothes I actually bought for myself, aside from the undies, were a couple of t-shirts from the grocery store. Yeah, the grocery store. And that was about a year ago.
It's a good thing I stick to fairly neutral clothes - jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, all plain. If you were to look back on pictures of me (what few there are, but that's another story) over the past ten years, you wouldn't be able to tell what year it was from my outfits, or haircut, lol.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Wondering What Is The Point?
I know I haven't posted for quite awhile, but there hasn't been much new stuff to tell. Things are going along rather evenly, which is good, I guess, as it means they aren't getting worse, but aren't getting better either.
Bedtimes are an issue, to put it mildly. We can start as early as we like trying to put L to bed, but it's always 9 or more by the time lights are out, and that doesn't mean he's asleep shortly after that. We've been letting him listen to an audiobook on his iPod, Harry Potter, and that seems to help alleviate some of the desire to "talk" (or rather whine, moan, complain and weep inconsolably). We set the sleep mode, and he listens until he either falls asleep or it goes off.
Unfortunately, he has finished it, and I'm still on the waiting list for the next one from the library. So that means the past few nights have been harder. Last night, DH was the one left to talk to him, and I left the room because basically I "started" the weeping by shouting at him. I did lose my cool, yes, but I'm so sick and tired of the delay tactics that this kid has come up with. It takes him FOREVER to get ready for bed. You can't send him upstairs and expect him to put pjs on and brush his teeth in a timely fashion. You send him up, give it 20 minutes, and then go up there to find he has done absolutely nothing and is busily distracted with something in his room, or at best, is standing there with no pants on. Then it's another 20 minutes of cajoling, prodding, prompting, nagging, and just barely restraining yourself from screaming "GET YOUR FUCKING PYJAMAS ON!!!"
Anyway, last night he was playing with some wire, and he was winding it around his feet, with his feet (it's hard to explain, but not really important anyway) and that was it, I'd had it. I'd been telling him to go to bed only about 200 times, so I think I said, "L! GET. IN. BED!" Not quite shouting but not quite quiet either. He then shouted at me very rudely, which caused me to then become very angry and very in-your-face as I shouted at him to not speak to me that way. He of course, dove into bed and pulled the covers over his head, shutting us out. I said goodnight calmly and left. DH, however, stayed behind and talked to him. I could hear from my room the weeping and snuffling and sobbing. I could hear DH being calmer than he usually is, but also still saying all the wrong things. After DH came into our room, he tried to tell me that I should have handled that better. Nothing gets me angry faster than a dog defending a bone than when my husband tries to tell ME how to mother. I know I need to take criticism better than that, and I know I'm not perfect, but for some reason I can't stand it when he tries to tell me I'm doing something wrong.
Anyhow, not much was resolved either way last night, only that we realized the bedtimes are getting worse, and that we don't know how to fix them without resorting to our old shouting ways. The gentler, more understanding approach isn't working either.
So the title of this post pertains to a few things. #1, what is the point of this approach if it doesn't help?
#2, in an unrelated matter, what is the point of me making dinner anymore? I make something, and I'm the only one that eats it. Mostly. The boys complain every night that we're not having either chicken fingers, hot dogs/hamburgers, or pizza. Or pancakes. And of course, we don't have those things every week, let alone every night. I've learnt to not take it to heart, but sometimes it just gets to you. I cooked a casserole from leftover ham, and DH informed me that he was going out with the guys for dinner/drinks tonight. So I was the only one to eat it. L complained, but at least tried it, and R wouldn't even try one bit. He decided to make himself a turkey sandwich, after complaining that there was no deli turkey (only leftover turkey from Easter dinner), as if I'm seriously going to buy deli turkey knowing we'd have leftovers.
#3, then I made a comment to R, along the lines of "get a life". It was a joking, teasing comment, and while I'd NEVER say that to L, R can usually take this stuff. He was trying to butter his bread, which kept tearing, and again, he was complaining about it. I wasn't being serious, but he play-acted being shocked at first, pretended to cry, then really did start to cry! I said sorry, that I was kidding, but he didn't reply.
So I'm feeling like a bad mom, but also annoyed too. How is it that one day we can joke around like that, and the next minute, not? It must be teenage hormones starting or something. Then L starts in on me, about how that wasn't nice, and it didn't sound like I was joking, and I'm thinking again, what is the point? Why am I even here?
So now I'm up in my room, giving myself a timeout. L texted me on his iPod to say he was sorry that he complains about everything, it was very sweet and made me feel even worse for not being more patient. But I'm no saint, and I think given how frustrated and annoyed I was feeling, giving myself a timeout was probably the best choice, even if I do feel it was a bit like running away. I was worried I'd do or say something I'd regret more.
Now I'm annoyed with DH who has texted me to ask if we were doing anything Saturday. Today is Wednesday, and I will explains that this is the third night in a row that he has got to go it and do something fun, while I've been home, doing mundane boring stuff like being a mom. Monday, he had tickets given to him for a Raptors game, so since L had cooking class, I took him and R got to go with DH to the game. Then last night, not wanting L to feel left out, DH took him to the movies to see the Croods while I stayed home with R. Tonight, he had already made plans to go out with some buddies from school, and in all fairness, he doesn't get to socialize a whole lot more than I do, so I can't begrudge him that. But after three nights of him getting to do "fun stuff" while I stayed home, I'm feeling somewhat bitter.
So DH asked me via text if we were busy this Saturday, to which I replied no,why, and he said he'd been invited to the Jays game. Immediately I thought, he better not say yes without even asking me if that was ok, because asking if we were busy is not the same thing as asking if it is ok. After a few texts he did ask if he should give it a pass, to which I said yes. I'm still annoyed that he would even think that was ok to ask in the first place, and asking if he should give it a pass is not like asking if its ok with me.
Sigh. So, I'm just generally annoyed. Annoyed with my husband, with my kids, with myself.
Bedtimes are an issue, to put it mildly. We can start as early as we like trying to put L to bed, but it's always 9 or more by the time lights are out, and that doesn't mean he's asleep shortly after that. We've been letting him listen to an audiobook on his iPod, Harry Potter, and that seems to help alleviate some of the desire to "talk" (or rather whine, moan, complain and weep inconsolably). We set the sleep mode, and he listens until he either falls asleep or it goes off.
Unfortunately, he has finished it, and I'm still on the waiting list for the next one from the library. So that means the past few nights have been harder. Last night, DH was the one left to talk to him, and I left the room because basically I "started" the weeping by shouting at him. I did lose my cool, yes, but I'm so sick and tired of the delay tactics that this kid has come up with. It takes him FOREVER to get ready for bed. You can't send him upstairs and expect him to put pjs on and brush his teeth in a timely fashion. You send him up, give it 20 minutes, and then go up there to find he has done absolutely nothing and is busily distracted with something in his room, or at best, is standing there with no pants on. Then it's another 20 minutes of cajoling, prodding, prompting, nagging, and just barely restraining yourself from screaming "GET YOUR FUCKING PYJAMAS ON!!!"
Anyway, last night he was playing with some wire, and he was winding it around his feet, with his feet (it's hard to explain, but not really important anyway) and that was it, I'd had it. I'd been telling him to go to bed only about 200 times, so I think I said, "L! GET. IN. BED!" Not quite shouting but not quite quiet either. He then shouted at me very rudely, which caused me to then become very angry and very in-your-face as I shouted at him to not speak to me that way. He of course, dove into bed and pulled the covers over his head, shutting us out. I said goodnight calmly and left. DH, however, stayed behind and talked to him. I could hear from my room the weeping and snuffling and sobbing. I could hear DH being calmer than he usually is, but also still saying all the wrong things. After DH came into our room, he tried to tell me that I should have handled that better. Nothing gets me angry faster than a dog defending a bone than when my husband tries to tell ME how to mother. I know I need to take criticism better than that, and I know I'm not perfect, but for some reason I can't stand it when he tries to tell me I'm doing something wrong.
Anyhow, not much was resolved either way last night, only that we realized the bedtimes are getting worse, and that we don't know how to fix them without resorting to our old shouting ways. The gentler, more understanding approach isn't working either.
So the title of this post pertains to a few things. #1, what is the point of this approach if it doesn't help?
#2, in an unrelated matter, what is the point of me making dinner anymore? I make something, and I'm the only one that eats it. Mostly. The boys complain every night that we're not having either chicken fingers, hot dogs/hamburgers, or pizza. Or pancakes. And of course, we don't have those things every week, let alone every night. I've learnt to not take it to heart, but sometimes it just gets to you. I cooked a casserole from leftover ham, and DH informed me that he was going out with the guys for dinner/drinks tonight. So I was the only one to eat it. L complained, but at least tried it, and R wouldn't even try one bit. He decided to make himself a turkey sandwich, after complaining that there was no deli turkey (only leftover turkey from Easter dinner), as if I'm seriously going to buy deli turkey knowing we'd have leftovers.
#3, then I made a comment to R, along the lines of "get a life". It was a joking, teasing comment, and while I'd NEVER say that to L, R can usually take this stuff. He was trying to butter his bread, which kept tearing, and again, he was complaining about it. I wasn't being serious, but he play-acted being shocked at first, pretended to cry, then really did start to cry! I said sorry, that I was kidding, but he didn't reply.
So I'm feeling like a bad mom, but also annoyed too. How is it that one day we can joke around like that, and the next minute, not? It must be teenage hormones starting or something. Then L starts in on me, about how that wasn't nice, and it didn't sound like I was joking, and I'm thinking again, what is the point? Why am I even here?
So now I'm up in my room, giving myself a timeout. L texted me on his iPod to say he was sorry that he complains about everything, it was very sweet and made me feel even worse for not being more patient. But I'm no saint, and I think given how frustrated and annoyed I was feeling, giving myself a timeout was probably the best choice, even if I do feel it was a bit like running away. I was worried I'd do or say something I'd regret more.
Now I'm annoyed with DH who has texted me to ask if we were doing anything Saturday. Today is Wednesday, and I will explains that this is the third night in a row that he has got to go it and do something fun, while I've been home, doing mundane boring stuff like being a mom. Monday, he had tickets given to him for a Raptors game, so since L had cooking class, I took him and R got to go with DH to the game. Then last night, not wanting L to feel left out, DH took him to the movies to see the Croods while I stayed home with R. Tonight, he had already made plans to go out with some buddies from school, and in all fairness, he doesn't get to socialize a whole lot more than I do, so I can't begrudge him that. But after three nights of him getting to do "fun stuff" while I stayed home, I'm feeling somewhat bitter.
So DH asked me via text if we were busy this Saturday, to which I replied no,why, and he said he'd been invited to the Jays game. Immediately I thought, he better not say yes without even asking me if that was ok, because asking if we were busy is not the same thing as asking if it is ok. After a few texts he did ask if he should give it a pass, to which I said yes. I'm still annoyed that he would even think that was ok to ask in the first place, and asking if he should give it a pass is not like asking if its ok with me.
Sigh. So, I'm just generally annoyed. Annoyed with my husband, with my kids, with myself.
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