Peeves

It's time for one of my pet peeves.

So we all know that the dark is a fabulous blanket, a cloak, a wonderful way to, oh, I don't know, HIDE. I repeat: we all know this!

Most of us know that if someone is going to break into your house or try to attack you that person is generally going to use a hidden place, a point out of sight. If an easy spot out of sight cannot be found another option is employed, an option very inexpensive--in fact, it's free, in high abundance, and all it takes is waiting for the sun to go down. Yes, I 'm talking about The DARK.

Recently I have been noticing in my neighborhood and those around town that more and more people are leaving their porch lights off. WHY?

The streets are much, much more dark. It's a virtual black out.

Now I understand everyone is cutting expenses and trying to save a penny where ever a cent can be spared but WHY on earth would your safety and security be on the chopping block? What
 about your family? Especially when we're talking a miniscule amount of money?

Any of us can walk down a few blocks in our town and point out the homes we'd pick as the easiest score and I BET you bragging rights that we'd all pick out the houses with blackened doorways covered in shadows.

Not only is a dark walkway an open invitation for criminals and/or nuisance kids, they're also a magnet for liability lawsuits. If someone coming to or leaving your property breaks a leg, twists and ankle, or otherwise injures themselves requiring medical attention and/or time off work you can be at end of a large bill. (one that would be a whole lot MORE that the few little pennies you may be saving)

I also find it frustrating when trying to find an address and there's nothing to illuminate the numbers on a house, and I think, if I cannot find the house easily, how would EMS find it in a timely manner when seconds count?

I'm just saying: TURN THE LIGHTS ON!

My Awesome Oldest Son

One of my absolute most favorite things in the entire world is when my 16 year old son ways, "I love you, mom."  I don't care if it's in person, in text, or on a voice message, it makes me feel 10 feet tall.

He's a good kid. A handful, but so good.

No one can make me laugh like he can...even when it's not a good time to be laughing, which he uses to his advantage often.

I miss him as a baby, as a toddler, as a six year old...I miss all those awesome stages. I miss tossing him in the air and watching his face open in wonderful surprise, I miss the pitter-patter of him running through the house, the way he used to call for me saying "tweeeet-heaaaart" (lol So CUTE), how he wanted me to read to him at night and then sing him to sleep, I miss "those little guys".

Oh, but how my heart swells when I see him open the door for his girlfriend, how he cares ever-so-much how she feels and what she thinks about things, how he tries to be supportive to her, even when he's over protective of her (just a little).

He makes up the most humorous jiggles and silly songs. When he plays with our youngest daughter he's so sweet compared to his regular machismo self.

Even though he's taller than me, his feet are so much larger than mine, and he can pick me up, he still calls me mommy. I'd do just about anything for this kid! (the others, too, but I'm talking about him at the moment) 

Of course, there are things I would like him to improve upon (you know, like pulling up his pants), but, you know, my 16 year old son is pretty dang fantastic.

We had some rough times. Really BAD choices on his part. Difficult experiences. He's turned a corner though.

So, this is a post just to say that I really appreciate the blessing of this young man in my life. I hope I am being a good Mom to this son who so deserves one.

Who's Mom?

So I have 10 children. I have five whom I have birthed, and I am the step-mom to five more. I love them all. We've been a family--a blended, salad tossed family for several years. My stepchildren call me by my first name and my children call my husband by his first name. That's just how we did it. I decided I would not require my children to call my husband "dad" like my mom told me to do with her husband (who turned out to be a colossal mistake because I'm certain he was built out of the same material as satan himself) and I wasn't going to ask my stepchildren to call me mom. Sure, at our house Mark is the dad figure, I am the Mom figure, and having everyone call us "mom" and "dad" would make us all feel good and connected and like one big family without a past--no exes, but, if I'm to be called "mom" by my stepchildren it should be because they feel that title has been earned and doesn't, somehow, conflict with their respect and feelings for their mother. Likewise I feel the same about my children calling my husband, "dad".

My ex-husband, however, feels completely different. He, and his mother, feels strongly against my children calling my husband, Mark, "dad". I have been told under no uncertain terms that he did NOT want his kids calling Mark "dad" because they already have a dad. My ex-mother-in-law scolded my daughter for having called Mark "dad". My daughter was told that if she's going to call Mark "dad" then she might just as well call her father by his first name because she can only have one dad.

Whatever.

I feel like Mark has earned being called "dad" should my children feel so inclined but, out of respect for my ex-husband's role, I agreed that I wouldn't have them refer to him as "dad".

Let's just assume my stepchildren were to start calling me "mom". Would I sign my name on birthday or Christmas cards as "mom"? No. Why? Out of respect for their mother. It is always on my mind to be respectful and thoughtful to the relationship boundaries of my stepchildren and their mother regardless of whether we're getting along or not.

Enter my ex-husband's new girlfriend. This is a relationship approaching 6 months now and they are engaged. Trouble is, last June he was engaged to someone else, and 9 months before that he was engaged to and entirely different person.

Now, don't get me wrong, at first blush, I think this lady is nice, pleasant, and, probably, has a fairly good head on her shoulders. She's human, so she's not going to be perfect.

It was my daughter's birthday Saturday which just so happened to be her father's visitation weekend. Yesterday she came home, showed me what she got for her birthday from her family up there, handed me the birthday card they got her--which was perfect and super fun--and my eyes could not move past the signature. This woman signed the card "Mom and Dad".  Mom?  Mom???  MOM???  Are you KIDDING me? They aren't even married. They haven't even made a full trip around the sun together. This time last year she didn't even know my children and she's signing her name as MOM on my daughter's birthday card?

AND...WHERE is my ex-husband in all of this?  What happened to his big fricken hairy fit over parental boundaries?  Where's all his indignation?  What happened to our mutual agreement that we would not be calling our significant others "mom" or "dad" because they already HAVE a mom and a dad??? 

My husband has been here every single day for the last several years, consistent and constant, working his bottom off, attending school performances, volunteering, tending to when ill, doing what dad's do, while my ex-husband comes in and goes out...he'll be fine so long as he has a girlfriend but as soon as he doesn't he falls off the face of the planet and my children don't see or hear from him for months. But, my husband cannot be referred to as "dad", no, not someone actually acting like a parent, only a new person who's just arrived on the scene get's to have a parental title.

I'm frustrated. I'm hurt.  I feel totally and completely disrespected.

The most stupid thing about this is that I am not morally opposed to my children calling their stepmother "mom" should they feel they are loved and safe and connected enough to do so...but, they DON'T HAVE a stepmother yet AND I find the hypocrisy of it all disgusting and I'm unable to stomach it. 

WHY am I following the rules and the agreements we made when my ex-husband clearly feels no need or obligation to do the same?

Love the one you love

I read this article about a Turtle couple of 115 years seeming to end their relationship. You can read it here:   http://now.msn.com/living/0608-tortoise-divorce-after-115-years.aspx

I then read the comments. Some were funny. Some were not.
 "...

jamesjk1972

10 minutes ago

i'm sure she was a nag like the rest of them. I dont know how married men do it. I see wives just bitching in the stores and talking to their husbands like they are stupid. So glad I didnt marry. ..."

This comment struck a cord with me...it's something I've thought about before and, to be frank, is a serious pet peeve of mine: women belittling their men to their friends. So, this is what I have to say at the moment.

I find it sad and ridiculous when I hear women tearing down their man, taking absolutely no responsibility for their relationships. Sure, there are men that are crap houses but there are equally as many women who have mastered the art of being crap burgers! 

I chose a good man, he treats me well because I treat him well--to be honest, he probably treats much better than I treat him.  We have mutual respect for each other and we work on compromise rather than being "right" over each other.

We do fun things together, we talk to each other (as opposed to talking AT each other), we work together, we worship together, we are stupid and silly together. He and I have been best friends for over 20 years from when we were teenagers to now having teenagers (heaven help us!). 

I never got into marriage thinking about his "potential" as many girls do. He was already high quality; already hard working, already respectful, already a good friend, already self sufficient, already whole and complete without the need of a woman--wife or mother. He was everything he needed to be.

He didn't marry me to rescue me, to take care of me, to protect me, etc..., which many men marry for, and, oh, so many women look for. He didn't marry for a trophy or for social status within our various communities.

No, we married because we actually like each other. There's nothing he would do that I cannot take and like wise he can handle all the dumb things I do and say.

We never talk poorly of one another as we love each other more than any other. We would never paint an unbecoming picture of the other for anyone to envision. When we disagree we talk about our disagreement and make solving it the goal rather than bullying the other into submission or turning it into emotional warfare and competition of who can hurt the other or make the other "pay" more. Our relationship is what we cherish and coddle--not our individual egos.

It's all in what you put in and what you have to offer. If you're a wounded soul looking to be completed; you will soon feel stifled by the "overbearing" protective boundaries your partner has placed. If you're looking to be a blessing to your equal in every way, well, then you have something solid to stand on.

Legal Custody Failure!!!

I have a friend, S, who is going through the most intense and trying life experience I can imagine!

Several years ago she was in an unfulfilled and abusive marriage; the kind of relationship that required a hospital, police, and forensic examinations. It was ugly and scary.

But.

She made it through and was awarded full sole custody of the two children born of the union.

Not long after this, her ex-husband left with her son and her daughter. She was a mess. Wouldn’t we all be a mess—just a huge heap of tears and snot?

YES. Yes, we would.

It was months of calling the police over and over and over and over and over trying to find any ounce of hope--Hope of a lead to find her children--Hope she would ever see them again.

Just.

HOPE.

Of ANYTHING.

Then.

She heard it…a jolt!

There was a little boy being discussed on the local news—a boy fitting the description of her little boy.

COULD IT BE???

She sat waiting for the full story to be told.

Then.

She saw it.

A picture of HER son.

Her little boy had been left—ABANDONED—at gas station.  She listened to the story of how he’d wondered around the stop for THREE days. She watched the video showing him moving about the building from the surveillance camera. No one knew where he came from. He was placed in foster care until a family member could be found.

S raced to get her son!

Oh the joy and relief!

But.

WHERE was her daughter? Where was her baby girl?

For several YEARS she would not know. For years she searched. For years she wondered, worried, prayed about her sweet little baby girl.

Then.

A few short months back, her sister was driving through a town in the northern part of the state we live and saw a man whom she thought she recognized. She watched until she was certain that was, indeed, the man who had married her sister and then left with their children years ago. She trailed him until she found where he was living and told my friend. It was exciting news!

Here’s the problem.  Even though she has legal documents proving she has legal right to her daughter--having full sole custody of her young daughter--the police won’t enforce it. She has go through another custody battle for her daughter, though she had already been found to be the better parent and though her ex-husband kidnapped and hid their girl from S—my friend.

I don’t understand this.

My friend has called the police, she has called the Department of Child and Family Services she has talked to the most recent school where her daughter has been attending and even found the medical doctor she’s been seeing. (It’s amazing what one can find when pointed in the right direction.)  

Why couldn’t the legal system find this man?

Why won’t they do anything about bringing this girl home to her mother?

Some information about the daughter’s condition when she was found: she is 11 years old and weighed a mere 42 pounds (half of the average weight for an 11 year old girl), one could easily see her bones even through her shirt, she was losing hair in clumps, she didn’t know her mother was alive because her father told her that her S was dead, and she was going to her doctor for urinary tract infections monthly.

Still. No one is in a hurry to see this little girl is in an unsatisfactory situation.

S is fighting to bring her home. She has been getting “visitation” with her daughter but has been warned by the police that she much return her daughter to the father at the end of the visitation period.

I find this severely offensive! 

This man took off with his children without legal custody, but, though she has papers signed by a competent serving judge of a court of law, SHE is the one at risk for arrest if she were to deny the return of her daughter to the man who stole her. HE clearly broke and has displayed a continual utter lack of regard for the laws of this land especially the order of a court???

HOW in the world does it make sense that SHE would be in violation of the law when according to the law SHE is the one with legal and physical authority over this child???

SOMEONE help me understand how this works? 

Is ANYONE safe from parental abduction? Or “familial” abduction? Can ANYONE just cart of with our children?

IS there REALLY any legal consequence for this kind of thing? Or do we just frown and shake our heads but leave it be as it is?

Are court orders merely SUGGESTIONS to be followed only if desired? Are we saying judges are now equal to a nosy neighbor who can’t keep his/her opinion to him/herself? There’s absolutely no authority to be observed here? Is that what we’re saying?

At this point they have had a court date to stand before a new judge. My friend has loads of documentation and evidence of this man driving drunk with his children in the car WITH him (and the fact that he’s had his license revoked but continues to drive), that he falsified documents including putting in print for the latest school AND the current physician that S is deceased, how he clearly is interfering with the parent/child relationship of mother and daughter alienating the girl from her mom by telling her she no longer has a living mother, that he has been arrested many times in the last several years while he’s had his daughter, his family has failed (refused) to contact S letting her know her daughter is alive and/or safe, that  he’s been proven to blatantly lie to law enforcement officers several times within the last few months alone, that just as with her when they were married he has police records of domestic violence toward his current wife, how he has moved around many times and enrolled this girl into several schools, of his violent temper and physically abusive tendencies as found in police reports and documentation, of his total disregard and endangerment of his son whom he terminated parental rights from after discarding him at gas station, that he misrepresented the truth with the Office of Recovery Service when applying for food stamps alleging he had legal custody of his daughter so our state could require child support from S—even though SHE is the one with legal custody and possesses the documents to prove this fact, how  he’s now begun character assassination to the loved ones of S making allegations against her new husband to interfere with the “visitation”…the list goes on.

It seems this would be in the bag.

Easy.

Done.

This guy has been able to delay going to court SIX times!

HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!

HOW???

Did you know you can just keep pushing things back if you don’t want to go to court?? I guess we are aware of this now. …AND, don’t worry, there is no need for verification of ANY sort so say whatever to want to get out of appearing in court.

HOW does this guy get to steal S of her children, of her time, of her money, of her strength, of her sleep…HOW???

Why won’t the DCFS in Cache County do ANYTHING other than “make a note” in a file???

Isn’t kidnapping a federal crime??? Isn’t it…you know, a BIG No-no!???

WHEN does S get to have her daughter in her home to love her, teach her, guide her, catch up with her…?

When do the rest of us mothers aware of this situation get to feel confident that the law really does protect and serve our children?

When to we, as citizens, get to be confident that when we contact DCFS that they are actually trying to do what’s best for children? What exactly does it take to get intervention—a simple well-check?

When a child tells an adult that her guardian smeared the baby’s feces on her face, is that NOT a problem? Is wiping poop on another person’s face acceptable behavior now? Is this Not worth checking out?

When teachers complain that an 11 year old stinks like urine and fecal matter often, is there zero concern?

When a concerned TEACHER calls DCFS to report a problem isn’t there some sort of legal requirement to have that investigated??

WHY won’t the police do ANYTHING? Especially after tangibly holding and reading a documents ordered by the court, signed by an honorable judge?

WHY won’t DCFS do ANYTHING?

WHY is this child STILL in the home of someone who does NOT, in fact, have legal custody--or permission from the one who DOES have legal custody???

Do we now relegate children to the whole “finders keepers, losers weepers” school of thought as if they are mere pencils or rubber balls??

Is there some sort of time limit, some expiration date, some statute of limitations none of us are aware of declaring when a parent can claim a child who’s been taken from them illegally…and when they cannot???

Do we really just look at a mother or father who’ve searched for a child ripped from them and say: 

Oh, so sorry, you missed finding them by and hour?

Or two days?

Or 4 minutes?

Or a certain number of years? 

We simply say: Darn, that must suck for you but, hey, we’re too busy or uninterested to care?

WHAT IS GOING ON?

PLEASE, help me understand, because right now, this case makes me very afraid for children all over this state.

How many have been taken and cannot return because our legal system seems to be on the supporting side of the offender rather than the child and the legal guardian?

I Called the Police on My Daughter.

It finally happened.

Having attended the NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) classes for family members of those with mental illness I have heard many stories of parents having to call the police on their children, some teens, some adults. I have never done that and wondered if I would ever have to do so. I hoped not.

It was a Sunday, one where some of my children come home from visiting their father, my ex-husband. Usually when they come home there is a bunch of adjusting and Sunday evenings are usually wrought with unpleasantness due to that--mostly by one or two specific children, while the other two generally acclimate quickly and slide into our regular routine without much of and issue.

My 14 year old daughter starts early on Sunday by asking if she can go to the mall thru text when they return. Well, due to my faith I have never allowed my children to shop on Sunday; Sunday is the sabbath and in observance of this we don't cause others to have to break it (even though they're already working because if there wasn't a high demand for service on the Sabbath they wouldn't need to be working on Sunday to stay employed). Agree or disagree, that's just what we do, it's how we've been living life for ALL of her life, so this is simple boundary checking and challenging.

So it starts like this:
Her: Mom.
Me: Yes?
Her: Can I go to the mall with [friend]?
Me: Maybe tomorrow.

She wasn't satisfied:
Her: Well then can we go to the movies?
Me: Maybe later this week.
Her: Oh my what the hell ever.

I now know that things were probably going to be just "awesome" when she returns. When I say "awesome" I mean UNPLEASANT!

Not to disappoint my expectations, when we met and the girls got into my van she was full of demands and new requests for time with a friend.

Not only do we refrain from patronage on Sunday but we also do not go to friends' houses--it's family time, however; if my children would like to have a friend over to participate in what we're doing we're good with that.

I remind her [friend] can come over if she'd like but she isn't going over to [friend]'s house.

She then barks to call my mom and tell her to get all her crafty paper and tools because she has a project to do. I am not a fan of doing school work on the sabbath as it's work that could be done any other day of the week, but I offer she can call grandma to ASK her if she'd be willing to get her things to share. My daughter calls and basically just demands grandma go home to get all of her craft supplies for the project. My mom tells her when we get back she'll get into my van and we can go look at what she has. (My mom comes over every Sunday for supper--it's our thing.)

We return, we go to my mom's home, daughter gets what she thinks she needs plus my mom's little cutting machine (I don't know what it's called but if you're a big time scrapbooker, it's one of those cutting machines you hook up to your computer and it'll cut out every shape known to man), we bring it to my home, start setting up the cutting gizmo when the best husband ever tells us supper is ready to eat.

Pause on the project, on with the supping.

During this time daughter begins to announce she WILL be going to warp tour (is a concert event every year) because "dad's paying" and she looks me dead in the eye holding her gaze waiting for a response. She's telling me I don't have a choice--well, trying. I don't care, let him waist his money--if she doesn't earn the privilege, she won't be going regardless of any money spent by any human on this planet! But she holds her gaze--her stare.

My son responds. He's older and warp tour is his kind of thing. He mentions that HE wants to go and asks why dad is paying for her. A good question in my book. Daughter then responds in a softer tone that dad said I have to say it's ok first. aha! And suggests maybe dad will pay for him, too.

Grandma and I move ourselves to the living room where all the project supplies are waiting to be used. I'm talking to my mom when daughter and her younger sisters come in asking if they can go to [friend]'s house.

SERIOUSLY? Didn't we just go over this? And at what point did the rules change?

I tell her she cannot go over the [friend]'s house today but that [friend] can come over here.

Her: Why? That's stupid!
Me: Well, that may be but that's the way it is.
Her: [Friend's mom] called and said she needs me to come over.
Me: Why?
Her: She wants to talk to me.
Me: That's too bad. If she wants to talk to you she can come here. (Sorry but no other mother at another house is going to override the rules and standards regarding my children.)
Her: That's stupid!
Me: Well, that's ok. You need to do you project anyway.
Her: I don't want to.
Pause
Her: I'M GOING TO [FRIEND]'S!!! You can't stop me.
Me: You better not.
Her: Why? What are you going to do?
Grandma: Why don't you come over here, Honey. Let's get your project done.
Her: No! I'm not doing it!
Grandma: Come on, let's get it done.
Her: I'm not doing it. I don't want to.
Grandma: I brought all this over for you.
Her: I don't care.
Her: Looking at me and standing by the front door: I'm leaving, I don't care what you say.
Me: You better not leave.
Her: Why? What are you going to do?
Me: I guess you'll find out.
Her: I'm leaving. Go ahead and call the police. Tell them I'm a runaway. I. Don't. Care. What's gonna happen?!
She looks me dead in the face, stone cold, straight in the eye and declares: N O T H I N G!

She then spins on her heels and darts out the door slamming it closed.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

I call her friend's house to tell them she does NOT have permission to leave this house or to be at there's. I call her counselor to leave a message about this fun interaction. I text her father to let him know she just challenged me to call the police and took off.

I call the police......................

Can you believe it?

I dial the number and tell the dispatcher that I have a daughter is 14, bipolar, who just ran off, and I need a police officer to respond who has been trained to deal with mental illness. (This is super important if you have a family member !!!) I let them know she has ran away before so I cannot be sure she went to [friend]'s house and I'm concerned.

A little while later [friend's mom] calls to tell me they are bringing her home. We talk the duration of their walk (they live two blocks away--so not far at all) with me explaining what happened here and her telling me the things they've told her and how they feel about it. (These are people who've been in our lives for 8 years and our daughters have been best friends for that entire time--we feel almost like family)

As we're talking in front of my house a police officer pulls up. Daughter sees this and gets nervous, [friend]'s mom tells her, "Oh, yes, she DID and would have, too!". Daughter turns, runs into the house, finds her way to her room and locks the door.

The responding officer and I speak for a few minutes. He was kind and respectful to me. We're feeling that simply talking to the officer will probably make enough of a point that she should not threaten me to call the police because I will call her bluff.

No so, my friends, no so. One would think a 14 year old girl would snap into compliance when a tall, solid, booming voiced police officer came to address her.

NOPE.

He tried talking to her through the door she had locked without success. All he wanted to do is talk to her. He spent a good amount of time trying to talk her out of her room. We then just unlocked and opened her bedroom door. He tried to talk to her face to face but she would not comply in the least degree. He offered that everything could be resolved "here" (in our home) but she would not respond, she was simply on attack and defend mode (verbally). She was telling him what he could do, what she wasn't going to do, being very non compliant and belligerent. He was patient, he kept his voice calm, he was assertive but not aggressive or intimidating (as in he wasn't trying to intimidate her by making threats or calling out his authority). He finally told me he thinks she should go to [Youth Center], so I agreed.

When she heard me say OK, she FREAKED. Of course. She was red faced, teary eyed, angry, incredulous.

In order to be transported in the back of the police car one must have cuffs, that's the rule. She. did NOT. want cuffs. She resisted, and resisted, and resisted...

As he walked her through the house and out the front door she spews at me: I f'ing HATE you!   I hope you ROT in Hell!

All the while my house is filled with 5 of our children, my Mom, my Step-father, and my son's girlfriend. My mom wants to comfort me and hug me while my daughter is being cuffed but I couldn't have her protect me this way, I needed to stand tall and sure when my daughter passed by me. She needed to see me on sturdy ground, not withered up into a bucket of tears on my mommy's shoulders. That was for after.

She was in [Youth Center] for two nights and days during which time I've talked with her counselor, who happens to work at [Youth Center], for long amounts of time.

When she was received by [Youth Center] during the intake she was asked why she was there. Her answer? "My mom called my bluff. I didn't think she'd do anything."

The responding officer, the counselor, and her psychiatrist told me I did the right thing. She cannot think she can just take off and do what she wants, she cannot think she can threaten someone to call the police and not have an interaction with them, and she cannot think it's ok to behave in such a defiant and abusive manner.

It was awful. I never, ever want to have this kind of experience again.

Can you relate?

Special Needs?

So I remember for the longest time thinking, as a mother, I could never have a child with special needs. I simply didn't believe I had the strength and patience it takes to appropriately tend to and care for a child who needs tubes and monitors, or wheelchairs,  typing boards for communicating, or has Down Syndrome, or needs hundreds of doctors appointments, tons of medications, or, maybe even properly mother a child with a chronic serious illness. For the longest time I was unaware that I was, indeed, one of those mothers already.

I hadn't considered I was mothering children who battle their own brains. Little did I understand that mental illness filled my home. I was a mother marinating in the feelings of inadequacy, fatigue, and I was overwhelmed with the emotional strength and physical energy it was taking to lead my children through the day.

There were strong voices within myself telling me I was barely hanging on, barely holding my children--perfectly healthy children--into a world of normalcy. I was having such a difficult time keeping with a schedule and keeping my home in order, clean, and tidy.

Keeping my home in perfect order was a major complaint of my ex-husband's mother. She had one child to raise--a single child whom she adopted. I mention adoption because while there is certainly an adjustment period those first few weeks, there were no hormones, body composition changes, breastfeeding, healing wounds, emotional turmoil from the experience of birthing within the American medical model of care, etc..., she simply had to adjust to a new schedule of sleeping, changing diapers, and making bottles...she only had to do it once..

I was blessed or cursed--depending on you're own point of view--with incredible fertility. My first three children were born within three years of each other. I was a hormonal mess! Pregnant for nine months, breastfeeding for nine months, pregnant again for nine months, breastfeeding again for nine months, and once more pregnant for nine months, and breastfeeding... I was tired, I was on my own roller coaster, I was overwhelmed, I felt very alone, but I was committed to being a good mom and loved my little munchkins more than breath.

Though I read stories, played with, sang to and with my children, every single day, made lunches and supper, and took them to play outside, I was always behind and therefore unworthy of anything but criticism from my ex-in-laws. My house wasn't magazine clean, it was, at times, really very messy. There were times it was just too much to do alone. And, I...was...A L O N E.

While I was married, my ex-husband spent almost every waking moment when not at work on the computer playing games or watching movies. He was not raised to  participate in the active parenting of small children: changing diapers, getting up in the middle of the night, walking and holding a screaming--ever screaming--baby, to potty train, or basically anything that wee ones need other than hugs when he came home. He wasn't raised to participate in the washing of dishes, laundering of clothes, making of beds, sweeping of floors, cleaning the bathroom or any other in house chore. These were ALL for me. He was only tasked with his 8 hours working for a corporation. I was tasked with all the above and I was T I R E D!

Oh, how I wish I had known the symptoms of early onset mental illness. If only I could have recognized that the night terrors, the vivid bloody night mares, the bed wetting, the glassy-eyed empty and vacant looks, the zero to 1000 mph in emotions, the complete spaz attacks, the 20-40 minute temper tantrums, the touch me without touching me fit-full demands, the pulling their own hair, the banging of their heads on walls and floors, and the voluntary isolation of self when upset along with so many other things were all symptoms of a bigger problem than simply being super energetic and precocious.

My two first born children live with bipolar disorder--early onset bipolar disorder.

Turns out, I have always been a mother with children who have special needs but because they don't "look" different--they don't appear disabled--I had simply misjudged my children, had been terribly unsympathetic to their struggles, impatient to their their troubles, and totally thought my children were just naughty misbehaved young people. As do others.

People don't understand that my children have a frontal cortex that doesn't function properly. Had they diabetes, others would be understanding that their pancreas may not work well and have patience if there were a sudden issue with their blood sugar level. Had they cerebral palsy, others would quickly understand their muscles may not function normally, that they may not be able to sit up. Had they a broken leg, others would understand their inability to run. Because they do not have an altered appearance they are assumed simply to be jerks, brats, or obnoxious miscreants. 

My children have shifting and cycling levels of energy. At times they are so tired being awake is a heavy and difficult task, other times sleep is a burden not necessary. Bipolar isn't just happy/sad. It's racing thoughts, inner overwhelming forces compelling action, it's hallucinations, delusions, soul sinking depressions the likes of the dark depths of a black hole, elation brighter that the noon day sun, irritability, belief one can do things that normal people cannot, it's distortions that can put them or others into danger, it's a significantly higher risk for suicide.

As a mother of children with bipolar disorder I worry. I never know who's coming out of the bedroom door in the morning. I have no idea what's coming through the door any time of the day.
I could be talking my child into the realization that leaping off of the roof is not actually a good idea; I could be trying to talk to an F5 tornado wrapped up in the body of a hormonally driven young person; I could be held hostage by one child who feels the need to have my undivided attention in all things one second away from a complete melt down if I so much as turn my head toward one of the other children; I may need to lay on one or jump between two to foster safety; I may have super "chatty Cathy" on fast forward to try listening to; I might have the world's most fun and exciting character breathing life into our home; I could be receiving a humorous giddy ball of fun; I could be interacting with a virtual zombie barely able to function; it is also possible half a shell of a person might be moping about and stumbling through the halls. Of course, not only does this apply to one child, but TWO...and they're now teens which means they are bigger, they are stronger, they have more emotionally compelling drama, they have a biological and psychological need to pull away from our family and become independent--which often times looks and sounds frustrating, disrespectful, hurtful, and sad...but sometimes not.  I have to be concerned with medication and treatments. And...I have to navigate school rules, student dynamics, and IEPs (Independent Education Plan). I also have to prepare for really bad days that could include police officers or emergency rooms.

No, I don't have beeping monitors (though it would be really helpful if there were some sort of technology that could tip me off to a mania, hypomania (whether it's euphoric or dysphoric) or depression episodes. I don't have tubes to concern myself with. There aren't any wheel chairs, nor special foods, but, YES, I am a mother of children with special needs..

Related articles

• School Issues for Bipolar Children (everydayhealth.com)
• Mother Writes Honestly About Her Journey through Her Daughter's Bipolar Disorder (prweb.com)
• Bipolar Children: The Struggle With Anger (everydayhealth.com)

Just a bit of venting I guess.

Because we have so many children, there is always room for improvement, AND, to be quite honest, we need the help, my husband and I are taking parenting classes. So we decided to take the county up on it's free "Love and Logic" classes. So far we have enjoyed them and found lots of information valid and useful.

We have some of the most amazing children, truly, but they present us with the most challenging situations.

Being a blended family with a step dad in the home, our children are easily in almost as much power as a parent. In our society, a step father or a mother's boyfriend has shown statistically to increase the danger to a child by over 52 percent. Meaning, a child is more likely to be abused by a boyfriend of the mother or a step father than the child's biological father by 52 percent. Due to this the child protective services is very leery of step parents and is quick to jump to conclusions. We've been counseled by social workers at our local DCFS to be extra careful because all a youth has to do is say someone got in their space and social workers will be at the door. WELL. Enter mental illness...with it's delusions and rages.

We need tools and protection. So, not only do we attend Love and Logic classes, we are also attending NAMI classes. NAMI is the National Alliance on Mental Illness. These classes are to teach us more about the conditions affecting our children. Why they do the things they do and how to work through these things. They teach us about the resources, medications, hotlines, and a whole host of things we are, as of yet, still unaware. We're hoping for more light and hope for us all.

Here we are, as parents we must control the environment to protect our children and provide fertile ground for learning social etiquette, morals, ethics, work, life skills, and the staples that a school provides. There must be motivation and inspiration for this as well as consequences to every choice made. What we need is more training in how to shape an experience into the best potential for positive learning for future long term happiness...and safety.

Unfortunately, we have children with anger issues related to their mental disorders. We have children who do not fully vet what they are being told or asked before they become defensive, angry, and aggressive nor what they say and do in response. We have one in particular who become so enraged that she is unaware of herself, unaware of how forceful physically she may become, and how she can multiply the events around her by 100 fold. She's oblivious to her own participation and escalation to any situation, but, she has a huge sense of equality when it comes to YOU feelings as bad as she does. If she's attacking you, she doesn't consider the strength of her blows or her flailing, she only remembers her anger at you and the sensation of your touch as you try to defend yourself, she interprets your own self defense as an attack onto her...and even, believes, your reactions are completely unprovoked and unreasonable. She lives in a hell I will never quite understand, but I do get to feel some of the ramifications as she unleashes portions of it out into the world...and, so does my husband. Her attacks are not limited to physical discharge toward a person, in fact, more often, she uses her word or punishes doors and "things" around her. She has a particular talent to shred a person into bits and pieces of human dross when she is angry, a gift unlike anything I have the power to describe.

Because we are given the mantle of parenthood and teacher and protector and provider, etc..., we must have rules, and require contributions from everyone at home to create a workable, livable, place to reside. There are curfews, calls for homework to be done, dinner to be eaten, clothes to be laundered, dishes to be washed, showers to be taken, respect to be given...we have rules that would be normal in any other home. Enforcing them is the trouble. Enforcing them is the danger...depending on how the wind blows...

As a step father, my husband has a HUGE bulls eye on his back and we're in the height of hunting season.(or so it often feels) All it takes is a slight exaggeration, an angry spew of words that relieve pressure but paint an ugly picture and off he is to be interviewed. To say it is like walking through a mind field, is frustrating, stressful, and full of pain is really a huge understatement.

So...we take classes, we make stupid rules of conduct that almost no other human being has to maneuver to protect him, to protect our whole family from being destroyed due enraged venom, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings.  And really, to protect her from the realization of consequences for our family that she didn't actually wish, pain to him she ultimately doesn't desire but was just soooo caught up in the outbursts of incredible energy, racing thoughts, and rage.

Because of the climate within our home, we have to have locks on every bedroom door to ensure everyone can change clothing without anyone opening the door to prevent allegations, we have to make sure my husband is never alone with certain members of the family to prevent allegations, and now, due to someone else, we can no longer even allow children to sit with their legs toughing anyone else, we can no longer allow anyone to lean toward another because to some it may look weird. We can no longer even have THAT bit of normalcy, in order to protect our family unit. Due to the climate our family, even the slightest question of another--which would normally cause others to simply roll their eyes and continue their way of living--we have to rearrange our entire family and how we interact with each other. IT SUCKS.

I'm frustrated. I'm tired.

It hurts. It's sad. It's scary.

But... It is how things are. It is our reality.

The Trouble with Blogging.

You know what the trouble with blogging is? (back off grammar police) Blogging is public journaling.  If you aren't good at keeping a written journal the old fashioned way, chances are you're also not awesome at keeping one online. The difference. No one really knows if you're keeping a journal in a book but EVERYONE who's interested is crystal clear that you're not keeping up with your blog when they check for an update but weeks and months go by without a new entry.

Keeping a journal has never been my strong suit. Though I know without a shadow of a doubt, that journaling is just about essential. Why? There are several reasons. It's fun to later look back and remember the fun things, the discovering, the lessons, the challenges overcome, the friends, the loves, the thoughts, the opinions that have changed, the opinions that have stayed the same, and more.

Paramount to my need is a sentiment a successful therapist told me. He said, "A ten cent notebook is the most effective therapist around". You know why? Partly because you cannot argue with what you, yourself, have written. You can't say: I didn't mean that, I didn't SAY that, I didn't DO that, because, you KNOW what it all meant, it's there internally and undeniably. You can see for yourself the steps you've taken or not taken. You know the emotions, feelings, and circumstances around all those words you published in your journal. You are safe with yourself and share it all right there for your eyes to see and your heart to feel. When you go back later, you are still connected to the feelings and memories of it all, but have the fresh perspective of having seen it through and are able to see where your faith was, what things you did that worked well, what things you discovered serve only as road blocks, witness to yourself things that you did/said to increase the problem, acknowledge to yourself those things you did quite capably and with awesome flair, people who were a blessing to you, and there is no doubt what is meant when you have a thought or impression about that journey because it all comes from you.

I wish I had been better at keeping a journal when I was a teenager, when I was a young adult, and up to now. I would give so much if I could just lay in the hands of my daughters a record of the struggles, and triumphs, the frustrations, the convictions, the silliness, the ME of that time. If they could just read with their own eyes the thoughts and feelings I had at their ages or in similar circumstances, written in my own hand, perhaps they could understand I was a person back then, that I had real feelings, and the stories I tell them are not fiction. Perhaps they could accept "that" person when they refuse this one. Maybe, they could have a glimmer of understanding that while I do comprehend their feelings about something I also see that it may not be wise to allow it to rule future actions...or visa versa... 

What gets in my way is how easily distracted I get with my life. How tired I get at night. And...I'm embarrassed to say, how I get carried away in numbing my mind with trips to social media, watching a show of some sort, or just about any OTHER thing than writing or typing my thoughts and feelings.

What's so hard about blogging? I worry. I have so many challenges--thus the title of my blog--and I have feelings and thoughts and frustrations and situations that, I don't know if others can really understand. I mean, it's not like anyone is here in the moment with all this chaos and intensity. And I am not super articulate when it comes to describing and painting a picture of what is or has happened...or the context of it all.

I admit, fear, does get in the way. Fear? Yes. I know anyone who reads this is someone I love, yet, the chances of someone else coming along with no perspective to my family and our trials who could misinterpret my words is a real concern for me. ESPECIALLY since we have a family with more than one child with a mental illness who can, at times, completely and utterly misunderstand and misinform others of just about anything depending on what stage of their cycles they may be.

I live on a teeter totter covered with egg shells and I have to run back and forth blindfolded 100 times a day without falling and without stepping on a single shell or ALL. HELL. Breaks. loose...

Why'd I even think to start this blog? Well, I thought it would be helpful for me, for others. Others who are blending families. Others who are parents (or any other family member or friend) of someone with a mental illness. Yet, the whirlwind, the blender, the uncertain stress of mental illness keeps me highly strung and I often just want to numb my brain.

I would promise I'll do better, that a I'll be more consistent, but it's a promise I can't make. I want to, but, I'd rather be honest. I'll post. I'll share. I just know it won't be updated daily...or even weekly necessarily. There will be times it's updated a whole lot and then times when a sure and certain drought will hit. That's just my life. It's the way it is. It's what I can handle.

 

So the other day I was told I needed to catch up and share what's been going on lately.

It has been so busy and crazy and frustrating and...nice.

I'm sure if I was a really experienced writer and practiced blogger I could  make about 20 thought provoking and inspiring and, maybe even, humorous entries.  BUT. I'm not. So, here comes my quick update.

I changed my children's psychiatrist. Why? Because they didn't like him. No, not just because of that but it is a good reason. The main reason I chose to switch is due to their unwillingness to tell him what he needed to know in order to make appropriate assessments and recommendations for their medical care. Proper information in critical when making choices and decisions.

It seems like this would have been an easy thing to do, however; it was not. I had to spend forever on the phone with clinics and Triwest to figure out if I even COULD financially. Once I figured out a place I could go to with our insurance, I wasn't able to get both my children in to see the same doctor so I took two appointments with separate psychiatrists. T got Dr W and E got Dr A. 

Dr A was an instant fit. We met with him E felt better about him than our old Dr S and we really liked that we could actually understand what he was saying--as opposed to the almost silent super mush mouth from Dr S.

Dr W, on the other hand had me spinning from the first 5 minutes of talking. He wanted to change T's diagnosis immediately. He wanted to change his medication. He was very rigid and myopic about what we've been treating him for. I decided we could go ahead and see if he was correct. We changed T's meds for all of three days. Everyone in our family and his girlfriend were completely unhappy with how it was affecting him. So I stopped that medicine and we went back to see Dr. W. He then decided his first impression wasn't correct but didn't want to put T back on Seroquel. We tried a combo of a Trazadone and Abilify. Within a few days T was completely unhappy and begging me to get him back on Seroquel.

One thing you may not be aware of is that Bipolar comes with episodes of hallucinations. T began to experience having them again after having been successfully medicated for a year and half. I tried to contact Dr W without success for a few days. It was so frustrating. When he called very upset while he was out with friends that he was seeing things again, and BEGGED be to please get him off this new regiment and back on the Seroquel. We made another appointment to see Dr W where he lays on me that Bipolar doesn't have hallucinations and gives me three options: T has some major terrible thing like a tumor in his brain, liver failing, or some other horrific thing that we must to tests to rule out; he's abusing illegal drugs; or he's flat out lying and making this up. WHAT?!!! I have read so many things in books and online; online websites about medical things and online personal experiences of Bipolar people, and there is definitely hallucinations associated with Bipolar Disorder. The other thing that Dr W laid on me is that no matter what, he will not renew a prescription for Seroquel XR for T because he's not 18 and it isn't FDA approved for anyone under 18. BUMMER.

We leave the doctor's office with T being put back on Seroquel XR until we have all the medical tests done at the hospital. I set up appointments for T to have an EEG; blood work to test his liver, drug and alcohol screening, CT scan, and a few other tests on his blood. I'm stressed and frustrated because I'm feeling like this doctor is totally dismissing my son and his experience and trying to make them something they aren't.

I went to work searching for information about Bipolar in teens. I found support for what I had already understood. I looked on http://www.aacap.org/, http://www.pendulum.org/faq.html, http://www.askabipolar.com/bipolar-experience-hallucinations/, etc...   CLEARLY hallucinations are, indeed, not uncommon.

I also focused on the differences between Bipolar in adults versus adolescents. I'll just mention one here: cycling with adolescents and children can happen within a day, their cycling is much quicker or you could say their cycles are smaller than an adult who would normally have a mania period for longer periods of time. This is important to know for later.

I take T to the hospital to get his labs done and to get his CT scan. This shouldn't be long. WRONG! Dr W asked for an alcohol screening but the hospital didn't recognize the test called for and because I try to to as early as possible to avoid waiting for years we were at the hospital lab an hour before Dr W shows up to work at his office. We had to WAIT!!!  Ugh!  After waiting for a long time--felt like an eternity, we went down to radiology to get the CT scan done. Over an hour after registering at the lab we finally get word that the hospital knows what they need to do. The morning was stressful, maybe I'll post about that later.

A few days later I am tasked with keeping T awake for 24 hours and deny any medication for his EEG. Bleh.............................

I cannot tell you how much I never want to repeat that!

We go back to Dr W to find out the results of all this testing and find out T is looking just fine and that there is nothing wrong structurally in his brain, nothing wrong with his liver or thyroid, there's not any sign of drug or alcohol abuse. So now it's between Dr W being ridiculous or T being a storyteller of fiction.

Talking with Dr W I have to let everything out. Hold nothing back. In our conversation I let him know I'm frustrated and feel he's not helping us. I let him know I don't feel confident in his work because I'm not seeing any analysis to psychological test to support his dismissal of an established diagnosis. I told him I felt like he was pretty much disregarding every single thing we've been telling him. He asked me if he had agreed with me from the get go if I'd feel differently. My answer: I don't NEED him to be Bipolar, it's not my life's work or mission to have him be Bipolar. I have had three different established professionals tell me T is Bipolar, you're new and suddenly telling me he's not. I want to know that before we go dropping a diagnosis or changing it that there's been real and proper investigation.

I had to field some more questions about his behavior and he mentions mania being an experience a person has for at least 8 days at which point I have to interject that this is not true of adolescents. Once I started stating facts about adolescent Bipolar, and once I began using terms like: hypomania, euphoric mania, and dysphoric mania, there seems to be a total shift. Bigger the shift when I mentioned Dr K's name and his opinion that T is, indeed, living life with Bipolar. (Dr K is a very well established, highly regarded Psychiatrist who is married to a well know Pediatrician)

This has been yet another example of being your own advocate and, especially, your child's advocate. Every professional is a human being, fallible, tired, bored, energized, polarized regarding different things and everything we do, everything we think, everything we say, and everything we choose is filtered through that.

I left that appointment with a completely different rapport and opinion of Dr W. He gave T another anti psychotic medication to replace the Seroquel XR that is FDA approved for youth. The Risperidone has been the best change for us. It is working pretty well.

We had an appointment with Dr K after all of this nonsense, that happened within a small window of a few weeks, he was entirely unimpressed by Dr W for his comments about Bipolar and T not showing symptoms of being Bipolar. He went through the symptoms with me and reviewed assessments of T from previous visits with Dr K. It was completely reassuring and I felt entirely vindicated.

This is the activities regarding health I've been working with regarding T. Doesn't that seem exhausting? In another post I'll tell you about the trials on the trail with E that spanned this same time period, and A, and M, and what"s going on with Mark and I. 

If you made it to the end of this, you need more to do!  ha! Sorry it was so dry but it was a LOT.

Love to You and post to you later!

Related articles

• The difference between a child psychologist and child psychiatrist (kevinmd.com)
• What Makes a Good Psychiatrist? (psychologytoday.com)