They're trying to fix my kid!

I haven’t decided yet if this afternoon program that Monster just started uses cruel and unusual techniques to get their kids to behave, or if Monster knows how to play off of my greatest fears; that he will be hurt, abused, made to feel bad about himself, laughed at, set apart from the other children, and, perhaps worst of all, given the tools to grow up and be independent.
Because, and I have to be honest here, there is already a part of me that is mourning, that is kicking a screaming, “IT’S NOT FAIR!” that “they” are turning my child into a child who is self-sufficient enough that he doesn’t need Mommy every time his life goes off track.

Of course the logical part of me sees all of the benefits to this. My job, after all, is to allow this child to become as independent as he possibly can be, while still allowing him to feel attached to me when needed (which will, sadly, be less and less, and is happening faster than I expected or wanted).

Along with his odd display of empathy over this weekend, I also watched him hold his own at his cousin’s high school graduation open house, where he never once hesitated to wonder if it was okay for him to get right in there with the teenagers and adults and play volleyball with them. He never once came looking for me. At one point I went outside just to see what my son was doing, but if I feared he was lonely, feeling left out, bored, needing me, I was sorely mistaken.

The least this afternoon class can do is somehow hurt my child, mentally or physically, in a way that I cannot allow to happen and I will have to investigate and maybe complain. But how twisted is it that in my mind the worst thing this program will do to my child is make him more self-sufficient.
And while I would never sabotage something so important, there will be the part of me that will need to process this, this loss of my needy small boy. So while I hope the school is as good as is promised, and while I hope they change his way of thinking into one of introspection and empathy, it will be putting a large piece of me out of work. And it makes me sad just thinking about it.

Empathy

For the first time ever last night, my son demonstrated emapthy for another person, other than us, his parents.
We watched the Chipmunk Movie last night, and at the end they show the evil guy who wanted to take advantage of the Chipmunks crying. And Monster turned to us and said, "I hate sad endings!" and started bawling. The three of us sat down there in the family room, Monster snuggled up on hubby's lap, and talked about how it is sad to see other people lose something they want, but that this movie was supposed to be a happy ending because the Chipmunks ended up with the person who really loved them and took good care of them.
We couldn't convince Monster that the bad guy really deserved to lose the Chipmunks because he didn't care about them really. But he cared, M insists, because he was crying.

It's proof that empathy is taking root and growing in his mind. This is a good thing. I hate to see him in tears over pretend movies about talking chipmunks. But at least he's learning.

Kicking, hitting: Other annoying things

Monster is very aggressive. Not so much at home, but daycare and school. Sure, we've had our share (mostly me), but he saves most of that for when he's overwhelmed around other kids and noise and lights, etc.

I don't blame him for it. It's part of whom he is. It's just that this is the part of him that the the rest of society really frowns upon.

So what do I do? He'll grow out of it, I've been told, and as he grows older the attacks do seem to decrease in number but increase in intensity.

And today was his first day at the afternoon program. When he got home I knew he would be extra-stressed; a new activity, a long ride home (the driver got stuck in road construction), and hot and sweaty from playing outside. What I didn't expect was the return of the hitting and kicking. Because he hit me today, and then he kicked me. And then when I was trying to help him get his swimsuit on for his lesson he was blowing in my face. Poking me. After the lessons, getting him out of the shower, he was doing it again. Blowing razzberries in my face. Yelling in my ear.

Sometimes I want to smack the shit out of him.

But he knows as soon as he does it that it was wrong, because he instantly looks concerned and says, I'm sorry, Mommy!! I'm so sorry!"

Of course I know I'm being played. But he only acts this way when he is really stressed.

I feel like a battered wife, only it's my child who batters me.

This afternoon program, added to the classroom he started in Kindergarten and will stay in next year, are supposed to teach him how to deal with his stress better. I don't know how. I can't even deal with my stress. More power to them, I guess.

I'm just a bit discouraged, is all. Here is this place that is going to change my son's bad behaviors, or claims they will, and the first day he's back to doing things he hasn't done to me in over a year or more.

I have to give it time. I know this. He will get worse before he gets better. I am expecting this. He will never get 100% "better". I know this too. But sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball so I could see if all of this is worth it, if it really will make his life better for us to put him through all of this. Because sometimes I wonder if what we are doing is more damaging than helpful; the labelling, the placement with emotionally/behaviorally disturbed children, the need we all have to improve on this child by removing part of him, weeding out the parts society doesn't like and making room for the acceptable stuff to grow.

Hell, who am I kidding? I hate getting hit and kicked. I hate having to find him new after school programs, and picking him up from school.

Plus, I think he feels proud of himself when he conquers those demons inside of him. Those times that he chooses to yell instead of hit, or chooses to kick a ball instead of the kid next to him (who may or may not even be involved in the issue). He understands that whatever he needs is inside of him if he can just find the right paths.

I hope that this place gives him a really good map.

I'm tired of getting hit.

my baby boy

Monster is 6, but I still see him as my baby. This big, grown-up kid who has graduated kindergarten is still, in my mind, my tiny boy. I think we moms do this when we feel our kids need extra protection. Or when we need to see the good, sweet child that exists under this rotten brat we see too often. I know that I remind myself often that this is my tiny baby, and it takes away some of my impatience, and gives me back my perspective. What do I want to see when I look at my son? Basically, the choice is mine. I can see a monstrous child who doesn’t do what is asked of him and who hits and bites and has trouble with other kids and teachers, or I could see the small, vulnerable child who is confused and lost in this strange foreign world and needs my guidance. He’s the same kid, either way that I look at him. But if I see the bad kid, what will Monster do? He’ll see that I look for the bad behavior and think to himself, “I’m a bad kid.” And he won’t believe in himself. He’ll decide, I’m bad, so I might as well not even try. If I see the good kid who needs some guidance, Monster will say to himself, “I’m a good kid; Mom and Dad see it, it must be true.” Is this spoiling him? I think it’s the only way he will be able to grow into a contributing member of society. I think it’s imperative to build his self-esteem to make sure it is rock-solid now. I have probably said this before, but there will be enough people out there trying to tear my son down. There are people who have already done this to my son. So, at home, I OD him on self-esteem. I tell him he’s smart, and wonderful, and sweet, and caring, and kind, and very, very lovable. And I tell him he can be my little baby for as long as he wants, because he likes being babied. At this point I see him pulling away, going out into the world bravely on his own, but when he comes back to me he wants to curl up in my arms and be helpless and sweet. And I believe doing this for him will give him the confidence to go farther and farther out there in the world, knowing that he can always go back to being my baby whenever he needs it.

Plus, I just love it. I still get to hold my baby in my arms, even though this baby’s legs and arms are long and gangly and have sharp knees and elbows which bump and jab and seem to get in the way. But then he settles, and we both sigh, as if we have both found our natural state – my arms around my son, and he with his head on my chest, and he sighs and I feel his breathing slow and his heart rate calm. And I feel myself calming too, because this is the “fix” I wait for al day long.

My baby is back, for whatever short amount of time he wants to be held. I love it. My Monster is a sweet, lovable, wonderful Monster. He is so grown up in so many ways and I am so proud of him and tell him often how proud I am when he is independent and brave. I don’t want to keep him my baby forever. But if he wants to be my baby for a half hour at night forever, I will never ask him to stop.

Trying to listen to instinct and trying to teach it

I woke up an hour before my alarm went off today and my first thought was about the person who offered to get my son a cup of water when he complained he was thirsty, and then brought him hot water instead of cold or even room temp. And when he spat it out and started screaming and crying, she laughed and laughed. The DCP provider in charge yelled at her for doing that, but she thought it was the funniest thing ever.

Obviously his mouth wasn’t burned, or he would have said something that day. As it was, I didn’t hear this story until about a half of a year after my son left this home daycare. Apparently sometimes “friends” would come over and help the DCP with the kids.

This was an adult. Who took some sort of pleasure in torturing a young disabled boy. What is wrong with people?

And what is wrong with me that I wasn’t able to prevent this? I screened the DCP, I called the references. I spoke to parents as they picked their children up. I checked for a current license. All in place. I would ask my son about his day, and get the same answers each day; “How was your day?” “Fine” “What did you do?” “I don’t know”.

If I had known about this at the time I would have gone over there and kicked someone’s ass. So maybe it was better I wasn’t told.

I idolize Gavin DeBecker and use his book, “Protecting the Gift” as a sort of bible on how to teach my son to be safe from creepy, evil, rotten people. But part of what a child needs to learn early is to say they will tell, and then to tell. That day. And since that event with the water, my son HAS told me of people treating him badly. Usually the same day. I accept the news calmly and thank him for telling me. I worry though that this part may always be difficult for him. When he told me about the water thing, the next words immediately out of his mouth were, “Don’t tell DCP! They’ll be mad at me!” Which led to a long, gentle discussion about how he doesn’t need to worry about people getting angry with him for telling us things if they’re true. That hubby and I will protect him no matter what.

Still, for some reason, this water thing haunts me. What kind of sicko takes pleasure in tormenting a 4-year-old boy who doesn’t understand why he’d be mistreated? And why would a sicko like that be in the same building as my child while he is being cared for? This was a friend of the DCP, which makes me wonder about the DCP too.

Thank goodness that place is far behind us. But obviously I am still upset about the things that my son alleges happened there. And if these things did happen, they are still floating around in my son’s mind, in some sort of ether world from which they eventually emerge and get spoken by my son. Where was this memory 5 months ago? Was he so traumatized that the memory went away until he felt safe enough to express his pain?I want a book that teaches me how to keep my special needs child safe from bad people. I haven’t found one yet.

Monster’s Aspie friend wants him to spend the night in the next couple of weeks. And I worry about the father, that maybe he’s a secret child molester and how will I know? What can I do? Just say no sleepover? At some point I need to let my child out into the world, and be able to trust that he knows how to protect himself. I need to be able to know that he will tell us immediately if something happens.
And maybe this is why this memory surfaced for me now- as a reminder that my son may not be quite ready to be alone with other adults in a home situation. And I don’t know how to know, because I can tell my son he needs to tell us and he will tell us, yes, I will. He told us that before we placed him in that home daycare.

He was better when his aide at school started mistreating him. He would tell us. I would call the director and tell her my son says this happened, and I know it may not be true, but could you please speak with this person and find out what happened?And he told us about the marks in his armpits the day it happened. He understands this stuff is serious and that hubby and I are going to always do what we can to protect him.
But maybe I need to wait on this sleepover. Maybe this is all my half-conscious brain was telling me.

First day of respite

Monster LOVES his new PCA and the two of them have apparently had a great time together Mon-Thurs, but today is the first day of his Friday respite.
I am in a state of panic over this. M was super-excited to be going today but we all know how well Aspie kids are with new situations. If we lose our every-Friday care we're going to have to do some major scrambling.

It doesn't help that I am still in a panic over this mole, although I am a little less determined that this is a death sentence. July 3rd the surgeon will look at it, and hopefully be able to remove it then and there.

It just makes me realize how small these things are in the long run, the things like letting my son fal asleep with me and cuddle with me and need me so much. I would hate to reach the end, however it may come about, and think to myself, what if I HAD spent more time just holding and loving my son? What would have been so wrong about letting him sleep next to me every other night or so? Someday Monster will decide he's too big for any of this stuff, and I would miss it.

He loves "camping out" with hubby or me (which just means, sleeping with us). He is like a cat, in that he pushes himself completely against you so the heat from the whole side of his body absorbs into you. I've moved him away a couple of times when I was really hot, and the little body just comes sliding back over against me.

I feel like all of this contact is so good for him. It reinforces over and over what "good touch" is, as opposed to whacking a child to get their attention.

Anyhow, I am now stressed over two things, and starting next Wednesday there will then be the afternoon treatment program for me to worry over.

I guess thank goodness I'm here to worry over this stuff.

Maybe not so brave

I thought that having Monster in my life had made me brave. And in many little ways, it has.

But then I get this mole,

and I am falling apart.

I need to have it surgically removed. It's huge. I tried to ignore it for 6 months, hoping it would simply disappear.

But then the other day I caught a glimpse of it (it's at the top on the back of my thigh) and thought, wow, I really think that maybe this is something that needs checking.



I hate going to the doctor. Doctors have been mean to me in the past and they scare me. And this has NOT changed since Monster entered my life. Sure, I can talk to any doctor about my son, request anything, no matter how rude or bitchy or stupid the doctor thinks I am.

But for myself? Not at all.

So driving home from the doctor's office I start thinking, I can't die. And of course if I had been a truly devoted mother it would have been because I need to keep helping Monster, need to keep fighting for him.

But the truth of it is, I am scared of dying because I want more time with my son. I want to hug him more and hold him more and let him fall asleep next to me and I want to look up from whatever I am doing and be awestruck by the beauty of this child who came out of me and I want to hear the sweet chirrup of his voice and I want to laugh at his incredible sense of humor.

I don't want to leave yet. For all the most selfish reasons.

Of course, I'm worrying before I even know anything. But that is nothing new.

Grandparents

My parents are out visiting and Monster is putting on a pretty good show for them so far. My mother has noticed (BLESS her) how much more difficult M is getting as he gets older. But they both find him amazingly sweet and lovable (which of course he is). They also both think he is brilliant.

My dad used to piss me of by making comments like, "Oh, you don't REALLY still need to wear diapers at night, now, do you?" and I would give him the evil eye and say, "Monster is allowed to wear pull ups as long as he chooses." This time, though, nothing yet. They seem to have done their homework and aren't saying rude or stupid things at all. They're both just mesmerized by him. Monster does have quite the little personality. He's just such a unique guy.

So. So far, so good. Mom came to swimming lessons tonight and went on and on about how well Monster did and I told her how long it had taken M to get this far (putting his face in the water - jumping into the pool holding the instructor's hands, blowing bubbles and kicking). She thinks he's doing wonderfully.

Not used to the parents being so positive and supportive. But they seem to understand Monster. We'll see how the rest of the week goes.

School

We had Monster's school-end meeting on Thursday. I was so freaked out about it that I called his social worker/teacher and asked her, "this isn't going to be a meeting where you tell me that you've tried everything with my kid but you can't help him, is it?" and she said no, no. This is supposed to be a good meeting. I'm sure she thinks I'm a nut, but I could not have dealt with another doom and gloom report on my son at the time. I would have ditched out on the meeting if I suspected they were going to say bad things.

Monster has taken of academically and there seems to be no stopping him. He has in the past few months since he switched schools passed up the 1st grade-level reading and math groups he was in and is now working with a private tutor on second-grade-level work. It's as if this new placement helped my son to see what school was actually for, and he figured out he loves learning, and just took right to it.

The team had nothing but nice things to say about Monster. He works hard, even when things get tough. He is so eager to learn and improve. He is obviously happy and well-loved. He is incredibly sweet.

The afternoon social program he starts will keep M for at least a year. When school starts next fall they will squeeze all of his academics plus PE into his mornings and then feed him lunch and send him off on the bus to the afternoon program. He will do this at least through all of first grade.

I wish I had a sense of hope that this afternoon program will really help Monster. I think it will be a good place for him - a place that understands him and wants to help teach him how to get along with other kids without hitting or kicking or biting - but it is too much for me to hope that the changes will be dramatic. Will they make my son act more "normal" so the evil kids don't see him as a great target and start ripping into him? Will they give him the ability to walk away from these kids without giving a piece of himself away as he leaves? These are the things I am trying to teach him, but I don't ever know what gets through to him and what doesn't.

I am sad this school year is ending just as my son seems ready to really take off. I am worried about the summer and the afternoon program and the PCA and the respite care. It seems as if it is all in place and ready to go, but I can no longer trust that things will go as planned.

Sinking. Failing.

I cannot protect my child from rotten kids who set out to hurt him for no good reason. I can’t keep him from getting hurt by people who claim to be his friends but then treat him horribly. I can’t keep the labels away from him – special needs, and now – EBD.

Maybe he was neglected by us, in that we didn’t know what to do with him until he was 4. Maybe dealing with him by the skin of our teeth for so long set up a sort of neglect-like scenario for him. It didn’t help that we left him with so many adults who treated him as a NT -albeit rotten- child. Our neglect may be that we put him in these places who had no understanding of his needs. And neither did we.

Did we neglect him because we two spent so much time frustrated and angry, blaming each other and ourselves and Monster for the disaster that seemed to have struck our house and we both were so stunned and felt unable to figure out what we needed to do, what were we doing wrong, what was wrong with our kid?

Our son learned aggression at daycare. That much I know for a fact. So how is seeing it at daycare and learning and practicing and taking it on as habit from something you do at daycare different from something you see and learn at home? It isn’t.


Backgrounds of neglect, abuse, loss. This is the type of child my son is put with to learn how to behave in this world. And I used to think the label didn’t fit – Not MY son. Because he is very much loved and coddled at home and if anything should be suffering from being spoiled rotten, not neglect. And yet. We didn’t know, so we neglected. We are like the parents who don’t know what children need and so give them nothing. But we thought we knew, which is probably even worse, because it meant we took too long before we asked for help.

My son cannot control himself. And yesterday it was hard for me to blame him, these kids were so rotten to him. I thought to myself, here we go. Now it starts. The friends turning on him. The children who don’t even know him singling him out because my son and all of these children are older now, more perceptive, my son’s differences more pronounced. I can’t do anything for him. Today I ache so badly for him I can barely think straight. He doesn’t deserve this. Even hubby and I lose our temper at him and he’s just being himself. He’s just doing what he knows – what he is capable of. Yes, sometimes he is a horrible little shit intentionally, but sometimes he really cannot help himself, and yet. I lose my temper. I cannot take it one more moment, whatever little odd stim he is doing to deal with strain. He repeats himself a hundred times. He cries. He tantrums, he screams. And I can’t take it.


I’m putting my son out into this world and he is getting hurt already, and it’s just going to get worse. I can’t protect him. I can’t fix him. I can’t change him or save him. I stand on the sidelines and watch him stumble, hear the other children laughing at him. I reach out toward him but he’s out of reach. He’s moving farther from me. He needs to, it’s part of his life's work. And I stand here as he recedes into his days and hope that his heart can be patched together when he returns to me in the afternoon.
I feel like I’ve failed him. I feel like I will fail him a million times more. And I thought I was so strong and ready for this. I was so wrong.

Birthday parties

Maybe it's better if Monster is not invited to parties, because mean children show up at those parties, and tease my son, and "get him going".
The birthday boy this time is a boy one year older than Monster, whose parents I met at our support group. BB(Birthday Boy) is a year older than Monster, and the two play well together and seem to "get" each other.
but of course BB had other children at his party, two of which were cruel and evil toward Monster. First, the only girl at the party handed out plates and as she hande M his she said, "You get the THREE THOUSANDTH PLATE" and set it in front of him with a flourish. M beamed. The kid across from him grabbed his plate and M freaked. Of course the boy innocently said, It's just a plate, so what? The BB mom told him to trade plates back. But then the two little shits start in about this weird kid who gets all worked up over a PLATE, a piece of paper. This of course made M frantic and he shouted shut up and blew raspberries at the kids. I finally forced him to change seats to get him away from them, but M burst into tears and one of them called him a crybaby. Monster started screaming, "I am NOT a crybaby!" and a sweet boy across the table said, No, I told them you weren't, that that wasn't a nice thing to say.

He calmed down. The cake was eaten. The presents were opened. I knew exactly what to get BB since he had coveted Monster's last time he was here, so the present was a hit. but the two boys would NOT leave Monster alone, finding ways to bump him, push him, and once try to trip him, where I angrily yelled, "DO NOT trip him!" and held back from adding 'You little ShiT!"

It was time to go but before I managed to get M out the door he had kicked, punched, pushed, and smacked not only the two evil children but one who seems to have gotten in the way. I dragged him out, kicking and screaming and thought to myself, yet another gracious exit from an event. Shit.

I cried in the car. And I told Monster yes, those children were rotten to you - REALLY rotten. And, you know what? I understand why you did what you did, but you will be dealing with crappy people like those your whole life and you have to figure out a way to do it without hitting. He asked, but what? Well, you ignore them. Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they're upsetting you, because that's what they want to do. Walk away from them. Change seats. Just do what you need to get away from them and act like they don't hurt your feelings. "But they DO hurt my feelings!" I know, I say, with tears running down my cheeks, I know they hurt you. But if you let them know, then you let them win.

I feel like it's starting - the need to turn my son into a cynic. He can't be this innocent around such crappy kids who prey on his differences. And these kids have a second sense. They may not have noticed he was troubled right off the bat, but the instant the plate thing started, oh, they knew they had him, hook, line, and sinker. And part of me thinks yes, kick these kids' asses. They deserve it. But I can't teach him that. I feel like I'm putting him at a disadvantage. Be a good kid and put up with other kids' crap without getting violent, And it won't change - they'll keep coming after you. But there's nothing you can do.