A friend of mine got a psuedo-diagnosis today for her little boy. They are calling it provisional ADHD ad ODD. ADHD- Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. ODD- Oppositional Defiance Disorder. I have heard these labels tossed about for a long time. My own son has been called one or the other of these by strangers and family members alike. At one time it would have been really painful to hear. At one time, knowing that people who had hardly spent a full day with my son could so acutely identify everything that was "wrong" with him angered me.
At first, when I read that my good friend was now standing in a pair of those very same shoes I was sad for her. She knows what I know. That though my son may not fit into the norms of society, he can be extremely loving and affectionate. No one but me and his daddy ever see that side of him. And today I'm happy to not have to share that with anyone else. It takes a long time to get to that place though.
M does not have a formal diagnosis. Part of me scolds myself for taking so long with this, but the other part of me is happy and proud that we let him grow into himself before attempting to push him one way or the other. Today, though, I have realized the truth. I was writing a reply to my friend about her precious boy and it hit me. My son is a future superhero. Not in the laser eyes kind of way, but more in the pave the way for the rest of us to follow kind of way. He doesn't take no for an answer, he finds a work around for everything, he is a future leader. But, much like superman, he will have to hide is true identity from the world and only ever use his powers for good. It is my job and his dad's job to teach him what that means.
To my precious friend and her beautiful boy, I know that the path from where you are to where you want to be will be long and difficult but I also know that only a few in this world are perfectly equipped to make the journey.
Loving my superhero!!!
-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
I smell something....
You do not want to sit up suddenly in your bed with this thought in your head. I was taking a well deserved nap today while my children all slumbered soundly in their own beds, or so I thought. I drifted off to sleep and then remember sitting up so suddenly that I choked on the insane amount of saliva that had accumulated during some very heavy open mouthed napping. What was that smell? I got up and could hear the sounds of play from behind the closed door of the playroom. J and L. Oh. No. Anytime these two get together trouble is sure to follow. I dreaded opening that door. I knew it wouldn't be good news. The smell was so strong from where I was. And so familiar. I really was hoping for a poop incident or something within the realm of "normal" around here. Well, I guess almost anything is normal for us, so scratch that, I really meant normal for someone else.
I slowly turned the knob... I peeked my head around the door and L and J immediately drop what is in their hands and put their hands behind their backs. On the floor is laundry detergent- liquid laundry detergent. On the little blue table is floor shampoo, also a liquid. I take a deep breath and then instantly regret it. Coughing I usher them out of the room and into the bathroom. They are already crying and I haven't even been able to speak (Thank you God for a coughing fit... the words that were filling my head...). They know they are in trouble. They knew it wasn't okay to climb on top of my washer and grab all the soaps and things they could find. They knew that pouring them out would eventually result in my wrath, but they did not care. I strip them down and sit them in the tub, still coughing, and rinse them until their skin is no longer slick with soap. I wash their hair and make sure to rinse their eyes well. I put clean diapers on them and put them to bed. They are still asleep.
My own nap, interrupted by their shenanigans, is now completely over. A mere 15 minutes. Sigh. I go into the playroom and begin the ever difficult task of cleaning the soap out of the floor. I open the windows upstairs and the doors downstairs to air out the smell. I can hardly breathe and wonder to myself 'just how many brains cells did they kill while breathing this stuff in?'. I am crying while using the carpet shampooer to vacuum up the soap and water. When will I get a break? At what point will someone look around and say "she's done her time, cut her loose." I just wanted a nap for crying out loud. Really, even that is too much to ask?
I finally get the majority of soap out of the floor and decide to revisit the issue tomorrow. I get the baby out of her bed and head downstairs. Now I sit on the front porch, enjoying a cool breeze and a glass of ice water, breathing fresh air and watching C jump for joy in her bouncer.
I can't say it's been a stellar day for me, but I am thankful for the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air and have semi-clean carpet in the playroom. And eventually, it will smell "just after a rain fresh" once the room airs out a bit. :)
-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"
I slowly turned the knob... I peeked my head around the door and L and J immediately drop what is in their hands and put their hands behind their backs. On the floor is laundry detergent- liquid laundry detergent. On the little blue table is floor shampoo, also a liquid. I take a deep breath and then instantly regret it. Coughing I usher them out of the room and into the bathroom. They are already crying and I haven't even been able to speak (Thank you God for a coughing fit... the words that were filling my head...). They know they are in trouble. They knew it wasn't okay to climb on top of my washer and grab all the soaps and things they could find. They knew that pouring them out would eventually result in my wrath, but they did not care. I strip them down and sit them in the tub, still coughing, and rinse them until their skin is no longer slick with soap. I wash their hair and make sure to rinse their eyes well. I put clean diapers on them and put them to bed. They are still asleep.
My own nap, interrupted by their shenanigans, is now completely over. A mere 15 minutes. Sigh. I go into the playroom and begin the ever difficult task of cleaning the soap out of the floor. I open the windows upstairs and the doors downstairs to air out the smell. I can hardly breathe and wonder to myself 'just how many brains cells did they kill while breathing this stuff in?'. I am crying while using the carpet shampooer to vacuum up the soap and water. When will I get a break? At what point will someone look around and say "she's done her time, cut her loose." I just wanted a nap for crying out loud. Really, even that is too much to ask?
I finally get the majority of soap out of the floor and decide to revisit the issue tomorrow. I get the baby out of her bed and head downstairs. Now I sit on the front porch, enjoying a cool breeze and a glass of ice water, breathing fresh air and watching C jump for joy in her bouncer.
I can't say it's been a stellar day for me, but I am thankful for the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air and have semi-clean carpet in the playroom. And eventually, it will smell "just after a rain fresh" once the room airs out a bit. :)
-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"
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