Too Many Loud Voices

It's been a rough one. Today was one of THOSE days that didn't start out that way but slowly found myself on the downhill slope to cray cray town. I intended to write my post tonight about my struggling addict who screamed at me all afternoon over the voice that reminded me I have 111 days. 

I will never drink again. I know this not with a cocky attitude but with a confident one. I made a decision 111 days ago that I intend to see thru the rest of my life. But that doesn't mean it's easy. 

My day was only beginning when the voice came back. It said "a drink sounds nice don't it stephy?"...  My addict voice doesn't always use the best grammar. My addict reminded me of what a shitty mom I am. And how I let so many people down when I outed my secrets. How much hurt and damage I did to others and myself. But alas my addict wasn't the loudest voice today. 

My 7 year old was. It all started when he was hungry. It's amazing how this child hungry turns into something so angry and mean in ten seconds flat. I tried to sit thru my older sons basketball practice where I'm so awe inspired by another mom and her patience and calming voice with her autistic son. She obviously has years of practice and probably doesn't even know I'm staring at her for good reasons- hanging on her every word, so envious while my son head butts me continuously. I end up having to drag, literally drag, my 7 year old out to the car where on the way he kicks me so hard I now have a welt on my left ankle. He does that dead weight thing toddlers do during tantrums and because he's 7 it turns into more of a calorie burning workout drag thing, than a carry. For 30 minutes he screams in my face in the car about how he hates me because I'm mean. I'm mean? I do this deep breathing exercise and remind myself it will pass... I try to remember what he must be feeling inside is ten thousand times worse than what I'm experiencing on my end. Now I've been told, by several people, that a good spanking is what he needs. And that's all I'm going to say about that. Please don't go there with me. I assure you it's not. 

By the time we get home he's calm and apologizing then goes to his room for time out consequences. And I'm left crying. Again. When my 15 year old comes and says "mama, go take a bath and relax. Read a book. I got this"... And I cry even harder. Because I forgot two things:

1- it's ok to ask for help

2- my addict was silenced by my 7 year old. Even that grammar crazy addict has nothing to say to him sometimes. 

Most importantly I remembered... It's going to be ok. 

Remember my peeps ... It's always going to be ok. Enter profound famous quote here. 

One more just for today in the books. 

7 important lessons from the permanent marker death threat on my wall

I was a little surprised to find out that my well behaved though sometimes sneaky 11 year old son was the perpetrator in this crime. He's the one who gets in to trouble for things like ignoring me, "forgetting" to do something or as I may have mentioned, ignoring me. When I asked him why he chose to use the door and a permanent marker to threaten his brother his response was "I guess I wasn't thinking". Initially I was outright pissed. I sent him to bed and told him he was grounded. Then muttered a few classic mom statements while leaving his room during which he listened, responded respectfully but didn't really react. Then I did the guilt thing. You know, what did I do wrong? How could this happen? I'm losing control of my household! He's going to be 17 and sentenced to prison for 45 years before he even becomes an adult! Deep breath.

Once I discovered how to get it off the wall thanks to a Facebook post and another genius mom who suffered through a similar experience. Though her daughter is 3 and I seriously doubt it was in death threat form, she also suggested I not wait to have him do it. It's midnight, he was sleeping and so I set off to clean up HIS mistake. HIS mess. And how was this going to teach him anything?  I realized at some point in the process there were a lot of lessons for me in this experience.

1- A combination of scribbling dry erase marker over the top, dry wiping with a towel, then wet wiping with a magic eraser is the miracle combination. You're welcome.

2- Kids aren't very smart sometimes. He used his actual name. He said who it was to and who it was from. And in my most angry moment when discovering it I asked my husband "who did this!?"  So I guess I'm not very smart either sometimes.

3- This was definitely an attention seeking act. He's so busy with all of his new friends. I'm so busy with school work. When we are under the same roof, his brother with some special requirements to maintain good behavior gets most of my attention. Negative and positive behaviors from his little brother who happens to be on the receiving end of the death threat gets ALL my attention. And it's not that I don't know this. In fact a lot of nights I'm exhausted and miss the opportunity to tuck 11 year old in before he falls asleep because of the specific routine the littlest requires. Priority number 1 tomorrow will be to spend some time with 11 year old.

4- We really need to work on grammar. The difference between your & you're and close and clothes. For good measure we will also cover there, they're and their. And a well rounded lesson on punctuation.  We will have plenty of time to do this now that he's grounded from life.

5- Karma is a bitch. I spilled nail polish in my moms sink. Repeatedly ruined her towels with my hair dye. And left my food to rot in my room when I went back to college after a long weekend at home. I can only keep my fingers crossed that a future conversation with Cooper 25 years down the road will sound like this:
Him: Mom, I don't know what to do. Little man spray painted the side of my brand new car.
Me: Oh honey I'm sorry. Try a dry erase marker. Papa and I are watching wheel of fortune so text me and let me know how that works out for you.

6- Kids these days have it easy. When I was grounded I didn't get to go outside unless I was weeding the garden. I had my bike taken away and stayed in my room. Now days when grounding occurs it's no anything that plugs into the wall. The biggest fits get thrown over "all there is to do is ride my bike and play board games." Cry me a river and go get some exercise. 

7- I love that kid so much. There isn't one single thing he could do that could make me not love him or love him any less. Truth is when they are grounded they talk to me more, snuggle more, laugh more and by the end of the grounding it seems like we are closer. This isn't a new realization it's just something I remember each time we go thru this process. It often feels like a punishment to me to have to be the bad guy and take away all the fun. But as us parents know, and often forget, discipline is an important part of a child's structure and growing up. Discipline is love. And this kid is about to find out just how much I love him. Ha!

Take a deep breath Stephie. Send another apology to your mom. A thank you note to your friend. And keep on keepin on. You aren't so bad after all.

My friends are turning 40

I have this distinct memory of preparing for my high school friends mom, 40th birthday party. We ran around the neighborhood posting signs and pictures of her with giant words: Lordy Lordy Mary's 40! We laughed. We snickered. And not once did I even think I'd ever be "that old". 

For the record I'm still not that old. But suddenly my friends are. And though I have the same snicker as I blow up my Social networking site with the same slogan ( replace Mary with correct friends name) it occurs to me... I kind of like it. 

40 used to be that old mom age that involved a mid life crisis, possible divorce and a new hair style. Turns out its still the same idea but with the added advantage of knowledge. At our age it's not a mid life crisis, rather an awakening of life around us. -Who is here? Why are they here? And do they have my best interest at heart? -Are just a few questions these 40 year old friends of mine are asking themselves. And when the answers are not what they hoped for its time to pack some bags and move along. 

The new hair isn't a younger thing, it's a stripe of honor. It says "I've survived the know it all 20's, paid for it in my 30's and here's my proof that I passed the test."

 (If you're in your 20's still and that comment offended you, it just proves my point) The new car isn't because there's anything wrong with the old one. It represents the life and love offered to so many people around you for so many years and realizing its time to treat yourself. 

What we don't give each other enough credit for, especially as women, is our hard work for others up to this point. The mid life crisis isn't a crisis at all. It's more a mid life awakening and we deserve to be supported thru it. Instead of pointing and whispering we should be saying "hell yes to the dress, new hair, tattoo and for kicking that guy to the curb." (Finally!) Maybe instead for making the decision to spice up the relationship with her man a little more. Either way its her life, her choice and until we are there personally, the journey makes very little sense. 

Trust each other. Trust your friends. Trust their choices and know when you do, it will be paid back in full when its your turn to experience this magical awakening.  And if its not paid back in full... Pack their bags and send them on their way. Right after the hair appointment and just before the new car purchase. 

OT's with padded rooms and swings :)

STOP BLAMING YOURSELF MOMS

So today my littlest tiniest, being all of 7 years old went to an occupational therapist to be observed as he played. Tested on motor skills. And all the while I sat with my cold cup of coffee being interviewed about every moment that came to my mind over the last 7 years with my amazing little. All the quirks & oddities that stood out. He's an incredible little guy he's just experiencing some temper issues that seem to be triggered by sensory processing malfunctions. There I sat. Cold cup of coffee. Little one running around like crazy in a place it's totally acceptable to do that. And speaking with a woman who seems half my age that I'm depending on to give me all the answers. I hate to think of it like an interview, but I only have an hour to prove my case. And when the hour is up she decides if I will ever see her again and under what circumstances. Like a date. But my sons success depends on it.

And so I spilled my guts and I told her all about how he smells people. Like REALLY smells them. And things. And clothes. Sometimes walls. What an incredible sense of smell this kid has. If he receives multiple hand me down clothes he can in fact tell you who they came from based on how they smell. No joke. I tell her how he sleeps under heavy stuffed animals and covers his face with multiple blankets. How one day he wants oodles and oodles of bubbles in his bath and the next day, bubbles "hurt" his skin and we spend the next half hour calming down from a melt down. How since we went to the dentist last spring to get his tooth pulled from an infection the mere idea of brushing his teeth gives me a nightly migraine. I tell her everything is a battle. And then one day it's not. And then it's 8:32pm and it's all a battle again. There is no rhyme or reason except bubbles, and teeth, and boogers and frustration for both of us.

The interview ends and the whole time I'm feeling like this amazing room was made for my little boy. It's full of mats, climbers, blocks and even swings where he can get all of that amazing tummy stimulation. I saw the good in that room and I wanted so badly for him to have that opportunity. So when it was over she asked if I had any other questions. Before I knew it I was broken and crying with snot running down into my cold cup of coffee. All I could squeek out thru my broken teary voice was "am I crazy? Can you help us?"...

As a parent I second guess myself every single day. This does not mean I don't have confidence it simply means that here I am, in charge of another human beings life. Her/Her/Her/His & one more His life depends on it. My decisions are for the good of those little monkeys whether they like them or not. The discipline, mac & cheese, snuggles, homework, appointments, quitting my corporate job of 13 years... it's all for them. They won't get it until they hold their own in their arms and right after they decide everything they will do differently from me because I did it wrong... their light bulb will come on. And that's the moment I do it for.

So off we go on a new adventure. In a padded room. Where a swing hangs from the ceiling. Because my babiest of kids, deserves it. And because she said "YES! I CAN HELP YOU!"