My car’s thermometer tells me it is -3 degrees outside today, but at least I got the hell out of the driveway and to work. I have so much to do it is overwhelming, but maybe that’s for the best. I can focus on something else besides residential schools and my son’s attacks and how to navigate it all.
This was a good weekend for Jonah-boo. I came over to the house both Saturday and Sunday; of course we go to grandma’s nearly every day and sometimes (on the weekends) more than once.
He loves to enjoy a snack on her counter, with his favorite butt-in-the-air position, and though we usually make him sit in a chair, he gets special privileges at his precious grandma’s.
Saturday I brought him over to the apartment with M where he enjoyed playing with the bead necklaces I make constantly/therapeutically:
….and playing with M’s dog, Jack:
who is a big 90-pound 2-year old galoot of a mutt-pup and evidently wishes to lick humans to death.
At first Jonah was intimidated by Jack, and he still is a little skittish every time he first sees Jack because Jack gets very excited when anyone comes over, but the dog quiets down soon and then Jonah is interested, petting him gently and throwing him treats.
Andy took Jonah sledding on Saturday too, so our boy had lots of fun – he got to go to grandma’s, take 15 or so baths, visit his favorite mall and traverse the circuit throughout it he’s invented, go to the grocery store a few times, and play more with his mama when I visited again yesterday for a few hours. We played “ring around the rosy,” did slinky on the stairs, and repeatedly filled a yellow bucket with colored straws, flash cards, and moneycoin, then tossed it gleefully into the air and sang “clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere” while we picked it all up, only to transport it to another area of the house and start all over again.
So all in all it was a good weekend for boo. I am afraid of falling into the negative, both temperature-wise, depression-wise, and Jonah’s behavior-wise. I’m so scrawny I freeze to death in even the 30-40 degree weather, and I am bone-frozen and bone-tired…fighting apprehension, wearing long jonhs on under my work clothes…pushing back at the worry…that kind of thing.
I’m having some social anxiety, sometimes feeling unable to go places or do things – like the mall, or a restaurant. It comes and goes. I missed my Uncle John’s birthday party yesterday because I didn’t want to show up and see all my family and make small talk and all the while feeling surreal, trying not to cry. Who wants the crazy member of the family to ruin all the fun? And even though I know they wouldn’t treat me any differently (I love my family), I might say or do something stupid, or get all paranoid, or witness the normalcy of everyone around me, the “regular” kids, feeling the resentment rise, wishing I were someone else, somewhere else, like I tend to do sometimes. I will send him a card with some scratch-offs and a big apology and hope nobody thinks the worse of me for it.
And when I called my mom to tell her about my conversation with that one mom whose son is doing so well at Springbrook, I caught her at a bad, weepy, worrying time. She seemed almost angry that I was continuing my investigations of these places. “He’s doing so much better lately,” she claimed desperately, her voice cracking with anguish. “You don’t need to send him to an institution.” When I explained that I would rather be super-informed before making a decision that may or may not be imminent, she didn’t seem to hear me.
“I would rather be dead than see him in an institution,” she cried bitterly. I told her I would stop talking about it – that it would be a last resort – that Andy and I would do everything we could to keep him at home.
We are taking Jonah to see the child psychiatrist again on February 2nd. Maybe he has some ideas for tweaking his meds. Maybe Wildwood’s new behavior plan will begin to take hold. Maybe the new stability in the house with Andy will improve his overall ability to adapt to changes and triggers and fears.
In the meantime, I will continue my investigations – I see no point in remaining uninformed; if not for Jonah, than for other parents who may be facing these decisions. I just won’t be telling my mother about it.
Ignorance may not be bliss in this case, but hopefully it’ll at least allow her to sleep at night.
The Never Normal 