Lisa,
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do.
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do,
So then I took my turn
O,h all the things I’ve done
And it was all yellow
Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
Do you know, you know I love you so
You know I love you so.
Its true. Look how they shine for you.
Look how they shine for you
look how they shine.
look at the stars, look how they shine for you
My sweet, kind, loving little man. I want him back.
1. I hate you, Mommy!
2. I wish you would go to the hospital and DIE!
3. You are the stupidest Mom, EVER!
4. I hate this house!
5. I hate my life, it is the worst life anyone could ever have, I wish I wasn’t alive.
6. I can’t do it, I can’t do anything right, I am so stupid!
7. I have no friends, nobody wants to be my friend.
8. I HATE YOU MOMMY!!! (add kick, bite, spit and hit)
9. I have the stupidest most boring life ever.
10. I am so sad….Mommy, why am I always so sad?
These past 2 1/2 weeks have been a nightmare, a sad and terrifying B-movie where some very angry and frustrated alien being has taken over my son’s body and mind. I want to help my son so badly, there is nothing I wouldn’t try. So when his doctor suggested a non-stimulant, I said let’s give it a go. I thought to myself that if we can aliviate his ADHD symptoms, help him bear some of his Sensory Processing “quirks” and get him to eat and sleep WITHOUT having to take Speed everyday, then I’m in.
Reality Check: This round of medication has been the worst yet. The side effects are horrifying. I have cried, screamed, laughed and at times felt so overloaded with emotion I felt like a crashed computer. Thank you to my close friends and family who have seen us through this. This “experiment” with the non-stimulant ADHD drug Strattera is OVER. Bring back the crack! I want my son back.
From the Official Strattera Website www.strattera.com:
” In some children and teens, Strattera increases the risk of suicidal thoughts. A combined analysis of 12 studies of Strattera showed that in children and teens, 4 out of every 1000 patients developed suicidal thoughts, although no suicides occurred. A similar analysis in adults treated with Strattera did not reveal an increased risk of suicidal thoughts. Call your doctor right away if your child has thoughts of suicide or sudden changes in mood or behavior, especially at the beginning of treatment or after a change in dose. Tell your doctor about any family history of bipolar illness (manic-depressive illness) or suicidal thoughts or actions before starting Strattera. Call the doctor right away if your child develops new psychological symptoms such as abnormal thoughts/behaviors and/or extreme elevated or irritable moods while taking Strattera.
Really? No shit.
Oh, and P.S……..it doesn’t work.
After hearing today’s terrible news out of Poland, I went into my home office in the wee hours this morning to pull up some details on the web. This is such a tragedy for Poland and it’s people, I hope everyone takes a moment tonight to send a prayer their way.
So news of a murdered fish may sound a bit trite to you right now,but that is what I have come to report. I saw it happen with my own eyes and am wondering now what I could have done to prevent this bloodshed. As I sat in the early morning hours, the eerie glow of my computer screen the only illumination in the room, I glanced at the large tank beside me holding my adult fancy guppies. It’s a 20 gallon tank and has got 10 fish. But normally in the early morning I can peek in and they are all asleep. Yes, fish sleep. They hang out around the bottom real still like and sleep. If you turn the light on they wake up, all “Hey, what’s going on! Man, I was sleeping. Whatever” like and get on with their day. But when I glanced over this morning there was serious action going on down at the bottom. There was a pile up going on, there was a rumble. It was 9 against one and it looked like a clip you’d see during Shark Week of a feeding frenzy. 9 of these fancy little pretty fish were going at this one on the bottom, knocking their bodies into him and throwing him against the glass. It was brutal to watch, I was just sitting there stunned and unable to fully process what I was seeing be it that I hadn’t had my coffee yet. The pummeling lasted about 3 minutes, I tried to intervene with the net but the tank is huge and deep and before you know it the poor little guy is floating peacefully to the bottom, sleeping the sleep of the fishes. (Sorry about that last line. I know it was a lame, cheap joke but what am I if not lame and cheap.)
Guppy owners! What just happened? What prompted this social unrest? Did the fish get a little too big for his britches and the gang decided to take him out? Was it just “his time” and they were doing the kindness of a euthanasia-type beating? Was it a Guppy Mosh Pit gone out of control? If anyone knows what happened to my poor little Purple Dragon Male Guppy this morning ,please explain it to me. I feel like I need to call the Guppy UN for a mediation. Comments, questions and outrage is most welcomed.
And to those readers who follow my blog, I have news. Sticking with the concept of bully and victim, my son and his “bully” at school have been getting along better. There have been no incidents and I thought things were on the up and up. The kid just sent out invitations for his birthday party and included all the kids in the class EXCEPT for Max. Max doesn’t know this, but I do. I guess it’s his party and he’s got a right to invite or not to invite whoever he wants, I just hope my little man doesn’t find out he wasn’t included. He was under the impression that he and this boy were starting to become friends. Maybe that’s what the little male guppy thought too as his tank mates beat him to death.
Sometimes we have no idea what’s really going on until we end up floating to the bottom of the tank.
..and another ones gone, and another ones gone…another one bites the dust. Okay, enough recitation of Queen song lyrics. The “one” who is biting the dust now is an ADHD drug called Focalin. It’s gone. I mean gone..gone. I know that I have posted before about the way this drug turns my son into Barbara Stanwyck on an emotional menopausal monologue. But, the Focalin also turned him into a little violent gnome whose impulsivity was shocking to both his teachers and I. This whole idea of impulsivity is what we are fighting against. He just CAN’T hold himself back from doing something his brain is telling him that he MUST do. Touch a classmate, get up in the middle of a lesson and dance around and, no joke, bend down and lick the floor. I haven’t seen this happen in person and I don’t want to. I will take his teachers word for it. I have to admit that after being bullied for a few weeks by a new kid in class I was a bit proud that last week when he was getting pushed around and he defended himself. Yes, he defended himself by sinking his teeth into the kids shoulder, but maybe now we just need to work on the appropriate course of action. But, (and edit this if you may be offended by superfluous use of vulgar language….Fuck Yeah, Max. Way to stand up for yourself. The kid took YOUR ball. And you used YOUR balls to get it back.) I am against violence, I hope you all know that, but proud of my son for standing up for himself. It’s a good step for him.
We are going to go back to the Daytrana Patch, which is a Ritalin extended release patch. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes. In closing I just have to say this: I was hesitant…WAY scared and hesitant about putting a little 5-year-old boy on this kind of medication. But, by God, it’s working. He is reading. He is doing math. He is looking me in the eye when I talk to him and I can tell that he is “there”. For all the Mom’s and Dad’s out there on the fence about this just remember one thing: We are their lifeline, we are their support. And it is our job to do absolutely EVERYTHING in our power to help them succeed. If your son or daughter couldn’t see you would get them glasses, right?
Thanks for listening. And, a word to the Right Wing Tea-Bagging Health Care Reform Bashing “Americans”…. Stop throwing bricks and leaving threatening messages on the voice mails of members of our government. You try to compare your plight to that of the Civil Rights movement but you have missed a major point. See, those brave souls who fought segregation and racism in the 60′s didn’t hide behind a mask. They were out there, getting arrested, getting attacked by police dogs and in the case of Kent State…losing their lives. You “spitters” and “brick throwers” are just cowards. If it means so much to you….show your face. You advocate pro-life, but threaten the lives of the children of government leaders who support the Health Care Bill. Who is the asshole now? 
You know, it hasn’t been fun the last few days. I’ve been sick, I lost a dear friend and now I am dealing with something so close to my heart that just thinking about it makes me well up. My son, who has ADHD and Sensory Issues…is being picked on, harassed..whatever you want to call it, by a “bully” at school. It is breaking my heart. He comes home from school in tears and I just feel so helpless. I hate feeling helpless, it weakens me.
There’s a kid in class. He’s not shy, but a real ball buster-tell it like it is-really strong identity and has an aggressive personality. Let me remind you that he is 5 years old and actually gave me “the hand” and said “Whatever” to me once at a birthday party. Me! Not another kid, but an adult. He’s super smart and clever, he’s got balls and also a mouth with a mean streak and he is aiming it at my son. He’s making Max cry. He is seeing this behavior in Max, this Mr. Jumpy, and because he isn’t understanding it he is hurting my son with his ignorance. I honestly don’t think that he is doing it maliciously, I just think he sees Max bouncing around the room and because he has the kind of personality that he has, a personality void of any semblance of a filter, he’s calling it like he sees it and happens to be doing it in front of the other kids. He tries to get the other kids to not be friends with Max, he calls him a “baby”, “weirdo” and “retarded”. He pushes him down both physically and verbally and my kid is just taking it all in and believing it. Max is believing it all. Max is having a rough go at it and it’s effecting him like physical abuse. He told me that it makes him feel “small”. Fuck that. If nobody is allowed to put “Baby in the corner”, then this kid is NOT allowed to make my baby feel like he’s in a corner.
A parenting website describes the situation like this: “This child bullies others and can be quite a manipulator. He/she is frequently involved in name calling and likes to make fun of others. He/she will antagonize others, involves him/herself in fighting or instigating fights or arguments and belittling others. The bully is described as being ‘insensitive’ to others. He/she likes to solve problems by winning fights and arguments. Aggressive children often threaten others. Other students will fear the bully as he/she will be both verbally and physically aggressive. The bully loves power, is dominant and is usually guiltless. The bully tends to be lacking in empathy and compassion.”. They also have a long list of the lifetime effects that can stay with a kid who is bullied. I won’t list them. I just can’t. I have to be compassionate for this kid and know that there is some reason he does this and that he’s not a “bad” kid, just one who doesn’t understand the way Max ticks. But, These kids are 5 YEARS OLD! Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke. This ends NOW. I told Max that I talked to this kids Mom and the smile on his face grew like the Cheshire Cat. I asked him ” Are you happy that he will stop bothering you, or are you happy because you know that he is now going to get in trouble?” Take a guess at his answer.
I pray tonight that courage, strength, compassion and confidence always live inside my beautiful son, and that he learns from this the necessity to listen to your heart and know your authentic, amazing self. If we don’t love ourselves, who is going to love us back? (Wow, Note To Self: Maybe Mommy needs to take her own advice).
To the kid who is doing this to Max I say only this…Watch your thoughts, they become your words; Watch your words, they become your actions; Watch your actions, they become your habits; Watch your habits, because they become your character.
To Max I say just this…“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life, but define yourself.”
As David Byrne once said so eloquently and so long ago, “I hate people when they’re not polite”.
Be good.
Weeks ago I made some kind of half-ass “promise” to try to write something new on this blog everyday. This idea immediately shattered when I encountered writers block, or the “nothing new to say” defense. Things with Max were going well. We are back on Focalin (for frequent readers Focalin turned my son into a 5-year-old version of Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard), but we figured to give it a chance one more time was worth a shot before switching over to the non-stimulant medications. The dramatic breakdowns and over the top emotional events are few and far between and he is both eating and sleeping (with a little help from our pal Melatonin). His mood is even and happy, he is getting along with his friends and getting great comments from school. Things are good. Things are balanced. And , in my opinion, that makes for some damn boring blogging. I mean, I have been meaning to write. It’s not like NOTHING is going on. Max and I had a very important out-of-town guest, I got fungal pneumonia, I bought 2 new pair of shoes at DSW and started using the WEN Haircare System (you know, that infomercial). My car, a Lexus made by Toyota, was recalled and had to be taken in, My amazing son passed his first Tae Kwon Do Testing and is now a yellow belt (video and pics in tomorrow’s post) and got 2 new Guppies to add to the brood. I guess you could say I DID have stuff to write about, i just thought no one would be very interested in reading it.
But, this morning that all changed when I logged on to FUCKING Facebook to discover yet again through this social media juggernaut that a close friend who has touched my life has passed away. This is the second time in just a matter of months that Facebook has delivered this news to me. It’s so sad and impersonal. Almost like reading about your deepest darkest secret on a billboard. I was equally angry and heartbroken at the same time. I equally loathed Facebook for turning us all into “status updates” and occasional “news posts” while at the same time I thanked it for bringing me back together with friends I wouldn’t have been able to find without it. My friend, my sweet kind and dear friend David died and I am numb. He was always like a little boy, fighting a great big dragon with a rubber sword. And this time he lost. And goddamn did he put up a good fight. But “a Dragon lives forever, but not so little boys. And painted wings and flying rings make way for other joys.” I knew I could have gone without the Puff The Magic Dragon reference, but I’m in a childlike and nostalgic place tonight. Rest in peace my friend. Save me a seat at the bar.
Each year brings us new opportunities to strengthen our connection to the universe,
and to each other,
and to play our part in this miracle we call life.
Tonight I celebrate you, and all you bring to the world.
Goodnight.
For those just tuning in to the show, I’d like to reintroduce myself to you. My name is Mindy, I am a 40 year-old single Mom to a 5-year-old beautiful boy with ADHD, a musician and addicted blogger. I am also, as of 2 nights ago, a homicidal maniac. I didn’t make it to the homicide part, thank the fucking Gods, but sure got right up there to the front of the line of mental unsoundness. And it’s all because of a personality trait I thought I had stockpiled over the years. Something people have always complimented me for, wondered in awe at my never-ending supply. That trait is PATIENCE.
But about a week ago I noticed one of my female guppies growing larger and showing the signs of soon delivering her load. (Add “fish” geek to the list of “geeks” that I am, including Star Wars, knitting, Duran Duran and Wes Anderson movies). I love my fancy guppies, they are beautiful and I care deeply for them. They all are named after Star Wars characters, and Padme is the guppy in question this evening. She was bursting at the seams, so I put her in one of those breeder boxes and just watched and waited. I literally just sat there and watched for an entire week as this poor fish swam back and forth in this horrible 8X4 inch prison. My nose pressed to the glass I was obsessed. My eyes were fixated on this fish’s ass and I couldn’t look away, not even blink, for fear of missing the chance of seeing a little baby fish swim out of her butt. It was insanity. Days passed, hours passed…and then my insanity exploded.It took on a life of its own and said…… I JUST CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGER!!!
So on to Google I go, “How to induce fish labor?” I ask. The results gave me hope, and I started to do all the techniques- ALL the techniques. Raise the temperature of the water to 73-75 degrees? Well, sure, but why not 80. Add a tablespoon of Epsom Salts to the tank to relax the fish? Why not 2 tablespoon, maybe even three, like a fish epidural if you will. Sometimes a bit of Aquarium Salt helps, so I pickled that tank like they do the big Kosher one’s in the jar at Max & Benny’s. I lit candles, played music…..NOTHING!!!! And then…..something. Like a little ball, rolling out with eyes. But, it wasn’t alive, you see. Neither were the other 33 little balls that followed. The thing is, I may have been ready for Padme to have her babies, but Padme was not. And neither were her babies.
“I prayed to God to give me patience, and he gave me a traffic jam”. I heard that once and it has stuck in my head on a loop since I played God that night to this fish. Padme is fine, and actually 5 of the babies survived. But, Mindy needs to slow down. Mindy needs to focus all this manic energy on helping Max, not performing fish abortions. Sometimes I forget the healthy pace life is supposed to clip around at and I move to fast, think too fast and act impulsively. I hope to teach my son to stop and think about the consequences of his actions, and I hope I listen to my own advice. Tonight, I sleep with the fishes.
Over the course of the day (actually more like the course of a week, but I am trying not to sound too pathetic) I have been watching very patiently for my female fancy guppy fish to give birth. I have done this before (geek) so I know what to look for and when to expect on the “Big Day” with all it’s preparations.
So Padme Amadala, my guppies name of course, is showing all the signs so I get her into her little breeder box. If you don’t know what that is it’s a plastic floating tank within the tank that let’s her have her own little place to do her thing, with a slotted middle divider so the kids can fall through after being born and go to their “nursery”. I get her in there, float her away into the tank and start the stare down. I am also really experienced at this part.
Ya, know, I’ve given birth. It’s no walk in the park. So I am seeing this girl spaz out all crazy and stuff, flashing her tail back and forth and I feel for her. I do. I am feeling a connection to this fish through our shared, magical experiences of bringing life into this world. I am routing her on, keeping a positive attitude and wishing I had a big glass of Veuve Cliquot to celebrate this great event, Things were in motion, the first one was coming out, It was so cool….and then it just wasn’t.
Padme’s birth routine is a little different than ours. Over the course of 4 hours I watched her systematically give birth to 17 fry. Each birth was the same. She’s squeeze that pup out, not even 5 seconds later she has turned around and popped the little guy back into her mouth for a little nosh. I mean, she’s been through a lot, she’s got to be famished. She than proceeds to take the longest poop I have ever witnessed a fish poop. This goes on forever. Than about 15 min later, another pup comes out and the entire macabre scene repeats itself. This happens 17 times over the course of the night and it’s exhausting, I’m sure she’s tired too but at least she’s getting some protein. At the end, she slowly starts to float tail-up towards the surface of the water, gulps a few times and dies.
Motherhood. Pregnancy is the easy part. This fish didn’t stick around for the wonder years but I got the feeling by her actions tonight that she might not have been Mother Of The Year. But, she was being true to herself and sometimes busy Mom’s find that really hard to do. She knew what she wanted. This was her last supper, her big farewell tour here on earth and she just wanted a party. A couple drinks, some great food, relax on the can for God knows how long, then float up to space like David Bowie and dream the big sleep. I am sure she died a happy fish. Well, at least she had eaten a little something.
I liked my way better. With tears, and laughter and family and friends surrounding my beautiful new boy who I had no intention of eating. I could never be a fish and do what she did. I mean it. I am telling you, that poop lasted FOREVER.
Eat your fiber,
Mindy
This amazing photograph by M. Berna caught my eye and it tells my story.
I owe it all to you guys, all 1,000 of you who since it’s start 2 weeks ago have read the continuing story of Max and me. Thank you, from the bottom of my soul for your support and love. You see, I need you to keep on reading, because I NEED to keep on writing. It’s keeping me sane, reminding me of things that i should never forget and, most importantly, it’s helping me to be a better Mother.
I know that this isn’t an Oscar acceptance speech, but I do feel the need to show some gratitude to some Mothers who have taught me how to do the job. I have learned the following things from the following Mom’s:
1. Marcy has taught me that there are ALWAYS enough hours in the day to do everything and that if you set your mind to it, you can carry out it all. Your energy astounds me.
2. My Mom has taught me how magical unconditional love is, and how to be a true friend.
3. Diana, you and Rick prove to me that true love does exist and that fills me with hope.
4. Deidre, you amaze me with your dedication, devotion and love for your “only child”, like me too! I am honored to be your friend.
5. Lyssa, although we are just getting to know each other, your easy-going approach to things I would normally freak out about constantly remind me to get a fucking grip. Thanks for the mellow.
6. Kimberley proves that Motherhood under pressure isn’t miserable, and the light outshines the good.
7. The following chicks also inspire me to greatness: Alyssa S. Lana T, Karen Silver & Susie Severin, HB Johnson, Lori Hemesath, Jennifer Hester, Jen Thomas, Samantha Provenzano, Dana Abt, Gabby Rossi, Lisa Rockwell, Amy Udani, Chez Mohler, Emily Nadeau, Heidi Neurateur and Amy Jacobs. You are all Mom’s that rock. Keep it up.
Last but not least, a little tale. 40 (cough, cough) years ago a single, scared and pregnant 18-year-old girl decided that I deserved a better life than the one she could give me. She did something that had to have been so heart wrenching, brave and painful but she went through with it. My birth mother put me up for adoption because she loved me too much to keep me. She knew she wasn’t up for the job and that I would suffer for it.
I have always known that I was adopted, it’s just something that I have always knew and understood as the gift it is. I was never treated differently from my brother and sister who weren’t adopted, never given special advantages and pitied. But, deep down in my heart of hearts I did feel different, I felt special. I felt chosen. And I felt, and still do, like the luckiest girl in the world.
In fourth grade a neighbor started pestering me about being adopted. She asked me if I felt bad that my Mom and Dad weren’t my “real” Mom and Dad. It upset me pretty bad and I ran home crying, not understanding. Because to me, I only have 1 set of parents. I still do. Well, my Mom took me in her arms and held me and said “there is something I want to show you”. She pulled out a yellowed and tattered newspaper clipping from just weeks after I was born. It was a excerpt from an old Dear Abby issue about adoption and ended with the following poem that has stayed inside me my whole life. Parenting has nothing to do with epidurals, diapers and car seats. That’s called pregnancy & babysitting This is true love, from one mother to her adopted daughter.
Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously you are my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart,
But in it.
Love,
Mindy
Photo courtesy of M. Berna at http://digitalshootingdotnet.wordpress.com/
Parenting is hard, and it can be terrifying. It is such an important job that it can be overwhelming and force you to run away with the sheer fear of the task at hand. But, I talked to an old friend tonight who needs a helping hand, a kick in the ass…whatever, to fucking snap out of it. Because this kid needs you.
In the end, one could talk for hours about the relationship between a father and a son. The only clear thing is that a father has to be willing to be spat upon by his son as many times as the son wishes to do it. Even still the father will not have paid a tenth of what he owes because the son never asked to be born. If you brought him into this world, the least you can do is put up with whatever insult he wants to offer. But this kid offers no insult, no bad feelings…only wants to know you. Only wants you to want to know him.
“Love without courage and wisdom is sentimentality, as with an ordinary church member. Courage without love and wisdom is foolhardiness, as with the ordinary soldier. Wisdom without love and courage is cowardice, as with the ordinary intellectual. But the one who has love, courage and wisdom moves the world.”
- Ammon Hennacy (Catholic activist, 1893-1970
Have the courage, friend. He needs you now so enough wasting time, enough excuses. Let me know how I can help.
Mindy Hester
