The Hardest thing part 2 of 3

Posted on May 19, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in The Peachy Tree

Little boy is in a big brother shirt and baby is in a little brother shirt

Today ( day 2) there is a temporary break in my self depricating humor and blaming the worlds woes on celebrities and gravity. If you want something to make you smile you want to check out the categories ” it’s juicy” or ”potpourri”. Today I am going to let you in to one of the most personal issues of my life. It’s a long post and probably not funny to anyone. I don’t apologize. If you haven’t read part 1, you probably should do that first (click here)

OK so remember in Part 1 where I said this entire post / thread would probably be controversial? We are officially entering that part. This is where I try to explain a lot in a short post, I will fail. But to summarize, me and God have a bad breakup, I get spit on by School Boards, and I make some really hard decisions. If you read part 1 and thought I was inspirational or a hero or whatever, you will find out by the end of this I am not. I am just a mom, with all my huge flaws, with no expertise, flying by the seat of my momma gut feelings and questioning my decisions ~~daily~~ hourly. When my friend and I decided to get married, he asked the kids. Then we immediately put in place a set of rules. I would never question his decisions in front of the children or over ride him, and vice versa. However we could hash it out in private and thumb wrestle on who was right. This helped. Wanting the same things for our kids was the goal here. Not to let them divide and conquer us but to present a united confident front even when we had no clue what we were doing. I believe this was crucial in our surviving. Also by accident, we developed a tag team parenting style, when one was about to snap, had snapped, or was ready for lock up, the other would take over. You know, good cop bad cop, although we always backed the other, just with a little less insanity.

Religion. Sore spot for me, you see. I took my children to several different denominations of organized religion. I felt no one denomination was right. I knew it to be true. None of the churches ever let my son in the nursery more than 1 time. Can’t risk it. I get it. However have you ever imagined what it was like to “theraputically” hold ~~wrestle your kid to the death,~~ while trying to listen to a service. Impossible. One church always prayed for us, another church asked us to attend a different service where he would be less of a distraction, and one church even asked if we would consider an exorcism. I began to wonder why I would fight tooth and nail to drag my children to church only to sit in the hallway or on bad days in the car. Is this what god wanted? Didn’t he make this child just like this? Then finally in tears again I asked a preacher what I could do, he informed me that I had asked for this, because I had been praying for patience and the only way to achieve patience was thru tribulation. I think I had enough with the special needs, kid, single parenting, and house burning to the ground. ( yeah, it did, it was my fault and will be a hilarious post some day.) Needless to say, that was the day me and God broke up. It wasn’t ugly. We just went our own ways. God’s representatives here on earth in all those churches couldn’t take it, and I couldn’t take them. Again maybe if I was wearing that shirt I talked about in part 1, someone might have gave a crap, but I don’t think so.

So we dropped out of the private religion based school and moved into the public sector. I remember a fleeting moment where I considered home school, but knew that social interaction and structure would probably be a lot more helpful than him watching me wig out daily.

1st grade- suspended, cops on lawn, kid in handcuffs, enough said. Total absurdity, my kid found a green squirt gun on the sidewalk at school and picked it up, the teacher being quite aware of my sons problems said that he brandished said green squirt gun in a threatening manner, thus causing them to enact the zero tolerance policy, lock down the school and call the police, and US to say our child had a gun, causing me to break land speed records for a Geo spectrum ( insert laughter at my vehicle here) and drive onto the school lawn to get there. Are some people idiots? Clearly? Can you say they took zero tolerance too far? Clearly. But then entire school shooting tragedy had just been all over the news. So zero tolerance apparently includes a 6 yr old with a green squirt gun he found at school. He had to have a psych eval to get back in, this wasn’t his first rodeo, he had to also have one when we stupidly took him to a magic show and the magician did a trick where he cut a woman in half and she turned into a tiger. Apparently 6 year olds aren’t supposed to say, ” I want to cut myself in half and come back a tiger” especially if the nitwitts that run your school system know he has problems because you were honest with them and hoped they would want to help your child. Don’t be stupid most of them don’t. We had to meet with the Director of the School Board and straighten this insanity out. Mr School Board man informed me that there was no special education programs for 1st graders. Strike 1. He also picked up the green squirt gun turned out the lights and then pointed it at my face. Strike 2. I am not so good at baseball 2 strikes your out Mr Schoolboard man. So I went ahead and did what any logical normal parent would do. I wrote a letter to the White house. My president right, and in case he was busy running the country I also wrote his wife. Coincidentally they had just passed the IDEA act. I let Pres Clinton, his wife, and the Washington division of the United States Department of education they could feel free to stop sending federal money to the school system since they don’t provide services, as per Mr School Boards claim. So we moved to another part of town and put him in a better school. Ok not so much, yeah, they turned him into to social services because when the teacher was teaching the letter X and they were saying words with X my kid yelled out ( first time to participate in class might I add) SEX. It has an X. Since we were military they became involved and in turn another psych eval. The claim was unfounded since when he was asked what that meant he said it was what married grownups do when they kiss. The new school was a nightmare, they pinpointed him out in every way they could. Daily I would get called in from work, to be at the school because he played tagged with other kids and OMG tagged them? Or the teacher said he was disruptive because he tapped his pencil. I found out my son would get off the bus and sit in the principals office all day with a worksheet until she found a reason to call me in. That means zero social interaction and go figure zero learning. It also meant at least one of the adults in the house couldn’t keep a job, because honestly patience and understanding only go so far when the employee has to leave work 2 and 3 times a week. It wasn’t fair to the other employees or my boss. I lost my career. It was at that time the first new friend entered the picture. She was a little younger than me and showed up at my house, introducing herself and her little boy, Dylan. Her son was in my sons class, and she was there because the teacher had warned her not to let her son be friends with my son. To say Shannan took offense to that would be an understatement, and she made it a mission to include my son in normal 6 year activities. For the first time my son had a friend, a real friend, with tolerant and understanding parents who would verbally work it out with him. I can’t put a value on a person like this. I have only met 2, and they were priceless in letting me know he mattered. They saw past the issues and saw a little boy, and a family and made a conscious discussion to raise their children in a world of understanding and acceptance rather then one of being perfect. One morning I recieved a phone call from the Principal telling me there was a meeting in 1 hour and I didn’t have to be there if I was busy. Of course I dropped everything and me and the hubby were there. When we got there, it was so clear how organized this was, the Principal, Mr School Board man, a couple teachers and a county psychologist, oh yeah and a military liaison. Wow that takes more planning than an hour, why was I invited last? Oh yeah the ambush technique. See long ago my son had taught me no one would fight for him, NO ONE. Not teachers, not Doctors, not other family, and not God. Little did they know while they did this from 8-3 I did it all friggin day for years. So in short time I pointed out and quoted from the IDEA act and the Educational Federal Registry how they were required to help my son. To say it ended well? hrm probably not. Did I get my parental butt handed to me on a platter. Definitely not. The principal got so flustered with my calm manner and sorry but it’s the law quotes, that she actually screamed which included her spitting in my face. In front of the fancy people she invited to the meeting. Did this help my son’s case? Yes they started testing him ASAP. However my daughter suffered which will show you the low lengths a so called professional will stoop to. My daughter now in 3rd grade, straight A student good citizenship awards was brought in under the pretense she had failed to return a library book she had never checked out, apparently this was detention worthy, even if it was a lie. I offered to pay for the book even though my daughter swore they were lying. Teachers don’t lie honey. They said no, they had to teach her a lesson. Really or is it me your trying to teach, because I stood against you, because you looked like an asshat in front of important people. Please clarify Ms Principal lady, because you have yet to see my full fury. Needless to say, my son was ruled SPED under ODD.( Other developmental delays). Because they didn’t have all the cool alphabetically rulings they have now days to lable a kid. What this meant was my kid got sent to another school, one with inclusion. What’s even cooler is I made them include his sister to this much better school and they had to provide a bus to pick up my 2 kids and drive them past the other 5 schools. Yes I waisted tax money in the guise that my child although different was of equal value. That school was great, seriously. Everything you could want, great for my daughter, and perfect for my son. 2 ends of the spectrum, her in advanced classes and him placed in SPED inclusion. They took all his issues and past and formed a special plan for him, an IEP. His teacher was an actual psychologist, Dr T. I will forever thank her. She actually had the best interest of my sons LONGTERM future at heart, not just getting thru the day. The principal and assistant principal equally as awesome. The assistant principal had actually been a severe and profound inclusion teacher prior to taking this position. Perfect. Finally. Well except the part where their new free spirited flowery skirt wearing counselor saw my son get off the bus one morning with blood on his shirt. ( he always got unexplained bloody noses). She ran to him and said oh no are you ok. He countered with a fantastical story. It went a little something like this. ” Yeah I am ok, last night my dad killed my mom, but I found a gun and shot him, so that’s why there’s blood on my shirt”. Before checking his cumulative folder or talking to the others she called the police, which came screeching up to my house in mass force while I was in my bra and hot rollers. ( Did I mention in part 1 I worked in the legal field and therefore knew every single cop on the force in our small town?) They told me what was up and after I nearly peed laughing I got dressed and went to the school. Only to find this lovely sweet, soft voiced counselor talking with my son about God and his biological father. Yes, the dirtbag I divorced when he was just 6 months old for many reasons but the main one being ” he didn’t want a retarded kid”. The one who lived in the next city but had never in 6 years visited, called, or paid child support, and actually told a judge he hoped the kids would die so I would get off his back about child support? I kindly took her to the side and said, he has professional that he goes to talk about these things, he doesn’t know his real father, for all intensive purposes my husband is his father in every way but DNA, he’s the one that goes to every meeting, holds him as he cries and leaves work in a rush because something is amiss. OH yeah and seriously.. this is public school can you not drag god into this, with my kid 1 on 1. ( I am not against god in school, I am against somone sharing their personal religious beliefs with my kid who has issues in a closed up tiny room and making him pray for forgiveness for lying) Thanks. No big meetings or anything, I just asked the principal to share my sons cumulative folder with the new ~~dork,~~ counselor and that was the end of it. To reiterate, my kid isn’t stupid. He knew he could get a reaction out of her, and he succeeded. We decided with a lot of council that we should hold our son back, and keep him in inclusion, with the hopes that 1 more year of inclusion would get him back in mainstream classes. Dr T had that much faith in my son, so much so he wrote a book with her. It was printed and put in the school library, he actually talks as a kid to other kids about how to deal with things. Pretty awesome. You know it has to change right? This isn’t a fairytale and I don’t have a godmother.

My husbands military career was coming to an end he was ready to retire, we could stay here and make enough to possibly keep the lights on, or move, move and make enough money to be comfy for the first time in either of our adult lives. We moved. To Tampa. Like the Jeffersons we moved on up, gated community and fancy schools, it was like the dream. Yeah if it’s a nightmare. First hurdle was the school they wouldn’t even let me register my kid, said this school wan’t right for him. I gave them the number to the last school board and said, before you start this fight you might want to call and see what Washington did to the last school system that told me that. Wow check it, a phone call later revealed they had made a mistake and he was totally welcome at their perfect cookie cutter kid school. He did great at that school, with a very special teacher in a regular class. She gave him an out pass, meaning when he was gonna lose it, he would go to the gym and run laps or help the coach for 10 minutes, come back and finish the assignment. BEST EVER IDEA. We had to arrange for a special pick up time because the massive amount of kids flooding to cars was too much for him and he would freak. All in all a good experience. It only got better. Special person #2 entered my life. Thru my husbands work I met the wife of a guy my husband worked with. She had only 1 child, she was again younger than me and she was awesome. I was upfront and explained my kid as best as I could. She accepted that, and showed more patience and understanding than expected by any parent, even when my son stapled her baby. Yes he did. Sorry Nathaniel. She talked to my son in a manner that was understanding and strong, her parenting skills although just a couple years old, were primal, and amazing. Her friendship to me invaluable. Especially when we both found out we were pregnant. I fainted. The pregnancy didn’t go as planned for me ( well because that is just not the way my life is supposed to go.) and I ended up in labor and 4 cm dilated at 21 weeks and 6 days. literally just hours into the fine line that doctors differentiate a miscarriage from trying to save the baby. Needless to say I ended up in the hospital in labor for 58 days. Fun fun fun. NOT. Even better my husband was now a single parent to 2 kids one of which a newly pubescent teenage girl and a special needs boy, along with his new job and a wife and unborn baby in the hospital. How did he do. He kept that superhero cape on every second. He did it, all by his big boy self. My friend, well I will call her Bella here, and she will get that reference. Every day in the Tampa heat, she would load up her pregnant self and drive with her 4 year old in tow to sit with me in the hospital, all day, with a toddler. Can you buy friendship like that? I certainly couldn’t afford to, yet here she was. faithfully, talking to my belly and telling the baby to “STAY IN” Friend number 1, Shannan flew in from Las Vegas, in the middle of a school year to move in and help my family. I may have only had 2 friends, but seriously, could anyone dream of better ones to have. Meanwhile back at the hospital every week we had to sign a dnr ( do not resuscitate ) on the baby. Every week they would come in with info on what would happen if he was born at this stage, brain bleeds, blindness, cp, probably death as in never make it out of NICU. My husband with all his super powers couldn’t sign. I took the pen and said no. I signed a paper that said NO, NO do not try to save my baby. Why? How could I do that? Because I saw what kind of fight my son fought daily with problems that didn’t compare to these, how could I willingly do it to another, and honestly I probably wouldn’t be able to handle it. Did my friend or husband question me? No. See the entire 58 days, I let everyone pray for my unborn baby, but I didn’t, not once, why? Remember me and God broke up, and I couldn’t possibly go running to him for help now that I needed him. I am a bitch, a bad mom and a crappy wife, but I am not a hypocrite. I thought about god a lot, and I even told him I wouldn’t ask him to save this baby since I am not a hypocrite and I had already seen his handy work of my teary prayers in my first son. I remember the first week I signed the paper yes, YES save my baby, to me he had good chances at a certain point, good enough to give it a shot. To the huge team of special doctors and all the nurses utter shock, my third child was born amazingly healthy, at 34 weeks. I had held on to the safety point for him. He had held on. Apgar scores, I need Apgar scores. He’s fine. No nicu? Going home? Wow. Amazing. During all of this hubub, my other son was busy seeing a boat load of new and improved Doctors, they changed his diagnosis to tourettes, and ofcourse ADHD, ODD (oppositional defiant disorder) , and a new one ED ( emotionally delayed). They scanned him for brain tumors and there was some mention of mental illness. Wait, that’s not a string of letters, that’s like crazy? He’s not crazy he has a problem that just needs some combo of letters. He just needs therapy, more attention, more patience, change of diet and meds right? NO. They also found out my son was breaking bones and not noticing it. I had told the Doctors he didn’t process pain like the rest of it, and a bone age film to find out why he wasn’t growing proved it, he actually had some broken bones for the scan. This was never answered. But he had a new thing, Delayed Bone Growth syndrome. Does this explain his other issues? Why of course not, but it’s new and includes human growth hormone shots for the next few years, great where do we sign up, cause he isn’t going thru enough. Ned meds, and some that OBVIOUSLY hurt more than they helped, I was never afraid to tell a Doctor they were a twit or a pill pushing trend fiend. There wasn’t room for frear of Doctors, who else was gonna fight. We did all the suggestions from the new batch of Doctors, he joined boy scouts and even martial arts, both of which he was eventually asked to leave.

The new baby, combined with the fact my dad was back home and not doing well, plus our business had taken off finally giving us financial freedom, and the crappy snotty neighbors inspired us to move home again. I had been driving the 8 hour each way with 3 kids at least 1 to 2 times a month and my dads health was failing, I needed my kids to be around him. So back to the woods we go.

I need to insert another disclaimer here. when I posted part 1, I got a lot of emails telling me I was inspirational or tough or whatever. Let me clarify I am none of those. If you thought for 1 second I am some one to look at or guide the way, hopefully this post clears it up. I am a tangled mess of smoking flaws, trying to do the best I can. That’s all. Failing ~~a lot~~, daily. I will share my story, and experiences, but please don’t ever think I am someone special for this. I am just me, a mean momma, if you don’t believe me ask my son. My son is 18 and your only to age 12 in this post. remember 3 x6 = 18. The hardest years are yet to come.

The Hardest Thing- Part 1 of 3

Posted on May 18, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in The Peachy Tree

Today there is a temporary break in my self depricating humor and blaming the worlds woes on celebrities and gravity. If you want something to make you smile you want to check out the categories ” it’s juicy” or ”potpourri”. Today I am going to let you in to one of the most personal issues of my life. It’s a long post and probably not funny to anyone. I don’t apologize.

18 years and 6 months ago I had my second child. My son. I was married to a guy that wanted a second child, in a marriage that was logically impossible. Yet we had a second child. I remember the Dr’s saying emergency c-section. I remember there being talk of low apgar scores. I remember my husband saying something about me producing a retarded kid. Needless to say I had divorced aforementioned dirt bag before my son was 6 months old and my oldest had just turned 3. But this isn’t about that man. It’s about another man.

My son, who is by legal and physical standards a man. This may end up being a post that causes friction, but it’s my life and my story, I can take your judgement. I am well practiced.

See with my 1st child, my daughter, I was the perfect mom, she talked, walked and read early. Brilliant. Manners and just perfect. Clearly thanks to me and my awesome parenting skills. I would see moms with bad kids and say to myself, seriously? With my son from the beginning something didn’t set right with my mommy radar. He would never cry. As long as I didn’t touch him and there was nothing moving or making sound. Trying to nurse him was like a wwf match. Turning on his mobile over his crib was like stabbing him with needles. I ran to my pediatrician with my worries. He told me not to compare the kids, this was bad, and therefore I took that as I am a bad mom. I had no clue just how bad of a mom I would turn out to be. My son at 11 months was put in the 2 year old room at nursery because he was hurting other babies. Another doctor. Another blow off. By 2 1/2 he had been asked to leave from 10 plus daycares, and they would always say, ” but your daughter can stay”. NO. We are a unit, this is all we have, and we will fight to the death to stay together. I never had a break a night out or even sleep. See he didn’t sleep. He instead rocked and pulled his hair and banged his head. I took it all because at least 3 doctors had blown it off as me being a stressed out young divorced mom. My point of epiphany was the night I was setting at the kitchen table playing solitaire, sounds normal right? Wrong. It was 3am and I was watching my son sit in the living room surrounded toys, the family cat accidentally got to close, and next thing I knew my son was eating the cats ear. This is not a joke, he actually bit the cats ear off. Then took it out of his mouth and threw it. At that moment I realized that other babies slept, other babies didn’t get kicked out of daycares every month, other babies do NOT let a cat claw their face off while they bite it’s ear off. I was not comparing my kid, no matter what any Doctor said, there was something seriously wrong. Another Doctor. This time. Autistic. This time explaining the fact he wouldn’t’ communicate or touch or make eye contact. I was so relieved I knew what was wrong I could work around it. I lined his room with kindergarten nap mats going up the walls, I removed his door and placed a sheet of plywood on it’s side that I could barricade him in yet still see him. He wasn’t stupid, a baby gate would not stop him. When he was around 18 months he unscrewed a screw with a penny. I immediately made a decision. I left my job in the legal field, uprooted my 2 small kids and with $30 hard earned dollars and no sleep. I drove to a childrens TBI hospital 2 states away. Did my son have a TBI, ( that’s Traumatic Brain Injury) no. But it was the closest thing I could figure out to do. I got a job where I learned to work with TBI kids as a Behavioral Technician, I took in everything and applied it at home, redirection, visual cues, holds. The holds were important since he had already broken my nose and knocked out my front teeth by this time. Doing a “therapeutic hold” wrong can result in serious injury to both the child and the adult. The thing is, he improved. I worked hard to teach him eye contact, verbal communication and sadly trained empathy. The last thing on that list makes me the saddest. Most people have empathy, those that don’t usually end up in prison. A doctor there, saw him about 6 months into this routine. I cued my son to do all the right things. This Doctor said, Aspergers ( high functioning Autism) with severe ADHD. He wanted to put him on meds. I said no, the fact he had went from Autistic diagnosis to Aspergers was a sure shine I could help, he would be ok. At a Dr’s appointment a few months later, the Doctor said to me, ok he’s diabetic and needs insulin shots twice a day. I gasp, then immediately asked him about the needles and dosage. The Doctor stopped and said, why were you willing to give him insulin for diabetes but not medicine for his other physiological issues ? I told him the truth, that I didn’t want to drug my kid up with the new “disease of the day” medicine so my life would be easier. There I sat taking him to Doctor after Doctor trying so hard to help, yet I had formed such a strong pompous opinion about children on medicine I would accept the fact maybe my kid truly needed any? Come to find out my son didn’t really have diabetes, this was the Dr’s way of making a point. He won. I put my son on meds that day. I continued to work with my son, the internet wasn’t around and I couldn’t find any support groups, here I was a single mom with 2 kids, 1 of which was really a handful. I can’t count the packed grocery carts I left in stores because some stimuli sent him over the edge and I had to get him out of there immediately, or the way I wanted a shirt that said, ” I’m not a bad mom and he’s not a bad kid” I was constantly judged. Judged in the way that I had judged all the other parents when I had only 1 child and she was perfect. See my son looked perfect, so therefore no one knew, they just saw a bratty kid and stressed out mom.

I moved back near my family and got a new job, and got my son tested for the EIP at the school. ( early intervention program). I was crushed when he didn’t get in, because at the time the law required a physical defect, he had none, only a sketchy barrage of mental diagnosis, and ADHD was new on the scene.

My family would try to function around him, but it was impossible for them. They would offer to take my daughter places, but there was never a time my son was not with me, or at the “current preschool” while I was at work and work only. The new doctor said he was ODD, DD, and ADHD. oh goody more letters, but said she saw no signs of aspergers clearly the other Doctors were wrong. Wow he’s cured from the ones I thought were so bad? Well those symptoms that stuck him in that category were gone. I can handle hyper. Not a biggie. I had no friends anymore, we didn’t have play dates, and some family functions lost my invites in the mail. We lived a life of solitude. But around this time a friend of mine stepped up from the shadows, he flooded me with info he had found on this new thing called the internet. He printed virtual books and techniques and diets. This friend was not a parent. Yet when my son spat in my face and spewed cuss words like a tiny George Carlin, my friend took it, and handled it. I had worked hard to implement all Behavioral techniques and my biggest motto was. I have to teach him no matter what his disability that he HAS to function within the rules of society, or he couldn’t be part of it. My friend got that and backed me on it. Around that time the current pediatrician spent 3 minutes in my 24/7 life. During a visit my son bit her on the butt. She instinctively turned and slapped him in the face. I had trained my instincts not to react. But it caught her so off guard she just reacted. She broke down in tears apologizing and trying to hold my son and tell him she was sorry and he in turn was a Tasmanian devil. She calmed herself a bit and then said, ” how do you do it” my answer was, I don’t know. I spent the first 4 years of his life covered in spit, bite marks and bruises. I just got used to it. Was there a door number 2 I didn’t know about, another choice? I refused to hurt or be mean to my child, I made that decision before my kids were ever born, when I was the child being hurt. That doctor refereed me to this specialist in another state who was the CHIEF of Pediatric Psychiatry of a HUGE and prestigious teaching University, she managed to get me in the next day when he had a 3 month wait list. My son jumped out of moving cars, he could un-do a cars eat, any car seat on the market, I repeat he was not stupid. The long drive coupled with the long wait and the change in his schedule spelled utter disaster. The oh so important Dr asked me to let my son out of the therapeutic hold and let him loose. In less than 4 minutes he had knocked over a filing cabinet, tore up the mans desk and ripped the Doctors socks, and bit the man. This prestigious doctor looked called nurses to remove my son so he could talk to me. He flat out told me to give up, stick him in an institution and shut the door. I couldn’t find words. He then took it a step further and said, I see you have another child, a daughter who is older and fine. I managed to nod. He then told me how we would all be murdered or at the very best my daughters life would be so compromised by having a brother like this around her she would be on drugs and sleeping around by 13. I don’t know where it came from I mean this man had more letters behind his name than are in the alphabet. But I didn’t feel like the worried mom anymore. I was a tiger protecting her young. And the following words flowed from my mouth. ” Doctor I am in awe. In less than 10 minutes of what I deal with 24/7 you managed to diagnose my son and predict our futures. You are good sir. So good, I ask you this, can you tell if I am going to pay your bill? I can tell you. I am not, and the fact you would suggest this of my child as if he were a pair of old shoes disgusts me. However if you could use your psychic fortune telling powers to give me the lotto numbers that would be worth the drive.” It sounded strong, I took my son and left like a strong mom. But I wasn’t strong, you see, I cried the entire 2 hour drive home, like a baby, crying for my baby, not just my son, but my daughter. As I drove over the long bridge I remember thinking, I can’t throw him away, but I can’t do this, everyone says there is no way. Is he suffering, does he realize it, will this really be his life forever? Thoughts of driving off the bridge seemed almost sane. I mean. I couldn’t lock him away, I couldn’t let him suffer, and I couldn’t let him go alone. We would both go, together. I brought him into this world gave him life and held him, and would hold him as we both left it. Then my daughter came into my mind. My beautiful daughter with her entire life ahead of her. How could I abandon her? I couldn’t any more than I could him. We would fight. Together.

Then the friend I mentioned early well he was our one outlet, sharing this internet with me, coming up with ideas, being patient, being tolerant. And one day this friend, well he saved my sons life, sort of. My son had gotten to the top of a slide ( normal for a 5 year old yes) but decided it would be a great idea to just jump off the side from the 8 foot top. My friend managed to beat me to the sliding catch. He wasn’t my friend anymore, I was in love. Long story short, our friendship blossomed from there and that became my husband in less than 2 months. Yes the husband who is the brunt of so many jokes and posts on my site. That guy. ( I highly suggest to any single ladies, that you marry your friend, if possible, it’s awesome) He will always be the secret super hero of my life, the one with the cape that only I can see.

I put both my of our kids in private school and took a teaching job there to pay for their tuition. Smaller classes, more understanding, more dedicated teachers, I explained everything upfront so there would be no issues. Unfortunately even with 2 dedicated parents in the picture working 24/7 to help him, we weren’t able to get him thru even kindergarten. His poor teacher actually quit after having him in her class. The antics and problems are just too many to list. In lieu of you probably needing a comic break I bring you this story from Kindergarten. He was being picked on constantly by older kids. ( shocker right? it’s like they can smell the weaker ones) so he was hitting them, and we would get called into the office. I would explain no matter what you are not allowed to hit people, your hands can not touch other people, if someone breaks that rule, let an adult know. The next day, same thing, but he kicked people. Same speech but no kicking people. The next day, same thing but he spit on the people, same speech but no spitting that’s not only wrong but seriously gross dude. The last day. Sister Mary called me out of class, and there sat my son, not mad or upset but instead almost smiling. Sister Mary told me he was being chased and ran to the top of the monkey bars, when the bullies got under him, he had urinated on them. WHATT???? She was in tears but my son was smiling. ” Momma I did NOT, I peed on them, because that’s not hitting, kicking, or spitting.” I told you he wasn’t dumb. It’s wrong but you have to admit its funny. We scrubbed the playground for punishment and I had to add, you are not allowed to pee on people to his long list. I shared this with you because seriously. Even though this post sounds all depressing, and horrible, we laughed, we laughed every day, we laughed about how we kept the silver ware in a locked box on top of the fridge instead of in a drawer. I think that is how we all stayed sane to whatever level we did stay sane. I never let my children know I felt sorry for them, because this wasn’t a normal life, I made them feel proud about how special our life was, and what a strong team we were. But on the right day for a short period, he could pass for a normal kid. Despite a child psychologist telling me he was the next Hitler. That guy didn’t get paid either. But the point was, he was improving, he could pass for normal, or whatever the hell society thought was normal. There was never a week that there wasn’t a meeting in school about his behavior problems. Both parents went every time.

Getting married brought new doctors, new diagnosis and new meds. By now I just asked a boatload of questions about each med and asked if there was any other option and then succumb to the fact my kid was broken and needed meds. Parenting classes, family therapy and even solo therapy for him. They would start talking to us and we would actually give the therapist tips, we offered advice to other parents, but still our lives were always filled with mayhem and other then our tight little unit of 4 there really were no outsiders, friends or family. As he got older he in turn became harder to control, and thus we became further isolated.

Maybe that’s why when last year I decided to get on the internet I found it free. No one knew I had a broken kid, no one could hear or see him, he didn’t affect anyone and I could escape into everyone else’s happiness or what they thought were problems. Like being late for school? I could be my old funny, crazy self, cracking jokes and making friends easily. Then in November I started reading blogs. I read blogs that were funny, raunchy, inappropriate, inspirational, and heart wrenching blogs. I read them all. I kept my mouth shut about my past, my child., my pain. It was easy. Only my real friends know. What’s left of them anyway. I started a blog and decided it would be a place to be peachy, say peachy things, share a smile or a laugh. But today it hit me while reading a post about a mom who couldn’t handle the special needs of her child, I saw what people said in the comments. Recently an adoptive mom returned a kid to Russia with a note. Clearly non matching socks, cake for breakfast and being late for a play date are huge issues to most parents. That can just trash their entire day. I guess I just had a different experience, with different issues. I felt I needed to write this post. It hurts like hell to relive this. It’s far too long, and there’s a good possibility I will get some very negative feedback, it’s ok. I can take it, trust me when I say, nothing you can say can be worse than the things my own son has said to me, or the choices I have had to make. Choices that tore away a chunk of my soul on a regular basis. So this is part 1 in a 3 part series. I think we made it to 6 years old here. The reason for 3 posts are and 3×6-18 and he’s 18.

Its all Kevin Bacons fault.

Posted on May 17, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in It's Juicy

Busted. So totally busted. OK so living in a tiny town that had 1 catwalk ( the thing for pedestrians to cross the street over traffic) ( not the cool high fashion catwalk). And this catwalk being within 1 block of my high school where everyone knew me might not have been the best place to skip for the first time. Maybe if I were just sitting there quietly and not drawing attention to myself I would have been ok. But no I had to be all footloose. Yes that’s right. I skipped school the very first time after watching the movie “Footloose with Kevin Bacon”.

If you haven’t seen it, chances are you are accidentally at my blog because your ~~an infant or lived in a cave in the 80’s~~ clearly much younger than me. ( but you can find out more here).

It’s not that the movie was that so amazingly awesome, and I am not a big Kevin Bacon fan. ( However I friggin LOVE real bacon, or as my kid calls it, “pig meat”.) Nothing against you Kevin, I am sure your reading this and I do NOT want to hurt your feelings. I just never really connected to much of the stuff you did, including your music. I am sure your fantastic and all that it’s just my personal thing ok, I was busy being all hot over John Bon Jovi.) ( shout out Johnny babe, remember me from that concert, sure you do!)

But Kev, ( I can call you Kev right?) your movie did inspire me. To skip school, put your soundtrack in my walkman ( google ancient technology), and then attempt to do your movie moves across my towns catwalk. ( which could have only hurt my street cred, because people called my mom and the school thinking I was suffering from a medical condition)

Is this my fault? No, it’s yours. You did this, this was the marked beginning of my downfall as a teenager. Well that and the entire living so close to Dayton Beach that I thought spring break was the entire year round and would eventually end up on MTV spring break and who the heck knew my mom would be watching that crap? ( shout out to Mom in case she figured out browsers from email and finds this..)

On the upside, it was pretty much the point I also realized you only go around 1 time ? Smell the roses? Enjoy your life? So I have to thank you for that, which is probably the soul reason I secretly bought your CD , “Forosoco” ( still available at amazon) . See that Kev I pimped your CD because ~~you taught me to skip school and dance like a moron in the middle of my town,~~ you were part of my coming of age. Much like “Breakfast Club”. “Ferris Buellers Day off”, “Sixteen Candles”, “Weird Science”, “Pretty in Pink” and “Risky Business” . Except in each of those movies there was a guy I was willing to make out with. (*Note* if you have not watched every single one of these movies at least 2 times each, you fail and better head on over to netflix and get you some life). ( Also note, I am not saying I would not make out with you under any circumstances. As a married woman I have found there are many things I can overlook and honestly I am not seeing that many flaws with you compared to some others. )

I wish I could make my daughter in college sit down and watch all the above movies, including yours, except I don’t want her to skip school, lend her panties to a nerd, turn a barbie and porno into a human, steal a car, hire a hooker, and make out with a dude while she wears a flammable bridesmaid dress as she leans over candles. I ended up doing all of those, well except for the barbie thing, that was a bogus script it totally did not work with the GI Joe I stole from my brothers. But each of these movies taught me something, they marked a certain stage in my life, and I am sure in some way the have helped me enjoy the ride.

So Kev, honey, I blame you for the beginning of my awesomeness, before that I was just another chick in a school showing up and learning.

Why did I think dancing like this was acceptable in public?

Let’s be clear that I blame nothing on Brendan Fraser because he is my main man, and entered my life way after I was all formative and junk. But ~~he lurves me, is the main focus of a lot of my adult dreams,~~ has done some great work.

PS- any stars I failed to give a shout out to that I totally owe a shout out to, I will get to you in time, whether you like it or not. ( That’s a heads up to you Van Halen, Ralph Macchio, Ratt, Judd Nelson, Curtis Armstrong, Steve Perry, Rod Stewart, Sting, Alan Ruck and many many more… )

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