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Advice? I’ve had my fill of the stuff. We parents of kids with emotional and behavioral differences are like advice repositories, the place where people dump all their fears and their conviction that anything (everything!) can be cured with a simple twist of behavior or diet. In general? I don’t like advice. However, there . . . → Read More: Navigating the Storm If the diagnosis was cancer instead of a mental illness: No one would tell me I could control my child’s symptoms with harsh discipline. People wouldn’t say I’m “making” him sick because I somehow, perversely, need that. There would be enough doctors to meet his needs.* We would never wait weeks or months for life-saving . . . → Read More: If the Diagnosis Was Cancer… I’ve been struggling for months to write the story of Carter’s recent (non) diagnosis. The problem? The story is huge. Massive. Which would be fine except for the fact that it is also, mostly, very (very!) boring. If I was yawning and impatient while I was writing it, no doubt you’d feel the same . . . → Read More: On (not) Getting a Diagnosis Carter was four years old and we were at his pediatrician for the eleventy-billionth time. Back then? We went to the doctor so much that the receptionist, both nurses, our regular pediatrician and several of the other doctors in the clinic stopped calling me “Mom” and actually learned my name. Which brings me to a . . . → Read More: Barfy McBarferson and the Bogus Diagnosis More like furious with occasional episodes of rage, but as post titles go, “Angry” seems a little less like something written by the scary old woman who won’t let the neighborhood kids play in her yard, right? So, I’m pissed off in an extreme way and I intend to express that here. If you . . . → Read More: Angry When my sister and I were kids, our family went camping several times a year. We had it all – the Coleman cook stove and lantern, a big red cooler, and a brown canvas tent. My mom packed up the food box and the cooler and my dad packed all the gear into . . . → Read More: Happy Happy Joy Joy I am awesome in a crisis. I mean, stellar. I act fast and think faster. Here, I’ll show you: On a cold morning in the fall of 2006, just after Carter turned 4, I put him in the shower and washed him. When he was clean, I wrapped him in a towel and set . . . → Read More: Crisis Poltergeist I’ve been wanting to write an update about Carter, but whenever such an update involves lots of discussion of medications I hesitate. Why? Because psychiatric medications for children is an extremely controversial issue and I have been attacked (verbally and online) and watched friends endure attacks. Most recently, Meg over at Raising Bipolar drew fire . . . → Read More: Welcome to Chemistry One-Oh-Twilight-Banana Virtually all humans will face a situation in their lives in which their needs will be deferred. Newborn babies, sick loved ones, military duty, financial pressures, work or school deadlines, and thousands of other things that I’ve probably never heard of can require us to go without. Without what? Anything. Sleep, food, relaxation, time . . . → Read More: The kind of person I need to be is not necessarily the person I am… You know what keeps shocking me over and over again? It’s the change in my role recently. For the first 5+ years of his life, I spent a huge amount of energy trying to get medical professionals to hear me when I told them that Carter was not OK. Now, strangely, the shoe is . . . → Read More: And my education continues…  |
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