Physical vs. Mental OR Who knew this would be so hard?

As I take the last few minutes of my 36-hour allotment of sick time, I’m really considering claiming additional ailments, cough, cough, so I can just crawl back under the covers. The second grade stomach bug has torn through my house faster than Seattle Slew at the Derby. But really, that is the easiest thing I’m facing as a parent. Okay, so having youngest Alex throw up on me not once but twice, while in MY bed was not so fun and he got my pillow – my PILLOW! I have a rather deep-seated affection for my pillow that has had me turn the car around and add an additional 50 miles onto an eight hour trip just to retrieve said pillow from the previous night’s hotel. I’m just sayin’ – some things are sacred and we mommies don’t get much so we cling to what we have.

No, a stomach bug comes and goes but the other things seem to ebb and flow like the tide. Within the past few days, I’ve received e-mails from two of the oldests’ teachers. Once again, middle Simon had a rough time controlling himself and his emotions on a field trip and oldest Christopher is failing math. Not because he doesn’t understand it, but because he doesn’t feel like doing it – it’s boring. I don’t know which to smack first!

Just for an update, Christopher’s MRI series came back clean; his spine is okay at this point. The prognosis? He’s okay for now but will need a spinal x-ray every six to nine months until he is finished growing with occasional MRI’s to check the condition of the spine. As for Simon, he has an appointment with both a psychiatrist and a psychologist. Hopefully, we can get some answers soon for him. With Christopher, it is a clear picture: an x-ray or an MRI and we see what needs to be done. Not so with Simon, his is so much harder to understand.

For anyone that has dealt with mental, emotional, or neurological issues; the answers are not so easy to find. Nor is the stigma easier to deal with for either parent or child. When children act out or don’t pay attention, people look to the parents and wonder what it is that they aren’t doing or, in some instances, what are they letting the kids get away with. What people don’t know is what goes on behind the scenes. What we have tried – namely everything – is something from taking things away to rewards, from grounding to spanking, from screaming to extra dessert. While that may be hard on us as parents, what is really hard is what we see in the eyes of other people judging us for what they think we should or shouldn’t do. If I could write a card to pass out to people when those of us with challenging children were acting out, it would say this: I’m trying. I love this child with all my heart and all my soul. I am doing the very best I can to make it day to day. You should feel so lucky not to have to deal with what I deal with. But know that I am lucky to be the parent to this amazing wonderful child.

It’s not just strangers either. It’s the people that seem to know our families fairly well – the teachers, the extended family members, the clergy, the neighbors. I can’t tell you what it feels like to get that e-mail from a teacher just “letting you know” that he or she is concerned and wants us to talk about the child and his or her behaviour. Really? Do they think that we haven’t a clue? While I would love to be able to be that checked out, I would probably have to seriously up my meds so that I couldn’t function. My favorite is when they ask what can they do to make the situation better. Again, really? If I had that answer, I guaran-damn-tee you that I wouldn’t be sittin’ here typing this blog in my little house in Meyerland. I would have this info mass published and turned into a major motion picture, self-help video, book on tape, and iPhone app. Wouldn’t that be great? Just type into your phone the behaviour you want to quelch and out pops the answer on what you need to do? Move over Dr. Spock!

I guess my greatest fear is that one or more of my children will turn out like my brother. While he was a kind, wonderful person with amazing talents; he was tormented by his own demons. I sometimes see my brother in their actions and reactions and wonder what happened in his life that caused the pain and suffering to become so great that he suicided. I guess I also look back and see the way my mother enabled my brother to become the helpless person that he ultimately was and I am so afraid of becoming that parent too. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let that appointment with the shrink go today… But I think there are so many more forces at play than just what we parents do – or at least I’m hoping!

I also think birth order plays a huge role in the development of an individual’s personality. The birth of each subsequent child also assists in the development of one’s parenting styles. This birth order thing clearly is at play at my house. Youngest Alex commandeered my diet Coke while I was making lunch the other day. First, I didn’t bother to spring up and grab it out of his hand but instead watched as he gulped down a big swallow – I was also cooking spaghetti to freeze for supper one night this week which happens to be extremely busy. Priorities here. Second, I actually argued with him over the notion of whose Coke it was. My precocious three year old informed me that, “Actually, this my diet Coke. I buy it with my money.” Really? Oh how things have changed… Oldest Christopher never even tasted Sprite until he was around five. He didn’t drink juice because, at the time, we didn’t think the nutritional value was equal to that of a serving of fresh fruit and now my three year old is slugging back diet Coke with Lime like a co-ed at a kegger? The times they are a changin’…

We’ve even become more laxed about the shows the kids watch or the games they play. When Christopher was little we wouldn’t let him have ANY type of play gun other than the brightly colored water guns found around the pool. My thought was a child can’t differentiate between a real gun and toy gun so if we avoided all guns we could keep him safe if he happened upon a real gun somewhere. I know, just stay with me here – I even come from a family that hunts! Now, we have an arsenal of toy weaponry that could be used to take over a small playground. I even own two Nerf guns that I use to relieve stress. While I’m not sure what my shrink would say about this, I have no qualms about shooting my husband and/or children with foam balls as a method of last resort when I really want to smack them. It at least gets their attention long enough for me to gain control of the Wii or television remote and take back some of the power. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

We even give in to things that would never have flown in the earlier days of parenting. I find myself bargaining for things like bites of food, using the potty, changing the sheets, etc. Seriously, who are these people that inhabit my house? Or more importantly, who have I become? I mean, really, this is the person who, during the height of my PR days traversed the coast at the bat of an eye, took no prisoners, and whose favorite coffee mug (that actually sat on my desk instead of being hidden away) was emblazoned with the words “Vicious power hungry bitch.”

You know, I really try to be a good parent but I just can’t seem to close the gap between the parent I want to be and the parent I am. As I alluded to in an earlier post, I just finished “The Blessing of a B Minus” by Wendy Mogul. I wake up each day and promise myself that I am going to let my children have logical consequences to their actions. But by the end of the day, I’m too tired to be logical much less follow through with any action other than collapsing into bed with a glass of wine and NCIS reruns. Yes, I live an exotic life, I know. As for getting the kids to clean, Custard had better odds during his last stand than I do of getting my children to pick up after themselves. But then again, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. After getting out of the shower, my dear hubby wandered through the kitchen to get something to drink. I turned around to find a pile of dirty clothes on the bar stool. Of course, when asked whose they were, I got the standard chorus of “Not mine!” until Shelby sheepishly swiped them off the stool en route to the laundry room. Hhhmmm, answers a number of questions about genetics, don’t you think?

Wow – this is hard work! I guess I know why no one ever tells people about this – the human race would disappear. I mean, seriously, who would drag there psyche through this emotional upheaval on purpose, if they knew what pain was endured? But, after I feel beaten up and broken down, I simply need to look around me or watch the evening news. A friend of mine recently underwent the scare of her life – a heart irregularity was discovered in her child. Thankfully, after a procedure, it was corrected. The television news is covered with the uncertainty of governments around the world and we face economic instability at every turn. However, I am certain of the three children down the hall sleeping soundly. While things may not be what I imagined lo so many years ago, they are so much more. They are mine and I am their parent. And no matter how hard it gets, I am still so blessed to be their parent. That IS what I signed up for.

P.S. For those of you that might be interested, a friend of mine and I captain a walk team for the NAMI Walks for the Mind of America each year. This walk raises funds to help in the research for cures for mental illnesses as well as erasing the stigma that is sometimes attached to the diseases. This year, the walk will be on Saturday, May 14th at 8:00 a.m. starting in Sam Houston Park. For more information on joining or supporting our team, The Open Minds, please visit the website at http://www.nami.org/walkTemplate.cfm?section=NAMIWALKS&template=/customsource/namiwalks/teampage.cfm&teamID=24157 for more information.