Troubled Times

So this was not a great week. C.J. does not do well with transitions and we had Wednesday off so going back to school on Thursday really threw him. There is one student in his class who tends to push C.J.'s buttons and apparently he pushed the wrong one on Thursday and got a kick in the stomach. The other boy was fine but it did result in unhappy parents and more conversations with his teachers and Ms. Lewis, the Academy Leader for Pre-K, along with the principal.

When I spoke with Ms. Lewis about her conversation with the parents, she indicated she had mentioned I was aware of C.J.'s issues and was taking action. That's as far as it went, but she wanted to reassure them that I was not going through life ignoring the actions of my (in their minds) future serial killer son. "Great," I thought. "Another person who thinks I can't do my job."

Being human, it is hard to be out with C.J. and see the looks from other parents and, especially, non-parents. The pursued lips and drawn eyes say it all. "Look at that," I can practically hear them thinking, "she can't even control her son, what a horrible mom." On particularly bad days, I find myself wanting to reassure them that I have two completely normal sons at home. "See," I would say, "it isn't me." I almost immediately feel guilty for that sin, so like Simon Peter, denying that which I love out of fear for how I might be perceived.

I've seen the look that must be in my eyes at those moments in the eyes of parents sitting across the table from me at school. There is a certain desperation in being the parent of any child with special needs, but one with behavior problems can be especially challenging. It can be hard for anyone to understand the struggle that the simplest task can become. You can't take anything for granted and are constantly on the alert for tell-tale signs that a melt-down is on the way. Getting out the door in the morning is a monumental undertaking that can leave you exhausted and stressed-out before you've even started your day.

Here I am lucky that my training has prepared me for C.J. better than that of most parents. We already have our routines, which we stick to as much as humanly possible. The less he has to THINK about what he is doing, the less the possibility that he will react negatively to any given request. That only takes us so far, however, and there is no way to avoid some mornings where it all starts wrong. We wake up late or are out of his favorite cereal or sometimes I'm just too tired to do what I know I should and suddenly he has been in tears 4 times before we even make it to school.

Being a parent is exhausting in the best of circumstances, being the parent of C.J. leaves me in tears more often than I'd want to admit. Those tears are for him more than me, however, because I know that if I'm feeling desperate he must really be in bad shape. He doesn't act the way he does to make my life difficult, he acts that way only when he feels out of control. As hard as it is for me to watch him, it must be that much worse for him to feel so unable to cope with the world around him that his only recourse is to break down and hope that someone will help him fix it. It reminds me of a baby whose only way to communicate is through crying. C.J. doesn't know what he needs or how to get it, he only knows that he can't stand the way he feels at that moment and he wants it all to go away. Building a world in which he can exist comfortably while he increases his coping skills is even more essential now so that he can progress and we can stay sane.

This fact has led to many conversations over the last few weeks. It is apparent that I can no longer juggle my 60+ hour a week job, my health issues (which are a blog in and of themselves) and C.J.'s needs. My breaking under the pressure won't help anyone and Craig can't carry anymore of the load than he already has this last year. So, changes are on the way. A new job for me and perhaps a new place to live for us all if we can't get C.J. into a school that fits his needs.

In the meantime, another resolution to focus on the positive aspects of being C.J.'s parent. One made easier this evening when Craig and I sat and heard him reading his first book, sounding out the words and using the pictures to give him clues. It was a sweet joy to hear him working hard and to see the exultant look on his face as he high-fived me after almost every word. It was also a reminder that, like every child, he desperately wants to be hugged and told how wonderful he is.

That, at least, I can do for him.