It is in seat of the “parent” that I often sit at the parent / teacher conference table. It is an uncomfortable place to be, though it is no less painful when I have to tell a parent something they don’t want to hear. I’ve been in the seat of “teacher” no less than 1,000 times in my career thus far. Most of the time it is a joy to tell a parent how their child is doing in my class, but there is always That One.
As the parent of That One it is not only uncomfortable, it is downright agonizing and there is no other time that I feel more vulnerable and tender. I’ve gotten used to it and have made lots of changes over the years in my approach and now it is Mason’s teachers who cringe when they see me coming. My husband has left most of the conversation up to me and defers to my expertise, though he has just as much as he’s parented this child with me all this time. Not to mention the fact that the DSM-III explicitly confirmed our fears that not only had our son suffered from ADHD, so does his father.
The only reason that I even know what the DSM-III is all comes back to how we got on this path in the first place. After sitting in a puddle of my tears I decided to take a different route. I decided to be angry at her for diagnosing my son after a mere month and a half. Who was she to act like a doctor telling me that something was horribly wrong with my son? Who was she to sit in judgment and suggest Ritalin as if she were getting a kickback for letting it’s name drop from her lips?
I was all of 20 years old when Mason was born which means I thought I really did know everything. Trying to finish college with two kids is just a wee bit on This Side of Stressful, but I’d been parenting all through high school so how much tougher could this be?
Why someone didn’t drop an anvil on my head a la Road Runner remains a mystery to me, but I feel I’m partly to blame for always acting like I have it all together. Still, I am afflicted with this malady so if you know of any companies that sell anvils to the average consumer, let me know.
Taking Mason places as a baby was a nightmare. I did anything I could to go to the grocery store alone, to get gas in my car alone, to pick up stamps alone. He was loud and moved with a constant energy. He never held my hand because he couldn’t stand to be confined like that. He wiggled and fussed until I’d let him just run around like a wild child, all the while finally understanding why those other mothers with puke in their hair and raggedy sweatpants on would just sit on the park bench staring off into space and looking like they’d partied all night with Rick James.
After meeting with Mason’s kindergarten teacher, my anger settled in just fine and I lived with it as a defense mechanism as opposed to trying to understand how I could help this child who climbed the walls and my nerves simultaneously. We insisted that she treat Mason like every other child in her classroom and that she just have a little patience with him. To be honest, I expected her to be more patient with him than I ever was. This made for a terrible school year and by the end he knew she didn’t like him and we were thoroughly disgusted with her treatment of him.
During first grade he got a sweet, older, school-marmy teacher who simply didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me to get him some help. In hindsight, this wasn’t a good idea but I let her kindness salve my hurt from an awful year of kindergarten. She assuaged my guilt about having a ‘difficult’ or ‘different’ or ‘special’ child and we lived a lovely year in denial. But it was also the year I let myself see him for the affectionate child he was so I can’t say it was all bad.
Second grade was different. By this time I had worked at the school where he went. We made the decision to put all of the kids in private school when he started kindergarten and this selection was made wholly with Mason in mind. I left the public school system after 4 years and taught junior high in this private school where I intimately knew his teachers and was able to see him in class whenever I had a planning period. After two days of being in school his teacher asked to speak with me. Mrs. Clark was a no-nonsense veteran teacher who had, unbeknownst to me, agreed to take Mason as well as the other boy who seemed “special” to their first grade teachers.
“We have to talk. Do you know what Mason was doing on the first day of school? He was standing between two desks and hoisting himself up and SWINGING HIS LEGS BACK AND FORTH. He could have hurt somebody! He acted like he was the only person there!”
She was frank and straightforward and for some reason, I was ready to hear it now. It almost seemed a relief that someone was giving me facts about his behavior and NOT a diagnosis. We sought the help of a child psychiatrist who had a good reputation, though she drained us financially. There is no insurance coverage for this and we paid her by the minute. Not by the hour as many of them charge, but by. the. minute. She stamped her timer on our paper when we sat down and then not again until we were done. $2.25 per minute adds up quickly so we began our weekly sessions with her by having copious notes that she could read on a bulleted list.
I don’t mean to harp on the fact that we spent a lot of money at her office, but we didn’t take vacations. We didn’t buy new cars. We still had furniture we used since college because we couldn’t get ahead financially due to seeking psychiatric help. My point here is this: it’s expensive to have a mental disorder. Two years later this doctor was the acting therapist of a brain-damaged student that I had in my classroom and when she walked in with her power suit and pearls I leaned over to a co-worker to claim, “See those pearls? Aren’t they beautiful?” I had a fake smile on my face and dropped it to continue, “Yeah. I bought them. They should be mine.”
Guilt comes in funny shapes and sizes. Not only did I feel bad that I didn’t claim that it was MY child in the sandbox pushing kids out of the way and knocking them down, but now I was jealous that I didn’t even own a pair of pearls.
And I don’t even like pearls.
What I DO like is looking like I know what I’m doing.
I DO like for everyone to think I have it all going on and that nothing is wrong.
I DO like for people to see all the balls I’m juggling in the air with work and school and most of all parenting because, yes, I tired very quickly of the judgmental, disgusted looks I got when I was 16 and carrying a 2-year-old on my hip and when I was 20 and had a 5-year-old and a squirmling infant in my arms.
No one ever sees all the balls I’ve dropped that are surrounding my feet and litter the floor around me.
{ 19 comments }
My son is The One right now and I’m going through those same emotions you described above. I’ve been reading Raising Your Spirited Child lately, it’s a good read if you haven’t picked it up yet.
The last line of your post … I felt the exact same way when I had my son (I was 19). My mother told me a gazillion times how I would never succeed at anything. And when my son was born … no matter how scared and alone I was, I never let anyone see it. Because then I would have failed. I dropped out of high school, but am the only one in my family with a college degree (I have 4 bros. & 2 sisters) … including my parents. Failed marriage? Nope … I needed to be independent, stand on my own two feet. So I left him.
No matter how badly I really had failed, I always managed to make it appear that everything was happening according to my plan, so I’ve actually succeeded!
As a fellow “ball-juggler”, I see myself in your posts. Yes, mental disorders are very expensive, and getting more so. I so totally relate.
Shash
I’m speechless. You’re writing my life.
As Karoli says, you are writing my life as well. I, too, have shed so many tears because my son was also “The One” and I wanted to protect him from a world that just didn’t understand him. You should really consider compiling all of this into a book when you get done. I have yet to see anything written from a mom’s perspective that is so open and raw and touches on the emotions so deeply. I am guessing thousands of women would benefit from knowing that they are not alone and that their feelings are normal. We love our kids with everything that we have, but we are kidding ourselves if we say we don’t need support and understanding from other moms. It does my heart good to know that someone else had the same circumstances, made it through (is still making her way through) and is willing to share it all with us. You’re an awesome mom. That’s all there is to it.
Don’t we all, at sometime or another look like we have it all together only to be balancing precariously on all of the balls we’ve dropped at one point or another? I don’t have your parenting situation by ANY stretch of my imagination, but I can’t help but stare at the balls at my feet often too.
Chin up! You’ve done a great job by all of your kids.
I have been reading your posts a few weeks now. More so since you have posted about your child. My son, though only 2 and a half, I feel may be “The One” as well. I am not a doctor and though when I took him for his 2 yr old check up, things I described she said,”typical for a 3 year old”.
Well I don’t know many two year olds that get into the same things every day, :ie shampoos, toothpaste” and like to shred books and then sit in time out every single time and KEEP DOING IT after being told NO a thousand times a day. My son runs about like a chicken with its head cut off. I am afraid to put him in day care as they may kick him out, but will soon venture to TRY this out…..he needs the interaction with other children.
I appreciate your directness and I think you deserve a pat on the back and keep your chin up!! Like Mom used to say, ( god rest her soul now ) “Act like a duck and dont let anyone ruffle your feathers…let their words be like the water and let them run right off your back like the feathers repel the water on a ducks back!”
I agree with Tracey.. you have done great job by all your kids! I knew a 12 yr old in Jr High in the ’70s… everyone looked down on her….she stuck it out and continued with school despite I thought she was awesome! YOU GO GIRL!!
I have noticed that I have to be a different mom with each kid. ITS TOUGH. 6 different ways to parent for 6 different kids. Everybody always asks how do you do it?, I have no answer ..you just do it. There is no perfect formula for parenting, you just try your best. You are an awesome woman and and even awesomer mom.
It’s hard not to take it as an insult when someone suggests you have a mental disorder. I felt that way myself, but I wanted to get better so much I was willing to try just about anything. But, it’s not an insult and you did nothing wrong as a parent to cause this. It’s hereditary and you don’t have control over it at all. A lot of insurance companies have higher copays for mental health services, if they even cover it at all. But these are physical illnesses as much as diabetes or cancer. I think a lot of people don’t realize how expensive this treatment is, especially when this is something you have to deal with long-term or even for life, like my illness. I really wish there was more awareness for the causes and treatment of mental illness and less of a stigma attached to it. Plus, it would be nice if there was more help to pay for all of this because I know a lot of people can’t afford treatment (me) or go without help. Your son is lucky you are helping him now and he basically just needs a loving, supportive family to help him get through this. I know it’s been hard on my family all these years, but they’ve been great and I really appreciate it. I wouldn’t be here without them. Your son is lucky, too.
1. Facts vs. diagnosis: right on, Mama! Teachers might know what “it” is, but we can’t prescribe.
2. Amigo’s teachers don’t like to see me coming, either. My husband has mastered the lingo of special ed (with my help), we decide on our goals and our script ahead of time, and he talks more at the meetings. It keeps the weaker teachers from feeling “threatened”.
3. GOOD FOR YOU!! Thanks for sharing this difficult journey. I hope the post was therapeutic for you. Mine often are.
My son’s psychiatrist charged us a small fortune too. None of the good ones around here even TAKE insurance. $225 an hour. You better believe I went in with everything written down and talked really really fast.
I have found my “difficult” (really that word doesn’t even scratch the surface does it?) children also have some really wonderful empathetic qualities. As my older son has gotten older that have become more noticeable and for that I am thankful. It’s what saves him some days
(((HUGS)))
Don’t we all drop one of the many balls that we juggle? Some times dropping all of them?
Aren’t we all defensive when faced with the facts of our children’s inappropriate behavior? Yea, I really enjoyed that phone call from the kindergarten teacher when #1 son bit another child; ate too much glue and untied everyone’s shoelaces at story time.
Therapy is expensive so is all that allergy testing and treatments.
Today you would never guess that my 24 year old son was once a little tornado of a child. BUT at 24 I sometimes think that he is more like someone who is 22 or 21. Still a little immature.
You are all right. I mean that in the best possible way.
As it turns out my kindergartener is pretty normal, but as a 3 year old he had “social issues” and his preschool teacher thought we should get him some help.
It’s completely devestating to be told something like that and even though these things are just human variations, it’s impossible not to wonder if it was all caused by the day you lost it and just started bawling in the middle of the afternoon or because of the epidural and so on and so forth…
We feel so much responsibility for every difficulty they have, when really people just have difficulties sometimes, even when they have moms who love them.
I understand ADHD is a huge challenge for a parent. You always look like you know what you’re doing from here.
As I re-read, I thought I should point out that I wasn’t saying that ADHD is a “normal variation”. I understand that it’s a real and important disorder!
You are amazing and sacrificed a lot to help your kids. I hope I’m able to do as well for Q.
I can’t imagine going through this, but if I ever have to, at least I know I can turn to you for advice and comfort.
You are a strong woman. I could learn from you! And I usually always do!
I Love You! LOL That’s all I have. Oh and the fact that YOU ROCK!
You know, I don’t know what it is like to have a son with ADHD. I don’t know what it is like to be you, but I just totally identified with your feelings in this entry. I too have been going through a little life rough patch. I wish you all the best! You can get through it. I know you can because you wrote about it here. It takes a strong confident person to write about their fears, mistakes, and discouragement. Especially when the root of all of those fears, mistakes, and discouragement are something far beyond your control. It speaks volumes to your authenticness, strength, and integrity. It isn’t about how the ball drops (or if it even really dropped), but how we pick it up. Have faith and do what you can. Sometimes that is all you can do.
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