Sunday, May 31, 2009

Parenting is never easy......

And I may not know for years if I am making the right decision, or the wrong decision.

My oldest son has always been an energetic, enthusiastic, imaginative child. When he began having difficulties in school, I assumed it was "Boys will be boys". Or it was a phase - maybe he would grow out of it? As the difficulties continued, it became more apparent that he continued to struggle, where most of the others had no difficulties. I worked with his teacher on behavioural strategies. We tried rewards, and we tried punishments, but it became more obvious that there was a problem.
We were resistant to the idea of drugs, even though no one pushed them. But as his problems continued, we began to wonder what might happen. We heard stories from parents who had tried them and did not like the results, but we also heard stories of parents who appreciated what it had done, and even more thought-provoking, the parents who did not use them, but wondered if they should have. Even one mother who raised her son without them to be a successful adult, who went on to college, and then he decided for himself that he needed the drugs to help him succeed in college.
I had one mother compare it to putting glasses on a near-sighted kid. And while we still felt that we are in control, I began to wonder if refusing drugs was doing my son a disservice. If maybe they might help him, make it easier for him, make him more confident and let him show the world the brilliance I know he has. When I broached the subject with him, to try and gauge his reaction, he was almost pathetically eager to try it. He wants so badly to succeed.
So tomorrow I am taking him to speak to a doctor, to find out if we can do a trial, and see if there may be a drug that will let him focus, and concentrate, and understand better in school. He is eager, and I am praying that I am doing the right thing.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

I really love those twerps.

My two sons, that is.

Even when they seem to spend nearly the entire weekend fighting (aside from the time they spent making weird noises and giggling hysterically) and even when I am in the middle of PMS so bad that when my cat snuggles past my legs or jumps to my lap to be petted I want to pitch it against the wall (so you can guess how well the juvenile hijinx went over with me).

Still, they are both adorable, and loveable and sweet.

Putting my youngest to bed tonight, he demanded a "monkey hug" where he wraps arms and legs around me and hangs, a feeling that cannot be surpassed. Putting my oldest to bed, he became alarmed at a bruise I have on my arm from a blood test - looks nasty, but never did hurt. I explained where it came from, and why it's nothing to worry about, but he is pretty squeamish about things like that, and I could tell it was bothering him. So I tried to turn his attention to something more cheerful -- I didn't want him to have disturbing dreams. The twerp refused to be diverted, turning my best ideas into humdrum and annoyance. Then I simply told him to think of something fun, and make sure he had good dreams. His face was instantly transformed with a smile that still makes me mushy to think of it.

Then I made the mistake of asking what he was going to dream of. "I want to lead a bunch of soldiers and be a hero in Age of Empires'," (a nintendo DS game he borrowed from his dad). Okay, so it's not puppies and kittens. It's still worth it to see that smile.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

"Mom, What did you do with our tower?"

A question from my 5-year-old son.

"What tower?"

"The one we were making with the dishes in the sink."

Oh, that one. "I washed them. We need clean dishes to eat off of."

I am not the neatest person in the world, and I know this. I flatter myself that less than 24 hours of frantic effort can actually make my house presentable for guests. I actually have a bit of a hang-up over how much of a neat-freak I'm not.

But I actually do wash the dishes on a fairly regular basis. Even when it destroys the latest creation of a budding architect.