So, Trouble turns three today. That makes 3 children aged 3, that are not triplets. Yeah, that’s fun. Anyway, we had his birthday party on saturday, since today is well, obviously, a school/work day.

What I thought would be a small gathering of a few really close family members turned into a really LARGE party. 10 children, and about 14 adults. It was chaos to say the least.

We really did have a good time. Trouble lost interest in his gifts at the first sight of Buzz Lightyear under the paper. Moosey and Mad opened the rest for him. They loved it. And let’s just be real here, they are going to play with the toys as much as Trouble. So really it was their stuff too.

Mad needed to take some time away from the party. That was just fine with me. He would cover his ears or his eyes and start whining. Then I knew it was time for a break. I would ask him if he wanted to walk to his room with me. He always said yes. Then he would say “Squeethes” and I would give him some deep pressure hugs. Then he’d be fine and go back out to the party. I was so proud of our handling that situation.

Everyone kept asking him questions and trying to get him to play/sit near them/snuggle/eat. He was just getting so upset with them all. Finally, he put his hands over his ears and yelled “NO MORE QWESTONS!” WOW, good for you kid.

People, at least in my family, don’t seem to understand what this is like for us. We are perpetually on high alert. Always code orange, if not red. Where did he go? Did he take off his diaper again? Did he steal the paper towels again? What’s in his mouth? Is he going to be ok? Is insurance going to cover all of this? ANOTHER, waiting list? 4 appointments a week, home based teaching, etc. It never freaking ends. Is it enough? When is it enough? Am I failing him? Have I ALREADY failed him?

Then you add Bubba’s needs to the list. Kids at school seem to have taught him some really terrible terrible words. He uses them frequently. We are working on showing him how to control himself, but he has almost no impulse control. $300 dollars on prescriptions this month, these ones better help. 2 appointments this week. Teacher meeting. Reinforce behavior. Give visual clues for behavior (which we have to catch as it’s happening). Snuggle, deep pressure, breathing techniques. I didn’t get him help when he was little like Mad. I failed him for years… It could be easier for him. If only I had done something before.

Gertrude is not a little girl. She is heavy. Like her Mom and Dad. Not excessively so, just a little thicker. She is getting teased mightily by some little boogers in her class. How can I help her? She isn’t fat.. Have I failed her, too? I’ll kick those little booger’s butts.. ok.. I won’t. Now she’s crying again because she thinks she is fat and ugly and that she has no friends…. SERIOUSLY!! Is this my genes? Did I lose her in the shuffle? Shouldn’t I have taught her to believe in herself? Have I failed her too?

I suspect we are going to lose our house. I can’t make the payments with everything else that’s going on. I’m scared and burying my head in the sand. I can’t seem to make the money work out.  Between copays, medications, therapies, Mad’s other medical bills, my Medical bills and prescriptions, Hubby’s prescriptions.. food, broken cars, broken water heaters, two job loses. How far can it stretch? Another failure.

I get home from work and one hour later, hubby leaves for his job. I forget what his arms feel like. Does he still love me? Can we survive this? I want my husband.Why won’t he research this with me? Why doesn’t he ask questions? I don’t understand how this doesn’t affect him…I want my husband back. I WANT MY LIFE.

After that party, I slumped on the couch. Feeling like we have just celebrated another year of survival. I looked over, and there was Mad. Holding his Woody doll in his lap. He took Woody’s hands and made them bang on the toy keyboard. Did my boy just play? nah.. must be a coincidence. Aw, hell… “Mad, what are you doing?” He said the sweetest thing I have ever heard…

” Duddy pway punano” (Woody playing piano) OMG. I don’t even know what to say to him. I just stood up and started whispering for hubby to get in here. This was the battery recharge I needed. This is why I get up every morning and go to war. A constant internal struggle of what needs to be done vs. what I want to do. I never know if it is the right thing or not. The choices are mine to make, doesn’t that make the results my responsibility?

I’m petrified of another failure.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Lizbeth
    Mar 29, 2011 @ 17:26:51

    There never seems to be enough–time, money, resources, you name it. Sigh. I have a feeling you’re making the right decisions for you and your family. No one knows your kids better than you do and those decisions come from that knowledge. ((Hugs))


    • sockmommy
      Apr 01, 2011 @ 16:06:40

      I sure am trying to make the right decisions. I’m not usually so doom and gloom. I’m not sure if it is the recent diagnosis or what. Thank you for your hugs and support 🙂 I always can use those. ((HUGS)) back at ya.


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