Sam at camp

Sam is at sleep away camp in Palmer, MA. I dropped her off on Tuesday, Aug. 9th, and it will be more than another full week until I get to see my little girl again on Aug. 21st.

I am doing my best to keep it together and not jump on a plane to go to the camp and see how she is doing.  I've got my spies and they've done an excellent job reporting back how it is going, but there is nothing like seeing firsthand what's up.

Oh, what I'd give to put on my cape to make myself invisible and really get close to her.  Make sure she isn't too homesick.  Make sure she is being friendly to the other girls in her bunk.  Make sure she having fun and enjoying all this camp has to offer.  And make sure she isn't swimming too deep at the lake.  Is she brushing her teeth every day?  Is she using enough shampoo and soap in the shower?  Is she realizing she will need to wear each pair of her pajamas her few times before they will get washed?  Oh my!  I know her.  Sam will not be happy if she puts her pajamas in her laundry bag and then realizes in 4 days that she needs to fish them all out to wear again.  This will not go over well. 

Sam is only 8 years old.  I am still in awe that this was her idea to want to go.  She was so excited and had the biggest smile on her face as we left for the airport at 5:45am to catch our flight.  I am not ready for her to want this much independence.  I know this is a good thing.  I know this is all part of growing up.  I know Jeff and I are giving her a fantastic opportunity that a lot of kids (especially ones that are only 8!) don't get a chance to do.  It's all well and good to remind myself of this --sometimes hourly -- but it doesn't fill the void of how much I miss her.  How much I want to speak with her and hear her voice.

I've been obsessing checking the camp website each night for pictures of her.  It's not enough for me to find a photo and see her looking clean, well-fed, doing a fun activity, smiling with a new friend or two.  Nooooo, I have to literally pick apart every single thing in the picture -- what is she wearing? Is this the same outfit in each photo posted of her that day or has she changed once, twice or three times?  Is she going to run out of clean clothes before they do their wash?  Can I gaze into her eyes and really figure out what she is thinking at that moment?  Is she truly as happy as she appears or is it is a fake smile for the sake of the camera?  What's going on with her hair?  Is this a ponytail she did herself or is the counselor helping her put her hair up?  Is she too hot?  Too cold?  Too wet from rain?

Since I left her on Tuesday, I've sent her a pair of rain boots, a new hair brush (one of my spies told me hers broke), 2 pairs of shorts, 2 t-shirts, (again, a fear of her running out of clean clothes) and a deck of Uno playing cards.  Thank G-d for Amazon prime.  I've also sent her an email each night, put 3 real cards in the mail to her, and had Ian send her a card.

No, I don't think I have a problem. :)  Nothing that can't be solved around 10:00pm on Sunday, August 21st when Sam returns home.  

105.7 and I am not talking about a dial on the radio.

The day after we got back from our week at Ocean City, NJ Sam picked up a nasty virus.  We are still not sure where she got it or exactly when it invaded her, but it certainly took residence in her body and wreaked havoc.

For over 24 hours, Sam had a fever of 105.7  My kids have never gotten fevers like this (and for the most part are very healthy), so it really made us take notice. It was hard not to freak out.  All the medicine we gave Sam did nothing to bring down the fever because she was also vomiting non-stop.  The medicine wouldn't stay down.  Not even water. Oh my!

Of course we were in constant contact with Sam's doctor for 2 days, even like at 1:30am.  Do we bring her to the ER/hospital?  What else can we do to get the fever down?   We brought her in for an office visit to rule our strep and a urinary tract infection (given her many potty issues).  There was no underlying cause we could find.  The only treatment prescribed was to give her alternating doses of Tylenol and Motrin every 3 hours around the clock - even waking her up during the night.  Use cold compresses, give her a lukewarm bath and try to get her to eat popsicles.  

Once she was finally able to get some of the medicine to stay in her, her fever finally broke.  I will never forget how deliriously happy I was at 4:00am when I took her temperature and it registered 103.1.  Who in their right mind would be happy seeing a number this high?  Me!  When you've gone more than 24 hours at 105+ temps, 103 is looking mighty good.  That morning Sam kept it steady at 101.3 for the next 12 hours, but that was ok.  The medicine was working and her body was doing what it needed to and fight the virus.  A full 3 days later (from when all this initially started) Sam got her temperature back to normal.

Here is the craziest thing about all this.  At no point did Sam become lethargic, delirious or being out of it.  Every time we spoke with her doctor, she asked us how Sam's temperament was.  Sam could be heard in the background being her usually feisty self.  She certainly didn't sound sick.  And as much as she was throwing up, she was still hungry. 

With the 3 days Sam was stuck at home this particular week and the 2 days Sam was stuck in the house the following week (with her GI clean out), Sam was a trooper.  Ian had friends pick him up for playdates and get him out of the house.  But Sam had no choice but to be home.  She did great.  At one point, Ian comes home at the end of the day spent at a local waterpark with friends. He walks in the house telling us all the fun he had.  Sam just looks at us and asks, "You think I can be let out tomorrow?"   It was very funny.   

Sam has found her groove.

We've turned a corner.  Sam has settled into kindergarten.  Towards the latter part of the week, I could see a change in her. No longer did we need to put her lovey, Pinky, in her backpack each day. And on Thursday and Friday, she didn't once chant to herself, "I don't want to go.  I don't want to go."

Sam has started learning some of the girls' names in her class. This is HUGE!  She is even telling us about the funny things that are going on in her day. 

I am still waiting for the moment that Sam discovers the school nurse.  One trip to see her and I get a call to come pick Sam up early from school.   I know Sam is smart enough to figure this out. How long will it be before that light bulb goes off over head?

Sam and school.

This past Monday, starting off the 2nd week of school:

Sam wakes up.  I catch her before she comes downstairs.

Me:  Sam, let's get you dressed while you are still up here.
Sam:  What do I have today?
Me:  It's school.
Sam:  AW!  Not again!!

Yep.  Better get used to it.  :)

On Tuesday, we had our best day yet.  She didn't utter one word about not wanting to go.  She happily got dressed, eagerly brushed her teeth, and with a smile on her face made her way to the bus.  I was so excited and optimistically hoped we were out of the woods.

Wednesday, however, brought on real tears.  It started as the bus pulled up to the curb.  She looked at me and said she didn't want to go to school.  I told her it was not optional and she had to go.  She was the first one on the bus (kindergartners get on first), but was not pleased about climbing onboard.  The bus driver looked at Sam and asked her what was wrong.  I am thinking to myself:  Don't slow her down!  She is walking up the steps, let her continue.  Asking her what is wrong is like opening Pandora's box...not a wise move.  Sam mumbled something and kept going.  Once seated, she looked out the window.  I was standing there making funny faces getting her to smile. Eventually the bus pulled away and Sam was on her way.

Later that afternoon, I had a surprising turn of events and The Crazy Man called me at 12:30pm and said he wasn't feeling well.  He asked me not to come work for him.  I decided to take a chance and surprise Sam at school for lunch.  My only concern was that she would have a hard time saying good-bye to me again when her lunch period was over.  Fortunately, all went well and Sam loved seeing me.  She was completely okay with me leaving her side 35 minutes later.  Sam had no issues giving me a hug and lining up with her class.  Whew!  It was the right thing to do going to see her.  It made my day and I am pretty sure it made hers too.  As a bonus,  I was able to get there 15 minutes early and find Ian in the cafeteria.  Oh, how I love to surprise him too!  He never knows when I am going to show up.  It's pretty fabulous -- probably more for me, than for him.  :)

Sam and I having lunch together at school.

It's funny watching the kids at Sam's table eat lunch.  None of them speak to each other.  They just all sit there and silently eat.  Meanwhile, the rest of the cafeteria is loud enough to burst an ear drum or two.  I attempted conversation with all of Sam's classmates sitting directly around us, but none of them were talkers. It will be interesting to see when these kids start to come out of their shells.

Seeing Sam's face light up when she spotted me at lunch was definitely the bright spot of my day.

"Letting go" is NOT in my vocabulary

I've come to the realization that I can't let go.  I have certain expectations of how I like things to be, and when it doesn't go my way, I am pouting on the inside like a 2 year old.  I am not sure how to move beyond this, but it is wreaking havoc on my ability to be happy, the ability to be content with the way life can get all screwy, and generally the ability to go with the flow.

I find it best to not have any preconceived notions about anything. I try not to have a visual in my head of an experience that we are about to embark on, so I don't get disappointed.  This can be as simple as running into the grocery store to pick up a needed item for dinner to something big like seeing a live performance.  The problem is, I am a very optimistic person.  I look for the best in every situation and have high hopes that we will all have a grand time and the day will flow smoothly.   You can imagine that when reality slaps me in the face, I am probably disappointed and kicking & screaming on the inside more than the average person.

Ian has the kind of personality that he wants to please his father and me.  If he sees either of us getting the least bit critical or disappointed with his actions, Ian will quickly get in line and do his best to conform.  I know this isn't completely normal or healthy for him to be like, but G-d love him that he makes my life so much easier.

Sam, however, could care less about pleasing Jeff and me.  She has it set in her head how an event or situation will go down, and there is no changing that.  If she doesn't want to get in the car to head home after preschool, then she won't.  Plain and simple, she does what she wants to do.  No amount of reasoning or demanding a certain compliance from her is going to change her intent.  While I do my best to "manage" the moment and get on with our day as quickly as possible, it is usually near impossible.  By the time we (Sam and I) are back on the move, I am ridiculously mentally exhausted and feel like laying down on the ground in the fetal position or hiding under a rock.  Not possible for this mom who is needed and required to show up at about 10 different spots throughout the day.

I recently finished reading a book (fiction) about these two women; one was a writer and the other was a mom to a severely autistic child, who unfortunately died from a seizure.  The woman who was a writer was channeling the voice of the child who passed away.  She was writing the book in his voice -- considering he was non-verbal his whole life, finding out what he was thinking was a huge blessing for the mom.   The book was a bit slow-going and not something that I even recommend friends read, but was interesting to me.

Somehow, reading from the viewpoint of the autistic boy gave me greater understanding to Samantha.  Please don't get me wrong, in no way do I think Sam suffers from autism or anywhere on the spectrum. But, much of the rigidity in her actions and the ability to be flexible when she has it in her head to be anything but, rang all too true when getting a glimpse inside this boy's head in the book.

Fortunately, at some point Sam does stop the tantrum/meltdown; not as soon as I'd like, but eventually she does give up.  And, fortunately, Sam's outbursts are getting a little farther spaced apart.  And, an even bigger fortunately, she only acts like this for me and Jeff.  But, when the temper tantrums do come, its a doozy.

So, here I am at a crossroads.  I realize Sam is going to be like Sam.  There is no changing it any time soon and I just need to accept this is the way she is.   But, now I realize I have a very hard time letting go.  I need to be more flexible and not hold so strongly to my sky-is-blue-all-is-right-with-the-world vision I have most times.  In the end, I only get depressed and disappointed when it doesn't turn out. 

Case in point:  We were in Philadelphia two weekends ago.  We were able to complete the rest of the checklist of items I wanted the kids to see (Betsy Ross' House, Liberty Bell, and National Constitution Center).   At our last stop, I thought it would be nice to get a group picture of the whole family together.  Sam was stuck drawing on some little piece of paper she was carrying around and refused to look up to get the photo taken.  It really got to me.  I only needed her to look up for 5 seconds!  No amount of pleading was getting her to comply.  Meanwhile the rest of the family is getting very antsy and is losing patience.  Not to mention the nice worker taking the photo was more than ready to go back to his post.  I couldn't let this moment go!  I really wanted her to look up for the photo.  She refused.  It bothered me (and still does) so much more than it should have.  I know this.  Why can't I let it go!?!?!?

I am positively convinced we all would be looking up and smiling for the camera if Sam wasn't fixated on her drawing and I wasn't in the process of making a big deal out of it.

Here is our 2nd shot with me still trying to convince Sam to look up.

This is just one of many examples. I am already feeling very overwhelmed by the day to day, and this self-imposed added absurdity needs to stop.  We are not perfect.  We will never be. So what if she isn't looking at the camera, right?  This is who we are.  Why can't I go be okay with that!?!?!

This is my rant for the day.  More like beating myself up then having anything to do with Sam.  The incidence with Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT was a major wake-up call for me.  I am trying very hard to let the trivial things roll off my back, not need everything to be perfect and enjoy the moment more.  I know there are 26 families right now that would be absolutely fine with less than perfect. 

Cooking with Sam

My mom's mom was a very successful Jewish caterer in South Jersey. Back in the day, she did Bas Mitzvahs, weddings and events.  Her food melted in your mouth and 40 years later, people still talk about her cooking.  My grandmother didn't know how to cook for only 2, there was always a ton of food at the table when you came over for dinner.  Her favorite thing to read were cookbooks. I miss my grandmother greatly and fondly remember letting me help her roll out the rugelach.  Oh my, they were the best. 

I can safely say without hurting anyone's feelings that my mom did not inherit my grandmother's natural ability to cook.  In fact, I have a ton of examples to the contrary that even when following a recipe exactly, something doesn't work out.  And as for me, I'm just happy to get dinner on the table most nights.  I am not looking to change the world with my cooking and the less time I can spend in the kitchen, the better.

But, if there was a cooking gene and someone were to inherit it, it is Samantha.  At four years old, Sam is my right-hand in the kitchen.  She is very quick to put on an apron and pull up her step stool.  She wants to be a part of every dish I make.  She asks questions about what we're making, how long it will take to cook and what ingredients we need.  She is not afraid to stand at the stove and stir continuously or to work her dull knife and cut stuff up. 

This is Sam wearing her apron. 
She made it at mom-mom's house over the summer.

Sam rolling out the pizza dough.
 

When dinner is served, we all thank Sam for making our meal.  The smile on Sam's face extends from one ear to the other.  She loves getting complimented for a job well done.  One of her favorite things to make is scrambled eggs for Ian in the morning. 

Sam is an excellent student.  I can only imagine the kvelling my grandmom syl would do if she had Sam in her kitchen helping her.

This is who she is!

On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, between when Sam gets out of preschool and Ian's school day is over is a span of about 2 hours of time.  Sam and I have been known to go to Josie's with some preschool friends and get frozen yogurt from time to time.  This does not sit well with Ian, who LOVES going to Josie's just as much as the next person.  Inevitably, Sam lets it slip to Ian that we went to Josie's while he was at school.  As you can imagine, this causes a normally jovial Ian to become upset and bitter.

Time and time again, I tell Sam to not let Ian know where we went while he was at school.  And of course, somehow, it comes out to Ian.  One time, Sam made it a point to play with Josie's frequent visitor card while Ian was entering the car.  Another time, Sam said, "I am so full!" within Ian's earshot.  Each time, Ian quickly deduced where we went.

This last incidence of going to Josie's and not telling Ian took the cake.  As we are making our way through the kiss 'n ride line, I said to Sam "Remember, do not say anything to Ian about going to Josie's.  We don't want to upset him."   About 30 seconds later Ian gets in the car.  The first words out of Sam's mouth are, "What am I not supposed to tell Ian again?"   

And that was Sam's way of telling Ian without actually saying the words, "We went to Josie's."   :)



Shhh! Top Secret Frozen Yogurt Mission.

****************************************************************************

One morning before school, we are sitting at the kitchen table.  Sam is grunting loudly and making a face, visibly straining very hard.

Me: "Sam, are you ok?"

Sam: "I am trying to fart myself."


***************************************************************************

A new development

So, I finally read a parenting book that really spoke to me.  "The Explosive Child" by Ross Greene.  This book is written in a way that makes the most difficult situations seem easy to defuse and avoid the big, inevitable confrontations that can abound.  It comes up with a plan (simple, really) that helps you and the child collaboratively (this is key!!) work together on solutions for any issues that arise.  The big thing is to identify in advance (again, another key action!) what the lagging skills are (hard to transition, doesn't like change, hates certain foods/textures, etc) and the unsolved problems (refuses to cooperate getting dressed in the morning, hates to wear the proper shoes needed for that day's activity, lots of screaming when coming to get picked-up, etc).  Together, you talk thru each situation and really listen to the child as to what is going on causing the issues.  Together (again, it's all about being collabrative!), you work through to a solution on how to address this specific thing the next time this situation is presented.  The goal is to get it solved ahead of time, before it comes up again.  It's brilliant, really. 

The other thing I've taken from this book is to drop all expectations.  Does it really matter?  It's not giving in, but finding a way to compromise.  Sam is incredibly head-strong and has many ideas of her own.  There is no imposing my preconceived notions of how something should be.  Case in point -- if we are going to the park for the day and she wants to wear her flip-flops or crocs.  I know for a fact, this is not practical and Sam will be very upset when sand, mulch and twigs gets in her shoes.  So in the past, I've had many, many battles telling her she can't wear these shoes to the park.  Instead, I want her to wear the shoes that will protect her feet, allow her to run and climb without slipping or falling and generally better suited for playing.  In the end, I've won the battle, but not without much yelling and forcing my point.  Now, my new plan is to let her wear the impractical shoes and bring the more suitable shoes with me.  I'll let her fall (once!) or get mulch all stuck in her foot (therefore, complain) and be ready with the shoes I think she should be wearing.  This is an easy way for us to both win and we've gotten out the door realatively trauma-free.

I was never a big fan of Sam's therapist.  This is the woman we've been seeing since the end of February.   I felt like Sam completely ran every session and the clinician had very little control on how they spent their time together.  Now whether this was part of the master plan on the therapist's part or she was truly in over-her-head with the likes of Sam, I'll never know.  It had been 4 full months and the therapist had yet to address the potty training issues (withholding poop) we are dealing with.  After speaking with a few close friends who have degrees in therapy, I was encouraged to drop this therapist and find someone better suited for Sam.   Why did it take me this long to come to this conclusion?  Because everyone has said, the road to Sam pooping and peeing like the regular population will be a long, long road.  Like upwards of 18 months long.  I needed to be paitient.  I am not a naturally paitient person, and was doing my best to let the process happen.  I knew results wouldn't be seen overnight and had to give it time.  But Sam never really took to the therapist and I was trying to let a bond happen that wasn't coming easily.

After my return from Florida, I met with Sam's therapist on a one-on-one session to check in and see where we were.  She was ready to address the toilet training problem and tell me her ideas.  Finally!  I figured after all this time, I had to hear what she had to say.  If our chat didn't result in making me feel better about Sam's sessions with this woman, I was prepared to call her up and tell her we are going to try someone else. 

SO here's the real kicker -- Sam's therapist dropped us before I could drop her.  Wow.  Just wow.  She said that this other clinician in the practice has an opening and Sam and I would be better suited with her.  She is certified in this "Parent-Child Interaction Therapy" and it would be beneficial for Jeff and me to go through this 14 session training intervention.  I was given a brochure on what this training is all about and how it will help.  It apparently is designed for the "disruptive" (a term used many, many times) child and how to avoid confrontations.  Oh and by the way, she can also address the toilet training issue.  (This was said very after the fact.  The main concern being the interaction therapy.)

OMG!  Can I tell you how pissed I am!!?!?!?!?!?  Seriously?  How Jeff and I interact with Sam is such a concern that she is recommending this program??!?!?!   And when you read the brochure the first thing it says is:  "Who is PCIT for?"  "Children who have experienced stress or trauma".    What the hell trauma or stress has Sam had to deal with?  You'd think Sam was abused or neglected or being raised by a crack-whore, or her father was no longer in the picture.  None of this is further from the truth! 

And as for my parenting skills (you know interacting with my child), this is not my first time at the rodeo.  I do have a 7 year old son who is very well adjusted and not showing any signs of "stress" or "trauma". 

In my "EXPERT" opinion, Sam has control issues.  Plain and simple.  She likes (no, LOVES) to be in control.  It has to be her idea and if its not, then G-d help us.  Her withholding poop is another sign of her exerting control.  But somewhere along the way, it has become all about the way I am a mother to her.   

Personally, I think we need to leave this practice of clinicians altogether and find someone with more of a psychriatric background that can really help Sam.  Someone who can recommend testing if needed. I know Sam is very young to be diagnosed with any kind of disorder, but it would be helpful if someone (who knew what they were doing) could tell us that Sam's control issues could be a sign of this or that.  Someone who thinks dealing with the encompresis (poop withholding) is a top-priority and not an after-thought.

I spoke with Jeff and he thinks we should just give Sam the rest of the summer off from therapy.  Let her have a break.  I am inclined to agree with him. 

Before we got dropped (uh, I mean referred to someone else), Sam's therapist did tell me her thoughts on what we should do with the toilet training.  We are currently trying it now.  Wish us the best that this is the beginning of the end of this nightmare.  And oh yeah, that it is Sam's idea to want to do this too.

Reason to smile

The other day, I had picked Sam up from school and we were headed home.  During the drive, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Sam smiling.  She was happy, just sitting there in her seat, listening to the radio, with a smile on her face.  It was a beautiful thing and took my breath away.  Not to be so dramatic over this simple gesture, but I can't remember this ever happening. 

For so long I've been walking around on egg shells and doing my best to not piss her off.  It seemed like Sam was in a continually bad mood and every little thing set her off...some times it would be over absolutely nothing.  She was quick to anger, get intensely angry and lose all sense of reason.  Her temper tantrums and meltdowns would go on for a crazy amount of time and there was very little you could do to get her to calm down. This was multiple times a day, every day.  Fortunately, it was just with Jeff and me, but that meant this negative energy would have time to build up and explode when she was with us.

You don't realize what hell you've been accustomed to living in until you see the sun shining brightly and can breathe normal again.  I've found that when stressed, I'll unconsciously hold my breath in.  This has been going on for so long (we are approaching one year), that is was difficult to see the trees through the forrest.  I knew there was a big problem with Sam and it took everything I had to get these appointments made with all these doctors and wait our turn to be seen.  If anyone is thinking of changing careers, become a pediatric speciality in anything and you will have a line out your door a mile long waiting to get in.

For the past several weeks, Sam has been spending a large amount of time at various doctors and therapy trying to get to the bottom of it all.  It turns out that not pooping (she recently made it a full 18 day stretch without fully going) can really wreak havoc with your temperament.  We are not sure why Sam has this psychological need to hold in her poop (that's for the therapist to figure out and work on), but the pediatric GI doctor has us on a regimen to get her cleaned-out and going regularly.  In fact, we are intentionally inducing diarrhea (think oatmeal consistency) to happen every day for the next several months.  The goal is to get her so far removed from having to push out a bowel movement that she forgets about holding it in.  Of course Sam is back to wearing pull-ups and will be for quite some time, but this is for the best.  I am sure Target is missing the weekly sale of 20 pairs of girls underwear each week that I was purchasing, because of all the overflow soiling previously going on.

We are not out of the woods yet.  We are in the middle of a series of appointments with a pediatric developmental pediatrician who will look at both the medical and behavioral issues and give us the full picture.  I have to admit it is a big relief to be moving in the right direction.  It will be up to a year (according to the GI doctor) before the pooping can get to normal, but I am so excited to be seeing a little progress. Seriously, it is a night and day difference with her temperament and disposition.

I am enjoying being around Sam.  She is delightful.  We are having fun together.  The diarrhea daily (some times up to 3 times a day) I will gladly embrace and clean-up if it means I am around someone who is human.  And not around someone who is constantly cranky, irritable, quick to anger, and fly off the handle. I guess you would be too if you only went poop every 12 to 18 days.

A very close call

The other day the kids and I were leaving the mall and making our way to where the car was parked.  Sam spotted my car and ran up a few feet ahead of us.  Right next to our car, was a car backing out of its spot. 

Before I had time to think, I yelled at the top of my lungs, "STOP!!!!!  SAM!!!!!!!  WATCH OUT!!!!!" 

I actually don't remember even thinking about what to say.  It was all instinct and while yelling it, I ran towards Sam to grab her from being behind this car, which still had its back-up lights on and was still backing out.  Again, another reaction that came very natural and didn't require any fore thought. It totally freaked me out. 

It was insane how close we were to watching Sam get run over.  Fortunately my yelling stopped the driver. And Sam hearing me yell, got scared and turned around to run back to me.  It all went down within 2 seconds, but those 2 seconds felt like 2 minutes of action.  My heart was racing and as I grabbed Sam to do a combination of pulling her away from danger and giving her a hug, I swear I started shaking.

I looked at Ian and he said, "My heart just broke."

I think both Ian and I couldn't believe what was about to happen.  Ian summed up his feelings in 4 words.  It was beautiful, terrifying, and earth-shattering, all in the same moment with those 4 words.

My thoughts exactly Ian.

Sam's new thing

I recently bought a case of gum from Costco. 

This is the conversation that took place in the car:

Sam (seeing the gum in the car):  Can I have some gum?
Me:  You know how to chew gum?
Sam:  Sure.
Me:  When was the last time you had gum (I had never given her piece a before).
Sam:  It's been a long time.
Me:  You like gum?
Sam:  I LOVE gum.
Me:   Ok.  Here you go.  Just remember, you don't swallow it,  You only chew it.
Sam:  I KNOW!!

Now every time we are in the car, Sam asks for a piece of a gum.  I still can't get over the images of seeing her chew it.  It somehow ages her and matures Sam beyond her years.  She has gone from being my little 3 year-old girl who still needs me for some many things to a Big Girl who can now chew gum.  It is wild!

When Sam was 1.5 years old, I gave up drinking soda because Sam was developing a taste for diet coke and would always reach for my glass when we were at restaurants.  Ian never once wanted to drink soda or chew gum.   Just goes to show you how different these kids are.   At 6 1/2 years, Ian has never had any gum or soda and Sam now has about 2 packs of gum under her belt.  She is definitely one that you need to watch.  Very closely.

Getting help

I am having a hard time lately being happy.  Sam is continuing to be a handful and I am in the process on getting her help.  I've been working with an occupational therapist to determine if her need for control, her sensory issues or if her behavior is just typical 3 year old stuff or something more serious.  I know that if we don't do something now, it will only get worse as she gets older.

I am determined to get her help and along the way, have discovered I need help too.  It's hard for me to be around Sam.  It's certainly hard to be around her when she is having a temper tantrum or meltdown, but I am having a hard time being around her when she is in a good mood too.  I can't enjoy the moment for what it is and find myself being driven crazy.   I am constantly walking around on egg shells, hoping nothing sets her off and I think the stress of this is finally getting to me.  I am exhausted, stressed and close to tears at any point in the day, every day.  Overall, I just feel worn out.  I have fantasies of running away and figuring out where I could go that no one will find me. 

Additionally, I feel like the worse mother ever because I know I am failing Sam as a mom.  She is only 3 years old.  She deserves a mom with more patience and understanding.  She deserves someone who will take the time and really try to hold her, comfort her and soothe her when she is upset.  She does not deserve a mom who can't wait to escape to another room in the house or get her strapped in to her car seat to get beyond the situation.   The hard part is, I am so grateful that Sam is in my life.  That she is a healthy, active child.  I know so many other families that are dealing with some real major medical and behavioral problems.  The kind of stuff that they would only be too glad to take on what I am dealing with instead.  And of course, this makes me feel worse because I don't know how good I've got it.

And its not only Sam I am failing, but Ian too.  Who has the energy or attention to give to the good child when the troubled one is sucking all the life out of you?

Lately I've been thinking that staying at home with the kids was the worse decision I've ever made.  What if Sam would've been fine in daycare and not have all these issues?  Maybe being around someone else (not me) for 9 hours a day would have been the perfect solution for her and we wouldn't be in the situation we are in now.

So today I came to the conclusion; I need help.  Either therapy or medication or possibly, both.  But I am going to work on getting the help I need, so that I can be a better mom for Sam.  And for Ian.  And a happier me.