Why I Love My Mother

Today, I am posting about why I love my mother, in the first of several that will be posted this week. With Mother's Day just a few days away, I thought I would give tribute to the most awesome woman in my life. 


Meet My Mom: Patrica Johnson (nee Nelson)

That's us, on my third birthday. The year was 1969. Our lives were idyllic for 10 more years. 
My mother is the most incredible person I've ever known. She's strong, intelligent, resilient, and loving. She has seen incredible tragedy, more than once, and come through the fire tested, but not burned. 
When I was 12 my father who was my mothers heart and soul, was killed in an accident on the job. Three days after my birthday. Heartbroken, crushed, and widowed at 26 my mother took the challenge of raising me alone to heart. She went back to school, and in three short years - graduated with high marks from the Nursing school she attended as an RN. She worked nights, weekends, and overtime to provide a home and life for me. She cared for her aging parents and a whiny teenage girl without batting an eye or one word of complaint. She was my rock, my touchstone, and my heart. We survived the storm of losing my father, then my grandmother, and finally my grandfather. We put countless pets "out of their misery" together. And we ate a lot of ice-cream, punctuated with incredible shopping trips, and girl talk until the wee hours. 
We were more than mother and daughter - we were friends and companions too. She taught me how to handle upsets and tragedy, how to cope with losing someone, and how to live life to its fullest. She never let a setback stand in her way. 
She was a fierce protector, a loving mentor, and a lively companion. I love my mother! She's awesome and wonderful. She has been my constant source of comfort and  inspiration all my life and for that I want to thank her. 
Thank you mom, for not being defeated when life through you curve balls. Thank you for showing me that running from your problems is not an option, and that you must look a challenge dead in the eye to master it. Thank you for loving me unconditionally, especially when I did stupid things and made bad choices. Thank you for telling me no, and making me stand on my own two feet - God knows I never would have done it on my own. Thank you for keeping my grandparents close so that I could learn from them and experience the love they had for me. Thank you for standing up for me when I was right, and for making me accept the consequences when I wasn't. You still are my rock, my touchstone, and my heart. Even though we don't talk often enough, I love you! I miss you more than words can express!
Thank you mom, for being my  mother!

Le Sigh... or Frustrations of Living with SED

So, the phone rang this morning... it was Little Man. As some of you know, Little Man is away right now, in the hospital receiving long term treatment for his PTSD, OCD, and other problems. He's been in the hospital since January so, as parents we figure 5 months now, shoot he should be doing really well. Then our world crashes down... With Little Man that happens a lot. I know that I posted our evaluation on Story of a Life the other day, and it sounded promising. However, after this phone call - we're worried again. Frustrated and worried. You see, Little Man has had a really, really rough life. He spent eight years in the prison hell that was his mother's egg donor's house - right along with her crack-addicted boyfriends, lovers, and thieves. In his short 14 years, he's been hospitalized 11 times that we know of. He is paranoid, talks to the voices in his head, and sees things that aren't there. He also believes that everyone in our house and elsewhere is out to get him. 
Today's phone call was nothing short of a 30 minute argument with him about what was right and good to do, and what he should avoid. All part of the therapy... but - we're not seeing much more improvement over what it was like before he went. 
Everything with him is a frustration - to the point we want to pull out our hair, and scream at the top of our lungs to the Gods - WHY HIM? 
Why did our child have to go through the horrible experiences, why does Our Guy have to live with the guilt of coming through the abuse and horror relatively unscathed while Little Man suffers? 
Little Man has no self-worth, he feels that everything is his fault, and that he is the reason behind everything that happened to him - if he'd just been born better he wouldn't have gone through what he did... 
My frustration stems from the fact that as a mom, I feel like I should be doing more, to help him. I don't know what the hell I'm doing... but I should be doing more of it... Right?! Yeah, that's going to work... NOT. 
No matter what you say to LM he still argues that No, he's not a good kid, No, he's not really smart - he just heard that amazing fact somewhere - he doesn't really know it. 
As a parent, we pride ourselves in knowing just how to fix things when they go wrong with our kids - and if we can't fix it - we are generally able to find someone who can. In LMs case - this is the biggest misconception we ever had. He's unique and challenging - and has issues that even stump his therapist and doctors daily. 
We were terribly saddened by his call today, but not to the point of giving up the hope we have for his restoration. We'll never, ever give up on that  - but we're beginning to see the depth of his issues now, and that's scary. The doctors aren't hopeful that he'll ever be "normal" whatever the hell that is. They are, however, hopeful that in time Little Man will be able to function enough to live on his own (in a halfway house or transitional situation), hold a job (with a job coach in attendance), and go to college (again with a coach). These are all bright hopes for someone who just two  years ago could not tie their own shoes, or get through a day at school without a major meltdown. So improvement, while slow and painful, is coming. 
I think the biggest issue we have as his parents is that we want  him home, we miss him terribly, and we can't have that right now - because as his therapist says "He's resistant to therapy and help". In his mind, he deserves to feel the way he does. 
We know that this is only temporary, and that in a couple of months LM will be home - but right now, that does not help our feelings and the depth of the hole in our lives without him here. We can only continue to hope and pray that LM will stop resisting and start participating. Therapy right now is his only stop gap too - everything else - school, group, interactions - all improving. His mental state - not so much. Le Sigh....
It's just one of those things that make me feel inadequate as a parent, and that's not a feeling I like. I've had six successes - the other six children are great, four of them grown, two with kids of their own... They've had their problems, but we know beyond a doubt that they'll manage on their own. We're proud of our accomplishments with the rest of the brood - but that is always overshadowed by our seeming failures with Little Man. Thankfully, even the doctors are saying "It is not your fault - you cannot fix this at home". Doesn't make us feel much better, but it's a salve to a mother's broken heart. 
So, if you pray - say a prayer for Little Man today. If you don't pray, send some positive energy, thoughts, or love his way - he could use all he can get! 
As always - thanks for stopping by!!! 

Five Things

Happy Sunday! Today is our final day of rest before the work week begins. 
Today I am going to post five things. I'm thinking of making this a weekly thing, so let me know what you think... 


Sunday's Five Things - Five things I do that make my teenager hate me. 


1. I make my kids do chores. Yep, I said it - my kids do chores. And mean mommy that I am, they do not get monetary compensation for said chores. But, Magimom, what about rewarding good deeds? I do reward them, my kids have their own computers, Xbox game systems, televisions, and games. They have freedom to go with their friends, stay home, or explore our neighborhood. This is their reward. It is also something they don't get to do if their chores aren't done. 
2. I am teaching my kids to cook. Even with insolence and irritation at my side, one or both of my teenagers is in the kitchen with me, every night. Sometimes it's Our Girl, with the camera helping me photograph for Hopelessly In Love with Food, other times it's Our Guy learning the art of frying chicken or pork chops. Or even Little Man, when he's home - handing me spoons, getting ingredients, or doing whatever task his emotional state allows. My oldest son knows how to cook, and does so very, very well. This is something I want to instill in all my kids, a desire and love for cooking, along with a basic knowledge that allows them the freedom to experiment and learn new things. 
3. I hold my kids accountable for their actions. If they get in trouble elsewhere, at a friends house or school, for example, my kids know that when they get home, they're really in trouble. I don't go by the "one punishment is good enough" philosophy of modern parenting, because for one - schools don't have the authority they once did. Suspend my child for a day, and my child will spend that day doing "extra chores" around the house, cleaning out the litter box, scrubbing the toilets and shower, and basically doing all the "grunt work". I don't allow my kids to spend a day of suspension seated at their computer, talking on the phone, or playing games. They're being punished for an infraction at school, it should not be all fun and games at home! This makes for children who act out at school simply to get suspended and go home to play. 
4. You must be throwing up, bleeding, or running a fever to stay home from school. Headache? Here's some Advil, get ready for school. My tummy hurts! Really? I'm sorry, here's some Pepto, get ready for school. I don't feel good. No fever, no blood, no vomit, no way - get ready for school. My children have tried over the years to "fake me out" with varied illnesses from blindness (my personal favorite) to a sore throat. One thing I've learned in 26 years as a mom - children lie. I cannot tell you the number of times I have called the school to say one of my seven children would not be in attendance - to be told oh... well they have a test today that counts for 1/2 of their grade... Therefore at my house, you better be really, really sick before you even ask to stay home. 
5. I watch what my kids wear. This is a constant argument for Our Girl and I. She wants to wear cute little tank tops with no bra, or with bra straps hanging out all over, short little dresses that require shorts, tiny shorts that should really be a swimsuit, string bikinis... that sort of thing. Yeah... not happening. Our Guy? His favorite is a pair of cammo pants that he wears every day after school These pants have been known to sneak out of his room while he's at school and wash themselves they get so funky. And he's always trying to sneak out to school in them. We have had so many arguments over the years about clothing - too short, too long (you are ripping the hem our of that $40 pair of jeans!!! Relax, mom, it's the style), too tight, too loose, dirty, or generally not fit for wear. They fight, argue, and scream - but I control what clothing they wear when they leave my house. And yes I do search backpacks and purses, I also look under what Our Girl is wearing when we have a particularly nasty clothing battle. 


The point of these things is not to make my children hate me, but to instill in them the following key attributes for healthy adults: 

• Work ethic
• Honesty
• Modesty
• Self preservation skills

My kids will be able to go out into the world and accomplish much with the skills I have taught them. I will worry less, knowing that they can fend for themselves. They will go to work even when they feel "bad" because I've taught them that it's important. They know how to dress appropriately, and they know that first impressions count for a lot. 

If they hate me now? It means I'm doing my job right. It means they're learning, and it means I'm a mom. I can live with that - because at the end of the day - these smiles are all you need to show you've done well: 

Happy Sunday! 

Love and such

Our girl has a boyfriend. Not surprising, she is 16 after all. Oh boy is she 16.

Sometimes 16 looks like this: 

Other times... 16 looks like this: 

Either way, 16 is a tumult of emotions, experiences, and divine enlightenment. 

Girls handle it so much differently than boys. When my oldest son, who is 22 now, was 16 he handled it with grace and dignity. No crying over spilled milk - if a girl didn't like him, well then it was just a matter of time until he found one who did like him and  he was willing to wait. Now, at 22, he's well adjusted, had his heart broken a couple of times, and is willing to wait until SHE comes along. It's all good... 

But our girl? Oh no! Not her... She can't wait to settle down with the boy:

Now, in said boys defense, he's a good guy. He's small town boy next door good guy. He's willing to go the extra mile for her, and is convinced she's the only girl he'll ever love. Sad, no?

Now, I'm all for "Young Love". I think it's wonderful and sweet - and that it has a very special place in the growing up years for a girl. However, I am also a proponent of "Living Life to its Fullest" and a serious relationship at this stage in life is not allowing her to do that. I'm worried that she'll settle for "good enough" when better - much better is possible. 

There are plenty of indicators that this young man is not the one we'd prefer she settle down with for the long haul... He's got some anger issues - which causes him to snap at her from time to time, but of course, that matches fairly well with her bi-polar mood swings... lord help us all if they ever snap at the same time - I'm pretty sure it would make Hiroshima look like child's play... 

He's also not so bright... She is incredibly intelligent - I mean, four year college academic scholarship bright, seriously... She's beautiful... More proof: 

He's good looking, but certainly not the kind of damn fine sexy that needs to be on her arm.

She has dreams, goals, and aspirations... he wants to get married and have kids and work in a plant for the rest of his life. 

She wants big city, bright lights, and a stellar career...

He wants to get married, have kids, and work in a plant for the rest of his life. 

We thought, well - moving will help... She'll be far enough away that visits will have to be thoroughly planned, and he won't be able to just drop by whenever he wants; that makes it easier for us to encourage her to meet new people and go places with them. But no the boy wants to follow us to Chattanooga. He's talking about getting a job and an apartment there... Of course we advised our daughter that under no circumstances would she EVER leave the house alone with him again if that were the case - there is no way I'll let my 16 year old daughter go to a guys apartment for a date - I mean that's just asking for her to give me grandchildren NOW. 

I'm scared this boy is going to screw up her future. I don't want her to settle, like I did, for second, third, or even fourth best. I want her to have it all - but I want her to wait and not just settle on the first boy she's managed to keep for a year... Not hinge her entire life and existence in this great big world, with one boy from a small town, that's only going to hold her back in the long run. 

As a mom, I see the big picture - I've been down the road shes on, and it sure does look good from where she stands. She's got it all figured out! She's in love with the "man of her dreams" She knows what career path she wants to follow (although I think she's settling for something not so great, because he'ls threatened by her true passion). She knows when she wants to have kids, and how many she wants, and all the things all 16 year old girls just know they want when they are grown. 

I worry that he's going to intentionally get her pregnant, because he thinks that then we'll go ahead and let them get married and start playing house with a baby... not gonna happen.

All in all we just really want her to be happy, and we know in our hearts that this relationship... this boy... is not going to be the one that makes her happy all her life. We can only hope, that time proves our friend and she outgrows him soon!!!

One of THOSE days!

Today started out like any other, really it did.... but before long I realized that I was not going to accomplish anything I planned today. 
First, my son needed my 2008 AGI for his financial aid application for college - go figure - I haven't filed that return yet... why? Well, simply because they owe me money, and I haven't had the time or inclination to do so... This is not usually a problem as I can lay my hands on pretty much every Form W-2 I've ever gotten... but wouldn't you know when he needed it it wasn't there... So... I quickly logged on to my former employer's payroll site to print it out... Oops, I've been gone too long to access it. Now I need to call them - no phone number in sight! So, after my son got off the phone with his enrollment counselor, I finally found my termination paperwork that had the phone number. I called got the W-2 and thought - Whew - stress done! I can deal with that and go back to working on my bracelet project for the weekend trip. 
Queue the phone... school, Oh lord - this can't be good! It is our daughter - she's decided she wants to come home because her teacher is acting like... get this - A TEACHER! 10 minutes worth of arguing later - she is staying at school, and I've got to get this bracelet done... after I get the laundry on the line. 
So, I head to the washing machine to take the load of sheets I washed last night out to the clothesline... only to find them SOAKING in the tub... WTF?
So I fiddled with dials and knobs and tried to get it to drain, nothing... no spin, no drain... DAMN! Now, for some people this might not be a problem, but for me this is tantamount to a major catastrophe... there are five people living here - two of them teenagers! Our daughter changes clothes no less than three times on any given day, and our son, well - let's just say his clothes walk to the washer and help themselves to  a bath about once a month... 
Not to mention the sheer volume of unwashed blankets and stuff from winter that I refuse to wash because I can't hang them out on the line... that is saved for spring cleaning. Everyone in our house has at the very least three blankets at the beginning of winter. As long as they stay off the floor, they last through the season until wash time comes again. I refuse to pay exorbitant electric bills to dry a comforter for two hours when it takes about 30 minutes on a nice day in April. So I've got a LOT in my laundry room right now... this is NOT amusing. 
Hubsy was gone to the tax office to file our homestead exemption that our town had not funded for the two years prior, and it had to be done today, or we'd rack up another $2,000 tax! He also had to dispute the assessed value, since they've got it listed at TWICE what we paid for it... so he's not here and I have no clue how to get all the water out of there!!! 
I removed all the sheets and stuff - geez that's some heavy lifting... and had them in a basket draining into the machine when he got home. 
Good news! We don't have to pay the entire tax bill this year, we just need to pay half of it and the house won't be auctioned off! BUT the washer is still broken. 
So off we go to see about a new (read - new to me or used) washing machine that's within our budget to purchase. Of course the first place we stop has none, because apparently this 'cash for clunkers' thing the government is doing for appliances requires that the old appliance be destroyed?!?!? WTF? So we head out to the other shop down the road... We walked in the door, told Joe what we needed, and he said "What would you like to pay?" WOW! So for $150 we got a washing machine that not only matches our dryer, but is actually the top of the line for that particular model year! It's a whirlpool and has more bells and whistles than my DVD player! 
So Joe says it'll be here by 5, so off we go to Walmart to pick up dinner, and a few things I needed to make dessert for our weekend away...


We get home, and pull the old washer out - only to discover the floor under it is soaking wet, mold is growing up my wall, and one of the pipes is leaking everywhere!!! 
Queue pissy teenaged girl! PJ wants to know if she can go out with her boyfriend a second time this week, since she won't get to see him all weekend... Now, she not only went out last night (our rule is one night out, home by 9 and one night he can come over till 9) she was out till 10 (with permission), and was 5 minutes late at that!  I told her no, and was then blamed for intentionally not remembering forgetting it was Wednesday instead of Thursday. Much door slamming ensued, and she complained for about an hour... UGGH - this is not my day.
So... off to Lowes we go - to get new plumbing for the whole damned mess! $32.00 later we get home, and move the washer out, only to discover that it's been leaking out the bottom - for I don't know how long! Lord, the darned thing was worthless anyway so I guess it was only a matter of time!
So... now the new plumbing is in, the new washer is working great, my son was accepted to college, and my daughter has stopped hating me... for now anyway - I think I'm ready for a nice hot bath and my bed! 

Living with SED

This is part II of my ongoing series - Living with SED. To see what came before - see Part I.


We seemed to sail through the first two years the boys lived with us - things weren't bad, but they really weren't all that good either. I grew resentful, and tired. 
Let me explain a little about that first, so you don't go thinking I'm just one of those moms... 
In 2005 my other half injured his back, at the time we lived in North Carolina. I was offered a job in Georgia in July, and we moved here at that time. Once we relocated, I worked about 60 hours a week during tax season from December until April. After a year or two I moved up, took a salary position, and worked 60-80 hours a week, all year long. Through all of this, Shawn was in so much pain and on so many pain killers that it was hard for him to do  much. He was able to prepare light meals, do some laundry, and help with homework and stuff, but that was about it - the bulk of everything was on my shoulders. 
The year after the boys came to live with us, Shawn was admitted to Miami Jewish Hospital's Rosomoff Pain Clinic. This was after two surgeries - the first a simple discectomy, the second a more radical full fusion from S1 to L4. Neither of them worked and we were looking at a 95% disability rating. Until his insurance company decided to try Rosomoff... and sent him down there for a month. During that month I did it all - laundry, dishes, cooking, cleaning, getting kids up and ready, weekend stuff, everything fell to me. Of course I had a sitter, and worked fewer hours at work, and more at home. But it wasn't easy, and again my best friend, bless her heart, saved my butt more than once. 
They flew me to Miami to attend his "graduation" from the therapy program, and we flew home together at the end of his stay. It was summer break and we were doing OK... but I was exhausted. 


Things moved along and the summer turned to fall, the kids returned to school. Fall turned to winter and Christmas. It was during this time that I was gripped with an unshakable bout of pneumonia. I was deathly sick and in bed until almost April. I worked about six hours a day during the entire illness. At one point, the doctor threatened to hospitalize me to keep me from working. During all this time, I was also trying very hard to maintain the house, while my dear other half, who had been bedridden up to this time, continued to stay by my side. Let me repeat - I was in bed, and he was by my side. Continuously. He didn't do laundry, cook, or clean except minimally. I was still trying to put in a full 40 at work and do the minimum to keep the family going on my own. Now, to give him credit so you don't all think I'm insane... He tried, he really, really tried. But when he got home from the hospital, I pretty much stopped doing most things. I left him with the chore of laundry, and didn't give him firm ideas of how it was done - so when a size L ladies sweater turned into a 2T sweater because he dried it instead of blocking it - I would lose it. Not that it was his fault, but that it happened to begin with. I loved that sweater! But the little things added up to big things, and because I was so sick, and on so many medications, my mental facilities were not what the normally are - and I became resentful. 
When I got back on my feet - minimally, I returned to the workplace, leaving him with EVERYTHING to do at  home, because by the time I got home, I was exhausted from trying to work sick. It was unfair to him, and the children, but I wasn't thinking clearly - months of mass doses of steroids will do that to a person. 
So, in February I decided to strike out on my own. For 5 miserable months we lived in separate houses. In March, Daniel had a mass meltdown at school. He threw himself away... literally, and they could not retrieve him from the garbage can. He just wouldn't let go and get out. By law, they were required to report this to the Crisis Intervention Team at his doctors office. Daniel was swept away in an ambulance and taken to the hospital for evaluation. The doctors did the evaluation, and decided he needed to be hospitalized for stabilization... I felt guilty... very, very guilty. So much so that I tried calling him every day - and every day he hung up on me saying I didn't want him. I cried myself to sleep at night as I realized that my decision to be "stress free" had caused this child so much heartache and pain. 
By May I had realized the errors of my ways, and that I was truly, madly, deeply in love with their dad... and I didn't WANT to live without them in my life. So I began the process of repairing our relationship. 
Daniels hospitalization didn't last long, and he was returned to his dad, a Zombie... by an orderly - without any medical advise from the staff of the facility... just - here's your son... have a nice life. It was then that we understood the lack of appropriate care for our child, and we began to take steps to help him. 


This is part II of an on going series about Living with SED - stay tuned for part III.

Teenagers!

If you had said to me 8 years ago - Hey, would you like three more  young children to raise up into adults?  My polite but rapid response would be not just no, but hell no!!! However, in most cases you don't pick who you fall in love with, and you certainly cannot choose to love a man with kids, if you don't love the kids too. 

Fast forward 8 years to 2010  and see my life now... I have 3 children ages 26, 22, and 19... and I have three wonderful step-children ages 16, 15, and 14. 

Notice the difference, my kids all had a couple of years between them. When the oldest was 16, the youngest was 11, and the middle child was 13. That was easier. The problem here is they are all going through the exact same stage at the same time... and it's making me insane!

Our dear daughter is working toward becoming and independent woman. She's doing a great job of it, all while making me crazy.  She is dating a young man who is 18 almost 19 and he's  a great guy - but he's got ideas about things... something we try very hard to keep our kids from having. (not really, please don't flame me) He has a job, a car, and a life outside of his home. He wants our daughter to have a job, a car, and a life outside of her home. We are not prepared for that... We are not ready for her to go to work and have her grades suffer for it. We're not ready to take the chance on wrecking a car, and we're certainly not ready for her to have a life away from us. 

But as adults we  know that she needs these experiences to become an adult. As parent's we worry that she'll follow the wrong lead, or go with the wrong person, and something awful will happen - even though we've taught her better. Because, inherently we don't trust ourselves. We doubt that we've done our jobs right, because as a teenager, well, she still makes mistakes. She still chooses the wrong thing sometimes. However, if we keep her sheltered, and don't allow her to make those mistakes, then well - we're doing her a disservice, how will she learn if we don't allow the lesson. 

On the other hand, our son Seth, would like nothing better than to sit behind the computer screen on roleplay forums, or in chat all day every day. He makes straight A's in school, but is minimally available at home. If you ask for something to be done (his laundry, dishes, bathroom cleaning) he either does it half-assed, or not at all. Or it turns into an argument that lasts for hours. While one of the most loving and peaceful children I've ever met, he is also one of the most insolent and lazy. He gets an attitude if you ask him to take his dog outside... ahhhh memories, I have a 22 year old sleeping on my couch while he finishes college that was the same way at 15... without the insolence. 

He is a responsible young man, when he wants to be. He is mature beyond his years but he also has his daddy's temper. Which means when he gets mad... he gets mad. 

Our youngest son, is the one that bothers me the most. Not because he's special needs, but because there is nothing I can do as a mother to help him. All we can do is love him from afar... his hospitalization breaks our hearts, but we know that it was the only way. We deep down know that he is great hands, getting better care than he ever has... but it's hard on us knowing that we his parents could not do what needed to be done. It's depressing. But then we look at the point that we did do what needed to be done - we reached out to his doctors, and took their suggestions at hand, and they recommended hospitalization.

Teenagers are exasperating, aggravating, and unnerving. They make parents cringe and cry... but they are the final stage to adulthood, and a direct reflection of us, as parents. We are proud of all of our kids, and sometimes we don't tell them enough... 

So today, I challenge you, no matter what the task, big or small - tell your kids you're proud of them today!

Living with SED

SED? What the heck is SED? You may ask... Well - SED stands for a lot of different things, but in my life it has one meaning, and one meaning only - Severely Emotionally Disabled. As I have detailed in my  The Story of a Life blog, our son Daniel is "Severely Emotionally Disabled". For most parents that means little, and certainly for me, until I met Daniel, it held little meaning. I conjure images of crying jags, and children unable to cope with simple emotions. Unfortunately, SED is a very real, and very devastating disorder. It clouds the very processes a child uses to function. Simple actions such as tying shoes, getting dressed, or washing a glass are all reasons for a "meltdown" (a term used in the mental health field to describe what parents of neurotypical children might call temper tantrums). While a 'neurotypical' child may simply cry and thrash about a bit - a meltdown for an SED child is a totally disabling thing. 


Children with SED typically show symptoms such as an inability to learn - not a learning disability but a learning inability that cannot be justified by sensory, health or other factors. 
These children also have little to no ability to bond with others... peers, teachers, siblings, or parents. This becomes evident as young as three to five years old. And can be heartbreaking for a parent who up to a certain point believes their child is "normal". 
There is plenty of atypical, inappropriate behavior, sometimes taking the shape of highly sexualized conversation, or loud outburst of nonsense at inappropriate times. 
Then there are the scary symptoms: depression, unrealistic fears, and paranoia to name just a few. 
The Factoids website has this to say: The term ‘emotionally disabled’ does not apply to all children who have social problems, but does so if they meet one or several of the above criteria. The population of students in the United States that have an emotionally-disabled label is around one percent and even though the percentage is low, most mainstream teachers will have some encounter with a child that fits into this category even if they are not identified officially. These children will have severe academic or social frustration and will often become discipline problems for not only the classroom but the school community as a whole. 
One thing I do know as a parent... you cannot prepare for life with an SED child. Each child brings a different set of emotional and social skills to the table, and no matter how much you think you know these children never behave as prescribed, and you can never tell just how they will react. Simple situations become land mines on the side of the road. Sometimes you get lucky and avoid the mine, and just as you are breathing a sigh of relief... BAM the explosion occurs. That explosion can be anything from a sobbing fit, to a full on kicking, screaming, biting, throw-yourself-in-the-floor fit. Leaving the parent to swim in the wake of raw emotions, disbelief, and in many cases shame. 
You've all seen the mom in the store with the 8-year old that acts as if he's three, screaming at every turn, and acting out... and you've all (as I have) rolled your eyes and said under your breath "Not my child" or "What is that mother thinking", or even "someone should just tear his butt up"... What you may not know, is that mother has spent the last two  years of her life begging doctors to help her child, going from therapy to group session, to doctor, to therapist, to psychologist.... and nothing works - nothing helps, and nobody cares. 
This is the life of the parent of an SED child. In some cases, the parent just gives up, and the child looses their shot. In other cases, help comes too late, and they lose their child in the myriad of foster  homes, institutions, or juvenile facilities. In still other cases, a miracle happens, and someone who cares shows the parent the way. 
No matter the situation, no matter the child, or parenting style, SED is a tragic and inexplicable beast. One that no parent wishes to confront, but one that many parents face daily. 
In our situation, Daniel was subjected to eight years of what amounted to ritual abuse. He was molested, beaten, starved, and deprived. He was hospitalized for "stabilization" no less than five times in one year. His educational needs were met at a small special needs facility, that preferred to put him in isolation than help him discover coping skills. His biological mother preferred the company of boyfriends and fellow drug addicts to that of her children. Daniel and his older brother spent countless hours each day locked in a small 8X10 bedroom in a filthy trailer. Little was offered in the way of comfort, and often food had to be stolen from the kitchen when she was not looking in order for them to get a meal. 
It is still a mystery how children in identical circumstances can turn out so differently. Seth is the model child... he makes straight A's, he makes friends readily, and is the most loving child you may ever meet. His biggest flaw? Anger issues - go figure! 
Daniel is his polar opposite, he is failing most classes, has an inability to cope with simple stressors, has few social skills, and fewer friends. He is an adorably endearing child, no one that has met him has failed to fall hopelessly in love with his sweet freckled face. He has a fantastic imagination, is incredibly intelligent, and unfortunately is locked away in his own mind most of the time. 
When we first obtained custody of the boys, we had no idea what was wrong with Daniel. His mother described him as having "hyper-motive" seizures... Go ahead on over to Web MD and look that up... I'll wait




Yeah, I couldn't find it either - not even in a Google search... you can't find them, because there is no such thing. 
Daniel was SED - but we were yet to find this out. 
We had experience with emotional issues, our daughter PJ is bi-polar, and has been medicated since she was seven. We knew the ins and outs of that and knew how to deal with her mood swings. We were not prepared for what came to us with Daniel. 
Our first indication that something was really, really wrong with our son, occurred during his first week at our house. It was summer, and all the kids were outside... one second all was well, and the next PJ is screaming and holding Danny. We rushed out to see what had happened only to find that he had attempted to throw himself in front of a moving vehicle, and if his sister had not been as quick as she had, our story would end here. 
This incident was followed by a visit from the local police, Daniel had thrown driveway rock at a passing van, in which a child slept, in a car seat - next to an open window. When the situation became clear both to the police and the other parents, we were admonished to keep him in the back yard, and all was forgiven. 
There were two other suicide attempts in those first months, once at home and once at  a friends house (bless her heart) where he found a leash, tied it around his neck, and threw himself off her trampoline, 4 feet off the ground... Thankfully the leash had enough slack that he only sat down on the ground with no pressure on his neck. 
We knew something serious was going on and even though he had a scheduled appointment a month in the future - we rushed him to PJ's psychologist for an emergency appointment. He was considered at high-risk and placed on the first of many psychotropic cocktails. 
We home-schooled the kids their first year with us. PJ had been having trouble at school anyway, and we had pulled her out homeschooling with success. I decided that it couldn't be too difficult to add two more students to my tiny classroom that functioned from 6-9 pm each weekday, with field trips and other lessons on the weekend to fulfill our requirements for hours-of-instruction. 
It soon became evident that most subjects were lost on Daniel. He excelled in history and science, but math, English, and reading were beyond him. And we won't even bother to discuss writing. He insisted he could not read, yet managed a few sentences each lesson, however he was not learning at the same pace as his siblings. 
When school time came around again, we decided to see what our school system offered in the way of special education to give him every advantage. It was also a means of self-preservation for us... for any who have tried this know... home-schooling three children is difficult, home-schooling three children, while working full time and trying to maintain a home with a disabled spouse is virtually impossible. We never got a break. In the first two years we had the boys we went out to dinner once. We saw one movie at the theater, and we never, ever left them with anyone other than my oldest son or my best friend... 
It was harrowing, heartbreaking, and totally exhausting. 
Our school system has a special education program that rivals a lot of others. While it's not perfect, no school is -  it offers a special program in mainstream schools for kids like PJ and Seth, as well as a closed educational center for children like Danny. So we started the school year with each child in a different school. Danny at the ed center, Seth at a public elementary school in a closed program, and PJ in public middle school. 
By the middle of the first term it was evident that Seth was not yet ready for mainstream anything. He was moved to the center with Danny at the first opportunity - after he attempted to stab his teacher with a pencil for making him do classwork. 
By the middle of the school year, PJ proved incapable of handling regular school and was moved to another middle school and a closed program, where she met Mrs. Beck - the single most incredible teacher I've ever met. She's tough as nails, takes NO crap, and loves each of her students as her own child. She is a special lady, doing increidible work, and she changed our daughters life. School was suddenly something PJ could not wait for, she agonized long weekends waiting to go back. During this time Seth displayed a remarkable ability to control himself, and by the end of that year was ready to return to mainstream school in a closed setting. Danny remained at the center... and things moved on for a couple of years. 


Note: This is the first installment in a series of posts about Living with SED. 

Dumbfounded... at least

As I've stated before, I love blogging, and I love bloggers. Today I was tooling about the internet searching for new mommy/daddy/parenting blogs to check out when I stumbled across this gem of a blog. The Bean Blog is written by the mom of five kids, who not only works full time, but attends school part time. But it wasn't so much the overall theme of the blog that grabbed me and sucked me in... it was the first post I read that got me... The post is titled "In an Instant" and it's profound to parents of all walks of life - to any parent, any where, at any time... it deals with death - specifically the death of a child. A beautiful 16 year old girl, taken too soon, causes unknown. 
The post got me to thinking... What would I do if I lost one of my kids... how would I react? Devastation does not even begin to describe the emotions that come to mind. Christine put those thoughts into words in a way I probably cannot do justice... 
But I totally have to say my piece... or at least try.
I lost my dad when I was 12... I know how I felt as a child losing a parent. I could not imagine if those circumstances were opposite. 
I know that we had a very close call with my son when he was just 18 months old... a common cold turned into double-pneumonia in the middle of the night, and I was horrified. It was the first time one of my children was hospitalized...I was 22 and had NO clue what I was going to do. I sat by his bed for the entire 48 hours he was there - alone. I had noone to comfort me, no body to take a turn at his bedside so I could eat, shower, sleep, or even pee. I did not complain, but I did pray. Constantly - I begged God not to take my only son... I bargained, I plead, and I cried. Still I don't know what I would have done had he not made it... 
All I know now, is that I appreciate my kids more because of that one experience. I also know that losing my dad at a young age - and my DH losing his mother at a  young age - profoundly affected the way we interact with our children. We are a huggy-feely type family. Our kids KNOW beyond the shadow of a doubt that we love them, we tell them all the time. We hug them, kiss them, and embarrass them, even in front of their friends...because we know the guilt that goes along with losing a parent... Did he know I loved him? Did I say good bye? What did I do wrong? Does this mean he didn't love me? 
I thought all those things and more when my father passed away - and I don't ever want my children to wonder if I know they love me... I know - beyond a shadow of a doubt, that deep down, all seven of them love me deeply and would be devastated beyond belief if I died tomorrow. However, this still does not give me anything to go on in response to how I would feel if one of them dies before me. 
Its not something that I want to think about as a parent... I want to stick my head in the sand and say "It can't happen to me" and pray that it never does... Even so - I will never be prepared... 
As Christine reminds us in her post - love your kids... keep them close, hug them daily, and never, ever, let them forget how much you love them.