The Cookbook Junkies

Dilemmas

October 26, 2010 by Jenny Hartin 7 Comments

We are so happy that Andrew is doing so well on the medication – he has changed into this sweet, wonderful, adorable child all the time instead of part-time. He is a calmer, gentler Andrew –a thousand points of light Andrew.

Sometimes I feel like it is wrong to change him. I know that makes little sense. Then, I fear that that the medication will stop working…it’s quite the dilemma.

Jim is so happy that Andrew seems happier and non-Mike Tyson like and I am too.

I never watched Ally McBeal – but I saw a clip or read something that if she didn’t have a crisis – she would invent one….I’m doing that. If I don’t have to make myself sick about Andrew, I’ll have to look for something else to do. I guess that is a good thing.

Ssshhhh – I think the new medication is working

October 21, 2010 by Jenny Hartin 6 Comments

….be very very quiet….

Andrew started on Strattera last week in the a.m. (and is still on the Risperdal in the evening) and has been doing amazing! (no yelling – forget I typed that exclamation point).

Miracles of all miracles occurred today. The child has been waiting, not so patiently, for Lego Universe to be released. We pre-ordered the game for him and it was delivered in the mail on Tuesday. Jim installed it Tuesday night and this morning I told him that he could play for thirty minutes before school. He was so happy.

Then Jenny’s law happened (similar to Murphy’s law.

The game kept locking up in the introduction. He got mildly upset. “It is the worst day of my life.” But he didn’t hit me.

I told him when I got back home from driving Aunt Flo to the doctor and grocery shopping I would call Lego. It ended up with Lego telling me to uninstall and then reinstall with the link they provided and also some other items to check. I don’t do things that involve the word “install”.

I picked Andrew up from school. The first words out of his mouth – “is the game fixed?”

“No, honey, I tried but there are some things that Daddy will need to take care of tonight.” (I then ducked behind a tree in a fetal position.)

“Oh, okay. I wish it could be fixed.”

No screaming. No blows to my cranial area. No blood transfusions needed (for me).

Dare I hope to dream?

Trust me, America, this is a miracle of Chilean miners proportions. I kid you not. Normally, this child would have thrown himself on the ground, beaten the beJesus out of me, screamed as if Michael Myers was behind him….and generally made my afternoon/evening like a day with Kathy Bates ala Misery.

He was and has been incredibly even tempered. His psychologist even mentioned that he was very interested in playing a game the correct way not the Andrew way today.

Let’s see how long it lasts.

Update: Last night, Jim clicked on the shortcut and it worked four times – after doing nothing. I swear to God (and worse yet – Jim gave me one of those “it’s the user” looks – you know the kind computer professionals give us commoners.

This morning – Andrew and I clicked on the shortcut – locked up. Jim came in – and I said “could I not be clicking it right?” He said he would try to fix it tonight. Later, Bryan came in – my older gamer son – figured out the problem and calm is now settled down deep in my soul. Andrew did great again with all the frustration this morning. I knew there was a reason I keep Bryan around – and it doesn’t involve him eating all the food in my house.

Andrew’s Mom – Hostage Negotiator

October 6, 2010 by Jenny Hartin 4 Comments

I’ve been out of commission. First it was the thirty days of the big “D” and the other horrible symptoms that came along with it – now the last twelve days of the treatment caused – more big “D”, dizziness, chest pain, joint and muscle pain, flu like symptoms, brain fog, frequent urination and sleepiness — the only thing I didn’t get was an erection that lasted for more than four hours.

On a good note, Andrew had three amazing weeks after we took him off the Concerta — the last two days he has taken to hitting me again – but only once or twice before I “talk him down”.

I came to a realization yesterday while at McDonald’s with Andrew and his friend, Madison (I am watching her while her mom works and her grandmother is out of town). In hostage situations, experts tell you to try to make the criminal see you as a human – i.e., don’t kill me because I’m a mother – my son will miss me and needs me, don’t kill me because my parents love me and need me – etc. — whatever your situation is let them see you as someone who is loved and not just a throwaway.

Yesterday, Andrew was getting annoyed and a little aggressive with this screaming little three year old girl. The mother was wonderful and we started talking and she started working with me – on getting the kids to play along nicely. I had all three kids over by me (the mother was standing close) and I said, “Andrew, look at Kayla – she is little – she is only three – she needs a big brother type to protect her. You don’t want to hurt her.” He looked at her and thought about it for a minute, “You are only three?” The mother joined in and actually the mother spent a lot of time talking to Andrew about himself – “do you like baseball? how old are you?” – and we got them all talking. We succeeded in getting Andrew to see her as a “little girl” not a screaming banshee set out on annoying him.

Normally, I would have taken flight – you know it is easier to take flight than to fight – but this ended up being a good experience. I was exhausted but it felt successful – maybe if we all took a moment to explain ourselves the world would be a better place. I have to give a lot of credit to the mom too – she wasn’t overly protective of her daughter – she wanted to make the situation better and engage Andrew – not just watch out for Kayla and make Andrew the “throwaway”.

Last Sunday was the Walk for Autism at Jones Beach (picture above – I’m behind the camera) – we had a very windy, cold day but had a wonderful time with our family there to support us. We are lucky to have great family and friends…even though at times it seems I am all alone – I know I am not.