The day turned itself around. All is calm and I did get to garden a little. Here are some shots from my beauty garden.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
My beauty garden
The day turned itself around. All is calm and I did get to garden a little. Here are some shots from my beauty garden.
A long day.
We had plans for the weekend. I asked each child what they wanted to do that didn't cost any money. They decided that the wanted to go to the library and the park.
Great. My husband had to work part of the week end but we would still have time to attend a graduation party and have a family cookout, play in the small swimming pool and for me to garden.
I should have figured that if I spent time organizing, the plans would be sabotaged.
My son woke up pissing mad. Literally pissing mad with a wet pullup and he refused to take it off. He crawled in a box he was playing with yesterday and I let him eat breakfast in there.
I couldn't leave the kitchen because he was calling my daughter names, dissing me and when I stepping in the next room for a minute, he hit my daughter in the face.
Time out.
While I consoled her and made sure she was OK, I sent him to his room and his alarm chimes to tell me his door is shut. After consoling my daughter and have her complain that it's going to be a terrible weekend, I sent her outside to play.
When I went to check on him, the room reeked like poop. He had a finger full of poo and he had drawn on the wall, the dresser, the window sill, and the floor. He was swearing, threatening and unable to calm. My husband shut his door and went on door watch while I started calling friends and family. I dropped off my daughter at a friend who knows what we live like and has been great at last minute rescues.
When I returned home my son was cleaning the poop from the walls and my husband was supervising. I kissed him goodbye for the day and continued to monitor the clean up. After an hour of picking up the room, washing and bleaching the walls, furniture and windows, he was calmer.
Now we are outside and he is cleaning and vacuuming my car. In between, every few minutes or so, I have him stop and work on feeling processing sheets. They help him tell me what's wrong when he can't tell me what's wrong or how he feels.
We are on page 8 and he is calm, in control but continues to have NO insight on why his behavior is wrong. "Because you made me clean"
Dah, the poop you already smeared.
This may be a long day.
Great. My husband had to work part of the week end but we would still have time to attend a graduation party and have a family cookout, play in the small swimming pool and for me to garden.
I should have figured that if I spent time organizing, the plans would be sabotaged.
My son woke up pissing mad. Literally pissing mad with a wet pullup and he refused to take it off. He crawled in a box he was playing with yesterday and I let him eat breakfast in there.
I couldn't leave the kitchen because he was calling my daughter names, dissing me and when I stepping in the next room for a minute, he hit my daughter in the face.
Time out.
While I consoled her and made sure she was OK, I sent him to his room and his alarm chimes to tell me his door is shut. After consoling my daughter and have her complain that it's going to be a terrible weekend, I sent her outside to play.
When I went to check on him, the room reeked like poop. He had a finger full of poo and he had drawn on the wall, the dresser, the window sill, and the floor. He was swearing, threatening and unable to calm. My husband shut his door and went on door watch while I started calling friends and family. I dropped off my daughter at a friend who knows what we live like and has been great at last minute rescues.
When I returned home my son was cleaning the poop from the walls and my husband was supervising. I kissed him goodbye for the day and continued to monitor the clean up. After an hour of picking up the room, washing and bleaching the walls, furniture and windows, he was calmer.
Now we are outside and he is cleaning and vacuuming my car. In between, every few minutes or so, I have him stop and work on feeling processing sheets. They help him tell me what's wrong when he can't tell me what's wrong or how he feels.
We are on page 8 and he is calm, in control but continues to have NO insight on why his behavior is wrong. "Because you made me clean"
Dah, the poop you already smeared.
This may be a long day.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sacred music
A pet peeve I have is the terrible music in the Catholic mass. This video helps understand what is sacred and what is not.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Reality
We're back on Concerta and life is better. Yesterday my son was sick. He woke up vomiting and stayed home with me. Alone, without his sister, he was so sweet and non-oppositional. What a roller coaster his emotions are, I truly feel for him.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Waiting
Can't get into the psychiatrist until Friday. I told my son I would like to keep him home but we need to be safe. If he continues to bother (terrorize) his sister I will have to have him hospitalized. The voices continue but he is safe at this time.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Terrible day
We had a terrible day. Our son was taken off Concerta this past week due to increased aggression and it really helped. But in it's place we have seen a more disorganized internally preoccupied self absorbed son. Today, he started the day verbally abusing our daughter and then on the way to church he pushed her on her face out of the blue. He was disruptive at Mass and I even asked him if he needed to go to the hospital. The day disintegrated into urine and fecal incontinence and a lot of fecal smearing. I even asked him to clean up the poop and when I came back he had drawn a smiley face in poop on the wall. I thanked him for the art and told him I was going to get the camera to shoot the "art" he gave me, he became aggressive, swearing and I started to get mad. I can't get mad with him because I have to be in control for his safety. RAD kids push buttons all day and at night when I'm tired I walk away or I'll want to spank him. My husband took over, we tag team when one of us needs a break. I came back 15 minutes later and they were talking. Our son finally admitted he was having constant and disturbing hallucinations. The voices and visions tell him to hurt everyone, hurt himself and smear poop because mom hates it. We are very confused. Is this a big story or is he really this psychotic? I will be calling the psychiatrist tomorrow.
Monday, May 03, 2010
The Catholic Church revised
I am not a fan of the New York Times. As a conservative I see bias in most MSM. But as stumbled upon this article by Nicholas Kristof, I have to agree with his logic about the Catholic Church.
He describes the church he met in Sudan.
It may be easy at a New York cocktail party to sniff derisively at a church whose apex is male chauvinist, homophobic and so out of touch that it bars the use of condoms even to curb AIDS. But what about Father Michael Barton, a Catholic priest from Indianapolis? I met Father Michael in the remote village of Nyamlell, 150 miles from any paved road here in southern Sudan. He runs four schools for children who would otherwise go without an education, and his graduates score at the top of statewide examinations.
Father Michael came to southern Sudan in 1978 and chatters fluently in Dinka and other local languages. To keep his schools alive, he persevered through civil war, imprisonment and beatings, and a smorgasbord of disease. “It’s very normal to have malaria,” he said. “Intestinal parasites — that’s just normal.”
Father Michael may be the worst-dressed priest I’ve ever seen — and the noblest.
Anybody scorn him? Anybody think he’s a self-righteous hypocrite?
On the contrary, he would make a great pope.
Sister Cathy would like to see more decentralization in the church, a greater role for women, and more emphasis on public service. She says she worries sometimes that if Jesus returned he would say, “Oh, they got it all wrong!”
She would make a great pope, too.
And unless we’re willing to endure beatings alongside Father Michael, unless we’re willing to stand up to warlords with Sister Cathy, we have no right to disparage them or their true church.
My daughter just had her First Holy Communion and I want her to love the church I love. The servant church that reaches out to the poor and oppressed. The church that faith and covenant remains the same. The church that traces it's line back to Christ. Good or Bad; the church remains a constant. The people may corrupt it by their sins, but it is the people, not the church. More and more, those people are the hierarchy or the church. After the priest scandal was revelled, I was angry with my church. I wanted them to do more than say sorry. I wanted them to sell everything and start over as a poor church, a beggars church and grow by faith alone. Of course this will never happen.
But I can hope.
He describes the church he met in Sudan.
It may be easy at a New York cocktail party to sniff derisively at a church whose apex is male chauvinist, homophobic and so out of touch that it bars the use of condoms even to curb AIDS. But what about Father Michael Barton, a Catholic priest from Indianapolis? I met Father Michael in the remote village of Nyamlell, 150 miles from any paved road here in southern Sudan. He runs four schools for children who would otherwise go without an education, and his graduates score at the top of statewide examinations.
Father Michael came to southern Sudan in 1978 and chatters fluently in Dinka and other local languages. To keep his schools alive, he persevered through civil war, imprisonment and beatings, and a smorgasbord of disease. “It’s very normal to have malaria,” he said. “Intestinal parasites — that’s just normal.”
Father Michael may be the worst-dressed priest I’ve ever seen — and the noblest.
Anybody scorn him? Anybody think he’s a self-righteous hypocrite?
On the contrary, he would make a great pope.
Sister Cathy would like to see more decentralization in the church, a greater role for women, and more emphasis on public service. She says she worries sometimes that if Jesus returned he would say, “Oh, they got it all wrong!”
She would make a great pope, too.
And unless we’re willing to endure beatings alongside Father Michael, unless we’re willing to stand up to warlords with Sister Cathy, we have no right to disparage them or their true church.
My daughter just had her First Holy Communion and I want her to love the church I love. The servant church that reaches out to the poor and oppressed. The church that faith and covenant remains the same. The church that traces it's line back to Christ. Good or Bad; the church remains a constant. The people may corrupt it by their sins, but it is the people, not the church. More and more, those people are the hierarchy or the church. After the priest scandal was revelled, I was angry with my church. I wanted them to do more than say sorry. I wanted them to sell everything and start over as a poor church, a beggars church and grow by faith alone. Of course this will never happen.
But I can hope.
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