FMF: Story: The Picky Little Prince

What's an FMF?
Five Minute Friday...but I never adhere to five minutes.  I'm a rebel.  It's free writing with no thinking.  Just writing.  TheGypsyMama gives you a word and you just write about it.  Whatever comes to mind...  Ready?


GO!


I sat and stared at the computer screen for ten minutes after getting this word yesterday.  There!  My five minutes are up!  Woot!  Naw, it doesn't work like that.  I love writing and I want to do it.  So I went about my day just thinking about the word "story".  What story could I tell?  Should I make something up?  What would be interesting for my loyal fans (all two of them) to read?  Should I talk about food some more since that is like all the subject matter I have lately?  Which reminds me, did you know that 25 Swedish Fish are only 150 calories??!!  Mmm....gummy goodness...

But I digress....a story.  Let's tell a story...

There once was a little prince.  He was the pickiest prince one would ever meet.  This prince would not eat.  He would tell you he loved bananas.  But really, he only loved them because they are yellow.  Give him a peeled banana on a platter...heck, smother it in ice cream, chocolate, nuts, whipped cream, and a cherry on top, and he would turn up his nose.

The prince was very little.  The king and queen and all the royal doctors were concerned about him.  He would not eat a bite.  Soon the decision was made that he needed help with eating.  "We must teach him to eat!" said one of the royal doctors!

"Teach him?" murmured the people of the court.  How do you teach someone to eat?  Aren't they born with that desire?

The queen took the prince to a far off land.  There they stayed for a month and a half.  Every day, the little prince was offered food.  He would refuse it like always, but if he tasted it he would get a reward.

A bandaid for a bite?  YES!

15 minutes of Spiderman for three bites?  YES!

A call to Gramma when you finish it all?  YES!!

Soon the little prince was eating everything...especially bananas on a platter smothered in ice cream, chocolate, nuts, and whipped cream with a cherry on top!

STOP!

Oh how I wish this story would come true over the next couple of months!  I know this is going to be a long, hard road.  I hope I have the strength.  I'll just come back to this story and remind myself that it will happen...

The Picky Little Prince

He's Amazing...

Tyson has been trach free for 2 months now.  He's had two colds in the meantime...and he's gotten through them so much easier than he ever has before.  Now that there isn't easy access for the germs to go directly to his lungs, his head colds stay head colds instead of inevitably becoming pneumonia.

While Tyson was trached for those 4.5+ years, we always said that when he got that darn thing out for good we were going to have a huge party.  And now it's time for that!  On January 28th, Tyson gets to have his very own celebration of life, perseverance, hope, faith, and health.  Our boy has made it through so much and although this is only the end of one part in his life, the journey is not over.

I was working on Tyson's DVD slideshow all day yesterday.  It will play continuously at his party displaying the very reason we are there to celebrate.  As I was going through the photos and video clips, I was brought back to those moments so vividly.  I spent much of yesterday with a huge smile on my face and big tears falling from my eyes.

I remember that day he first smiled and I caught it on camera...

I remember that day that he lay in that big huge hospital bed looking like a little doll in his little blue hospital gown (which I kept, by the way!).

I remember the day we met Dr. Grifka, and I remember the grilled cheese and tomato soup I ate at the hospital that Friday night.

I remember holding both my boys on my lap for the first time watching them smile and giggle at each other.  I remember that they got hiccups at exactly the same time.  The first time I ever got to feel like I really did have twins.

I remember whispering to my son that he didn't have to stay for me, that if he wanted to go with God it was ok.  I felt like I gave up, but I didn't want him to hurt anymore.

And I remember that moment that Tyson refused to give up himself.

I remember watching him fight his physical therapist and teachers during therapy, just to show them all up by doing what they wanted on his own a few hours after they left.  Sitting, crawling, walking....he was never supposed to do all that.  But he did, and even better, he did it on his own time to show his strength and will.

I remember when he first got his freedom from his tubes and he ran around the living room like a terrorist sprung free from prison.  And I remember that smile.

Oh that smile....

I remember each moment so vividly.  I swam through the sea of memories yesterday, then I looked at my miracle boy who never gave up with new eyes last night.  He's amazing....  I can't think of a better thing to celebrate and a better reason to party!

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

One of those kinds of naps...

Have you ever had one of those naps where you are so deeply into sleep that you are completely oblivious to the world and you wake up thinking "Where the hell am I?"....and you haven't been drinking or doing any other psychotropic self-medicating to get it....

Every Sunday, when the TV turns to football just after noon, that's my cue to take a nap.  It's like a switch goes off in my brain, and I can no longer function.  My body gets heavy, my eye lids decide that staying open is entirely too much work, and I sink into sleep....usually in my recliner just after I have thought that I can probably endure football for a little bit.  Then Luke will inevitably say, "Go take a nap, baby."  Music to my ears!

Yesterday, I curled up in my bed and pulled my heated blanket up over me.  It was barely hitting 20 degrees outside.  Our upstairs is notoriously frigid.  In fact, I can keep a glass of water next to my bed, and it remains cold enough to drink for days.  I set the blanket's temperature thingy-ma-bob at 4, right in the middle of it's settings.  Oh so toasty...perfect...

I was pulled into a deep, deep sleep.  My body and brain were so tired that I don't even think my mind had enough energy to dream.  I was hugged by the heat of my blankets as I floated around in my nothing-ness with my cheetah blankey snuggled against my cheek.  It was one of those things I wanted to go on forever....

The light turned on and I hear, "Um Mom-bee?"  Tyson, our only child home at the time, was waking me up with his own personal term of endearment for me.  I opened my eyes as my body still slept all heavy and weak.  I sleepily said, "Hi Ty-bee.  Is it time to get up?"  I turned to look at the clock and realized I had been sleeping for 2 hours.  Hardly a record for me.  In fact, that's pretty normal of a nap in my case.  But I was in that solid sleep that could have gone on for several hours.  I flopped my head back on the pillow as Tyson came to the side of my bed telling me to get up so he could watch Spiderman.  "Where's Daddy?" I said.  He says, "Sweepin' down dairs."  Ah, the curse of Sunday afternoon football has hit him as well!

I reluctantly got up feeling like my body was definitely telling me something.  I must have needed rest either from what happened prior to the nap or what was coming...  A few hours later, I figured out why.

Apparently, my body was preparing me for an emotionally fueled evening brought to us by the letter E.  I won't go into it, all I can say is it's a situation that I'm done bending over backwards for and ready to let the court figure it out.

Did I really awaken from pure heaven for this?  Some days I think that constantly....  Sigh....  Now to find the next day where I don't think that...

Five Minute Friday: Grow

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.

Today's Word:  Grow
GO
I have to admit two things before I go on to "Grow".  1)  I check out Five Minute Friday's word and then think about it for a little while before I write.  2) I almost always go over 5 minutes.  The thing is that I just write as long as I feel I should give to the prompt.  Or to get my thoughts out of my head.
This prompt threw a bunch of ideas my way.  Grow from a child to an adult.  Grow in my knowledge.  Grow as a family.  Grow up.  Grow in my career.  Grow tired of the present.  I let it swirl around in my head too long today.  Now I don't know which to write about.
Instead of going "deep" into these thoughts today, I'm going to talk about my son Tyson and his growth.
August 23, 2006, Tyson and his twin Cooper were born at 27 weeks gestation.  Although Cooper was a whopping 3lb and 14 inches, Tyson was 1lb 6.8oz and 11 inches.  The same length as my size 8 shoe.  His eyes were still fused shut, his skin was paper thin.  The smallest diapers, the ones for the micro preemies, were too big for him.
Two months passed and Cooper was strong enough to go home for the first time.  Tyson struggled though.  His lungs were too weak and needed help, but the ventilator used to keep him alive broke blood vessels in his one inch lungs.  We watched him struggle to live. I  remember telling him several times it was alright if he wanted to go with God.  I told him that he didn't have to stay just for me, that if he needed to, he could give up.  He didn't listen.
Tyson was in the hospital a total of 8 months before coming home for good.  During this time, we were told he was going to die on more than one occasion, he had respiratory arrest more times than I could count on one hand, we were told he would be on a ventilator his entire life, we were told he would never be strong enough to sit let alone walk or play.  In fact, the first time they brought up a tracheotomy, our family had decided with the help of the doctors that his quality of life would be so little that we didn't want to prolong anything.  We just wanted to take him home and hold him until he passed on to the next world.
At 6 months, Tyson was trached and placed on a ventilator.  We had said "no" to begin with, but one of the doctors came to us to talk about our final decision and talked to us as a father, not a doctor.  He said that Tyson had this fight in him that he had never seen, that he should have not made it many many times before.  He said for some reason, he felt that Ty would want this chance.
We went home in April of 2007.  We went home to a private nursing staff, an office made into a hospital room, countless bins and containers containing medical supplies, ventilators, supplement  oxygen, a wheel chair, and much more.  I never wanted this, but I watched as Ty began to smile, to play with his toys in his crib, to interact with his siblings.  I watched as every person he met saw the light in him and couldn't help but be inspired.  
Slowly but surely, Tyson began doing what they said he never would.  His first word was his own name.  "Ty Ty" he would say as he looked in the mirror and pointed giggling with delight that his first friend was smiling back at him.  He'd get all his tubes and wires wrapped up around himself from rolling and creeping.  He loved sitting with his arms over the rails of his bed kicking his feet and testing his balance.  He sat for the first time unassisted at 18 months.  He crawled just shy of his second birthday.  He took his first steps just before Christmas at 2 and a half.  He started kindergarten this year.  He played flag football and scored his touchdown (even though the other team let him do it to see the enthusiastic and proud smile on his face).
Tyson's lungs grew and healed.  He weaned from the ventilator.  He stopped getting sick every few weeks.  He became energetic.  Certain medications were no longer needed.  Eventually, the trach seemed useless and doctors agreed to downsize in hopes of decannulation (permanent removal of the tube).  
4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks and 6 days ago, Tyson was given a tracheotomy tube and placed on a ventilator to save his life.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we were told it was possible that these new additional appliances to our baby could be permanent.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we never thought we would have a walking, talking, crazy, oppositional, energetic, fun, enjoyable, defiant, happy, HEALTHY Tyson.
In 3 days, Tyson is going in to the hospital for decannulation.  My little size-8-shoe-baby is now 3 feet tall and 37lbs.  His little one inch broken lungs are "betta" as he would say.  And now he has the chance to live like a normal child for once.  What amazing growth he has made so far will now be multiplied exponentially.  
And most of all, anyone who has ever heard of Tyson Zachariah Sawyer has grown to believe the unbelievable.

Public Service Announcement

Parents,

As a mother with a child with special needs, I want you to teach your children that they shouldn't be afraid of him or anyone like him. They don't have to stare at him and whisper to their sibling or parent about his trach. They can come right up to him (or me) and say, "What is that?"  Tyson loves to tell other kids, "That's my trach!"  Then he will usually do a dance and be happy he made a friend.

Further...

Teach them to walk up to a boy with down syndrome and make friends.

Teach them to give a high five to the kid in the wheel chair and ask if he can do wheelies.

Teach them to smile and wave to the little girl with autism.

Teach them to ask to help an aide who is tube feeding another child.

Teach them that even though they are different, they still can be friends, and they do not deserve the stares and whispers.

That is all. Pass it on...

I got nothin'...

So I've neglected blogging for a month or two.  Really....I have a good reason, I promise!  And it's not some excuse like, "I'm so busy."  Yadda yadda...nope, it's this:  I GOT NOTHIN'!!!

I started off this blog with a bang.  One of the best blogs I have written....EVER.  War at Walmart started it all.  I've written quite a bit before.  But with that blog everyone and their brother told me they want me to become a writer.  It was a damn good story, if I do say so myself.

From there, I had the "pleasure" of dress shopping for my sister's wedding, and I was so delighted to have all of you accompany me as I went through hell.  Again, good, funny stuff to write about.  And it was super enjoyable and therapeutic to get that out.

Then we went through everything with Tyson's hospitalizations and freaking weird illness thingy.  I needed to write to keep myself sane.  I needed somewhere to speak to no one in particular about what was going on.   I needed to get my thoughts and feelings out.  I needed the support that was poured out over me and my family.

After that, I slowed down.  Now I'm to a point where I feel like I need something good going on or something  profound to say in order to write it.  I feel like life isn't interesting enough right now to put forth the effort to make it public knowledge.  In complete honesty, I think I have nothing to say that will keep you all entertained!

I need to remember why I did this.  It's not about you, it's about me.  Who cares if I have nothing do say that is interesting?  If I want to say it, then I'm gonna do it, because obviously there's a reason for me to want to talk about it, right?  Right....

Now...with that said...I still got nothin', so no more writing tonight!

Soapbox: The R Word

I had to take a breather after my last post to get my head on straight before I posted anything about this.  I was really hot, and I didn't want to just sound like some ranting bitch.  I need to be clear on this one.

Someone posted this on Facebook saying it was funny.  I nicely said, "Using the R word is never funny."  She retorted with, "It's not meant to be about mental issues."  To which I replied, "It's never cool to use a word that means 'mental issues'."  Then she posted in her status, "I'm too tired to deal with politically correct drama," after she deleted the post with the picture. (And then she promptly deleted and blocked me from her page...nice!)

"Politically correct drama."  Is me saying that the word "retard" is hurtful a "politically correct" issue? 

re-tard [ree-tahrd] n. Slang: Disparaging. a) a mentally retarded person. b) a person who is stupid, obtuse, or ineffective in some way

mental retardation [men-tl ree-tahr-day-shuhn] n. a developmental disorder characterized by a subnomral ability to learn and a substantially low IQ.


 

There is no other way that this word can be used as a noun meaning a person without the indication that the person has 1) mental retardation, or 2) is stupid.  How is this a "politically correct" issue?

I have a son who is developmentally delayed.  He went to school with children who were differently abled like him.   One of his favorite classmates is on the autism spectrum and another one has Down Syndrome. 

These three remarkable boys can very easily be called "retarded" by mocking classmates as they grow up.  Do you know how heartbreaking that is going to be for them?

Even worse, they may hear people calling other people "retards" just in "fun and games".  Then they will grow up and realize that the word which was a put-down to them all their lives is actually a word that can be used to characterize their mental abilities/growth.

Let's say that I think all ugly people should be called "green-eyed".  Now whenever I'm saying that someone is "green-eyed" then I'm putting them down, saying they are ugly.  So now anyone with green eyes now thinks they are automatically put down.  (Cooper and I both have green eyes, by the way.)

Here's some other words that are used as put-downs that are real serious issues that people should just stop a minute and think about how people with these conditions (or are a parent of kids with these conditions, as with myself) would feel when you say this:  hoarder, bipolar, schizophrenic, tourette's, ghetto, poor, homeless...I could really go on and on here.

I won't lie, I have on many occasions said any number of these, including "retard".  And I've even let "retard" slip out two times recently.  But I'm aware of it, and I'm working hard to stop doing it because I do not want my son or his friends to grow up thinking that their conditions are negative.

You don't have to stop using these words if you don't want to.  Just think about what they make other people feel like.  Not necessarily the person you are calling the name, but someone else who may actually have this condition.

Over and over and over again...

SIX times in one day!!!

Getcha mind outta the gutter!  I'm talking about how many times Tyson has made me watch Cars today.  He's stuck in a bed, hooked up to oxygen and wires and whatnot, and all the kid wants to do is torture mom...er, I mean watch Cars.  This may be the record of how many times I have watch it in one day, but I've seen it so many times before I swear I could sit here and recite the entire thing for you...and do all the facial expressions....and draw all the animation.  In fact, Tyson has watched it so many times, he can even tell you when the singer in one of the songs goes, "Uh".  It's sick.

I used to be a nanny for a 5 year old little boy with big brown eyes and curly blonde hair who was non-verbal autistic.  He watched A Goofy Movie and An Extremely Goofy Movie, the way Ty watches Cars.  He would watch them back to back, and every single time, he would watch it as if it were the first time he ever saw it.  And with both of these little boys (my almost 5 year old now, and my 5 year old Rocky who I watched over 10 years ago), I love just sitting there and watching them during their movie.  The big smiles, the way they anticipate their favorite part, the way they cock their head like the character does.  It's like pure innocent joy.  It's hard for me to say no to him.  And I wish every kid could experience that with such a simple thing.

Now Tyson isn't autistic...or at least his doctors have said that to us several times even though I've asked for testing because he has "autistic tendencies".  He has sensory issues and some social issues (but they think that's because of the medical stuff and developmental delay rather than autism).  There's a few other things that remind me of Rocky though.  The way he holds his hands, the way he walks, the way he tilts his head, he has some ritualistic behaviors.

I'm not worried that my son is autistic.  I loved Rocky for everything that he was (and probably still is even though he's 16 now).  I've worked with several other autistic children as well back in my preschool teaching days.  And I've even considered many times over to go into special education at some point in my life.

The thing is the label.  Do I need a doctor to tell me he's "autistic" because of these tendencies?  Or do I just take them as part of him and react as I would with any autistic child...like they are normal?  Whether autistic or not, a child is a child.  And whether autistic or not, each child is special in their own individual way.  Tyson is special.  And that's all I have to remember.

So bring on Lightnin' McQueen for the 86145th time.

Ty and Mommy....Can you guess what we're watching?

Hello? Brain? Can you please turn off for a little while?

If you missed the news, Tyson is in the hospital again.  This time it's respiratory...which is definitely better than the psychosis, but still not cool since he hasn't had a hospital admission for respiratory in about 16 months. Sigh...  (Again, to keep updated or learn more about Tyson go to www.facebook.com/tysonsawyer)

I'm disappointed because we got great news last week about weaning off the vent and possible decannulation next summer (which will be 5 long long looooooong years in the making).  So this is like we stepped forward then got hit with a Mack truck and pushed back a couple miles.  I seriously feel like I'm swimming in mud.  When is this kid going to get a break?

But that's not really why I'm blogging.  And as I always say, this blog is not about Tyson (although he certainly has done his fair share in the last two months to wiggle his way into it).  No no, today I am angry at my brain.

When Tyson is in the hospital we do a lot of juggling to figure out who will be with him (me, my mom, or Luke), who will have the other kids when I am at the hospital and Luke is working (my in-laws or my mom and step dad), who will take the other kids to their events (me, Luke, mom, whoever wants to brave the trenches)...what to eat, when we can sleep, how to do work, what to pack, when to sit and pee...yadda yadda yadda.  I've made all the arrangements (with help from Luke, mom, and Vic, my mother-in-law) for the kids and who's staying with Tyson, etc.  But my head is still swirling with gotta do this, gotta do that.  It just so happens that Monday, Tuesday and Thursday evenings Annie has dress rehearsals for her dance recital, and Tuesday is the last day of school so they have field day, and I have therapy on Monday morning and group on Wednesday (which I have to cancel again), and my mom is going to Chicago for my sister's graduation and her Chicago wedding shower....and then there's normal life.  Ty, bad week to get sick, honey!  Suck it up!

Today was beautiful.  A little humid, but I like that.  I wanted to enjoy the day I have at home (mom is with Tyson) with my kids and husband.  I wanted to enjoy it outside, feel the sun, enjoy the breeze.  I tried my hardest, but it was like I had ants crawling all over me.  If I laid down to relax and sun bathe, if I sat on the swing to take a deep breath, if I sat on the trampoline bouncing with the kids, I felt antsy.  My brain kept saying, "You gotta do this this and this!"  I moved from one thing to the next like a toddler does when trying to find the thing that would entertain them most.  The interesting thing is JJ even noticed my discomfort and inability to relax and enjoy.  He asked me what was wrong.  I honestly said, "I just don't know." 

I ended up going back inside and played the Wii by myself to stimulate my brain in order to make it stop thinking about everything else.  It helped while I was playing (and beating the level in Toy Story 3 that I was working on!  Woot!), but as soon as I put it down, I was back to not being able to concentrate on anything.

Luke made mac-n-cheese for dinner.  I hate mac-n-cheese unless it's home made so I ventured off looking for something else to eat.  I stood in front of the freezer and pulled out a box of something, then put it back, and did that over and over again.  It's almost like my brain is so flustered that my taste buds are too.  I ended up eating cereal.  Not because I wanted cereal, but because I knew I should eat something and couldn't figure out what I wanted.

I'm very much looking forward to bedtime so I can take my medications and that will turn my brain off for a while.  I didn't do anything significant today, yet I'm utterly exhausted.  If only I could lose weight from the amount of activity my brain does....

(PS  Not complaining, or looking for advice, just talkin' to keep my brain busy.)

Mental Illness

For updates on Tyson, go here.

I've come to terms over the years that I have a mental illness and I will forever.  I can deal with that.  It's a disease like any others.  Instead of insulin to control sugar, I take antidepressants and mood stabilizers to control sanity.  I'm not ashamed of it, I'm not afraid of it...it's just part of me.

I've often considered the fact that my kids are likely to have it as well.  I've always watched their actions and behaviors closely for any signs that it's popping up so as to catch it before they don't know what's going on and lose all control.  I never ever thought I would be faced with it with my 4.5 year old son.

Two times this week the psychologist has said that Tyson's episodes (the sudden anxiety a few weeks ago, and then the severe depression this week) are indicative of bipolar disorder.  The psychiatrist said today that she believes he may have bipolar disorder and the medications made it present earlier than with anyone else by flaring up the extremes.  I braced myself for this news since my kids were conceived...but I can't help but feel like I did it to him.

I know you are all going to say that I didn't do this as much as my mother and father didn't do it to me.  But that's not going to stop that feeling that I am responsible for my son's mental illness.  We all have those traits we carry genetically that we don't want passed on to our kids because they are a nuisance: frizzy curly hair, excessive freckles, allergies...  But like diabetes, no one would ever want their worst enemies child, let alone their own child's genetics to hold their mental illness.

And unlike diabetes, mental illness cannot be measured by blood monitoring and lab work.  It's all trial and error and close observation by a psychiatrist and psychologist and therapist and whatnot and so forth.  I can barely handle this with my own crap, let alone now having to watch it in my son as well.

Now I know what my mom felt when I was spirally downward in my teens....

Helpless Parent

Again, not going to fill you in on all the deets with Tyson, but you can go here to find out what's going on.

I took a break from Facebook last week so no one could pressure me into going back to work and/or jumping into "normal" life.  I needed time to heal my heart, to rest, to reflect and to move on.  I also needed time to worry with out anyone telling me to not.  One of my therapist told me once that if you are going to worry, let yourself.  Don't dwell on it, but don't try to push it away either.  Truth be told, I needed to sit back and watch everything to see what was going to happen. I needed to learn how to be comfortable again, but I needed to let myself be cautious.

Ty had an alright week with a couple bouts of anxiety.  However, yesterday we had a very rough day and he says he is "sad" and "not all better" anymore.  My husband and I are looking into having him be under psychiatric care indefinitely.  We need someone to go to, someone to help us past this, someone to rely on if it does happen again...and someone to be there to help our sweet baby boy while he feels helpless because of the lasting effects from that mother fucking drug that could have permanently damage him.  (Excuse my language, I'm pretty angry!)

Having dealt with severe depression and anxiety myself, I know what my son is feeling.  I know that he is so frustrated that he is feeling so low.  I know that he wants so badly to be happy.  I know that life seems so unbearable right now for him.  I know that he feels like it's not going to end.  I have been there...and I cannot tell you how much it hurts to know my son is there right now.  My heart is breaking for him, because I also know that nothing can pull you out of that except for time.  "Ride the wave," my therapist would say, "You know it will end, as it always has before. Just trust it will again."  How do I get my toddler son to understand that?

I just paused to cry a little bit.  My husband came over to comfort me.  His words, "I know you know what he is feeling right now.  No one knows it better than you.  That's why God blessed him with you as his mother.  He needs someone to understand how it feels."

PS  I miss my wit and charm post.  The levity in life....

Pop!

All is normal....but I can't help but feel like I'm waiting for the balloon to burst.  You know how when someone is blowing up a balloon and it looks so cool while it gets bigger and bigger.  You're in awe of how it looks.  Then you start noticing the latex is stretching quite a bit and you squint your eyes bracing yourself for it to pop. You know it's coming, but when will it happen?

I don't really know it's coming, but I feel like it is.  I guess we've just been through so much with Tyson, I'm waiting for the next pile of shit to hit the fan.  Heck, the shit may not even be about Tyson, but I feel like it's going to come sometime in the future.

Alright, enough with the pity party.  I'm going to put on my big girl panties and look at the good.

Tyson came home on Sunday all smiles.  He and I went to school for a couple of hours yesterday and he did great.  He giggled all afternoon, then gently fell asleep on my chest after dinner that night.  What a nice normal day!

Today we went to school together again.  He did fine, but got a little tired towards the end of our stay.  I don't blame him, I went home and took a nap too.  Luke is working tonight, so it's just me and the kids and all has gone smoothly (so far).  Wait, that's not normal though... 

Tomorrow, Ty and I are going to go in to school for the whole morning, 8am to lunch (I think noon).  If all goes well, he should be back up to the full day on Thursday.

Let me tell you, I'm pooped!  Imagine yourself watching a suspense thriller on the edge of your seat.  Feel how tense your body is?  I did that for about 10 days...well and all yesterday just making sure everything was progressing normally.

I need to relax.  I need a hot tub.  I need a massage.  I need mind numbing drugs (preferably prescribe because I'm not really into the illegal type) to just give my mind a rest for a little while.

Remember that vacation I asked for, God?  Anytime now...thanks!

So....Now What?

I just went through probably the worst week of my life.  Well, it ranks right up there with the week that I ended up in the mental hospital for severe depression and the week my twins were born 13 weeks prematurely and the week the doctors told us that Tyson wouldn't make it to 6 months old... 

Anyway, it was pure Hell.  I watched my baby boy getting tortured inwardly without any rhyme or reason.  And now that we know the reason, I should feel a huge sigh of relief right?  Not so much...

I'm so angry.  And I cannot let that go.  How could a doctor not know that this is a side effect and prescribe this to a child? 

Beyond that though, I'm so incredibly cautious.  Tyson went to bed tonight, in his own bed, all by himself.  And I do not feel comfortable without him in my eye sight. 

I'm keeping Tyson with me for the rest of this week.  I'm planning on taking him in to school Monday and Tuesday for a little bit each morning, and I'm staying with him.  Wednesday I may bring him in for longer, and Thursday maybe the whole day, but I'm going to be with him.

I've been asked to do a couple photo shoots this week.  I mean, I should work, right?  My husband is going back to work and my mom is going back.  So I should, right?  I know that my clients are fully understanding and would not take offense if I just say "no".  But I feel like "normal" is being pushed on me all of a sudden.

I just can't go from the depths of Hell right back into every day life so easily.  I'm scared...and I'm kind of angry at people thinking I can just slip right back into the norm.  Can you blame me?  I almost lost the happy, healthy son that I have fought so hard to keep alive and to let thrive.  I've been on an emotional roller coaster.  I've been in an epic battle with my faith.  I just don't know where to go next.

Now look at this face and tell me you could leave his side after something so scary...

My boy is back!

Patience, Hope, and Faith

"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world. Not even our troubles." ~ Charles Chaplin

We're still in the hospital with no answers.  If you want to get updates on Tyson, you can go here.  It's a Facebook fan page.  We've had it for years to keep those who have followed us from Tyson's birth to keep updated on his health and development.  I've been updating pretty often.  So I'm not going to drone on here about technical medical stuff.

I know there's an answer out there some where.  Something is going on, and we will figure it out and make it all better.  Finding that answer is testing my patience.  Talk about the very worst way to test my patience.  What mother can watch as their child seemingly going through torture and say to herself, "If I'm patient, we will be able to fix this."  I'd like to kick patience in the nuts right now.

I'm not giving up hope though.  I may want to bitch slap patience, but I will hold hope's hand.  And along with hope, I have faith that God knows what He's doing, and He would never do this to me without a reason.

One of the most awesome doctors in the world is our intensivist today.  During rounds he totally pulled a "Dr. House" type meeting (with the out-of-the-box thinking, not the mean ol' curmudgeon thing).  You could almost see the gears in his head spinning.  "Test for everything", he said.  Then he looked me directly in the eye, "We don't have a definitive answer yet, but we will find it.  I promise."  Do you know any doctors that will promise you something like that?

So "Dr. House" and his team are going to figure it out.  For now, let him sleep.  When he's awake he begs to "wake up" from whatever he is experiencing during all of this.  Sleep gives him peace from this torture.  Sweet dreams, baby boy....we'll figure this out. I promise!

Torture

To catch you up:

Tyson was admitted to the PICU today for severe anxiety. 

This started on Friday night very suddenly.  He would yell "no" and cry constantly.  He would not tell us if he was in pain or scared or anything.  The only things he would say were "no" and "mommy".  He got approximately 6 hours of sleep on Friday night on and off. 

Saturday morning, he woke up and was fine.  He went to the Easter egg hunt with Luke and his brothers.  Ran around, had fun, all was fine.  About one in the afternoon, he started flipping out again.  This time Luke was there with me and we both decided we needed to find out what was wrong so we went to the emergency room.

While there, they found a small hair in his ear.  They irrigated it out and said that was probably what was causing his discomfort.  However, on the way home and all night long, Tyson acted the same way.  He slept approximately 4 hours that night.

Sunday morning, he was unconsolable.  We attempted to take him to church where he continued his strange behaviors.  He also started suddenly flinching and moving his eyes around like he was seeing things.  He was constantly terrified.  He was exhibiting extreme separation anxiety, if he wasn't touching me, he would be yelling for me.  We brought him to the emergency room again.  The doctors did a full physical work up, xrays, blood, urine, no signs of infection, no signs of pain.  They then did a head CT as they thought he was hallucinating.  In order to get the CT they gave him Versed, which brought him nearly back to normal (although quite drugged and loopy).  The CT results were normal, no tumor, brain bleed, or stroke.  Because the Versed made the hallucinations go away, the doctor assumed he was just having anxiety attacks and sent us home with Ativan and an appointment with our pediatrician the next morning.

Not 20 minutes from the hospital, it started again.  We got him home and gave him 2 Ativan.  It didn't help.  So we gave him another (as per docs orders) 2 hours later.  He fell asleep at 730pm and slept soundly (in my bed) until 530am.  As soon as he woke up, he started again.  This time the separation anxiety was even more heighten.  If I was looking away from him, he would scream my name.  He was also experiencing agoraphobia.  If we set foot out of my bedroom, he scream and writhed.

We brought him to his pediatrician at 9.  She knows him pretty well, and better, she knows me.  Because of my fear of what was going on, she knew something was very wrong.  She sent us back to the emergency room at Devos Children's Hospital calling them ahead of time saying we needed an admission.

Upon arrival at the ER, he was at his worst.  The same doc that saw him yesterday said immediately that he needed to be admitted and he had to be seen by a neurologist and possibly a psychiatrist.  We spent three hours in the ER before we were taken up to the PICU where he was admitted. 

The resident and the intensivist got a full medical history and examined him.  They called for a neurologist consultation.  In the mean time they gave him Ativan to try to calm him.  We got a dose of Ativan every half hour for an hour and a half.  He barely slowed down.  I begged for something else for him to make him feel comfortable.  They said they wanted the neurologist to see him first before sedating him completely.  About an hour later he was given valium and can now have it every six hours.  It didn't help either.  After 3 doses of Ativan and one of valium, he was still awake.

He has finally fallen asleep (and deeply) about two hours after recieving the valium.  Neuro has still not been in to see him.  Suppose they will be here tomorrow.  I will not let them discharge him until we have answers or he is completely back to normal.

As you know, we have been through quite a bit over the last 4.5 years with Tyson.  I've been very strong through it all, and most of the time, not very worried as I know my son very well.  This time, I'm terrified.  I feel like we are losing our baby boy.  He is not the same.  I have no idea what is wrong with him.  He won't tell us.  I can't fix him.

We need strength, we need peace.  God please be with us.  Please say your prayers.
Taylor

Furthermore....

Imagine watching your child get an immunization.  Now take that helpless feeling and multiply it by, oh, a million, then add the fact that it's lasting for hours upon hours...into days.  That's what I feel like right now. 

My son is being tortured.  Something is hurting him or scaring him.  Something is making him so uncomfortable, so incredibly disturb.  Something that is making him fight sleep, something that is making him beat on himself...

I don't know what to do.  Plain and simple.  I have nothing to offer him right now.  He goes into his fits, and I wrap my arms around him tight.  I hold his arms down so he can't hurt himself.  I've taken head butts to the face, been bitten in the chest, numerous scratches to my arms and neck.  All I want is for my poor son to not feel so tortured.

I don't want him drugged, but at this point, I don't know what else can help him.  You should see him right now, sleeping, so peacefully.  But I know that in a few hours, he will be throwing himself around in the bed, beating his head against the rails, scratching himself and anyone who helps him.  And during all of this, we will be waiting for the neurologist to see him, because they "can't just drug him".

Now imagine my torture inside.  I'm begging them to drug my son.  I'm thinking about tying him down to the bed to keep him from hurting himself.  Have you ever once imagined yourself saying that about your own child?

My son is feeling tortured, therefore, I am feeling tortured.  Please God help both of us...please please please.

Ear-itated

It's been a long few days packed with a cranky child and little sleep.  And if you know anything about me, you should know by now that sleep is one of my very favorite things in the whole wide world.  I need 8-10 hours sleep every night.  Not only because I like it, but because my psychiatrist says so.  So sayeth the psychiatrist!  Let my people go...to sleep!  Unfortunately, Tyson thinks that sleep is overrated lately...

On Friday night, Tyson started acting strange.  He got this terrified look on his face. Huge wide eyes, quivering chin, knitted eye brows.  It's the look he gets when he sees a puppet person (don't know what we will do when we go to Disney World some day and he is face to face with Mickey Mouse!).  Lots of things scare Tyson, and rightfully so, but I have never faced one that I have not been able to fix in one way or another.  This time, he was scared of something and for some reason, he just did not know how to voice what was going on.

I knew something was wrong.  He stuck his finger in his right ear and he screamed, cried and whined.  Nothing I did made him stop .  He said, "No!" over and over again as if I was torturing him, and I wasn't even touching him.  He wanted me to do something, but didn't know what to tell me to do to fix whatever it was that was wrong.  I asked him if he didn't feel good, if his ear was hurting.  He said, "No!"  I ended up holding him and rocking him, whispering to him and shushing him, letting him cry and cry, just not knowing what to do.  He ended up falling asleep of exhaustion after a couple hours of this.

I had some work to do that evening, so when he fell asleep, I bundled him in a blanket and put him on the recliner, somewhere he actually sleeps often.  He was fine for a little while.  Enough for me to write the blog about the dress shopping.  And then Ernie jumped up on the chair and scared the crap out of him, making him jump and land face first on the floor.  So now, my poor little guy was uncomfortable or hurt in some way I could not figure out, and he was rudely awakened by a floor flying towards his face. Poor baby!

I scooped him up and comforted him.  Remarkably, I got him to fall asleep again.  I had a photo shoot the next morning with a sweet three month old baby girl, so I had planned on using this evening to crochet a little Easter bonnet for her.  It's quite difficult to crochet with a 4.5 year old draped across your chest and lap who cries every time you move your arms from around him.  So that plan was shot.  I ended up just giving in and wanting to take him to bed with me.  I should mention that Luke was working and the boys were in bed sleeping already and Annie was at Eric's (her bio dad), so it was just me and Ty.  I figured Ty would just snuggle up to me in bed and go to sleep.  He's done it quite often while Luke is patrolling the mean streets of Lakeview.

I laid him on the chair for just a minute so I could go to the bathroom before we headed up to bed.  As soon as I was out of sight, he screamed bloody murder, yelling, "MOMMY!" over and over again as if someone was kidnapping him.  This is NOT something Ty does EVER!  He very easily separates from me when going to school or when someone is babysitting.  I have never ever seen him cry for me like that.  My heart broke.  I peed as fast as I could then curled him up in my arms and brought him up to my bed.

I spent the next 3.5 hours trying to console him not knowing exactly what was the problem.  He said "No" to everything, the cartoons I put on the TV for him, turning the light off, laying on Daddy's pillow, having the blanket on, calling Gramma (obviously something is very wrong if he does not want to talk to Gramma)...  He even screamed bloody murder if I closed my eyes, as I was falling asleep.  I just kept telling myself I needed to get through this night and tomorrow we would figure out what in the world was causing the problem. 

He woke up yesterday morning giving me only about 5 hours of sleep and he was just dandy.  No problems at all.  No screaming, no crying, no "I need my mommy's full attention at all times" stuff.  He was fine.  I chalked the night's strange happenings to him just being overly tired, needing extra mommy time, and maybe he had a simple ear infection.  Regardless, he was fine.  So we went on with our day.  I went to my photo shoot, and Luke and the boys went to the Easter egg hunt at the park.  Ty ran around with his brothers having a great time, no problems at all.

About one in the afternoon, I got home and Ty was looking really tired, and kind of had the wide-eyed look again.  I figured he was just sleepy from our lack of rest the night before.  I sat in my chair and he got up on my lap.  And it started over again.  This time Luke was there to witness it, and he got concerned.  At 2, I ended up calling our pediatrician's on-call nurse to let them inform our doctor that we were taking Ty to the emergency room because he was in pain some where and we could not figure out what was going on.  Because of Tyson's medical issues, she keeps a close eye on him and we are really proactive when something is wrong.  For the first time since Tyson's respiratory arrest when he was 6 months old, even through numerous emergency room visits and hospital stays and doctors appointments, lab tests, xrays, echos, etc, for the first time, I was scared. 

Luke is a stalworth man, but he's always looked to me on how to react to Tyson's medical emergencies.  I'm the one with the medical knowledge, and I have this intuitive feeling about him during these crises.  When I think something is wrong, when I show that I'm afraid, confused, frustrated, Luke definitely knows that all is not alright.  We packed up Tyson, dropped the boys off with my mother-in-law, and drove to our hospital of choice.  I swear they should make frequent flyer cards...we should get rewards for our visits.

When we got there, Ty was actually acting fine.  He watched Cars in the waiting room.  He walked back to his room instead of wanting to be carried.  He put on the hospital gown backwards because that's how the cool kids wear them.  He was chattering away just like normal.  Was my intuition wrong?

Then out of no where, he started it all over again.  The doctor came in and witnessed how he was acting.  We voiced our concern about how he never acts like this and he usually can tell us what is wrong.  I told her that I thought it was his right ear bugging him pretty severely.  She did the normal stuff, listened to his lungs and heart.  Breathing was fantastic and clear.  Heart good.  Then she looked at his throat, and moved on to his ears.  Left ear looked great.  Right ear looked fine, but there was a teeny tiny hair inside his ear probably causing irritation and discomfort.  So Ty was not lying when he said it didn't hurt, it just tickled him into insanity.

We waited forever for them to come in to irrigate the ear canal to get the hair out.  The whole process was horrible for him.  But after it was over, we had confidence that that was the only problem, he'd be back to normal after a good night's sleep.  He must have been exhausted.

Wrong again...  We got home and he was as clingy as ever.  Same stuff.  Same as the night before, but this time when he conked out in my bed, Luke was there too, so I ended up on 1/4 of the bed and just could not sleep.  I've been up since 2:30am...and it's now 7:30.  Easter Sunday, so chalk full of events, so no nap in sight.  And my dear Tyson is still having issues this morning.

As a mother, nothing feels worse than feeling helpless when it comes to your child's pain, discomfort, or feelings.  I can sense Tyson's frustration.  And I can't fix it. It's heart breaking.  My poor child who has many issues being able to communicate clearly is confused about what is going on and does not know how to express himself to get the help he needs.  Not only is something wrong, but he cannot find a way to get help.

Was the stupid little hair not it?  Did it cause some kind of irritation in the ear and that's what's causing the problem?  Is there something else?  Is it more serious than just the ear?  I don't know...and it's pretty unsettling.  I'm giving it today to get out of his system and if it doesn't, I'm taking him to the ENT tomorrow.  For one, I cannot go with no sleep, my body and mind just do not function well like this.  And more importantly, I cannot let Tyson continue on like this not knowing how to help him.

The Battle of Snot-Green Shirt

After Tyson waged all out warfare on poor lil ol' me a few weeks ago, I have avoided taking him out on my own inadvertently until I recharged my super powers to do it again by myself.  Luckily, he's been good about outings in this time.  Maybe he learned a lesson?

Understandably, my medically fragile Tyson, who spent the first 8 months of his life in the hospital and then every other month for more than a year with admissions and countless pokes and prods at doctors' offices and labs and xrays and so on and so forth, has a pathological fear of anything that remotely looks like it could possibly slightly be a hospital or a doctor's office.  He cries and screams and shakes and says "No!" over and over and over again even when he just needs his ears looked at or his lungs listened to.  He also often becomes combative, pulling my hair, swatting my glasses off my face, kicking and punching, at times.  As you may have guessed, I rarely go on these trips by myself.  Luke comes with me when he can, but very often my mom (my personal Super Hero) makes these trips with me.

Yesterday, Ty woke up with a huge green slab of snot from his nose to his chin.  He has had an increase in mucus over the last few days and started a pretty good cough.  Ty's coughs are almost always caused by post nasal drip unless there's a lung infection going on.  Since the cough increased and the snot got green we called the pediatrician to come in and make sure we catch the crud early before it moves to his lungs and takes him over.  Now remember, Tyson has a trach because his lungs are scarred quite a bit from his prematurity, so he is quite fragile medically.  In the last year, he's been able to fight all infections off at home with no extra ventilator time or oxygen, which is a huge difference from the past years where he'd regress back to 24/7 vent use and hospital stays from 3-14 days in length.  But we still try to always catch infections early.  Unlike other kids, a common fever can kick Ty on his ass completely, causing him to sleep upwards of 20 hours a day, and germs anywhere (his nose, ears, throat, etc) can easily pass down to his lungs attacking the weak part and become way worse than originally.  So we are diligent about acting on his every cough and sniffle.  Wait, that's a little too cautious.  It's more like we watch every cough and sniffle and as soon as they become different then we act on them.

Anywho, back to traumatic Tyson trips by myself.  When I made the appointment yesterday for this morning, Luke was going to be coming with me.  This morning, however, the old man woke up in intense pain in his left knee unable to bend it, curling up in the fetal position and crying like a wounded animal that he needed his leg amputated.  Well, not really, it was fun to paint that weak picture of my stalwart man for you though. He woke up and his knee was shot.  It's been hurting for a few days now but has progressively gotten worse and today has been the worst.  So I donned my metal armor and packed Tyson up to take him to the doctor myself since my husband has been hobbling around since he woke up.

Our pediatrician's office is about 50 minutes away from our house because we live in the middle of nowhere in Mid-Michigan.  For some reason, Ty has a sixth sense about direction and where we are heading.  As soon as I turn on a certain road he can tell me where we are going.  When it's to the doctor's, he tells me with a scream and shrill no's.  Usually he calms down for a while and then starts his antics up again after we get there, but today he decided to cry the whole way there.  I tried to calm him down, but you can only do so much when your kid is screaming hysterically while you are driving.  Plus, I knew there was nothing I could say that would get him to stop...except maybe that he would get to go to "Da Wahmaht Stoy" after his appointment if he calmed down, but I tried that and failed miserably.

Have you ever been at your child's doctor and you can hear a distant cry in one of the rooms and you think, "Aw, poor kid", but then things are ok?  Ty was that kid, but it didn't just last a second.  We sat in the waiting room for about 5 minutes with him screaming and crying and burying his snotty green nose on my chest right between my boobs (luckily, my shirt matches his snot so you can't really see it!)....and everyone looking at us!  Most of the parents were concerned and pitying.  The kids were intrigued and wanted to comfort their fellow toddler buddy.  And then this one woman actually picked her child up and walked out of the waiting room huffing about how it was "so loud" and "obnoxious" in there.  My first instinct was to punch that lady in the face.  My second instant was to trip her child so that her kid screamed and cried and she couldn't stop her and I would look right into her eyes and say, "That's so obnoxious!"  My third instinct was to pity her.  How can ANY mother not sympathize with another mother who is comforting their terrified child?  Then I let it roll off my back (at least enough to not make me utterly pissed, but kept it enough to write about it now).

Ty's doctor is very good about not letting us stay in the waiting room because they don't want him to pick up things from the other kids especially if he is already ill and weaker than normal.  So like I said, we were only in the waiting room for 5 minutes max until they called us back.  We get first-class treatment there.  And I love to see the jealousy in the eyes of those waiting because we just got there but we get to go back already!  Nanner nanner boo boo!!! Granted we do get to go back, but we also do wait as long as any other person does in the waiting room. So it's not like we are fed grapes and fanned with big ostrich feathers.  We waited for a half hour in our room and he cried the whole time.  I'm pretty sure he left at least a half inch thick snot coating on my shirt.  I stayed calm, I didn't let him get to me and make me mad.  I didn't let the waiting get to me either.  I just practiced some breathing exercises and kept positive.  I kinda spaced out and didn't even hear him anymore to be honest.

You know how children jump when a balloon is popped and they look scared to death?  Ty looks like that when a door opens at a doctor's office.  Dr. Mike walked in, Ty jumped out of his skin and turned ghost white....and he farted (which made me giggle inwardly).  Dr. Mike isn't our usual doctor, but ours is on vacation, and I trust him more than the other guy because we have seen him before.  And he is one freaking fantastic pediatrician, let me tell you!  We see A LOT of doctors with Tyson's condition and the ones that I like and trust are the ones that make Tyson feel more comfortable.  So Ty jumped (and farted) and almost started to cry but then Dr. Mike chatted with him about Spiderman on his sweatshirt and Lightnin' McQueen on his shoes.  Ty made a new best friend in a heart beat.

Really?  I went through all that for a simple chat about his buddies for Tyson to relax?  Sigh....the things I go through for that kid!  Turns out he's fine.  Just a simple cold, but he put him on antibiotics preventatively since he easily catches other things and/or the infections get worse quickly.  After that quick little visit, Ty jumped up off the bench and bounded to the front desk saying, "Oh, where's my bideyman dicker!" (Get yer mind out of the gutter, I swear that's how he says "sticker"!)

So I fared another battle with minimal bruising (one good hair pull and two slaps to my glasses, and a whole lotta snot on my shirt)...I didn't win it but I got through it.  I'm trying to get him to realize that I'm not going to give him a reaction when he acts like that, and I'm diligently trying to allow other people's opinions, stares, pitiful looks, etc. to not bother me immensely.  I'm human and I'm a mother, so yes, they do bother me to some extent, but I am not letting them ruin my life anymore.  I think I'm getting better at this.

War at Walmart

This is the blog that started this venture.  I wrote this on March 27, 2011 (a week ago).  I had huge uprising of support saying I should be an author.  Well that's a huge step from a little story about something that happened to me to writing a book (I just had a mini heart attack considering it again!)...maybe some day.  For now, blogging is a good start.  Enjoy "War at Walmart"!

Have you ever had one of those moments as a parent where you can't stand what is going on and do not know how to deal with it and you feel like everyone is looking at you and judging you?  You know, the one where you have a screaming child in the store and it takes everything you have not to wallop them upside the head.  Now take that exact moment and make that child one who cannot communicate clearly and because of this gets so frustrated that screaming, kicking, pulling hair, punching, etc ensues.  Do you think you can get through that?  Well I did!

Before I get into this let me give you another scenario.  Now you are not this child's parent, but one of the people in the store watching this go down.  Are you standing there judging the parenting?  Are you feeling sorry for the parent?  Are you wanting to help?  Or do you want to get as far away from it as possible because you can't stand the child?  Are you thinking that the parent is the worst parent in the world because they let their child get to this point?  Or maybe you are thinking that "If that were me, I'd....", what?  What would you do?  Hit the child?  Remove them from the store?  Give in to what you think it is they want? Or would it just not get to that point if it were your child?

Be honest, you all know you have made these kinds of judgments before.  I'm not saying I never have either.  But more often than not, no one is taking into consideration that maybe that child is like Tyson.  Maybe he didn't start talking until he was 2.5, and maybe he is very hard to understand because of medical issues.  Maybe the child is autistic or has downs syndrome.  Does your judgment change then?  But even if you don't know Tyson, or can't see that the child has downs syndrome, or you don't know he is autistic, do your judgments change?  Sooooo many people have complicated physical and mental illnesses that no one can see.  So before you judge ANYONE, remember that you do not know all the facts.  Then take a step back and think to yourself, if it was that way, if the child did have some other factor causing the problem, could I do it?  Could I take the judgment?  Could I control myself to not hit my child or do something else that is drastic?  You don't know, do you?  Nope, you will not know unless you are in the same shoes.  So keep that in mind next time you are in the store and hear a blood curdling scream from a wayward child.

Now on to my experience....

Tyson LOVES "da wah-mawt stoy".  Did you figure that one out?  The Walmart Store.  He loves it.  Everywhere he looks he see his friends--"Bideyman", "Bunge-Bob", "Doy-ra", "Toy Dory Ree", etc.  It's like Disneyworld to him.  Unfortunately along with this love for the store comes this love for the items, and thus his mad spending spree begins.  Yet, he doesn't have money to spend, so what does this lead to?  Well, racking up credit, bankruptcy, homeless-ness....oh wait, he's 4.5 so this does not apply.  It leads to a fit of screaming, kicking, punching, hair pulling, throwing items, trying to climb out of the cart, knocking things of the shelves, etc etc etc.  Have you started judging yet?

Usually when I bring him in to Walmart, I talk to him first about what he would like to buy.  Usually it's stickers, bubble bath, band aids, something that only costs a few bucks.  That I can manage.  I talk to him at length (usually the whole car ride to the store) about "This is what we are going to Walmart for"  and "This is ALL we are going to Walmart for."  He seems to understand in the car just fine.  But as any child faced with Disneyworld in front of them, he goes buckwild when we enter the store and forgets all cognitive abilities, getting drunk off the fumes of propaganda, and loses all sense of what we came there to do.

So with that said...Tyson wanted bubble bath today.  "Bideyman" bubble bath.  I needed dog treats, some stuff for my hair, a booster seat for Cooper (yay, he finally hit the right weight for it!), and some kind of vitamin my psychiatrist wanted me to try for sleeping before having to take another prescription that I really wasn't fond of (that's a whole other story).  Game plan:  Go in the store, get half the things I need, "find" bubble bath and let Ty pick out which one he wants, then finish what I need to get as he marvels over his new possession in the cart, pay for items, and VOILA!  Out the door unscathed.  How can I be so naive???

I didn't even get one of my items before Ty went off on his tirade.  He wanted new band aids.  Um, we have 5 boxes at home of all his favorite characters and we have a rule that he only gets one a day (even though he usually gets more at school because he also has one box in his go-bag and Miss Beth bought him his very own Scooby Doo band aids because she loves him, but doesn't realize he's turned into a band aid monster!!!!).  So, "No band aids today, Tyson.  We will get a new band aid when we get home."  "Oh, ok".....

Not a second later, TOOTHBRUSH!!!!!  "No!"  A little more of a fight this time, but not too bad....Got my hair stuff, got dog treats....Off to find bubble bath.

On our way, PILLOW PETS!!!!  I quickly averted.  Phew, he only mentioned it once, didn't ask for it but said while we passed, "Ooooh Pi-yo Bet!"....still getting to the bubble bath.

BUZZ WIGHTYAH!!!!!  Ducked into another aisle and got Ty to play a game of hide and seek with the bubble bath.  He was it, bubble bath was hiding.  "Where are you, Bubble Bath??"  Forgot Buzz within a few seconds, but until not after a very loud and slightly embarrassing, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO BUZZZZZZZZZZZ".

WOO HOO!  Found bubble bath.  But oh no, there's Bunge-Bob, Doy-ra, Tinkiebell, Bidey-man....oh how do I choose?  Oh, I know, let's get them ALL!!!!!  Um, no..."Tyson, you wanted Spiderman bubble bath.  Here you go, sit back down and we can get the rest of mommy's stuff."  Hold on, not that easy mom!  Mini melt down about not having every single bubble bath in the store.  Strike that, not so "mini", more like "WORST MOM IN THE WOOOOOOORLD" battle....I don't know how but I got him passed this one.  But I did…..but only for a second.

On my way to get the other two items I needed and we pass stickers in the stationary department.  Operations overload!!!!  Bunge-Bob, Cars, Gooby Doo, Doy-ra, Woody, Ironman, Bideyman.....  "Ok, Ty, if you would like stickers, you can pick one out and put the bubble bath down."  Negotiations begin. 

"Oh ok, how bout Bunge-Bob dickers (yes, I realize how he says that is pretty dirty!  Change your thoughts people!), and Bideyman bubbo-bath?" 

"No, Ty, I said one of the other." 

"Oh, ok, bye Bideyman Bubbo-Bath, Cars dickers and Bunge-bob dickers and Bideyman Dickers."

"No, one!"  Hold your ground, you can do it!

"How bout Bunge-bob, Doy-ra, and Cars dickers?" (I'm serious, this is exactly how he talks)

"ONE, Tyson."

"Doy-ra!!!"  Good, I did it.  He picked one.  He didn't fight me.  He didn't care that the bubble bath got put down on the shelf (which I made him do himself so that he knew it was his choice).  Yessssss, shopping trip almost done.

Pull away from stickers off to find my other two items. "BUUUUUUUUBBBBOOOOOOOO BAAAATHHHH!!!!!!!!"  Damn.  I explained to him calmly what we had agreed on--Bubble Bath OR Stickers.  I told him we are done, he made his choice, now we have to go finish shopping and go home.  I buckled down for a battle of wills; surely I would get some fight back, but didn't expect all out warfare!

I kept going through the store to get to my items, all the time talking really quietly to Tyson (because raising my voice shows that he got a rise out of me) saying over and over that he picked stickers, "I know it's sad that we cannot have both, but luckily we have bubble bath at home."  At this time his pleas got extremely loud and unintelligible.  I'm serious when I say I had no idea what he was saying.  "Ida bubba da ome an da dicka bide ah muh ows."  Yah, did you get that?  I didn't.  And the fact that I didn't understand him made him that much more upset and frustrated.  1) I don't get what I want.  2) You don't understand what I am saying.  3) I blow up!!!

He started throwing things out of the cart then tried throwing himself out of the cart.  At this point, he DOES NOT get what he wanted whether I even knew what he wanted or not.  At least not with me, Gramma, Daddy, maybe even Gram, would give into him to keep him quiet in public, and honestly, I don’t blame them really.  With me though, no way.  I took the stickers from him, and again quietly and calmly said, "Oh I'm sorry.  I know you are so mad, but you may not act like that in the store.  Now Dora has to stay here.  That is sad."  And I put the stickers down on the shelf.  I fooled myself into thinking I would be able to get my shopping done for just one split second and then gave in to the fact that the other two items would have to wait until another time.  I had a full blown meltdown-tantrum on my hands and I would be lucky to get out of there without a SWAT team's help.

I tried to calm him down by hugging him and using my soothing voice, but he flailed around, kicked me, punched me, threw my glasses off my face, and I'm pretty sure I only have half a head of hair now.  He was going to throw this tantrum whether I tried to stop him or not.  So why make us both exhausted and irate?

I've been working on staying calm and effective in situations a LOT lately.  I've also been working on not worrying about what others think of me or what's going on.  So here's what I did.  Ty wanted out of the cart.  I held on to his shirt sleeve and walked alongside the cart to make sure he would stay in it and safely, but I allowed him to throw his fit.  Yes people looked at me, I knew some were pitying me, some were angry at me, etc.  But really, I didn't care.  My concern was keeping my son safe, teaching him a lesson, and not losing my cool or working myself up.  So I saw them, and let it roll off my back.  They do not know all the facts.

I was really proud of myself.  I got him to the check out (self check out so I could do it at my own pace), kept my hand on him, used my other hand to ring up all the stuff, had some lady saying, "Let me guess, he didn't get what he wanted.  I totally know what you are going through, I have five..."  (and preceded to tell me every single thing each of her five kids have done in the last 10 years in grocery stores).....wait, pause, I must stop here.  Here's another judgment issue.  My first thought was, "Dammit lady, does it LOOK like I want to talk to you right now?"  But then I thought, "Maybe she just feels sorry for me and wants me to feel like I'm not the only one."  So although she was bugging the shit out of me, I let her talk.  It made her feel better. In fact, it made me feel better to not let it bother me to the point where I wanted to gouge out her eyes and scream at her that she wasn't helping....onward....paid for my stuff and phew, out the door.  Still with a screaming, flailing Tyson, still using my nice soft voice and explaining that I understand how he feels and next time we will have to work harder on not acting like this in the store.

I got him in the car (more accurately, I wrestled him into his seat and sat on him until I got him all buckled and locked in there so he could kick and scream and throw punches but couldn't get close to me, Muah ha ha ha!).  Got into my seat.  Looked at myself in the rear view mirror and smiled.  Then I cried.

I was completely beat.  But more than that, I was soooo proud of myself.  I didn't let his tantrum make me so mad and frustrated that I couldn't handle it.  I didn't let what others think of me make me act differently or let it bug me.  I didn't hit my child at a point where I knew nothing else would have worked (something I try really hard to hold fast to). Sure Tyson was still crying, but I did it.  I got through that and I got through it in a way that was better than I ever had before.

So if you have read this whole thing, I'm glad you stuck with me and felt my pain. But most of all, I just want all of you to remember next time you are in the store and a kid goes crazy, you don't know the half of it, so don't make assumptions.  Remember Tyson, and remember me.  And next time your child acts up in the store, stop thinking of what other people are thinking of you, don't let it bother you.  Remember that THEY don't know.  You do...and you can do it too!