Praise and Thanks to God!!

I've been praying for Pajama Monster. I'm a Mommy and a Christian, so of course I've been praying for him. I prayed for his conception and pregnancy and birth, and now I pray every day for him to just be able to have a good life. Lately that's been centering around his medications and health. I believe that God answers every prayer, but sometimes the answer is "no." Today, however, the answer about the leukocyte counts was "yes." Apparently, according to our psychiatrist, in some cases the body can adjust to the Depakote and stabilize the white blood cells. From his latest, completely normal WBC of 8.2, that appears to be what happened. His depakote level is 75, smack in the middle of the range, so we're increasing the dose slightly to see if we can get him nearer the best end of the therapeutic range. It's possible that a month from now my little Pajama Monster could be functioning like any other very gifted little snuggle bug. He might be able to function in preschool without behavioral specialists and go to playdates without needing to leave because of his behavior. Even if we never make it all the way there, this is manageable. Praise be to God for all his help! Without Him we would be truly lost!

Not the Mommy I'd like to be...

I'm not the energetic, always ready to play Mommy that I'd always hoped I'd be. The truth is, I'm drained. It seems like Pajama Monster needs so much constant supervision that when he is sitting and wanting to play with Mommy, all I really want to do is go in the bedroom and hide from the chaos for a little bit. I want to drink a whole cup of tea, or eat a whole bagel without having to stop Pajama Monster from bullying 5 or 6 times and redirect him back to his task another 15 times and then stop him from various other defiant acts another dozen or so times. Breakfast alone generally requires this number of interventions. I'm not a super picky Mommy when it comes to breakfast either. I'm pretty happy if the kids stay at the table, eat something, and no one is screming.

That being said, I know I need to play with the kids but often struggle because I am so drained. It's the emotional exhaustion that comes from needing to intervene at least once a minute for hours and hours at a time. It's from never knowing when a mood swing will happen. It's the weariness that comes from people raising an eyebrow at me when Pajama Monster acts out, and also coming over to lecture me when I do intervene early to prevent the acting out because somehow that's wrong too. If I give him meds I'm an irresponsible unloving monster who wants my child to be a zombie, and if I don't then I'm a worthless incompetent mother who is clearly causing his behavior. If he is having a good day then I'm exagerating and "overprotective," but if he's having a bad day then I get lectured on his bratty/violent behavior. Last week a mom freaked out at a playdate because her child urinated behind a tree and my son was trying to play in it with a stick. I didn't ask why she thought it was reasonable for her son to be urinating with an audience in the first place. That's what I get for turning my back for a second to hear what Peep was asking me.

I feel silly and whiny saying that I don't have the energy to play legos and cars, but sometimes it just feels like I can't handle the strain of wondering when the next problem is going to start, or who is going to try to shove their unwanted judgements down my throat while I'm elbow deep in another Pajama Monster meltdown. When I'm not feeling worn down I can just ignore most of these, but some days it gets to me. I do find myself reading a book at the counter some days, or taking my laptop out to the kitchen and reading or surfing when I could be playing, then I feel guilty because I know Pajama Monster wants to play. I love him so much, but sometimes I wish he had a 10 minute pause button, just so I could catch my breath and collect my thoughts. I've tried many times to add in a little structured Mommy/kid exercise time or yoga time, but Pajama Monster just can't handle it. If I'm not playing his game his way with him in control of my every move then it doesn't count for him as being played with. I know that this just shows that he needs play time even more because he needs to build his play skills, but some days it's hard. I suppose that's just part of being a Mommy. It's just magnified with the bipolar.

I whined to my husband about feeling worthless because I'm so tired while other moms are out there baking fresh bread every day and chairing the PTA. My husband reminded me that on top of the parenting those moms don't have all the therapy appointments, psychiatry appointments, special ed. meetings, social skills meetups, support group meetings and also probably don't have to shampoo urine out of the carpet 4-5 times a week. That made me feel a little better. Maybe other moms aren't really doing more, but just doing different. Society spends so much time telling us that Bipolar isn't real and meds are unnecessary that some days I guess a part of my brain (albeit a dumb part) buys into it and wonders why my life feels so hard.