Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to this. Life has been crazy. I went back to work after surgery, only to find out that the other person in my department, the department manager, would have to be out for eight weeks after having a major emergency surgery. My time has shrunk to nothing. The update is as follows: Since my last post, we went back to the endocrinologist, who I requested a neuropsych eval from. We had a sleep study done that had been scheduled since mid-June. Next week we go for the eval, and here's hoping that they can give me some answers. It gets to be so irritating to hear "he may or may not" to every question I ask. "Will he progress?" Well, he may or may not. "Will he go through puberty like a normal child, and will I have to explain his body to him?" Well, he may or may not. It's too soon to tell right now. Now, he may or may not begin having seizures. If this happens, give me a call right away. Don't be alarmed if it does happen, but it may not.... UGH!!!
I don't know if my problems are worse these days, or if my fuse is just getting shorter and shorter. I find myself yelling most days. It's not just him, it's the girls too. Maybe it's just that I'm overwhelmed. I feel like my son doesn't hear what I say to him. So he keeps pushing until I'm yelling my response to him. Just this afternoon, after I got the kids into the van and was driving away from after school care, my son hands me two pieces of paper. I glanced at both, then slid them under my leg so they wouldn't get lost in the mess that is my vehicle. "Well, what do you think?" I don't know, I didn't look at it. "Yes, you did. I saw you look at it." Well, I didn't read it. I just looked at it. I can't read it and drive too. "Well, read it." I can't read it while I'm trying to drive. I'll read it when we get home. "Well, why didn't you read it?" BECAUSE I'M DRIVING! I CAN'T READ IT WHILE I'M DRIVING!!!! I end up yelling because I don't feel like he hears what I say when I talk in a normal voice. This morning, we ended up yelling at each other because he was convinced I was lying about not having any cash. He wanted a dollar, and I told him I didn't have any money. Then he wanted me to write a check for $1 so he could get an ice cream at lunch. But when I tried explaining to him that I wasn't going to send a $1 check to the school for an ice cream, he got upset because he KNEW that I had the money and I just wouldn't give it to him.
Our after school time consists of getting everything that they put into the van that day out (book bags, papers, toys, shoes if they have taken them off...), taking shoes off at the door, and taking your own stuff to your room. The kids are allowed to play or watch tv while I begin cooking dinner. After we eat, it's time for homework. My son isn't even bringing his homework folder home so that I can know what he has for homework, much less the books that he would need if he did have homework. He has an inclusion/study hall period at the end of the day where his inclusion teacher is with him and works with him on any school work he didn't finish that day. And when he does bring his homework folder home, he hasn't written his homework for the day in it. We end up having the discussion about writing his homework down and bringing his homework folder home so I can help him with his homework and make sure it gets done. About 730, we start showers. I have to make sure that he has bathed properly, washed his hair properly, and at least twice a week I have to send him back to finish rinsing his hair or body. Right before bed, he gets his growth hormone. In the morning, I pull the clothes he will wear out of the closet and lay them on his bed. (I should probably mention that he doesn't see very well. He's mostly blind in one eye, and can't see the broad side of a barn most of the time. Again, is this a true problem, or "I just don't care"? His vision is fine in the good eye, so fine in fact that he doesn't even have corrective lenses.) He will ask me where his clothes are, where his socks are, where his book bag is. I have to remind him to put on deodorant (to which his reply this morning was he will be glad when he's grown and he has his own house and he won't have to wear deodorant, and I told him that he would stink and no one would want to be around him...) and tell him to get his shoes on. I let him go back to wearing his every day shoes, and that seems to have fixed the problem with not knowing which ones are his and what foot to put them on. But after more than nine weeks of school five days a week, he still asks me where his clothes are. I walk into his room every morning, turn on his light, pull his clothes out of the closet and lay them on the foot of the bed. Three times a week, he asks where his pants are. Under your shirt. I laid them on the bed under your shirt, just like I did yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that.
Lately, I just feel like I need a break. My mom keeps offering to keep him for a while, but I don't think that would be best for him. He started a while back about wanting to go live with his father. I agreed that if his father could get it together and do the things he should be doing before Christmas break that my son could move over there until the end of the school year. His father isn't even trying to do what he should be do, much less possess the capabilities of transporting him to and from the doctors we see. I think he finally got that idea out of his head. Mostly, I just want answers. I may be on the verge of getting those next week. I hope I hope I hope!!! We'll just add this psychologist to the growing number of specialists we see. And maybe some day soon, I'll have the information I seek, a game plan, and a little more patience. I'm really trying to work on the patience, but I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. I just don't want to be the mom that yells at her kids. Thanks for listening to my vent!!!