Straight Jacket, Anyone?

Today was a saving grace. After the last few days, anyway, it was.

Operation Adderall has begun. Today is day four and we haven't seen much of a difference yet. I didn't quite expect to see results this soon anyway, but his doc said to go ahead and increase his dose today. Bottoms up, kiddo.

The past few days have been hard. Rowen's mood swings are giving me a headache. When I start to entertain the notion that he is bipolar (really, I do), I do a quick self-check and start to wonder if I am some days (ok, really I don't, but anyway...). Let me explain.

I spent a lot of yesterday kicking myself in the butt for not being able to handle Rowen as well as I should. It started off a rough day when Rowen decided it was time to start his day at 3:30 in the morning. Goodbye peaceful goodnight. Actually, it wasn't that peaceful given that Lane had already been up twice, finally kicking daddy out of bed at 2 a.m. But I digress.

Rowen was a madman. Uncontrollable and wild. Belligerant and oppositional. Big brother bully to Lane all friggin' day. The F-dash-dash-dash word went through my head on more than one occassion, I have to admit. Though it died down a bit in the afternoon, it roared back to life when Rowen took a whiplash turn into opposition once again.

Let me set the scene. I'm feeling better. Rowen seems better. I think I can handle today without a straight jacket. "Hey Rowen," I say. "Let's read a book together." I walk up the stairs to get a book, come back down and Rowen is crouched behind the couch screaming and ranting with me as the target. If the devil himself could have swooped in and taken over, it might have seemed that way to passers by. His eyes were wild with tears, teeth clenched, and red-faced awaiting a fight. He started calling me names, yelling like a madman, and for a moment I was thankful he didn't have an AK-47 in his hand. Here's the part where I lose it. And lose it I did.

I told Brenner that I don't know why I can't get it. Yes, essentially I am being verbally abused and the target of undeserved, crazed anger, but it's by an autistic 6-year-old. That's the part I can't seem to come to grips with. I still react. I get mad. And then when all is said and done, I feel like a failure. I just can't seem to get this. Ok, yes, so if someone walked in the door and started tearing you down Navy Seals style and then repeated it day after day after day after... well, you get it. You'd probably go crazy. I think some days I have too. But I need to somehow disconnect that and realize he can't help it. Why can't I get that?!

So I had a heart-to-heart with myself. Brenner came home to a wife in tears, but I think I worked it out doing a little kickboxing later. Thank you, TurboFire.

So back to redemption. I took Rowen and Lane to SkyZone today (an indoor trampoline park) and prayed on the way there to not have to run away in tears at the end. Rowen put on his game face and protested for the first half-hour. He even semi-assaulted a woman who tried to talk to him, to which I followed my usual protocol to put out that fire. At least she was understanding. So I watched Lane jump for joy, thankfully oblivious to big brother's stance. I had followed all the rules: 1.) get there first so there aren't so many people there. 2.) Put on stupid SkyZone shoes myself (the only parent out there) to help Rowen get into gear. 3.) Give him space and time.

Despite my rule-following it still blew up in my face, for awhile anyway. A few panic attacks later by me (ok, so I exaggerate), the ice melted. Rowen's arms fell to his sides from being defiantly crossed against his chest and he said, "I want to try it."

And that was that. He was rockin' it from there (his words). He even handed over the money to the concession worker for his snack at the end himself-super big feat for him. So what if Lane cued up a fabulous fit because he couldn't play dodgeball? I sweated that one out with him screaming for 15 minutes and then multi-tasking a game of air hockey with Lane while watching Rowen do his thing. He'd make sure I was watching, gear up for a run, and then divebomb into the foam pit again and again. With joy. He'd disappear into the foam blocks for a moment, and then I'd see that toe head pop out from a sea of blue. The first thing he did was look for me and smile. That made the day worth it, sweat and all.