The New Normal

The last month has been a whirlwind of crazy at our house. And when I say crazy, I mean it's been so up and down that the head-spinning girl from the Exorcist looked tame compared to me.

I will spare some detail, but let's just say that things got so bad that a psychiatric hospital was actually on the table for discussion. Not for me, surprisingly (although scoring a few fun pills wouldn't have been half bad), but for my 6-year-old autistic son.

Here's the long and short version: It. Was. Bad. Rowen had been getting progressively more angry and we were getting progressively more despondent. He had been doing well on the Adderall, or so we thought, until we realized it was actually the culprit for bringing out the worst in Rowen. At first we dubbed it the miracle pill, because he was in control of himself again. My head-spinning had subdued and we felt a little more in control of our lives. Little did we know, a crazed, cackling monster was readying to play hardball. And play hardball it did.

So we were advised to drop the Adderall, and two more medicines later (sigh) we are onto the next latest and greatest. I am gun shy to say it's any good, but so far so good. So good, in fact, I sat outside with Rowen yesterday and we just enjoyed being together. I almost didn't know how to handle some good old fashioned time with my boy without fighting, yelling, and discipline. It was so nice.

A good friend of ours at church who knows Rowen told me tonight that she knows what a sweet and loving boy Rowen is when he's there. I am so glad there are people that see it too when he is able to just be himself, because he really is all the good things she described. Rowen's just been given the daunting task of having to unravel a few layers before others can see it. It's not fair, really, but then who said life would be fair? Fair might not be the right word for us, but blessed sure is if all roads lead to here...

  
I also got to spend last night watching Lane in his first ever pee wee T-ball game. I loved sitting in the warm, summer-like breeze watching my 3-year-old excitedly round the bases with his daddy playing coach. I have to admit, I imagined that it felt like what most families feel when they watch their little leaguers. Relaxed. Normal. I know there is no real definition for normal (thank God for that), but it was nice to put a baseball hat on his head without a screaming tantrum erupting and a hat flying across the field. I also have to admit that it was nice to not have to coax him out on the field, but instead to see him run to it like they'd plastered popsicles all over home base. And finally, I fully admit it was nice to not have to field incredulous stares from onlookers while I stave off a belligerent 6-year-old.

I absolutely love that Rowen is Rowen. I spent the hour outside the baseball diamond watching Lane, but tending to my dirt loving, ADHD boy on the sidelines. I had to pull his wandering self out of the diamond a few times, but he soon found an equally ADHD boy to play with, and- with much mom interference- had a good time. I don't need for him to play baseball or any other sport for me to be proud of him. But admittedly it was kind of nice to see how the other half lives. If that sounds bad to anyone, so be it. It was still nice. Granted I missed half the game for having to tell Rowen to keep his hands to himself 50 times and to stop eating dirt, but I think it turned out quite nicely. Lane had a great time and we did too.