Say it out loud. Say it loudly. In fact SCREAM it. Then repeat 10x, or maybe 30x. Maybe throw in a few other random non english words. Then run, jump, spin, jump on other people, shake your booty in people's faces, anything else you can possibly think of to annoy others.
That's my dear 3 yr old, whom I'll call Dove. This is her when she first wakes up at about 7:30 until about 9 am when her medication kicks in. Then it starts again at about 3 pm until she passes out from pure exhaustion at MAYBE 10 pm, but mostly later.
Dear Dove is 3.5 yrs old. She was born prenatally exposed to alcohol, marijuana, cigarettes, and quite possibly a number of other toxins. She did not have good prenatal care. She had major stressors in utero, which I cannot imagine, when her birthmother frequented the downtown eastside of Vancouver, notably the worst neighborhood in Canada.
Dove was a happy baby and has been with me since she was 6 weeks old. Always smiling and laughing. Now I understand why - she's hyperactive. A happy baby is good, but now i understand it can be an omen of things to come.
Dove has an very protective guardian angel. Dove has risked her life several times simply because she does not have the ability to control the impulses she gets. She has ripped herself away from my hand and run into traffic. She has jumped into my parents in ground pool on 3 separate occasions, all when it was NOT swimming time and all when not wearing a life jacket. Luckily I have known for awhile Dove is not able to play without direct 1:1 supervision and has been saved without long term effects. But, if Dove wants to go for a swim, in that millisecond, she will. No time to think maybe it's not safe, no time to consider it might even be too cold. She has ran away from me in the stores. She still sleeps in a crib because she requires the physcial reminder of the bars of the crib to remind her to stay IN bed at night and not wander the house.
My motivation for writing this post is the result of last nights happenings. Our entire family went out to Mcdonalds. Yes it's crap food, but at least the kids can play there and the adults can talk without kids being 'bored'. After dinner, and doing fairly well, dear Dove LOUDLY announces "MOMMY I'VE POOPED MY PANTS!!!". As though it was an accomplishment. "Lovely," I think. "Dove, let's go to the bathroom," I whisper. "BUT MOMMY I POOPED", she responds as she so smartly puts her finger down the back of her pants. And repeats her accomplishment about 3 more times.
Time to go. I've been through this before. It's late, her medication had worn off, I probably should have expected disaster. She has been completely potty trained since July 2011. Now it's time for her to get her boots on. I gently ask my other daughter, Sedona, to quickly get ready so we can get out of there without being completely embarrassed. Dove takes off running, poopy pants and all. Not to mention they were brand new pants.
Dove can't even hear me. She's on another planet. I shorten the sentence to "DOVE, BOOTS". Nothing. "BOOTS" gets me a glance from Dove. I physically direct her to the boot area to find that her boots are not there. I have to physically take her around the play area to look for the boots. Meanwhile, she is dropping to the ground at every possible moment. Sedona, I am lucky, got dressed quickly and is waiting playing a game. I have limited time to not only get Dove ready, but before Sedona goes into one her rages from being tired herself.
After at least 10 minutes of the boot stuff, I get Dove to the car. I buckle her in her booster seat, which is something she can do while her medication is working, and close the door. She opens it. She closes it. She opens it again. Closes it. My sister and her baby are coming with us, so we are waiting for the baby to be buckled into her carseat. My sister says to Dove "Close the door sweetie, the car is going to be moving soon".
"Yeah right, that's going to work," I think to myself. My sister is learning that sometimes when another adult tells your kid something, they sometimes listen to the other adult better. "Good luck with that darling, it's just going to keep annoying the hell out of the both of us for awhile". Thank you for trying though.
Dove continues the door stuff until the car starts moving. Luckily she didn't touch the door while moving, I think because I have DRILLED that into her head since she was a toddler. Don't even TOUCH the door OR window while the car is moving.
It takes us about 15 minutes to get home. Army sargent mom gets everyone into bed within 10 minutes. No reading stories or long goodnight routines in this house. A kiss, hug, a tuck in, a reminder to close your eyes. By the end of the day I'm exhausted from parenting a child where you have to be the external brain. I NEED them to just go to bed.
Yet, there are times when Dove is an amazing child. Mainly during "medication" times sadly. When medicated, her real self can come out, one that is able to be a normal child. She loves books, especially National Geographic magazines. She can build things, and be a very compassionate, loving mom to her dolls. She loves helping her grandparents with their fish aquarium. Her faveourite food is green salad.
As a parent to such a highly hyperactive/impulse impaired child I find myself struggling between modes of empathy for her and pity for myself. It's hard and she annoys the hell out of me when she's un-medicated. It has, in fact, affected our attachment because pre medication, I could not stand her. I became burnt out because I had to supervise her 150% more than a typical child just to keep her SAFE.
Our amazing pediatrician made the risky decision to medicate her at such a young age just because there were safety issues. I cannot express my gratefulness to him for doing this. I can bond with my daughter, where before I could not even hold her because she was always on the go. And yes, there are times when I still cannot stand her, but I have the ability to know understand that she has a serious disability, that is very treatable, and that there are times when she's a 'nice' little girl. I might be shocking some people when I say this, but, "THANK GOODNESS FOR RITALIN!!!"
I so understand being an army sargent mom sometimes. I wonder if people for example at McDonalds think I am a mean mom when I am sternly and quickly getting my girls dressed and to the car. We have also had several quick night time routines. Just get them into bed to prevent any further meltdowns and preserve what is left of my sanity.
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