During our January visit to the Big City behavioral specialist said doctor decided to wean The Boy off of one of his two medications for hyperactivity. I was a little surprised and pondered out loud why he wanted to mess with success?
"I'd rather have him on one medication than 2."
Wouldn't we all.
I dislike medication of any kind but have learned to recognize over the years that for some children and adults it is just plain necessary whether it be for hypertension or hyperactivity. I also recognize that some people still think love and nurturing are enough when it comes to dealing with behavioral issues while others see every twitch or fart as needing psychiatric medication to deal with said twitches and farts.
Both types of people drive me completely insane. There is, after all, a balance.
A balance that I hope to have achieved during my experiences with multitudes of foster children and my own three who were adopted through the foster care system arriving with extensive illicit drug exposure in utero, no pre-natal care, traumatic birth histories, family pre-dispositions to mental illness and learning disorders......blah...blah...blah.
I will admit, however, that I STILL lean towards NOT medicating. Which is why I let the Big City behavioral specialist talk me in to messing with success.
Immediately I noticed a difference. The normally talkative child could not and would not shut up.
"How big is God?"
"Does Jesus have brothers and sisters?"
"Have you ever eaten ants?"
On and on and on. No, not terrible behavior. Annoying. Super annoying. Off the scale on the annoyance meter annoying.
And then the outside complaints began to trickle in. When I came home from work on Tuesday evening my sitter, Curly T, greeted me at the door with...and I quote...
"What in the hell is with The Boy?"
Yesterday, Mrs. Needs-To-Be-Canonized mentioned The Boy's escalating impulsivity during the past two weeks while giving me that all knowing, all wise Mrs. Needs-To-Be-Canonized look.
I called the Big City doctors office from the car before we even screeched out of the school parking lot and reported the behaviors to the nurse.
After we arrived home The Boy presented me with a note from his teacher, Mrs. Zookeeper, regarding his not being able to stay in his seat and concerns regarding escalating impulsivity.
Please sign note.
This is the first EVER note home in 3 years.
"Is it bad? Is it bad? Is it bad?" he asks while boinging through the house.
"No, honey. It's not bad at all."
OMG. It's bad. It's bad. It's bad.....
On a brighter note now perhaps they understand more fully what life is like at home as The Boy has historically only been able to "behave in one arena" to quote the Big City behavior specialist and honey home was NOT that arena. At school he is the little "angel."
Or rather was the little "angel."
I called the behavior specialists office back and told the nurse to add "teacher" to the list of concerned citizens.
We wait for our answer on Monday. It's going to be a long weekend.
In the meantime I reminisced back to the days before medication when The Boy was unable to sit still. At the age of 8 years all drawings looked like this one:
At the age of 8 years after one week on medication all drawings looked like these:
Like I said. A picture is worth a thousand words.