Bean (my granddaughter) always stays over here on Thursday nights because I'm off of work on Fridays and so I can get her off to school in the morning. It was the same this past Thursday and Friday. Friday morning, She went to her overnight bag to get her clothes for the day and found homework that was supposed to be due that morning. A week's worth of homework that had not been started. Several short writing assignments, a math assignment and a geography assignment. This was a short 30 minutes prior to the bus coming. No way we could have finished it in time for school. So, I wrote her teacher a note, explaining the misunderstanding and that she would turn it in on Monday. Then, I told her mom, Ally, about it and that we put it back in her overnight bag and sent it back home and that she would have to help Bean finish it before Monday.
Flash forward to Halloween night. We get a call from Ally at 7pm saying that they aren't going to make it to our house for trick-or-treating (they always come here and go around our neighborhood because they live in an apartment and don't trust to go there for trick-or-treating). Apparently, they hadn't eaten yet and they hadn't started on Bean's homework yet and it's a school/work night so Bean wasn't going to go trick-or-treating at all.
I'm so fucking mad, I can't see straight. I don't know how I'm able to write this post. Not only that, it's just a symptom of Bean's life and I'm so sad about it. If it were the only thing bad that ever happened to her, I'd just say, "oh well, she'll get over it". But bad shit happens to that kid every damn day. Her mom basically ignores her and has no time for her. Her stepfather to be is mean to her and picks on her daily and is basically just a huge asshole. (That's another story for another day.) Her mom also never thinks of what Bean needs or what's best for Bean. Another example is that she sent Bean here without a jacket and it was 25 degrees here on Friday morning. You could say that maybe she didn't realize that it was going to be so cold, but it was nearly as cold the day before. And forget about hat and gloves, she didn't have those either.
I'm just beside myself and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. What she does, or doesn't do, is not illegal or any grounds for us getting Bean. It's so frustrating. They have to break her or physically damage her before anyone will do anything. I wanna scream.
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
About Max
Max is my son. He's the baby of the family, even at 15 years old. I suppose he'll always be my baby, even though he pretty much hates me. Or, at least, he acts like he does most of the time.
He's been going through some shit for about the last year or so. Really, all of his life, but it's been more visible the last year. You see, I've always thought that he has depression and anxiety issues. I'm his mom. I see things in him that I see in myself. I could go on and on about this, but let's just assume I know what I am talking about and that I'm right when it comes to him. Because I am.
Anyway, about a year ago, we discovered he'd been using pot. And drinking alcohol. He felt absolutely shitty about the way we felt about it and he decided, on his own, to join a sobriety support group at school. We were proud of him and he stayed clean and sober for most of the school year. This was true even through the loss of his grandfather, some bullying at school, difficulties with schoolwork among other normal teenager experiences.
Toward the end of the school year, he came to us and asked us if there was something we could do to help him with school. Specifically, he was wondering about medication. He had been diagnosed with ADD in the past and had tried some medications before, always with bad side effects. So, we took him to his pediatrician and she prescribed some medication for him that she truly thought would be the right thing and wouldn't cause him any ill effects.
Weeks went by. Max became a different person. Not in a good way. He was angry. He was violent. He was edgy. Trouble was, we didn't see it. We never saw him. He was always here or there or somewhere else. His sister, Ella, tried to tell us. We didn't listen. Or, we didn't want to hear. Until, one day, he sent several suicidal texts to his dad. It was terrifying. I called the facilitator of his sobriety support group, a prevention specialist (someone who helps students with student issues), and she called him down to her office where we met them for an intervention of sorts. Did I mention it was terrifying?
Max stated over and over that he would not commit suicide; that he just felt hopeless and like a failure (at this point, he was failing all of his classes and it was a short 2 weeks from the end of the school year). We came up with a plan to help him both in his schoolwork and in his emotional needs. That night I tried to hold him as he sobbed in pain. Do you know how hard it is to watch your baby, who is a young man, really, sob in pain? It really broke my heart.
In the days following the "intervention", it was discovered that he was using marijuana again. He promised us he would quit. Again. We got him counselling. Which sucked. The counsellor kept saying things like, "You're a good looking kid. You have lots of friends. What do you have to be depressed about?" I mean, what the fuck? Max refused any kind of medication. We had immediately stopped his ADD med at the time of the intervention, fearing that it was the cause of his downfall. (It probably wasn't or was partially responsible, along with his use of pot and his already fragile psyche.) We just agreed to end counseling and remain open and honest with each other. And cross our fingers and toes, hold our breath and hope and pray for the best.
Mid-summer came. Along with a few hints from Ella and then a full out, "You better search Max's room, Dad!" statement. That's where we found drug paraphernalia, alcohol bottles and cigarette packages. Sigh. He was due for a physical, so back to the pediatrician we went.
(I should insert at this point, that I have worked with his pediatrician since long before Max, or Ella for that matter, were born. She has "known" him since he was a teeny-tiny bean in my tummy. I call her my children's "medical mommy". Truly, she has been a big part of our lives.)
I prepared Max for the appointment by telling him that he would have to be honest about his drug and alcohol use. Which he was. His pediatrician was awesome. She told him how much she loved him and that she was not going to let him go down that path and that she would do whatever necessary to keep him going down the right road. So, we agreed to a plan. It includes periodic, random drug screens. We just tell her and she puts an order in at the lab and his dad brings him in to pee in a cup. He was agreeable. He was excited. He couldn't wait to show us that he means it when he says he's done with that.
He's really trying. So far, all of the drug screens have been clean. He's honest about where he is going and who he is going to be with. He's doing well in school. He has a very nice girlfriend (his first real girlfriend). He's back in the sobriety support group. I'm cautiously optimistic. I mean, he's only 15, surely there will be more bumps in the road. I just hope they're pebbles, not rocks or boulders.
He's been going through some shit for about the last year or so. Really, all of his life, but it's been more visible the last year. You see, I've always thought that he has depression and anxiety issues. I'm his mom. I see things in him that I see in myself. I could go on and on about this, but let's just assume I know what I am talking about and that I'm right when it comes to him. Because I am.
Anyway, about a year ago, we discovered he'd been using pot. And drinking alcohol. He felt absolutely shitty about the way we felt about it and he decided, on his own, to join a sobriety support group at school. We were proud of him and he stayed clean and sober for most of the school year. This was true even through the loss of his grandfather, some bullying at school, difficulties with schoolwork among other normal teenager experiences.
Toward the end of the school year, he came to us and asked us if there was something we could do to help him with school. Specifically, he was wondering about medication. He had been diagnosed with ADD in the past and had tried some medications before, always with bad side effects. So, we took him to his pediatrician and she prescribed some medication for him that she truly thought would be the right thing and wouldn't cause him any ill effects.
Weeks went by. Max became a different person. Not in a good way. He was angry. He was violent. He was edgy. Trouble was, we didn't see it. We never saw him. He was always here or there or somewhere else. His sister, Ella, tried to tell us. We didn't listen. Or, we didn't want to hear. Until, one day, he sent several suicidal texts to his dad. It was terrifying. I called the facilitator of his sobriety support group, a prevention specialist (someone who helps students with student issues), and she called him down to her office where we met them for an intervention of sorts. Did I mention it was terrifying?
Max stated over and over that he would not commit suicide; that he just felt hopeless and like a failure (at this point, he was failing all of his classes and it was a short 2 weeks from the end of the school year). We came up with a plan to help him both in his schoolwork and in his emotional needs. That night I tried to hold him as he sobbed in pain. Do you know how hard it is to watch your baby, who is a young man, really, sob in pain? It really broke my heart.
In the days following the "intervention", it was discovered that he was using marijuana again. He promised us he would quit. Again. We got him counselling. Which sucked. The counsellor kept saying things like, "You're a good looking kid. You have lots of friends. What do you have to be depressed about?" I mean, what the fuck? Max refused any kind of medication. We had immediately stopped his ADD med at the time of the intervention, fearing that it was the cause of his downfall. (It probably wasn't or was partially responsible, along with his use of pot and his already fragile psyche.) We just agreed to end counseling and remain open and honest with each other. And cross our fingers and toes, hold our breath and hope and pray for the best.
Mid-summer came. Along with a few hints from Ella and then a full out, "You better search Max's room, Dad!" statement. That's where we found drug paraphernalia, alcohol bottles and cigarette packages. Sigh. He was due for a physical, so back to the pediatrician we went.
(I should insert at this point, that I have worked with his pediatrician since long before Max, or Ella for that matter, were born. She has "known" him since he was a teeny-tiny bean in my tummy. I call her my children's "medical mommy". Truly, she has been a big part of our lives.)
I prepared Max for the appointment by telling him that he would have to be honest about his drug and alcohol use. Which he was. His pediatrician was awesome. She told him how much she loved him and that she was not going to let him go down that path and that she would do whatever necessary to keep him going down the right road. So, we agreed to a plan. It includes periodic, random drug screens. We just tell her and she puts an order in at the lab and his dad brings him in to pee in a cup. He was agreeable. He was excited. He couldn't wait to show us that he means it when he says he's done with that.
He's really trying. So far, all of the drug screens have been clean. He's honest about where he is going and who he is going to be with. He's doing well in school. He has a very nice girlfriend (his first real girlfriend). He's back in the sobriety support group. I'm cautiously optimistic. I mean, he's only 15, surely there will be more bumps in the road. I just hope they're pebbles, not rocks or boulders.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)