Friday, November 2, 2007
A spoonful of sugar
What a week! I am one fried momma. OK, first of all let me express my profound disappointment in the behavior of my (once)beloved 'Dog' Duane Chapman. I am so disappointed in him and his Aloha, and I just read that they pulled his show from the lineup. Why'd you go and do that Dog?
The whole medicine situation has really gotten to me. On Monday they gave bubs a rx for penicillin for his strep. As I previously reported bubs hated it so I called and got a new rx for some chewable amoxicillin. He hated that even more. So I forged ahead with the old bad stuff. I thought I had this aba stuff down. I thought I could do it, I am tough and I like to think I have a grip on old Ivar Lovaas and his methods. I tried the planned ignoring, I tried the reinforcers, I thought I did it all. It all failed. I have to admit that more than once I considered just forgetting about it, but it was more of a devil over my left shoulder telling me to do that. The angel on my right smacked some sense into me. The issue became bigger than just taking some medicine. It seemed to evolve into determining how successful my son would be in life. Yeah, that's they way my twisted mind operates. My biggest fear for bubs is that his strong willed demeanor would really make life difficult for him (and those around him). He is so smart, so verbal, so social but his unwillingness to do that which he deems unworthy of his time would cause his teachers to use 'the label' against him. So, him not taking the medicine, became symbolic of him not wanting to stand in line, him not wanting to write his name, him not wanting to stop rolling around on the floor, etc., etc., him not listening to his boss, him not wanting to pay a phone bill, him not coming to visit me at the nursing home, etc... It really started to get to me. Last night was pretty much the breaking point. I held his arms and tilted his head back and squirted the syringe of yuck down his throat. It was like wrestling a bear with 6 arms. I went downstairs to get a paper towel to wipe the stickiness off of his face. When I came upstairs, he proudly pointed to the red wet spot on his comforter where he spit up all the meds. So, I squirted him with some more, not even caring at this point if he swallowed it. I tearfully admitted defeat.
Today I had parent training at bubs school. I wasn't too sure if I was going to send him or not, but I decided we both needed a little edumacation. I put him on the bus, and followed behind in my car, with a Ziploc bag with an ice pack and some penicillin in it. I kind of debated doing this because bubs' school can get a little hardcore sometimes, but desperate times call for desperate measures. They went through their list of suggestions, all of which I tried. I know I was annoying, and the tears of frustration and exhaustion didn't help either. So we went into bubs' room and gave him his choice of how he wanted his poison- cup or dropper, sponge bob cup or sippie cup, bert and ernie berry punch or motts for tots, blue straw or green straw, yada yada. Choices in place, we sat down and waited it out. I felt like I was on a pdd version of law and order in the interrogation room, the little cup of medicine like the lone cup of coffee. We got the treasure box out of my car, fully loaded with oriental traders loot. It sat out on the table, a giant carrot dangling on the nose of my existence. Wouldn't you know it, after about an hour of sitting there, he chugged that thing down like a shot of jaegermeister. I felt like the weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders, for at least two hours. Just to be safe, the school made me come back after lunch to practice my new skills one more time before heading solo. It also took an hour. Tonight at home we clocked in at 45 minutes. I am hoping to shave 15 minutes off my time by the end of tomorrow night. I can tell you that on Wednesday night I might have to open a bottle of champagne after he chokes down that last dose.