Visit five

This visit did not begin with a therapy appointment. It was Good Friday and the AT needed to cancel the appointment.

In the hopes that it would help Bright-Eyes to relax a little, we decided to pick Middle-One up on Saturday morning instead of Friday afternoon and just have an overnight visit.

Saturday; Mr. T. and Bright-Eyes drove over to get Middle and bring him home. On they way home they stopped to pick up Mr. T's birthday cake (His was the last in the birthday marathon, Whew!).

All was well until the magical crossing of the threshold. The very instant Bright-Eyes feet crossed into our home, he became a frantic, anxious, loud, hyper mess of nerves (for those of you above the Mason-Dixon line, a "mess" is southern for a "bunch of"). Middle seemed rather calm and laid back... almost lethargic. He went on about his business and did basically nothing to provoke this high anxiety reaction. It was all PTS and no amount of talking and reasoning worked to calm him down. Bright-Eyes *knew* he was feeling anxious and he *knew* it was based on past experiences and the fear of what might happen, but fear is unreasonable and he was powerless to change his feelings. So we reviewed relaxation techniques and went on.

The boys did play together under watchful supervision. I prepared Mr. T's Chicken Tertrazzini birthday dinner. We all gathered and feasted... the boys ate THREE helpings a piece!

We celebrated Mr. T's birthday with cake and ice cream later in the evening. About two bites into the cake Middle announced that his throat hurt. He got a shower and spent the rest of the visit on the couch.

Around 4:30 AM I woke to the sound of "mooommmy".... "mooooommmmy"......"mooooommmmmy.. being whispered really loud. I opened my eyes to see Middle silhouetted in the doorway whispering across the room at me. This was startling for a couple of reasons...

1) the only other time that Middle had EVER deliberately woken me during the night was a completely psychotic and nightmarish event when he was 6 years old.

2) Middle doesn't usually seek help or comfort.

I sat up and asked (probably a little too quickly)

"What is it sweety?"

"I don't feel good... my throat hurts and my head hurts"

I got out of bed and cared for my middle child and he let me. (Please take a moment here for this to truly register)....... I was able to take his temperature, give him Ibuprofen, spray his throat with sore throat spray (and FYI, that is the official name of the stuff... I checked ;o) ), escort him back to bed and even pray over him.

As I got back into bed I relished in that full on mom-moment for a second and then wondered just how long it would be before I saw payback :o)

Easter morning found Middle still sick and he and I stayed home from church. Mr. T. and the other two went off to the morning service.

Middle-One laid on the couch all day. This made for a very easy visit. I brought him Ibuprofen every few hours and encouraged him to drink liquids and eat what he could. He watched TV.

I was going beautifully until I decided it was time for him to get ready to go back and told him to go get dressed.


"I'm just going to wear this"

Middle gestured to his gym shorts and T-shirt that he had slept in and laid around in all day.

I knew I should have said "ok"... I do know better than to step into that ring... but I ignored my acquired wisdom and opened my mouth... the words that spilled out sounded something like

"uhhh... No, you're not, go change"

*hanging my head in shame*

Yes, I know, it doesn't sound a bit like Love & Logic or Nancy Thomas or even Heather Forbes. But there it was, a pile of words laying out there for all to see and there was no taking them back.

The power struggled ensued.

I did win by the way, but it didn't end easily or quickly.

I think I need to spend this week role-playing and brushing up on my nurturing and empathetic words... any volunteers?