It’s Not About You

Six-year-olds are jerks.

Did you know that?

someecards.com - I love being a kid because when I act like a jerk my mom will totally blame herself.

We’ve been struggling for weeks and weeks with all manner of things with Jack. Finally I went back to the parenting bible I had browsed a year ago – Your Six-Year-Old by Ames & Ilg – and everything became clear. I’m not failing and cancer isn’t stealing Jack’s youth and soul. He’s acting like a jerk because he’s six!

I don’t know why this surprised me. I’ve experienced similar revelations about other frustrating ages and stages. And as each year passes I revise my opinion that the age we just said goodbye to was the worst. Because seriously, kids only get more complicated with age!

But six…I really can’t imagine much worse. At least it’s well known (possibly because we remember them better) that the teen years suck. I remember enough of my teen years to know that I was a royal asshole and nothing my mom could do would have changed that fact – it was like I was implanted with a rage generator. I do not, however, remember much about age six so I just assumed it was mostly shiny and happy. I remember loving school, after all!

My memory is obviously faulty.

It’s always been amazing to watch Jack’s mind work, but now it’s getting scary. He understands – and correctly uses – sarcasm. He imagines up new species and describes their evolution – and it sounds plausible (and sometimes it’s a real thing that he thought he made up!). He states facts about science that *I* have to look up. His mind is getting sharper while mine is slowing down.

He is getting smarter than me, people!

He doesn’t know that, though. He’s still under the impression that adults know everything (although he argues anyway) and he doesn’t want to be an adult quite yet because he’s intimidated by how much it seems he has to learn first. Still, he wants to be important and he wants to be heard. He’s just unsure whether that is a function of age or something else. The uncertainly and anxiety have given him a raging case of “short man syndrome.” And the best person to take that shit out on?

MOM.

At least in our family it’s that way. Sure, Jack is a jerk to his other parents, too, but I seem to draw most of his ire. Maybe it’s because I’m the reminder of how much he has yet to learn. Maybe it’s because he feels safe and secure with me, thus he can act like a complete asshat and know that I will still love him 150%. Or perhaps it’s just a function of the mother-son relationship. I don’t really know.

In any case, I now know that it’s not about me.

And now I’m telling you all, too, so you don’t agonize like I have been: it’s not about you.

You’re welcome.

[Jack is seven soon. Please tell me the madness stops...]

Leukemia, Section 504, and Education Planning

I met with Jack’s first grade teacher, the school principal, and the district nurse yesterday to discuss a 504 assessment for Jack. If you aren’t familiar, Section 504 is part of the Rehabilitation Act that protects students with disabilities. Since Leukemia is a chronic, life-threatening illness that impacts his learning, working, and performance of manual tasks, he qualifies as disabled. Once a 504 assessment is made and it’s determined that a student qualifies, an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) is typically created to address the student’s needs in school.

Obviously, it’s taken me a while to get in gear and ask for this. The irony of requesting this assessment now is that Jack has caught up to his peers in most areas of concern since he started back to school in October. With that said, he is failing Physical Education, missing quite a bit of school, and his self-esteem and confidence are low. His stress level is difficult to manage even on a good day.

I was nervous going into the meeting. Not only am I still getting used to being an advocate for another person – a person whose needs have changed dramatically in the last year – but I’ve also read complaints about parents’ frustrating experiences with schools when enacting 504. I worried that I might get pushback from the school because Jack really is performing well. Thankfully, the school officials were all very understanding. I feel like we are off to a good start in helping to get Jack some relief.

In our hour-long meeting, I summarized Jack’s medication and treatment routines, explained how his health and side effects of treatment can impact him on any given day, and shared my concerns related to the challenges these things present to his education. Mainly it boils down to the fact that Jack puts forth so much additional effort in order to meet standards because of these challenges that it has compromised his emotional health and feelings about school.

We recorded the following challenges that impact Jack’s ability to learn:

  • Sensitivity to temperature changes
  • Bone and joint pain, soreness
  • Catheter in chest
  • Lowered muscle definition
  • Difficulty with coordination
  • Delayed reflexes
  • Shortness of breath
  • Dizziness
  • Weakness/fatigue
  • Attention/focus impacted by chemo treatment levels
  • Monthly steroid impacts mood and ability to cope with expectations
  • Medication taken at school, can get headache near time of receipt

Based on these things, the school will make accommodations for him to aid his learning in the following ways:

  • Additional time to complete assessments and assignments
  • Extra opportunities to repeat and explain information and directions
  • Extra time to respond to information and questions
  • Teacher will provide parents with work when child can’t attend school (to be completed if he feels well enough)
  • PE accommodations, such as alternate responsibilities/tasks
  • Teacher will remind Jack to eat and take snacks to accommodate his lack of appetite and slowness/distractibility when eating

This plan is a bit vague, but it should be enough to give the teachers the ability to customize the help they give Jack without making it a big production in front of his peers. I’m hoping that the additional understanding of Jack’s health issues from his teacher’s will take some of the pressure off of him and maybe that will even result in less self-injury! That’s my hope anyway.

I felt so relieved when I walked out of that office! I alternately wanted to cry and giggle hysterically. I didn’t have to push for any of this and it felt like I was part of a team that has Jack’s best interests at heart. There are people who have access to things that I don’t and they are going to help my child – we aren’t alone and we don’t have to spend tons of time blindly fumbling around the educational system.

Instead we can spend our time blindly fumbling our way through the parenting of our chronically ill kid! It may be a small victory but I will take it!

Progress In Inches

We’ve made some progress this week! Maybe things are getting better!

(I know – I should shoot myself now for saying that. It will all go to hell now that I’ve made a positive parenting-related comment!)

Jack saw his therapist on Monday. Together they brainstormed ideas for how to deal with anger (besides hurting himself). Jack used one of these methods last night – he drew a picture of the thing that had angered him, then ripped it up and taped it back together in a funky pattern. This seemed to give him a bit more control over the situation and he was happy that he “showed it.” I was proud of him!

He has seemed to be more open to talking about difficult subjects since Monday. Back when Jack was diagnosed, we were given an activity book that is supposed to help kids explore their emotions about their chronic illness. Jack has mostly refused to talk about cancer at all before now. But last night I said I had a neat workbook that I hoped he would try and suggested that it would be helpful with some of the frustration he’s been feeling. I sat next to him and flipped through the book, summarizing the different activities. When I mentioned “Things That Make Me Feel Alone,” Jack said he felt alone when his dad takes him to the redwoods and also on an empty street. :( He didn’t want to draw or write that down, though. I moved on and when I got to the one entitled “Things I Hate About The Hospital And Clinic,” he grabbed the packet and took off to the living room where his colored pencils were located. He drew a syringe, an elevator, a dressing change, and he wrote down ‘procedures’ because “I don’t know what they look like since I’m asleep.”

It was interesting that in thinking about it, he said there are several things that he doesn’t mind at all – i.e. the waiting, the examinations, the infusions. I made sure to point that out to him – it’s not all horrible even if it’s boring!

He went on to another page and drew the reactions of people around him when he was diagnosed. His picture showed indifference, the one of his parents showed worry, the doctor looked confident (“like ‘I know how to fix this!’”), and new people he met were nervous.

WOW. I was so relieved that he was actually expressing these things! Jack is a total people-pleaser and doesn’t want to talk about things that aren’t happy or cool because he doesn’t want anyone to be upset. It was part of the reason for the delay in realizing he had cancer – he won’t complain about something until it is unbearable. And even when he does complain, it’s understated – “my throat feels weird” becomes puke two minutes later. “My legs are floppy” means his legs are feeling weak and unsteady and he can’t walk well. The things going on with his body are generally the last thing on his mind (which can be good and bad).

We’ve been encouraging him since he was admitted to the hospital to complain more. I know that sounds strange! But his physicians would ask if he was having diarrhea or headaches or cloudy urine or tingling in his hands and we would have no idea. He’s king of “I’m fine!” But seriously, kid, we need to know if anything at all is bugging you because it can be a sign of something big!

Anyway, he’s getting better. He definitely complains more, although often still in a roundabout way. It’s weird when you have to suggest to your kid that he needs to eat or maybe he needs some allergy or headache medicine! And while I know what to look for to anticipate these things (hm, he’s very intent on coloring that dragon even though it’s lunch time and he is surely hungry!), others don’t and I’m not there all the time.

One thing he definitely hasn’t had trouble complaining about is clothing! It’s been an ongoing battle to find comfortable things for him and sometimes we lose the battle. However, I took him to buy (a third pair of) new shoes two nights ago and after trying nearly every pair in the store on, he was absolutely sure that some fur lined boots were The Ones. He freaking loves them. Yay! Now to find more pairs because those are not gonna last!

I’ve ordered socks without seams (they have them on Amazon!) and socks of various lengths and good quality in the hopes that we can get past his sock issue (also – he doesn’t feel right NOT wearing socks). And yesterday I ordered NINE pairs of shoes from Zappos that looked comfortable – some of which are fur-lined and others that are just fairly trim in design. I hope something works. Summer is coming and he’s not going to be able to wear those fur-lined boots forever. (I’ve tapped out my local resources for shoes – at least as far as how much I can afford!)

I’ve spent ungodly amounts of money on clothing for Jack this year. There should be a special charity for soft, comfortable clothing for kids with cancer!

David took Jack out for ice cream yesterday after he got 10 lilypads colored in on his behavior chart (he gets one each time he finishes homework, brushes his teeth without dawdling, and remembers to not maul the cat). We’re trying to reinforce the fact that he’s good and does good things because he’s WAY too hard on himself. The therapist said we should avoid charts with sad faces since he already focuses on his ‘bad’ behavior so much. Anyway, this seems to be working.

It’s a weird balancing act to parent such a sensitive kid. It’s nearly impossible to discipline him because he already punishes himself more than necessary! I’m not exactly a subtle person so it’s been challenging to dial back my reactions to some of the things he does – even a stern look will have him in tears in no time flat! Thank goodness I’m not more authoritarian – that would crush him!

The insight shared by you all has helped me, as well. I’ve learned that six year olds are very particular and kinda jerky. I’m trying to remember that his behavior is usually not a reflection of what I’m doing (or not doing) – it’s more about what he is feeling or trying not to feel. I can help guide him but I can’t fight all these battles for him.

So…progress for him AND me. I’ll take it!

Jack at Age Six

Jack doesn’t do favorites. He likes all the colors. He likes a variety of cookies and books and animals and activities.

He likes how he looks in black and red.

He doesn’t like obnoxious cartoons. He swears that the sole purpose of Johnny Test is to be annoying.

He prefers Mystery Incorporated and What’s New Scooby-Doo? over the original Scooby-Doo cartoons. He says the artwork looks better.

Jack thinks skateboards are the worst toys ever. He’s “not into” cars or trains.

He’s obsessed with aliens and monsters. He likes dragons a lot, too.

He totally hates it when someone talks about (or jokes about) bodily functions. It will ruin his day and any friendship.

He thinks spiders are cute.

Jack says cancer is “the most boring thing ever.” He doesn’t want to talk about it.

He won’t wear jeans or tank tops. He doesn’t like pants with buttons. He likes knit hats.

He doesn’t drink juice – only water and milk and sometimes Vitamin Water. Oh and he hates carbonation!

Playing in dirt is not his idea of a good time. Sticky things are even worse.

Despite his parents’ love of board games, he’s not that into them. And he’s only now liking coloring – at least if he’s coloring dragons. He did seem to inherit a love of crafts, though.

Jack can read really well. Recently he’s read some 60-page books. We read three books every night before bed – one from school that he reads and two chapter books that I read to him.

Plush animals are probably the number one toy for Jack. He has a ton of them (most are cats or monsters). Several sleep with him at night. When we are choosing the order of books to read at bedtime, he usually selects a plush to make the choice for him.

Our (mostly alive) cat Wicket also sleeps with him.

Jack draws and draws and draws. He’s been drawing since he was 2 years old and was handed a magnedoodle. We have boxes of his drawings and I don’t know what the heck to do with them all! He even draws on his schoolwork!

He’s awesome and I love him to pieces (even when he’s acting like a little jerk).

The Inconsiderate Visitor

I haven’t been doing well. I don’t know exactly what is causing it (out of the many possibilities) but I’m depressed and struggling every day now. I’m worried about everything and when I’m not worried I find it hard to care at all. And I’m always very, very tired.

I think being on guard constantly – just waiting for something else to come up (because my life seems to always have something crazy waiting in the wings) and throw a wrench in the works – has taken its toll. Even small, relatively fixable things have me reeling. I think it’s just that there is always something – whether it’s Jack trying to stab himself in the eye or changes at work or an illness or some nut leaving a garbage bag full of weed trimmings outside our house (yeah – that happened this weekend)…it’s kind of like I’m in a boxing match and I should just stay down already because I’m just going to keep getting walloped if I stay in the fight.

I’m getting help. I’m going to a depression group to try to get back into the swing of self-care. Unfortunately even that is a bit depressing – during the first session I was singled out as having a reason to be ‘legitimately’ depressed and there were audible gasps when I admitted my kid has cancer. So yeah…my kid has cancer and that sucks and OF COURSE I’m depressed, right?

Except I can’t be! I need to work and keep up with the health insurance. I need to help Jack with his homework (it takes him extra effort to do the math portions) and administer medication and take care of my pets and various other chores. I can’t be depressed. I have to suck it up and get out of bed and get Jack to his appointments or school or to his dad on time. There is no time for depression! How dare it pay me a visit when I so obviously can’t entertain even a second of it!

I know I’m hard on myself. David tells me so. The doc I saw yesterday told me so. I know I’m depressed and instead of being nice to myself I sit there and tell myself that I shouldn’t be depressed – Jack is doing great! We have a house! We have jobs! We have a ton to be grateful for.

I need this depression to be over so I can get back to enjoying my life.

And I could use a few breaks here and there, too.

Just A Phase or Full On Mama’s Boy?

Yesterday I sat down and tried to write a post about Jack and what it’s been like since he’s turned six. I wrote a lot, actually, but it’s all very disjointed. I found it very difficult to describe Jack’s recent exploits without the cancer stuff. I honestly can’t say whether some things he does these days are just part of being six or caused by side effects of cancer and its treatment.

I decided to pare it down and just write about one that’s been troubling me lately. Perhaps I can get some insight from other parents with kids around this age as to whether this is a ‘being six’ thing or a ‘kid with cancer’ thing. And if y’all have ideas on how to handle it, I’m all ears!

Jack is seemingly obsessed with me doing things for him.

Whether it’s making his meals, deciding on an outfit for the day, or playing Scooby Doo with him…he wants me, and only me, to do it. In addition, he demands that I LOOK!LOOK!LOOK! at particular scenes of shows we’ve seen a bunch of times. I have to acknowledge every robot he makes in his iPad game and every time he feeds one of his monsters in his other games…

At first I thought we just needed to spend more time together. He’s been at his dad’s more this year, so perhaps he was just missing me? But I’ve taken fairly large chunks of time off lately to be with him and that has not seemed to lesson his need one bit.

I asked him why he needs me to do things for him. Why can’t David fix dinner? Why can’t someone else read even one of the three books we read at bedtime each night? Why me and only me and all the time ME?

“Well, mom, it’s just that I’m attracted to you.”

Um, okay. I told him he should probably use different words, but alright. I guess he has a need he can’t explain, either.

I’ve thrown around various theories from him needing extra comfort since he got sick or because of the move or maybe it’s a phase…but it has been going on for months and months and hasn’t let up. It’s nice to feel wanted and, gosh, he must think I’m pretty great, but I would really prefer it if he’d led David take care of him, too.

I miss my fearless, secure, independent little dude. I hope he comes back.

Chill Out and Go Play

I don’t think I can adequately express how much I’m looking forward to Jack returning to school.

If all goes well, he’ll start first grade in about five weeks – at least, if I manage to get him registered. The school year has completely snuck up on me and now I’m scrambling. I really don’t know what we have to do or when or how to make sure he goes to school. I have emails and voicemails out to the district and his case manager at the clinic in hopes that they can guide me. I feel totally unprepared for this.

With that said, it needs to happen. Jack has very obviously suffered from the lack of social interaction thanks to so much isolation over the last seven months.

We had a playdate at the neighbors’ house last week – they have two boys aged seven and nine (or so). They have a tree house and a trampoline and all kinds of stuff. Jack spent a bunch of time digging through toys by himself, arguing about how to play in the tree house, or stomping off in a huff. He wasn’t fun to play with at all, at least not until he got on the trampoline. (Apparently jumping brings everyone together!)

This scenario has been played out many times over the last few months. We go to an event and Jack gets upset at the other kids – his usual amount of sensitivity has ramped up to an all-time-high since he was diagnosed with cancer – and then he is glued to me. Or he ignores the kids from the get-go and instead sits next to me and asks that I look at every.single.thing he does. “Mom, watch this! Look at this! Mooooo-ooooom!!! Help me find this! Help me do this! Get this for me! WATCH!”

No one else will do. MOM has to do it! Mom has to help with games, help find lost toys, pick out clothes, do the bedtime routine, get together lunch or dinner….watch, watch, watch or fetch, fetch, fetch.

This weekend as we made our way to Jack’s cousin’s first birthday party, Jack attempted to negotiate moving the party to our house. He didn’t feel like going to the party and for the second time that week, the park held absolutely no interest for him. Why can’t everyone just come to our house? I just don’t feel like going.

I let him know we would stop by for a bit and if he still didn’t feel up to it, we could leave early. Luckily he cheered up as soon as we got there and we ended up staying for a few hours! For those few blissful hours, he didn’t even acknowledge I existed. I got to have real adult conversations! Uninterrupted! Gee, I sound just like a mother to a newborn who finally sleeps for more than 30 minutes at a time!

Afterward I wanted to call every family member we have in the area and beg them to schedule a party with their kids. Please, family, distract my child! Get him playing like a normal kid again!

I am counting down the days until school – for the mental and social stimulation for Jack and the break from all this intensity for me. I love my kid but he seriously needs to let go of me, chill out and GO PLAY.

SOCS: Eight More Weeks

Today’s optional prompt is: anticipation.

***

There are eight more weeks of active treatment (Consolidation) for Jack before official remission. Which means about nine more weeks until Maintenance. THIS is what I’m anticipating.

I’m going to ignore the fact that Maintenance therapy lasts 2+ years. I’m just happy that in a manner of two months, life will get a little bit more normal. We’ll go from weekly blood draws and several clinic trips per month to once a month. Neutropenic periods will be few and far between (if they pop up at all). Jack can go to school again! He won’t be spending 90% of his time with only adults.

We’ll still have daily things like Broviac line flushes and probably the continuance of a couple of medications. But that is nothing compared to what we’ve been through the last (nearly) seven months – lumbar punctures, spinal taps, chemo infusions with multiple drugs, pills pills pills, hair loss…

I’m anticipating seeing my kiddo with a full head of hair again and a more rosy flush to his cheeks. I’m looking forward to less aches, a more stable mood (for all of us), and seeing Jack pack some meat onto his bones.

I’ve never anticipated something so much.

**********************

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
  • Link up your post over on Jana’s blog.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Cinnamon and Cream

I’ve been spending more time cuddling with Jack lately. Sometimes he comes scratching at our door in the morning and asks to crawl into bed and get warm under the covers. At other times we are on the couch under a blanket while watching his shows (usually Ben 10 or Scooby Doo). Most recently we’ve been snuggling up in his bed while I read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to him before bed. I read until his eyelids droop, then I turn out the light and we have our goodnight snuggle.

Jack has always had gorgeous skin. It’s smooth and, except for a mole by the bridge of his nose and a small scar under his eye where he scratched himself as a baby, a flawless shade of ivory. He has the same beautiful skin as my dad and sister.

I always look at him out of the corner of my eye while we read or snuggle. I examine the curve of his long, full lashes and the slight cleft in his chin. I wonder if the cleft will stay just barely noticeable as he ages. My gaze slides over the childish curve of his cheek and the cheekbones that look so like mine.

Lately freckles are starting to dot his nose and cheeks, as well. They are tiny, dainty, like a dusting of cinnamon on top of cream.

I wish I could capture it in a picture, but there is no way Jack would allow it. I mentioned his freckles to him recently and he scowled at me and declared that he didn’t have freckles! I told him that I think freckles are beautiful, but that I understand – I was once young, too, and hated my freckles.

I hope I get a long, long time to appreciate those freckles. I hope he grows to appreciate them, too.

Getting Lost With Ghosts

I wish I had better things to say. I wish I could say I’m doing a great job of handling everything that is going on right now. I do have good days and bad days – the bad days are taken over by anxiety attacks and depression, while my good days are still filled with weariness and worry. I’ve been burying myself in television and books to escape err, cope.

I haven’t been sleeping well. I look at the calendar several times each day to remind myself what day of the week it is. I forget to drink my coffee. Most nights I skip dinner. Last night I ate peanut butter cups.

My house is a disaster. And it smells. My cats ran out of food last night but I got home too late to get to the pet store for more. They are surely pissed off today. I need to fix the flat tire on my car, too. Oh, and go grocery shopping…

I took a day off last week sometime. I stayed in bed all day. I knew I had to move my car or risk getting a ticket. I went back to sleep instead. When I woke up, I peeked out the window and saw a ticket on my car, but I still couldn’t find it in myself to care. The idea of getting a second ticket didn’t even push me out the door…not until I realized David would be upset about it (we’d JUST talked about our expired parking permits a few days prior).

Things are a little better when Jack is with me. It gets me out of my head, I suppose. When he’s not here, I think about his treatment. It’s a few weeks until he starts the phase with eight different meds…it’s been a while since he’s spent time with kids his age…he needs to go to the dentist…we need to draw blood on XYZ days…I need to take a day off for his next treatment…when will he lose his hair…how will he handle it…is he doing too much activity…when will he end up back in the hospital…

It’s only been three months since his diagnosis – how long can I do this? I’ve been trying to think of ways to destress. Obviously this all has lit a fire under my PTSD. Usually when I’m stressed I take a trip, get away…but now I’m terrified to be away from Jack. Every time I try to make plans I just think about all the uncertainty ahead and how I’d rather just sit on the couch watching movies with him and snuggling under a blanket. I need to be here in case something happens.

I’m mad at myself for feeling this way. Jack’s been doing great. There have been no set-backs. Side-effects are few. In so many ways he is a normal kid. There will be an end to all of this. The end is three years away, though, and there will likely never be an end to my worry…

I need to keep going. There is so much that needs doing. I just need to stop getting lost in all of it and leave my ghosts behind.