Poppers

I went to see Ms. Judy, our therapist. She is usually really good at helping us with big people problems. She does what I guess would be referred to as talk therapy. I was hoping she'd have advice for me on what I could do to help Isaiah. He will be evaluated by the neurologist tomorrow, but I wanted advice on what I, as a mommy, could do to handle the rages. I am obviously not handling them well. She agreed that the way I handled the situation yesterday was not ideal. Her solution was not ideal either. I almost laughed out loud when she started to share with me information about a recent conference she attended and a "game" she purchased that she wanted to play with Isaiah at their session next week. She hasn't been having sessions with him, but has decided to start them up again. This isn't what I was looking for. I really was looking for more of a "Nanny 911" kind of thing where she tells me what to do. I suggested maybe she "transfer" my case to the therapist that has been seeing our foster kids. She actually does do things like the nanny on television. "No, let me see Isaiah next week and see what we can come up with."

I'm such a push over. I have been one my entire life. I sit there numb and just nod. Someone come over and slap me. I really just want Lutheran Social Services to transfer Isaiah to another therapist. I've asked them to do so and they are ignoring my request. I believe its because they are waiting for Judy to terminate his file.

I think tomorrow I will ask Dr. Karnik to recommend someone and then I will call Lutheran with his recommendation. I love our therapist and think she has been very helpful, but not for Isaiah. I am desperate at this point. Isaiah raged again tonight. Ken came over to see if perhaps he could help. He ended up yelling at Isaiah early in the evening. I'm not sure if the yelling triggered the rage or if the rage would have happened even if the yelling hadn't happened. It was one of those really angry kind of yelling not the kind of yelling that most men do to their kids. I had sent Isaiah up because Ken was helping with brushing all of the children's teeth and Ken didn't realize I had sent Isaiah up and he yelled at Isaiah for coming up. I quickly came up, but the damage had been done. The strange thing is that when Ken starts yelling at Isaiah, he sort of just shuts down. His eyes seem to glass over and he stares at his feet and he just seems to shut off. Even when I intervened and explained that he had permission to come up. Isaiah was gone. All of this just because Isaiah wanted to join the other three children who were all getting their teeth brushed. I'm still not really sure why my son doesn't have the right to participate in this ritual. I said as much to Ken as I looked at him in shocked disbelief. "Its just brushing teeth. Is this really such a big deal? Maybe you should go home?"

Ken handled the subsequent Isaiah rage much better. He just kept putting Isaiah back in bed. Isaiah kept screaming and kicking and fighting and Ken just kept putting him back in bed. Isaiah kept yelling for me and Ken asked me to just stay in my room. After the way I handled the situation the night before, there was NO WAY I was coming out of my room. I'm not sure this was the best way to handle it. I'm really not sure about anything anymore. But, about an hour later Isaiah was asleep. This really is an awful way to live.

Today, Isaiah was showing me the animals on the blanket I have stapled to his window. (Long story- We have no screens on the windows upstairs. Isaiah likes to open windows and climb onto the roof.) He asked me which of the animals I liked. I told him I liked the Woolly Mammoth because of the way the tusks glow in the dark. If I had known where he was going with his questions, I would have picked a more slender mammal. He then tells me that I am the Woolly Mammoth, that he is the Pterodactyl, that his father is the Tyrannosaurus Rex, and his brother is the "Long Neck". I didn't want to share this story with the therapist for fear that she'd have some shrink meaning behind why he made these specific choices for each of us. I can almost imagine her saying he chose the Pterodactyl so he could fly away to a safer place. Dear Lord, help my home be Isaiah's safe place.

Ms. Judy did say that during her private talk time with Alex she felt that he seemed much less frightened, less hopeless, and talked about having hope for the future. I didn't have the heart to tell her that he had an incident of self-inflicted injury this week to his hands. I know I should have told her. There is still so much stress in this house with Isaiah coming undone. Just when I get one's stress level done it seems the other one is coming undone. But yes, Ms. Judy is right. Overall Alex is better. He feels safe. Isaiah has always raged and still rages. Sad to say that I think the key is going to be the foster kids being placed in another home and probably limiting the contact between Ken and I. He hasn't seen his therapist since that one time and really isn't doing anything (from what I can tell) to show that he is taking his anger problems seriously. When he is here the children act like children which makes him angry. When he is angry I walk on eggshells which triggers Ken. When I walk on eggshells the children are triggered. When they are triggered they make Ken angry. Have you ever seen those little children's pull toys they sell at Walmart? The ones that are filled with little colorful balls that when you pull them they make popcorn popping sounds? We are like one of those little toys being pulled in a library. Really, its like we are a bunch of little balls triggering each other in a life that is supposed to be calm and quiet. Pop... pop.. pop... pop.