Little Guy has a friend over this afternoon, and there is something going on that involves pulleys, duct tape, bees made out of pushpins, and pipecleaners. They've been crafting this masterpiece for hours.It moves (the glittery thing in the picture is on a ribbon zip line). Snuggler, who has been trotting around all day in Dancer's fuschia tap costume, has gotten involved, too. I'm unclear on exactly what they're doing; I keep my nose out of it, bite my tongue when I glimpse the mess, and wash off blueberries to serve as a snack. In return they pretty much leave me alone. I sent off a newsletter this afternoon, and have had time to start a direct mail letter that's due next week.

The juxtaposition of Normal (yes, this kind of mess is thoroughly normal around here) and Not Normal is a curious comfort. Part of what holds us together in times of crisis is noticing and making a point to remember the good things and good people around us. It's saying our 'thank you's' at the end of the day, it's writing down the positives, it's being grateful for the stupid joke someone tells you that makes you laugh way too hard, simply because it feels good to laugh instead of hurt.

I remind myself that if life is an algebra problem (which I don't think it is), there are pluses I often forget to add in, and minuses to which I apply too big a a multiplier. And so I need to pay special attention to the positives. Because they are there, whether I remember them or not.

Big Guy is unhappy, but safe. We are impressed by his doctors. I have vibrant green Chinese broccoli to steam, and gingery tofu to stir fry with fresh udon noodles for dinner. My other kids are not traumatized by the events that led to Big Guy's hospitalization. My husband is around, so childcare is not an issue. There are good things happening, if I stop to notice them.

Ten things I know about taking a child to the psych ER

I sat in the Psych ER this afternoon with a Pakistani family whose daughter was being admitted for the first time. It wasn't the girl's first trip to the ER, but she'd never had to stay over before. I said to the father, quietly, "It's hard."

He nodded, and his toothless lower jaw quivered a little. He asked me questions, and I -- the unfortunately seasoned Psych ER mother -- answered as best I could. His daughter, 13, the youngest of many, had cut herself and then flown into a rage when her parents expressed concern. She threw things out the open third-floor window. She pummeled her mother with her fists.

Here is what I told him:

1. Their main goal here is to stabilize your child, not to cure her. They probably won't give a diagnosis unless it's a longer-term stay.
2. Once your child is admitted, bring a notebook and take notes at every meeting with every doctor. Make a record of everything they tell you. You are too emotional to remember facts clearly. Write down the doctor's name, names of medications, names of possible diagnoses. Put dates and times on each set of notes.
3. If you don't feel your child is stable when they want to release her, you can argue about it. If they say they will release her anyway, you write "Parent does not feel child is safe to return home" on the release form, and sign it. 
4. If they release your child and she has to return within the next couple of days, she will probably be placed on a longer-term inpatient stay.
5. If she has to stay longer than the acute care facility allows (usually 3 days), they will need to transfer her to a longer-term facility. You need to find out in advance which ones are the better ones. The question to ask is, "If this were your child, where would you want her to be?" If you don't ask, you get stuck with the first bed that's open, wherever that may be. You can give the social worker in charge of placement a 'short list' of places you'd prefer.
6. If you feel the doctor has fixed ideas and is listening to you only because that's what doctors are supposed to do, it's okay to say, firmly, "I don't think you're hearing the depth of my concerns".
7. If she's dangerous again at home, the rule of thumb is that if you saw someone else doing what she's doing and would call 911, you call 911 for your own child.
8. There are support groups out there for parents in similar situations. Before they release your daughter you will meet with a social worker so there's a plan for followup care. The social worker will know about where to find support groups, though he/she may not volunteer that information. You need to have people to talk to about this without shame.
9. This isn't about your worth as a parent. This is about her problems, which you don't know how to solve. You are here to get help, and you are doing the best you can. 
10. This is hard. This is very hard.

Update to the School Update

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Just got the call: he's in!
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11 am Update to the Update to the Update: Got a call from his current school. He's headed to the hospital for a psych evaluation, after an incident on a field trip this morning. I will meet up with them there.

You know you've been through this before when you find yourself thinking, At least if he's in the hospital, I know he's safe. 

School update

Big Guy is going for an observation day at the high school we visited last week. That's neither a good sign nor a bad one: the school liked him, but is concerned about certain behaviors he described. So they've invited him to come for four hours of class time to see what he's like.I've no doubt that he can hold it together for that long.

What concerns me is whether the school can handle Big Guy when he's not holding it together. It's hard to tell from where we are now.

The school's student body consists mainly of residential students, but they have about 25 day students. Big Guy would be a commuter. We are grateful that the school has a residential component, because the one thing worse than having him in crisis would be having to search for a new school in the midst of a crisis.

The admissions officer told us that the kids at this school are primarily a danger to themselves, not others. Believe it or not, if you're the mom of a mentally ill child that's good news. It means the school doesn't mix kids who have behavioral disorders in with kids who have emotional problems. Think of it this way: if your child has a severe anxiety disorder, would being in a class with large, rage-filled teens help?

(Many schools mix kids anyway, because budget cuts have forced districts to triage who gets the coveted special ed placements. As one principal explained to me, "If your kid is falling apart quietly, they'll let him sink in the regular classroom. It's the ones with anger issues they absolutely have to move out.")

So am I hoping that Big Guy will get in? I dunno. I'm not hoping he won't get in, but I certainly don't want him placed in a school if the fit isn't right.

We'll wait. We'll see. And we'll hope that somehow things work out in a way that helps Big Guy get better.

Parenting as bushwhacking

A friend with two small children invited me over yesterday to tea with a couple of her friends to talk about parenting and faith. It's not as if I'm an expert on these things. And it's not as if one can become an expert, because parenting is about dealing with human beings (who can be influenced but have free will) and faith is about God (who is way too big to reduce to formulas), and life has an awful lot going on that isn't in our control. But talking makes me think. And this is what I was thinking about last night:

When I was fourteen I went on a week-long hiking trip with a camp. One morning the seven of us stood on a mountain top, and the counselor explained that we were going bushwhacking that day. He pointed out the spot on the horizon where we would meet up, had us sketch a rough map based on what we could see, handed us each a compass, and sent us out, alone, at 15-minute intervals. It was up to us to figure out how to get to our meeting-up site by 3pm. There were no trails.

It was quite an adventure. Somewhere I may still have the black fly-covered journal page I wrote on when I stopped to eat lunch, too close to a swamp. I accidentally met a black snake about the size of the Loch Ness monster, and confided my thoughts to many curious chipmunks. I confidently followed a stream, then had to backtrack when I unexpectedly found myself on a ridge with no way down. And though I knew there were others somewhere not too far off, I was truly on my own. It was exciting and scary, confidence-making and insecurity-inspiring all at once.

Parenting can be rather like that. You head out with an idea of where you want to end up, but with no detailed map, no well-marked trail. You figure out the details as you come across them. The essentials are good observational skills, common sense, resourcefulness, the ability to stay calm when you find yourself in a bad situation, and a willingness to either re-route or muddle through when the landscape becomes difficult.

Where I think people get lost -- and I could be wrong but I've seen it happen a lot -- is in failing to define clearly enough where they want to end up. Saying you want a happy kid is like saying you want to head east. It's too vague. If you say you want your child to be thoughtful of others, have good coping skills, know the difference between joy and pleasure, be strong enough to withstand a goodly amount of peer pressure, and have a rich spiritual life, your odds of having him arrive at 3pm at the large pine tree next to the stream in the cleft between those two hills five miles to the southeast are much better.

Especially if your own life serves as a compass.

Full house!

Company rehearsal on stage between performances

I flew out to Detroit yesterday and met up with my mom, and the two of us went over to the (lovely) Detroit Opera House to see the final performances of the ABT Dance Intensive. The program divided instruction into four groups: Yellow, Blue (for 12-14 year olds) and Green and Violet (for ages 15+). Each group had two casts for each of two pieces. Dancer was in the 'tall' cast for Blue, and they did a modern dance choreographed by Ahn Nguyen to Bach's Magnificat and then the prologue to ABT's Sleeping Beauty. It was quite good. Good as in Is my daughter really doing that?

I also got to meet Rhonda Smith, who brought her niece to the show. Rhonda is one of the writers featured in Daily Guideposts: Your First Year of Motherhood. She now writes for EEW Magazine, which is run by Dianna Hobbs, another Motherhood writer who runs a blog with great devotionals.Small world, eh? It is good to get to know more of the excellent people who inhabit it.

Afterwards Dancer and my mom and I went out to dinner, and Dancer happily filled us on all the details of the month that we hadn't heard. She had a grand time. And it was very nice to hug her again, and to see her wonderful smile.

And now we are safely home, and all five of my children are here. I am happy.