Taco Pain-o

William loves his job. At least he did, before he suffered the second degree burn to the bulk of his abdomen a few days ago. He has been in a lot of pain, but he's ok. I feel so bad for him though. He's inherited my clutz gene. He splashed some scalding hot water on himself. I gave him analgesics and cool wet compresses and told him to call me if it got unbearable. I had to go to work!

It's healing ok without a trip to the ER or doctor's office, but it ain't pretty!

Blame, Pain and Shame

I am reading both Positive Discipline and Positive Discipline for Teeneagers. Why oh why did it take me so long to find this book? Apparently, it has been in print for more than 25 years.

This sounds like a lot of hard work, but it fits better than anything I've ever read before. I could probably wallpaper my house with the parenting books I've read over the years. There have been "godly" ones, punitive ones, unconditional ones, loving ones, logical ones, and shallow ones. Most of them made me a little squeamish at some point.

The main premise of this method, as far as I can tell, is to maintain dignity and respect for both parent and child. I'm not quite sure I believe that is entirely possible, but it's too promising not to attempt. Discipline is not about 'blame, pain and shame'; but about teaching life lessons. Making kids feel bad is not only unnecessary, but counterproductive to the learning process. Where have I been? Scared, that's where. I've fallen into parenting from fear instead of love. I admit it. Breaking the cycle isn't as easy as it seems, either. More on this later...

nothing like a little late night epinephrine

Panic over, the sixteen year old did finally make it home from work. (aren't you glad I spared you the play by play thus far?)

He works two miles up the road. There is really only one way to get there. He got off at 8:57. Paul got home at 9:40 and had not passed him. I drove the two miles and back and did not pass him. He sounded irritated when I called to him through his closed bathroom door. I wonder if I sounded irritated or genuinely worried or just relieved.

Most people can walk a mile in twenty minutes fairly easily, many can walk it in fifteen. I'm not sure how or where he's walking.

diagnosis and direction

My boy has a diagnosis of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. This isn't a huge shock. It's been suggested before, by teachers, friends, and even me. I am not exactly relieved either. While I despise labels, it is somewhat comforting to know what it is that we are dealing with. It makes our frustration level feel a little more acceptable, even if I'm not happy with the way we deal with that frustration. We will also need to rule out ADHD. It's always been a borderline diagnosis for him, but he never responded well to stimulant medication. Again, just a piece of the puzzle but no real solution.

The therapist set the responsibility for dealing with these problems and achieving his goals squarely on William's shoulders. She was irritated with the whole family dynamic, but she only did an assessment and set up some return appointments. We weren't attacked, even though she must have wanted to really badly a couple of times. Let's just say no one put on any facade for her benefit. It was all very real and true to form. I am too desperate for help to even be embarrassed.

William has a lot of work to do, and we have to learn better coping skills. It's ok to demand certain standards and enforce the rules of the house, but we cannot change him. He has to want that for himself.

I am still sad, but a little more hopeful. We have asked for help and it is coming. William likes his job so far, but he will have to figure out how to juggle his responsibilities. I think it is good for him to have a dose of reality, even if he isn't ready for it. He thinks that he is.