The Cookie

As I mentioned yesterday, Saturday was Flu Shot Day.  Not one of my favorites, but a necessity in my opinion.  It went pretty well, considering, so that's all finished for another year.  The afternoon finished on a note that would leave many on my father's street asking a question very similar to the title of this blog.

For those who are very vocal about the public displays put on by children, my son can really ruffle some feathers.  I have stories that would make your parenting toes curl.  There's the time, TWO days after 9/11 that my son turned all the lights off in my bank, while I desperately tried to excuse myself through the crowd in the roped off line to get to him.  (To my credit, I didn't know about the drive-in bank teller in those days).  Then there's the Egg Incident, when A was bored during the 30 seconds it took for me to put my purchases on the belt and he slammed a dozen eggs, in the carton, at our cashier.  Yesterday, we added "The Cookie Incident" to the list.

After getting their shots, they were fine and they went downstairs to play, which they did nicely to our utter shock.  The adults actually got to sit and chat and we heard each other speak!  I found out they were watching the newest War Of The Worlds, so I guess watching giant tentacled creatures disintegrate humans for their blood kept them engaged.  When it came time to each lunch, I thought I would treat them (treat is a word only children comprehend when used in the same sentence as McDonalds) and headed up to the drive-through.  I bought them the three cookies for a dollar, one bag for each.

A. frequently loses things and today was no exception.  S. was running around the kitchen eating her cookies and A. couldn't find his.  He got himself so upset that blood curdling screaming was the only way he could express himself.  I quickly descended into anger and upset, as my dad is in pain from a "growth" in his throat (that's another really long blog post) and A. decided to do this screaming in my dad's ear, which is also in pain.  I informed A. of several consequences he would face if he didn't cease and desist.  This whipped him further into a frenzy and the tantrum morphed into more screaming and a threat to run away and never come back.  Oldest daughter M. is there by now and she walks into the middle of the tirade.  A. is running outside back and forth across the street and proceeds to run out of visual range.  In the meantime, I am in my dad's kitchen, trying to discard all of the trash we produced and get ready to leave at the same time.  S. is going on and on about how bad A. is being and adding to the melee' of stress.  Finally, M. finds him down the street, producing an "F" word laced tirade on a beautiful Saturday afternoon with many of my dad's neighbors outside.  We finally corral A. into the truck and start heading home.  I am blood red with anger and warn A. not to speak to me at that point.  I get the kids home to watch him head up the stairs for a three hour nap.  He was very remorseful when he got up, but I realized at that point that the days of taking them both up there together are over.

Unless you've lived through the hundreds of these like I have, it can be very hard to understand how they start, why they continue and how to get these rages to end.  Also, having a multi-diagnosis like he does (ADHD, BiPolar Disorder, OCD and Autism) adds so many layers to the question, "What the Hell is Going On Here?", which is something I sometimes have to ask myself more than once a day.  I was standing outside talking to my dad while M. was chasing after A.  I looked at him and said, "You know, when I go out and I see families doing things together like eating out or maybe a commercial for vacationing families, I realize that that will never be me, never be us.  I'm very sad whenever I once again realize that those types of things will never be in my life".  So maybe the next time you hear a screaming child in the store and its ear-splitting sound annoys you, please don't "tsk tsk" too soon.  Looking the other way and trying to understand that there are a lot of reasons why that mother can't control her child and it will mean a lot to me.