Today Was Exhausting

We took the kids to the Museum of Play in Rochester today. When Sean was younger we went there about once a month. However, in the last few years our schedule has gotten busier. Sean now plays at least two games per weekend from November through mid-March. This keeps us from going all that often. In addition to our schedule concerns the truth is that doing things like that is just not that easy these days. But the big kids have been asking to go and this weekend's schedule gave us two morning games leaving us with enough time to go to the game and then head out to the museum.

Now, the baby did not do much all day. As a matter of fact as I look back on the day I don't think she did anything besides chill in the Ergo or be held by Mommy or Daddy. The big kids were too quick to move from area to area. To run around and explore. To keep going, going, going. That kept her up. But that's the beauty of babywearing isn't, it? She is happy to chill in the Ergo (or Moby - it just depends on which one is in my car vs the house) while we go about our day. She looks at things and plays peek-a-boo and smiles at everyone around her. All the while we move from interest to interest of the other kids. It's heaven!!

Mickey and Sean had an amazing time. I love when we get to do things like this because I love seeing them play with each other. Lately, I see them doing a lot more playing together. Taking them out without Kenzie has encouraged them to have their own, independent relationship a lot. But even still they only play together sometimes. They get caught in the drama of our lives and it often pits them against one another. So, I love seeing them play together. I love hearing them laugh at one another. I love the way Mickey runs after him calling his name. I love the way Sean finds things more fun when she is doing it with him. 

And yet the day was not what I would call good. There was a lot of cute in it. There were lots of smiles. There was fun being had. Yet, it was still hard. Kenzie struggled. I struggled to manage her. This week has been hard on me. Friday was so bad that I made Michael come home from work because I just could not handle it. I was fried. Then I went to bed with a really terrible headache. I woke up sick and just wanting to go back to sleep. But we had a game and I'd promised the kids. All of this left me with a low energy level. 

But I pushed on. And the day was spent desperately trying to manage Makenzie's behaviors. To keep her from screaming. To get her to play. To make her speak to me. I was successful more than I wasn't. I was able to calm down pretty much every fit in a small amount of time. I was able to walk her through it. I was able to get an answer - even if it was an answer that was repeated from me - most of the time. Sometimes I failed. But mostly I succeeded. And that should make the day easier. That should be something that I am happy about. 

In managing as well as I did today I got this moment. A rare, true smile. It was not directed at any of us. Yes, that is Sean's leg in the picture but the smile was directed at something else. An exhibit that she found particularly amusing. But a large portion of the day, like most days, she was not engaged in anything. Certainly not smiling. And I so desperately wish that looking at that picture made it all worth it. I so want to be the mom that looks at her child's smile and says, "I worked so hard today but I see that smile and it is all I will remember of the day." But I am not. 

The day was exhausting. It was grating. It was hard to not get a single moment where I was not working to manage behavior or maintain a decent mood. All day. It just went in circles. Round and round. And by the end of the day I was exhausted. I was fried, again. And then it is time to go and Mikaela is in need of more. She needs me to be patient and calm with her when she does not want to walk. Or when she feels that we are not listening. She needs that. Sean needs more. He needs me to be able to listen as he discusses dinner. As he goes over the plan. He needs me to be there for him. And I feel fried. I feel like I have no energy left. Because I have been managing behaviors all day.

I am out of energy. I think, no I hope, that as we see certain things be successful on a regular basis they will take less work. They will become more second nature to me. I will not have to say things three times before I say it in the way she needs to hear it. I will know what to say. I will not feel like I am walking on eggshells in order to maintain the calm. But I just don't know. 

And then there is the guilt. Why don't I feel that the one smile I got today made it all better? Aren't I supposed to feel like it is easy to do as long as I get that smile? I wish I did. I am glad she had that moment. I am. I am even glad for this moment of sitting with her sister and looking at a book together. It is a rare moment. She's not quite engaged here - notice the distance from the book, the angle that does not really allow her to look at it and the hands held in front of her in a very non-connecting way - but it was still a better moment. But it is still not enough. It does not erase all of the harder moments. It does not make them "worth it." The day was still exhausting. Managing behaviors all day was grating. It was hard. And all I can hope for is for it to become second nature and to no longer notice the work. 

Make no mistake there is a lot I loved about today. For all of the kids. For each of them individually. There was a lot of good. It was a good day FOR US. But not a good day. Not the day I envisioned when I decided to have kids. Not the day anyone dreams of. Not the happy, fun, amusing day that I want. 

Different Is Not Bad

Okay, so I am going to write this one last post talking about our new discipline philosophy. I mentioned briefly that we are treating Kenzie differently. And that our therapist thinks that is okay. That her seeing this compassion is healing in and of itself. But I want to talk about the real reason why it does not even occur to me to treat her the same way. 

See, when something does not go Makenzie's way she starts screaming. And screaming. And screaming. The more attention she gets from us the more it escalates. The more dangerous it becomes. The times she has truly hurt someone during a rage generally come when I am trying to not send her to her room for screaming. But if I let her stay in the room with everyone else she just gets more and more mad. She does more and more to get a reaction. One time, a few months ago, she walked across the room and kicked Deanna, who could not even crawl at the time, causing her to roll until she was stopped by the couch. In that moment I knew that I could not allow he fits to turn into rages. 

So, no I'm not going to pull her into my lap when she starts screaming. I am not going to try to hug her. Because the quickest way to turn that screaming into a full blown rage is to try to make physical contact with her. Giving her an audience is a slower way to get to the rage but it will still get us there. 

Lately, the first thing I do when the screaming starts is I tell her it must stop. That she is not allowed to scream and cry (I kinda hate saying "no crying" but it is what it is). Period. She is not allowed. And RAD kids do well with rules. So, if the rule is she is not allowed then she can't do it. This works sometimes. Although it is recent. I have gotten creative with my consequences for continuing to scream. When all else fails and the screaming does not stop I pick her up and put her in her room with the door closed. She throws herself around. She gets louder. She hits the wall. She kicks her crib. She eventually calms down, or falls asleep. Then I go in, I hug her, we talk, we fix anything that needs fixing and she can go back to playing. 

So, yes we are very strict and very non-lovey with her when she has a "fit" and we are over the top lovey with the others when they have a "fit." Yes, we are treating her differently. Yes, we are giving each of them what they need. Different is not bad.