I lost my cool with Dylan tonight. In a big way. Said things I don't mean. Made him cry. Made me cry. It was awful and I'd do anything to start over.
The worst part is that I don't know if anything would be different.
I was already on edge thanks to a meeting with Dylan's teachers today. It was unpleasant and frustrating and dejecting.
You know the Hallmark movies where a special teacher makes it his or her goal to reach this child, teach this child, make a difference in this struggling child's life? This was nothing like that.
It was a lot of "well, I have no training in this;" "there's nothing we can do;" "you just have to make him get his homework done;" oh, and the ever-popular "you need to get him on more meds."
It didn't help that we changed his meds over the holidays trying to make it better but have inadvertently made it worse. While the medication (Focalin) seemed great at first, it's had a quickly diminishing affect. So while we weren't sure the previous meds were doing the right thing before Christmas, they were at least working to some degree. Now...now, we have less attention all day, attention that wanes much earlier in the day, and a whole lot more opposition.
Which brings me to tonight. I did manage to get him to get some homework done. No where near done, but some. I wisely gave up when it was obvious no amount of prodding would get more done. But no amount of prodding would get him on his way to bed, either. My requests became orders; the orders became commands which became ultimatums. In the end, we were screaming at each other and Dylan swung my bedroom door open, nearly cracking the mirror RockStar gave me for Christmas.
And then I said it. "If you break that mirror, I'll break you." Now I really did feel like I was in a Hallmark movie, only I was the evil, verbally abusive mother and Dylan was the poor, pitiful child who would somehow be rescued by a loving adoption by the end of the movie. I felt awful deep in the pit of my soul.
Of course then, there was more crying, eventually hugging, and then I really started crying. Big horrible sobs that had been sheltering behind my broken heart. It was like a rainstorm that just doesn't want to quit. I don't think Dylan liked that any better than the yelling.
I apologized over and over. I tried to explain how much I want to help him. How I need to be the parent; I need to tell him to brush his teeth, to get dressed, to go to bed. That it's my job and that I do it so that one day he can be independent and do these things all on his own.
It sounds so simple really. And it's anything but.
I hope that tomorrow is a wonderful day. I hope that our pediatrician responds to the message I've left and we can get him back on the medication he used to be on. I hope that the medication gets right back to where it was, even if that was not perfect. I hope his teachers begin to see past the missing homework and realize that Dylan is not a disability and not a hopeless cause.
And I hope that Dylan exceeds all expectations and shines bright, even if mommy once had a terrible day and said something she really did not mean.