Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Kindsay's Best Day EVER

The thrashing, leg kicking, crying, bursting, threatening, hair pulling, angry child I have around the clock was, for one day, an angel on Monday, May 18, 2009. I have to post the date so I'll always remember. See the video to get a glimpse, then read on: It was a confusing morning for our own Gregory Boden who doesn't normally manage the children's affairs. I had just filled Kindsay's new prescriptions from our new psychiatrist. He didn't like how the other psych had her on so many stimulants as he feared Kindsay's heart wouldn't be able to manage it after a while. An EKG showed all was well, but he decided to lower her daily use of stimulants anyway. Adding an anti-anxiety med and keeping her usual aggression med and stimulant on hand, I had three new bottles in the medicine cupboard. Mind you, all the bottles for Kindsay are in this cupboard including the old ones from previous doctors which are still used. Monday morning came and the usual rush was underway. I asked Greg if he would get Kindsay her meds before he left. 'what do I give her?' I hadn't taken the time to look at all of them, so I advised Greg to read all the bottles and just follow the directions. Shortly after he comes to me in disgust at the 5 new medications she has to take every morning. Five? I ask. I saw only three on the prescription. Did you read them all carefully? 'yes.' I go to the kitchen, line up all the meds in the cupboard and read them all. It dawned on me that our old bottle of stimulants was there with the new bottle. Each were prescribing the same dosage, only 1 bottle used 1 pill and the other bottle required taking 2, meaning the pills looked completely different but did the same thing. Greg had given Kindsay DOUBLE her daily dosage of stimulants. I panicked seeing as how the doctor showed some concern for her previous usage. The max a day for a child is 72 mg. Kindsay had been on 81, split during the day. Greg had just given her 108 mg at once. Hm. What was this going to look like today? The last time Kindsay OD'd, she had taken 7 pills on her own, which amounted to about a little over 100 mg, (her pill dosages were lower) which is the same weekend Kindsay slept for 2 days straight. Yikes. I sent her off to school and emailed her teachers asking for their strict observations of her. School came to an end, Kindsay came home on the bus, and the next thing I hear is Kindsay in her room cleaning. Cleaning?! OK...Kindsay DOES NOT clean, she is a pack rat. Every ad from every 'free' stand from every grocery store is shoved in her desk. Every piece of paper, junk mail, old homework, you name it!--is in her desk. Calmly she came out with a stack, "should I throw this away?" Fearing her, I nodded slowly. Who was this child? (and believe me, I wasn't asking for the other!) She came out again with a shirt, "Should I hang this or put in the laundry room?" 'Hang.' I answer flatly, in shock. She proceeded with such tasks until her room literally shined. She then took out her homework *gasp* and began doing it without incident. Every parent can appreciate the above as children are not quick to do this...but Kindsay did not utter a sound, not a "poopinyourbutt!" blurt...not a fart sound out of her mouth, not a kissing smothering all over my arm, no hissing, no crying, NOTHING. A child as normal and even better than normal was in my home. I went up to her, and this is really sad but very true friends, I hugged her. For the first time, I was enjoying this little girl. I thanked her profusely for her efforts and gave her all the affection I could give her in that moment. She did not regress to a baby, she did not begin acting like a puppy, she didn't scream at me...she handled the affection like a normal child. Her teacher even emailed me saying how calm she was all day. My mom called to ask what I had done with her. "Her speech was normal, we had a conversation!" Greg and I were baffled, surprised, and quite frankly, bummed because we knew it was a fluke and we couldn't overdose her everyday. We had found her combination of meds and it was illegal. I want everyone to realize that I do not enjoy this little girl 90% of the time I spend with her. She frays every nerve in my body, presses every button and finds buttons I didn't know I had. She pushes limits that get higher every day. Our home is madness when she is around, and we spend the time during respite recovering until her return. The perfect child is inside her, we just have to find the right daily cocktail that can bring her out. Until then, the gray hairs keep coming.

Sunday, May 17, 2009


I am a cake lover, and if you know me, you already know that...and if you don't, now you do. I love frosting, cake, even stuff sprinkled or squirted on the cake. I do not discriminate. I am sharing with you my dream about cake and I hope to make it on a TV show someday to fulfill this dream and not do it through a wishing foundation because I am dying. That would suck, but I would still wish the wish and eat the cake if I had to do it that way.
My dream is to buy a cake from Charm City Cakes on 'Ace of Cakes.' Duff makes an awesome cake (you can here him saying "awesome" if you watch the show.) Yes, I watch cake shows...I love cake, do you get it now? That dream seems simple, but their minimum purchase price is $1000 for a cake. Would I? Could I? Yes and yes...too bad for my husband because I would against his put-down foot. They are based in Maryland, which makes it a tough purchase, but my dream is not far reached. I can do this...and I will.
My dream involves me ordering the cake 3-4 months prior to my impending visit to the east coast where I will stay with my sister in Connecticut. I order the cake via email to Mary Alice, telling her that I want something out of Geoff's bucket list of cakes to make before he dies. I will tell her that I will come purchase the cake, have a piece or two, or three...$1000?? I better eat 3. I will then tell her to donate the rest to a homeless shelter or somewhere that would appreciate the donation of a partially eaten cake. I will also shake hands with the staff as I thank them for making my dream come true. I will then go find another trivial, silly thing to dream about and write about and plot out how to make it a reality. If you can believe it, and I think you do, I have actually spent more than one afternoon dreaming this up and carefully placing it on my "to do" list for next summer. Yes...next summer. The anticipation is going to kill me, either that or spending $1000 on a cake will...more like my husband will kill me when I spend $1000 on a cake. And watch, he'll want a piece of it.


I recently had to give a presentation on a student at school. One of the required items to mention was a similarity between my life and his. I shared with my peers (well, sorta--bunch of 20-somethings finishing their 1st credential qualify?) that the only thing we had in common was the fact that we both got caught shoplifting. Recently, during an outing to a work site at Walgreen's, my student tried to stick something in his coat and walk out with the 5-finger discounted item. I too had done that and was caught. While I don't know if Bernie stopped (at least with me because he's been grounded until next year), I do know that when I got caught that was my last attempt. During my entire junior high school career, I shoplifted constantly. Poor? yes...bored?...yes what other reasons did I need? I carried a large bag which to a small extent carried my school stuff. I would walk down an aisle running my bag along the shelf, knocking items in along the way. Make-up, cassette tapes (come on..you remember those, right?)...whatever small item would make it in my bag without notice. I would then walk out happy to be out and go home to enjoy my new unpurchased purchases. No, I was not aware of the cameras that lurked above me in black glass domes nor was I aware of the hired pigs that roamed the store. I was fearless, invincible--no one could stop me! Except the guy at Rite-Aid.
It was evening on a school night at the end of 8th grade. Why was I there with my 2 girlfriends? Why was I so far from home window shopping the drugstores at the strip mall? Those are questions I cannot answer. I was a great liar, which probably explained much of that, but I had no business being there at my age alone. (lessons here people!) I roamed Rite-Aid, which was called Thrifty Payless back then (ew, I hate "back then" usage) and my girlfriends and I were making a killing in the music section. (here I go) Back then, the security on those items was a little shaky since taking them out of the store was easier than taking them out of that big white plastic case they were sold in. I did not notice the man beside me checking out music in my section, which was teenage music that only a teenager could appreciate--top 40 stuff. That should've been my first clue. I also was getting so cocky about my shoplifting skills that I didn't even use them, hello--dropping tapes into my bag without caring who was around me. When it came time to check out, I used the old "make a purchase, but nothing close to the value of the items sitting at the bottom of my bag" purchase of gum then proceeded to exit the store with my friends. Quickly behind us came "the man." He yelled for me to stop. Why didn't I run...hmmmmm. It was dark, in a parking lot, no parents around...I was a glutten. He asked to check my bag. I reluctantly pulled out my tapes. Boy was I easy...and a good friend as I refrained from ratting them out as I coveted the music they got to take home for free. It was then that he took me, and only me, to the back of the store. Ever wonder what's back there? Bathrooms, stocking rooms, closets...and a little room the size of a hall bathroom for the sole purpose of grilling and booking naughty kids. My friends were left in the parking lot with the decision of 'do we leave her and rejoice in our freedom' or 'do we help the poor sap out of her miserable situation?' I did not reflect on either as I sat before this man who looked like Eric Estrada without the dimples or tv show. Papers came out of a drawer, I sat in front of him without a desk between us...so vulnerable and busted. The questioning began, and this...my dear friends...is where my genius comes in. I didn't grow up going to GATE schools for nothing, people. Oh no, I'm a genius and I shined that night. name? without hesitating for even a blink of an eye I blurted out the name of the girl I hated the most at that time. The girl down the street who tormented me on the bus, the girl who even to this day as adults will not crack a smile at me or let bygons be bygons. Name? Kelly *******. What's your phone number so I can call your parents? My parents are out of town. I was trying to get my grandma a birthday present but I don't have any money and my parents didn't leave me with anything. I'm barely eating while my parents are on some 2-week vacation at some remote resort. What's your number anyway? (proceed to give Kelly's number.) Address? again Kelly's. Parents' names? you guessed it...Craig and Mary. School I attend? Bingo! She actually went to Bullard Talent while I went to Computech. I sat there and gave the most pathetic sob story, as Kelly of course, while he took it all in. He didn't even try to call my parents. It felt like an eternity sitting there with him when all of a sudden a knock came at the door. Eric Estrada minus dimples minus tv show opens the door to a tall, hot young guy. 'Hi, I'm Yvette's cousin. I heard about her being here and thought I should take her home.' My jaw dropped...dude, if you are my cousin does that mean we can't make-out? There behind him were my 2 friends, holding the straight lines across their faces. Eric Estrada gets his name and age (22, holy cow..I'm in love with my cousin) and releases me to a signature from this completely strange relation of mine. We somberly walk the entire length of the store to the exit, which never looked so dang good in my life. Ah, the breath of fresh air, the night moon was beautiful. We got into the car of the guy and his friend and we shut the doors behind us. Bwahahahahaha! came the bursts of laughter from us all. My friends opted for door #2...save the poor idiot. Upon my incarceration my friends made a dash for the McDonald's across the street and found 2 guys willing to act as my relatives to bail me out. What kind of world do we live in where a couple of guys are willing to lie to bail out a thief? At the time, it was the most awesome world. I wanted to formally thank my rescuer, but I think he drew the line on ethics by not making out with a minor, though it would've been our little secret that I would've shared with every kid at school. Alas, he dropped me off and reminded me that I was banned for 6 months from the store. OK hot Cuz, I'll stay away for 6 months...or I'll at least relay the info of banishment to Kelly, 2 doors down. I've been honest in my purchases ever since. Can't expect to get off so freely twice in a lifetime...there's only so many times I can rat on Kelly and sleep at night.