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.