A year in the life.

Warning:  Lots and lots of words ahead.  I’m talking like 2,000 plus.  I’m summarizing a year in The Beast’s life.  It’s not pretty.  Nor funny.  Nor well-proofed.  I got sick of reading it after the 7th time. 

About a year ago I pulled The Beast out of his preschool.  Unbelievably, it had nothing to do with the fact that his teachers sent home papers asking for students to bring “a apple” to school.  I figured that whatever intelligence he lost in preschool he’d regain quickly once he got into kindergarten.

It was the day after Halloween of 2012.  The Beast had been in the three-year-old class for about two months.  He had been having some issues with behavior but they were mostly minor.   However, The Beast’s teacher was the mother of only girls and she had absolutely no idea how to handle him, so I was having lots of talks every day when I picked him up from school.

“He threw mulch on the playground.”  Of course, he did.  How are you surprised by this?

“He stood up on the table and jumped off.”  He jumps off of our six-foot fence at home.  The two-foot toddler table that he’s jumping off of here doesn’t really concern me.

“He ran out of the classroom and ran into another class.”  He escaped my house, got onto his bike, and started riding down the road to visit a friend before he was chased and brought back home.  This is why we have high deadbolts and alarms on all of our doors and windows.

As one would expect, the day after Halloween was a rough day at the school.  A hundred two- to five-year-olds hopped up on sugar and food dye isn’t really going to make for an easy day.  (If you’re like the 100 Days of Real Food lady and you hand out glow sticks on Halloween, more power to you.  I hope you get egged.)

The day after Halloween I dropped him off at school at 9:00 and drove to Target.  At 9:27 I received a call from the director’s assistant who informed me that The Beast had started a mini-coup in the classroom and had incited the other students to rise up against the Establishment.  Since the teacher had no idea how to handle the situation, she sent The Beast to the front office to have a timeout.  As he sat in the front office with the director and her assistant, they began to chat.  He, being a small but observant genius, took note of the fact that they were not paying attention to him.

So he fled.  He ran out of the office, down the hall and into a classroom.  The assistant and the director ran after him.  Once they figured out which classroom he was in, he started a game that he still loves to play.  I call it Ring Around the Rosie…in Hell.  He places himself on one side of a piece of furniture.  And the minute you come at him one way, he runs the other way or underneath the furniture.  He’s very small and very quick and if you’re playing this one-on-one with him, you will lose every time.  When we play this game at home, say when I’m trying to get him ready for bed, it often escalates to the point that I’m tearing around the house like a rabid squirrel, screaming a blood-curdling scream in the hopes of shocking The Beast into submission.

He never submits, so at some point I have to enlist the help of The Good One or Virginia Slims Man or the mail lady (really, anyone that’s available) and one of us has to dive over the couch or ottoman or scramble under the kitchen table while the other one blocks his path of escape.  Honestly, it’s the most infuriating thing ever and it’s usually followed by me slamming a door or throwing a small piece of furniture.

Since The Beast was outnumbered by the teachers, the director and her assistant, they were able to catch him within a few minutes.  But the fact that The Beast found so much glee in their struggle made the director incredibly angry, so she told the assistant to call me.

When I spoke with the assistant on the phone I was initially very apologetic.  But as I left Target and got into my car, I became more angry than sorry.  Yes, I know my child is difficult.  I know he’s “spirited,” as one friend put it.  I know he’s exasperating.  But you called me to pick him up because he made you get off your ass and chase him?  He didn’t hit or scream or do anything malicious.  He ran.  I told you he runs.  You know he runs.   You’ve seen him run.  Why did this surprise you?

So I drove to the school, fuming with rage, walked in the front door and grabbed The Beast by the hand.  When the assistant asked if I wanted to talk to his teacher, I snapped, “No!” and left.  I got home and immediately sent an email to the director letting her know that The Beast wouldn’t be returning to school.  That night when Virginia Slims Man got home, The Beast said, “Mommy took me out of school today.  She came in the door and she said, ‘GRRR!’ like a bear.”  I guess my rage was not well-hidden.

In retrospect, I might have over-reacted slightly.  I know the director, assistants and teachers can’t be expected to baby sit my son.  And I know that if he starts a mutiny that cannot be contained, then it disrupts the entire classroom and possibly the school.  But on that day I was just too furious to think rationally.  I was mad at them.  I was mad at The Beast.  I was mad at myself for letting him eat his weight in peanut butter cups the night before.

Later that evening The Beast’s teacher called me and said that she had no idea that the director was going to call me and that she was sorry.  I told her that I wasn’t sending The Beast back and she yammered on about how “The Beast is with you for a reason and you’re a good mom,” blah blah blah.  What I heard was, “Thank God you’re not bringing him back into my class where he’ll likely tie me up and annihilate us all.”

So I visited some other preschools, explaining to the directors of each school all of The Beast’s issues.   Finally, I settled on the local Montessori school.  I thought that maybe the structure and more advanced activities would help The Beast to thrive.  The director said that she had seen the Montessori method work miracles with difficult kids.  She assured me that the only time they call parents is if there is an issue that they absolutely cannot handle within the confines of the classroom.  So we sold a few internal organs and started paying a small fortune for The Beast to attend the Montessori school.

He struggled for the first few weeks, but then he started to get into a groove.  But after his favorite teacher moved to New York, he started pushing boundaries and the phone calls started up again.

“The Beast is running in the classroom.   The Beast is interrupting his friends’ work and we can’t get him to stop.  The Beast won’t stay in his seat during lunch.  The Beast lost recess today because he ran from us and hid under a table.”

I started having to go up to the school two to three times a week to talk to The Beast.  I started having nearly monthly meetings with the director where we tried to come up with ideas on how to help The Beast.  There were a few days in there where I’d get a note saying, “The Beast had a really great day today.”  And that would make me hopeful, but within days the phone calls would start up again.

“The Beast climbed over the 8-foot chain link fence surrounding the playground and ran when the teachers tried to catch him.  You’ll need to come and pick him up.”

“The Beast ran out of the classroom and made it out the front door of the school before we could catch him.  You’ll need to come and pick him up.”

“The Beast was using scissors today and tried to cut a friends’ hair.”

“We recently planted beans in small pots and The Beast decided to sprinkle the soil throughout the classroom and didn’t want to clean up the mess.”

“The Beast bit a friend on the playground.”  (She took his ball.  I’d bite her too.)

“The Beast went into the bathroom and stuffed the toilet full of toilet paper.”

“The Beast ran through the classroom naked.”

Throughout all of this, my meetings with the director continued.  I read The Strong-Willed Child.  My discipline became as consistent and regular as seeing Kardashian selfies on the internet.  There was some improvement at home, but he still struggled at school.

I tried every discipline technique that I had ever read about, heard about, saw on a show, or just plain invented out of thin air to help him improve his school behavior.  Nothing worked.  If he had a bad day at school, I took away TV shows.  Or treats.  Or bedtime stories.  Or outside play.  Or all of the above.   I took away special events like pool parties and trips to the ice cream store.

Every day when I’d pick him up from school, he’d look at me with fear and say, “Did I have a good day today?”

Every night when I’d lie with him in bed he’d say, “Mommy, I don’t want to go back to school.  It’s so hard to be good.  I try to be good but my body won’t let me.”

And then I ran into an acquaintance at Target.  She asked me how The Beast was doing and where he was going to school, and when I told her she said, “Forgive me for overstepping, but I have several friends with boys who put their kids in that school and they regretted it.  If you have a really well-behaved child, he’ll probably do fine.  But if your child has any behavior issues or if he’s just loud and moves a lot like most boys do, he might start to feel bad about himself because he doesn’t fit into the mold of what they want their students to look like.  Don’t let any school make your child feel bad about himself.”

At that moment I realized that I could no longer punish away his childhood.  My new philosophy was if it’s a school behavior issue, the school needs to handle it.  I’m only disciplining him for things he does at home.  I’m not one of those parents who thinks their child can do no wrong.  This entire blog was started on the premise that my child can be a havoc-wreaker.  But I just couldn’t continue to punish him every single day for his behavior at school.  I felt that if he continued to have daily behavior issues, then maybe it wasn’t the right school for him.

We decided that if this new approach didn’t work, then we’d withdraw him from the school.

About a week after we made this decision, he did something at the school and I got a phone call.  As I walked into the school to pick him up, I ran into the director.  I had intended to ask to be let out of our contract, but when she saw me she said, “I don’t think we can keep doing this.  We love The Beast, but he’s struggling so much.  Maybe this isn’t the best environment for him.  Maybe he just needs more freedom.”

So now The Beast is home with me full-time.  I’m drinking a little bit more.  Getting high occasionally.  (Kidding, Dad.  But as soon as medical marijuana is legal in Texas, I’m putting on my going-out pants and getting in line for a prescription.)

I did talk to a friend who recommended that I take The Beast in for an occupational therapy evaluation so that whatever it is I’m dealing with can be dealt with sooner rather than later.  We visited my pediatrician for the referral and he initially said he wanted to wait until The Beast was five because he might outgrow a lot of these behaviors.  But after witnessing The Beast breakdancing on the office floor, having The Beast take his stethoscope and use it to whip the wall, and then experiencing the joy of having The Beast climb up his back while he was trying to explain why The Beast didn’t yet need an occupational therapy consult, he decided to go ahead and give us that referral.

The Beast had his evaluation about two weeks ago and he’s going to start occupational therapy for Sensory Processing Disorder.  I believe a commenter on this blog told me a long time ago to look into SPD, but, as you can see by the fact that it’s taken me a year to tell you all that I pulled him out of his first school, I have the tendency to procrastinate.

There’s no guarantee that The Beast doesn’t also have ADHD or any other disorder, but we’re going to start here and see where it takes us.

My prayer is that he learns to control his body.

That he learns to focus.

That he learns to listen.

That I learn how to help him.

That he succeeds when he starts school.

And when he grows up, that he doesn’t make a profession out of mutiny.


16 thoughts on “A year in the life.

  1. Hang in there. Some of our kids just need some extra sensory input. Hopefully OT will help teach him and you some strategies. My heart broke when I read his comment – that he wants to behave but sometimes his body just won’t let him. I do think our educational system is so hard for some boys. My 6-year-old just likes to move. All. The. Time. Fortunately, he has a great teacher this year who seems to “get it.” Hopefully you’ll find a good situation for your little guy soon.

  2. You are an awesome mom.
    Enjoy an extra glass of your favorite spirit tonight and know that you are doing what’s best for your son.

  3. Good job, mom!

    Yes, good job. I have been there, although my son was older. He did okay in preschool, but “regular” school was hard for him. After a particularly damaging 3rd grade year, that required switching schools, we didn’t find out until 5th grade (I know, I’m still mad at myself for waiting so long!) that he’s got Inattentive-Type ADD. Once we developed a plan for dealing with that, he’s done so much better. He’s a senior this year, and while he won’t graduate with honors, he’ll graduate, and he’ll do it with self-esteem intact. And we’re both good with that.

    Not all kids fit into the perfect little box many schools want them in. Not just the Beast, not just my child, not just the children of your readers/commentors. So many kids are unique in a way that may not require an IEP, but certainly require different techniques that some schools may not be willing to explore. So you go until you find a solution.OT is a GREAT start.

    Your son is wonderful. Kids like him are my favorite! They are the ones who will grow up to be the thinkers, the do-ers, the ones who challenge and change things. Just keep doing what you’re doing, love him, do what you can to help him learn to navigate the world, and you’ll be amazed and awed at what an incredible person he grows up to be.


  4. All I can say is don’t give up and don’t be hard on yourself or him. You’re doing the best you can and that’s awesome. I hope the therapy works!

  5. Today I typed the phrase “my toddler is killing me” into google and up popped your blog. This was after a morning of my two year old destroying the entire house with his tantrums, throwing a toy car at my head and breaking my glasses, and biting me hard enough to draw blood. I cried for hours and am considering taking up the bottle (I’ve never had an affinity for alcohol before, but I think I could learn to like it at this point).

    Then I read your blog and nearly died laughing, and felt much better. Thank you….and thank gawd someone is able to tell the truth about what motherhood can be like with a “spirited” child (unlike those Mormon women’s blogs, which make me want to puke and scream at the same time). In one of your entries you talked about how not running away from your child should count for something. Yeah, I totally get that.

    • You are so not alone. If you decide to pick up the drinking habit, let me know. I can always use a buddy.

      Sent from my iPhone


  6. The Beast sounds exactly like my oldest (now almost 8). When he was a toddler he caused a daycare teacher to quit because he wouldn’t listen/behave and was fomenting a coup with his classmates.
    We ended up doing a full developmental work up at Children’s Hospital and our diagnosis was non-verbal learning disability (he is VERY verbal and has an amazing vocabulary so the label refers more to inability to process non-verbal info), including sensory processing disorder and ADHD. We held off on medication for as long as possible, but eventually it was the right answer for HIM as he started making friends at school, learning and much less yelling by us (his parents).
    Honestly, it was a good thing… We’re getting the services he needs, he’s on an IEP, and we have behaviorists who help us figure out what techniques are most effective for him. And we adapt and modify every day because he’s too smart for his own good and our reward systems lose value if they’re not regularly tweaked.
    I hope your eval gives you the information/answers most useful to you.
    Good luck and remembe, wine is medicinal!!

  7. More older son has SPD, and OT made a WORLD of difference for him. We started therapy when he was about two and a half. He’s almost five now, and the difference is night and day. I did a ton of reading about SPD and made some changes to the way I parent him, which has also made a huge difference. I hope the same thing happens for The Beast and parenting him gets a little easier.

  8. Thought you’d enjoy a comment on how Halloween went for us. I dressed my 2yr old Beast up as Elmo and tried to take him trick-or treating….he made it to one whole house before he had a meltdown of such epic proportions I had to carry/drag him home. OK, so then I thought we’d hand out candy at the door instead of going out. But my Beast would not share the candy in the basket….he screamed and howled at the kids, tried to bite them, then tried to bite me when I gave some candy to them despite his protests. When another wave of children came to the door he ended up violently throwing candy at their heads since they were stealing from him….then he tried to rip away THEIR bags of candy. I had to wrestle him to the floor to stop the violence. Several young trick-or-treaters left my house crying and screaming after being assaulted by my boy. I had to turn off my porch light after only 10 minutes of Halloween “fun.”

    Today I bought my first liquor ever….a bottle of wine…. and had a glass by 9am. Gosh, I feel so much better. Who knew wine could hold such magic? I didn’t even cry when my Beast tried to kill the bird with the vacuum cleaner.

  9. I have 2 of those…lol. First one we homeschooled fom grade 1-6, best thing we ever did! He grew out of those challenges and went to school in grade 7. On the honor roll now and a non-issue, just couldn’t be in the class setting as a very young one. Second one is in an “inquiry-based learning” school…so far so good, he’s grade 3. Both very bright with lots to offer, but impulsive as small people and can’t sit still for the life of them. I am hoping my second will be like my first and grow out of the challenging parts enough to make full use of his potential later on and that we are honoring his needs by putting him in a very unique learning environment. “School” in the strict sense is not for everyone.

  10. Can I LOVE a post?? This is so awesome. You are a great, great mom. I related to pretty much everything you wrote. You know what is best for your son. I think you made an excellent choice!

  11. Have you ever considered taking your little man to see a wellness chiropractor? A condition like that with how sensory messages are received through the nervous system sounds like something that could be managed or improved by getting your little dude an adjustment. I have a two year old little man who gets adjusted once or twice a week for some stomach issues. I work in a wellness center and have seen improvements with things as such, plus is an natural approach. An adjustment can balance the nervous system along with changing the diet! All the food dyes/additives/processed/chemicals can impact their systems in many negative ways.
    You are doing such an awesome job, i hope I have somewhat helped.

    “The beast” haha I love it.

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