More about S at 2

I was writing this as a comment at Bek's blog. It got so long I am just putting it here. Forgive my longwindedness ...

Once S dumped a whole bottle of liquid laundry detergent on my bed ... on my new handmade quilt and Scottish wool throw that my parents brought back from their vacation. Not easy stuff to launder and impossible to replace should I have ruined it. Fortunately it survived but geez!

Once he covered the living room rug with honey and crumbled saltines. I was so discouraged I just rolled up the rug and took it to the garage. Unbeknownst to me, DH cleaned it. He is so good.

Once he dissassembled an entire box of tampons -- unwrapped, popped out, unstrung. This is sad, but I truly didn't have $5 for another box of tampons and it freaked me out. That time I did remember to get out the camera, specifically with blackmail in mind, but I cannot find the picture now. Sad, huh?

Many times he locked us out of the house. Once DH was so frustrated that his "knocking" on the window got a little out of control. He broke the window. And you know if I didn't have $5 for tampons it was a little tricky to come up with enough money for a new window.

He could overcome any babyproofing device known to man and climb to any height. It was impossible to get him to stay in a time-out. (The therapist later said, "Isn't your husband an engineer? Why can't he just install a locking doorknob backwards on S's door?" My husband is not that kind of engineer. He's a hydrologist. I installed the doorknob with my lovely power drill. Vroom!)

He once screamed -- screamed -- for 48 hours solid. If you think that's a joke, it's not. I was so tired and freaky myself that I literally, honestly thought he was maybe possessed. I called my mom to come get him before I killed him. She had gotten enough sleep to realize he needed to see a doctor. I was too close to insanity to figure that out. He had a raging double ear infection.

We almost got expelled from childcare at the gym because he was so out of control with the other kids. Never mean, but just wild and physical. That was the low point that sent us to therapy. The gym was my only respite and the thought of losing it was extremely discouraging.

Where we went for therapy was The Children's Center in Salt Lake. We saw Dr. Doug Goldsmith. He was very compassionate and helpful. His main prescription was that I (mommy) find a way to get away from S (and A) for at least 3 hours a week. He recommended a part time job but was satisfied with my solution, which was having my dad come and stay with the boys while I went to the gym (since, remember, we were suspended from the gym childcare) and did the shopping by myself. It helped a lot. I was just tapped out. Dr. Goldsmith also assured me that S was not in fact a demon but an exceptionally demanding, difficult, and intelligent child.

We also took a Love and Logic parenting class through the Murray (Utah) school district that was helpful because it gave very specific words and strategies to use in the most frustrating moments. So much of this is about getting our own mommy emotions in check when our kids are out of control.

As for ADD/ADHD, I bring it up because Bek will get people making that amateur diagnosis and also people wondering if Cubby was a "drug baby" -- oh yeah, my favorite phrase. People will ask that, or worse, just assume it because he is black. A doctor or psychiatrist, though, will not diagnose ADD/ADHD until a child is 5 or 6, because the impulse control that is lacking in kids with the disorder (and for S it is the primary symptom) cannot be expected until between age 3 and 5. For those two years I was praying that S's impulse control would come in like a grownup incisor filling a gap-toothed grin. It never really did. I hear the next big step where he may be able to develop this is around age 14. We're crossing our fingers.

In the meantime I am sorely tempted to come kidnap Cubby for a couple of days. Do you think he would let me kiss his darling little cheeks?