Monday, January 12, 2009

Yesterday Was a Bad Day

Yesterday was a bad day. A Very bad day. My middle son, R, is ten and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder three years ago. He has good days and bad days, and yesterday was a doozie. It was the first really bad day he has had since B moved in with us last week. My first chance to see how B was going to react to the disaster that often rocks our days. It took me an hour of dragging and cajoling and pleading to get R out of bed yesterday morning for school. He claimed to be too tired, that I was entirely too mean, that everyone except B hates him, and that he was going to go straight to school to tell all his teachers that I drug him. (Despite the fact that prior to being put on mood stabilizers for his bipolar, the school often called me to pick him up when he became out of control during the day.) By the time I drug R all the way to the bus stop and the freezing rain, with my hair wet and plastered against my head (too hard to drag a ten year old and hold an umbrella) he had coated my entire dining room in root beer by shaking up a twenty ounce bottle and throwing it across the room. I had been kicked ( although not bitten this time, I am happy to report.) So yeah, It was a bad day.

After standing at the bus stop freezing for ten minutes, I returned home dripping wet and crying to sit on the edge of our bed. I sobbed, and even though B has never in his adult life lived with children, especially not a child as difficult as my son, he did everything absolutely right. He helped me get changed and pulled me under the covers beside him and said all of the things I so needed to hear. He told me that together we would work it all out, that things were not ever as bad as they seemed, that I was still a good mother, and that no matter what kind of day it turned out to be--He loves me. Then he held me in his arms for three hours and just let me sleep and forget about the morning's stress. He totally passes the step-dad test. Where do I sign....

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