The experiment begins

Because the psychiatrist, who'd meant for us to be using the generic medication all along, was nice enough to call the pharmacy and say so. The medication may not work, but at least we won't go broke finding out.

He's only been on it for a couple of days. He's a bit extra tired, but that was supposed to happen. As for any improvements ... hard to say. He's still not listening at school, and not completing his work. He had a full-on meltdown the other day, in the middle of a birthday party, in front of the other moms, because I wouldn't buy him a toy. I played it off as, "Yeah, he's tired," as I tried to peel him off the floor, just because it's easier than saying, "Yeah, he does this a lot, he has utterly no emotional coping skills, the slightest bother or disappointment makes him collapse and he's not really a brat, even though he's coming off like one right now. So anyway, what were you saying about the weather?"

Amazingly other people never seem too bothered by the meltdowns. I don't see how that lasts, though. He just looks too old to be having them.

I think we have to give the medication a few weeks to see if it makes a difference. And if not, I suppose we see what's behind Door #3, and whether it comes in a generic version.

He did score really well on some sort of reading assessment test the other day. So, there's that.

Also, he had fun over the weekend at our joint pre-birthday hibachi celebration with friends (great idea, M.), and apparently also at the St. Patrick's Day parties at school. I don't quite get the St. Patrick's Day parties. Mainly because 1. we're not Irish, 2. the holiday as celebrated in America has very little to do with the actual holiday and 3. still not Irish. Although I do like soda bread.

But he came home talking about the leprechaun that snuck into the classrooms and did mischief, or something like that, and I sincerely hope we're not expected to keep up that whole business at home, because keeping track of Santa's sled and remembering the cookies and milk and the carrots for the reindeer is about all I can handle. Jewish holidays never involve invisible magical creatures, unless you count the prophet Elijah at Passover, and all you have to do for him is leave out a cup of wine. Which he never drinks, because, I'm guessing, he doesn't like Manischewitz wine either.

Our next event will be kiddo's official birthday party, for which he has so far wanted a Lego cake, a Minecraft cake and possibly a Paw Patrol cake, unless that was kiddette, who has been placing her pre-order way too far in advance. Such indecision. Just imagine if I were ambitious enough to make the cake myself. (Not a chance.)

Growl.

So kiddo's psychiatrist suggested we try another medication, as the one kiddo is currently taking appears to be -- what's the technical term? -- doing jack squat. Well, OK. I'm not especially interested in hopping back on the merry-go-round of medication hoping to find the right one, but a lot of ADHD families go through this, so it was maybe an inevitability.

I did veto stimulants, because they're notorious for causing appetite suppression. As in, the kid loses his appetite and refuses to eat. That's a freaky enough prospect in itself. Kiddo, however, really can't be losing weight. I'm not saying he's skinny, but he might conceivably blow away in a stiff wind. I can't imagine how he could get any skinnier and I'm not interested in finding out.

It's kind of fascinating, the skinniness, because right now this is what we hear every morning after breakfast: "I'm still hungry. Can I have another food?" I try to pack him extra food at lunch so he can get through the day. I have no idea where he puts it all.

So the psychiatrist prescribed a non-stimulant, saying basically, let's see if this one helps. OK. She knows I like to use as little medication as possible, so she said we should be halving the dose with a pill splitter. Fine.

Not fine. The pharmacist said that particular pill should not be split, on orders from the manufacturer, because splitting it releases the entire dose. Naturally, it was Saturday night when I learned this and we couldn't do anything until today.

So I called the psychiatrist, who never called back (I hate when doctors don't call back), and the pharmacist, who reported that he'd gotten through and the psychiatrist said to use the whole pill, and I could come pick it up whenever. Oh, OK, so actually the full dose was fine all along? Gosh, how convenient.

I went to pick it up and discovered that it was pricey. By which I mean the co-pay is $40, for two weeks' worth of pills. Two weeks? So we're supposed to drop thousands of dollars on a medication that might not even work, whose proper dosage appears to be in doubt?

It's bad enough that ADHD parents have to deal with 1. the ADHD and 2. the various amounts of ridicule and contempt from total strangers who think they're horrible parents for medicating their children. Dealing with this nonsense on top of it all is a bit much.

I did not buy the medication yet, because I want to have a serious talk with the psychiatrist first and I will be happy to call as many times as it takes for that to happen. At least we still have some of kiddo's current medication ... for whatever that's worth.

A setback or two

So kiddo and I went to the school's mother-son dance on Thursday. I waffled about going at first -- was he too young? was I just looking for an excuse to dance somewhere? -- until it was pointed out that now is the optimum time to take him to such a thing, because he isn't yet mortified to be seen in public with me. There was a DJ and cookies and other boys (some in button-downs and ties) running about, and all the moms got flowers and had their pictures taken with their sons, and I chatted with the other moms and danced and kiddo and I even danced a bit. I requested "Somebody That I Used to Know" for him because he loves that song, which he refers to as "The Robot Song," and he does the robot dance to it. We had a fine time.

And then the next day at school, he got in trouble twice for being physical with kids -- to the point of being sent out of the room -- and got two check marks on his chart.

It was such the opposite of his behavior lately that the school folks and I were emailing back and forth trying to pinpoint the reason. All I can figure is, the dance. He was up too late, he ate too many cookies, I don't know, all of the above? I'm just thrilled the thing he and I did for fun sent him into a trouble spiral the next day.

He seemed generally okay over the weekend, especially since the weekend included a most fabulous birthday party aboard an honest-to-goodness chugging train (much thanks to C.). He still seemed okay on Monday, back to his usual nine checks. Today, he got no checks. That's "no" as in "zero," as in worse than he's ever done on the chart before. And he hit a kid with the sensory cushion he's supposed to be using to sit on.

Today was also a delayed opening for the district due to the boatload of snow that suddenly got dumped on us last night and stretched my commute home to two hours, thanks a lot, weather gods. A delayed opening for kindergarten, since it's half-day around these parts, means A.M. kindergarten is lengthened while P.M. is canceled, or vice versa. No, I don't understand it either. The upshot was, kiddo went into kindergarten later than usual and was there longer than usual, and he's lousy with changes in routine. Apparently today, really really lousy.

Now I have no idea what to expect tomorrow. Back to nine checks, since we're back to regular hours? Or will something else throw him off? Does this mean the medication isn't working? Do we increase the dose? Add another medication? Keep him home whenever school is delayed? Seal him in a bubble and never let him leave the house? I'm at a bit of a loss.

We're seeing the psychiatrist this weekend so we'll discuss with her then, obviously. He just needs to get through the week without too much more trouble, if that's possible.

He can't just totally collapse whenever something is off kilter in his world. Things are always off kilter in real life. If he never learns to handle that, how can he ever function?

Meds, week 1

Not much to report, actually. No side effects that we can see. He does seem a little calmer, his teacher says, but he's very much still capable of having meltdowns. Since, you know, he had a few. The psychiatrist wants to take things extremely slowly, and give him very low doses of things, which is fine by me.

(Bless his teacher -- I told her which drug it was and she went and researched it herself, just so she knew what to look for in case of side effects.)

He had a fine day on Friday, but then it was Read Across America Day, and a whole bunch of people came into his class to read to them ... including me. I've been on vacation, doing this and that around the house, and hey, when else am I going to get to read to his class? They were. So. Cute. Kiddo and a few of his buddies came running over to figure out how tall I was, and if they could get as tall as me by jumping repeatedly. Another boy came over and asked, "What are we doing?" I explained what the others were up to, and he happily joined in.

I read "Smelly Socks" by Robert Munsch -- it's a favorite in our house -- and the kids seemed to like it, though possibly the boys more than the girls. Especially popular was the part where Tina's friends come to her house to yank her dirty socks off her feet and wash them. When they bang on the door, the book says "BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!" First kiddo wanted to do the line. Then a few other kids chimed in. Soon we had an entire BLAM chorus and I had a slightly difficult time getting them on to the next page.

At any rate, they were all very sweet and seemed much more interested in high-fiving me than in asking questions about the book. And I hope I didn't give any of them the idea of not washing their socks.

This week might be a better test of how kiddo does in class. It's nice that our family is supporting us on this; as conflicted as we were about medications in the first place, I don't think we would've wanted to hear judgmental comments from loved ones. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't, and then we try something else. Because that's what you do with this disorder. There's always a plan B. Or C or D or E or hell, Z.

We are also moving ahead with the IEP process; we're supposed to have a meeting with the rest of the IEP "team" this week, that being the social worker, a Child Study Team member, his teacher and a few other folks. The district mailed us a booklet spelling out our legal rights regarding IEPs and special education services generally, which was a nice thing to do, even if it is required. (Note: I don't know if it's required.)

So progress is progressing progressively. I think.

An un-delightful decision

No one has threatened to suspend kiddo from the bus lately. They have, however, threatened to suspend him from kindergarten. I did not know you could get suspended from kindergarten. It's the sort of thing you think happens to older kids. Who are not, you know, openly classified as special needs.

He poked another child in the back of the neck with a pencil. I was told the child had to go to the nurse and what a good thing it was that there was no mark. Not to excuse the behavior or anything -- I in fact told kiddo that if he were suspended he would lose TV privileges for the entire length of the suspension, and would also be staying in his room when not at day care or eating meals -- but seriously, it was a pencil. Unless it was sharpened to a fine point, and he has ninja skills I don't know about, I find it unlikely that he'd be able to cause serious injury with a pencil.

I get that the mere fact of the action is bad enough. But I'm also beginning to feel like the word "suspension" is getting tossed around rather freely. He's not a bad kid. He's a kid who can't control himself. Is there just a point at which that distinction stops mattering?

The school, to be fair, is trying. He's getting OT. He has a behavior chart, a fidget toy, a timer and a special calming seat cushion. He meets with the guidance counselor regularly. My therapist says we're getting more accommodations than other families he's worked with. It's just not enough. I officially requested an evaluation for an IEP, which would get him further accommodations, but the evaluation process is 90 days so that's not happening this school year.

I've been mulling it over and over and the conclusion I came to was this: He's not going to do well in a large group, period. He's going to get overstimulated and distracted. He's going to do some random bad thing that comes off as aggressive, and he's not going to know why he did it. Our options right now are 1. homeschool, which is not an option since we both work, or 2. medication.

We saw a pediatric psychiatrist on Saturday. We had a prescription in five minutes.

We don't love this choice. (DH dryly noted on the way home that we now had "a science experiment" in the back seat.) It might not work, for one thing. For another, he still needs to learn proper behavior whether he's medicated or not. So it's not the answer all by itself. Also, there's the whole "parents who medicate their kids are lousy parents who can't control their kids and want their kids to be zombies" thing. But look, he can't keep poking kids in the neck with pencils. That's the bottom line.

So (and boy, I do seem to say this a lot, don't I?) we'll see how this goes.