Bad Morning

It seems like Porter can only have one good day at a time. And that's harder than when he's just having bad days, because good days give you hope. So when that bad day comes so quickly and your hopes are crushed, it hardly seems like those good days are worth it.

Yeah, it was a bad morning.

You would think by now I would realize that a crash was coming, that I could anticipate the inevitable and thereby avoid how disappointed and hurt I feel after. But every time that tenacious seed of hope plants itself in my soul and attempts to take root. "Maybe we've turned a corner. Maybe the meds are going to fix it."

It's the maybes that get me every time.

Porter was out all last week with Influenza B and because he's so susceptible to pneumonia we began inhaled steroids along with the Tamiflu. Steroids of any kind SUCK when you have bipolar disorder. Think roid rage on steroids. So along with feeling crappy because of the flu, Porter was roided up and bored. But finally Monday came and he made it to school. I was concerned because he still tired out easily and then, of course, the whole steroid thing but he did great. He was Student of the Day! He didn't go to the isolation room, even once. He didn't have to be restrained. No violent outbursts. No whining. No spitting at people. He was even pleasant at home, until this morning....

I got the wrong cereal. That's what started everything! The new cereal option wasn't right and the current one he's been eating for years, he now hates. Nothing else would work. No burritos, no cereal bars, no granola bars, no toast, no oatmeal. No, no, no! That's when he threw the dining room chair and I dragged him to his room, while he flailed, thrashed, and screamed.

It's hard parenting a special needs kid. It's hard because it's isolating and frustrating and often times, soul crushing. And unfortunately, sometimes, Hope is the greatest threat to a morning.

Peace Out!
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