January and new beginnings

Well, it’s been MONTHS since I wrote, and we’ve had a few speed bumps along the way, but overall Zack is transforming slowly into a much happier, centred boy. St Christopher’s is a curiosity to me - that a school could exist where children can be themselves, teacher’s are caring and so, very, interested in their pupil’s wellbeing and obtaining the best from them. That education seems fun, and studies feel like juicy grapes, ready to be bitten. I don’t get a sense of the penal attitude that is so very prevalent in his old school. For example, one of the girl’s in his class had a very difficult day on Wednesday and had a massive meltdown at school. Her mum felt it necessary to email all the class parents and explain, as well as apologise. I said there was no need, and that we all understand how hard it can be. How different from his old school! There was no, “X got a red card” or, “X got detention!” which is what Calvin brings home regularly.
When questioned by a good friend, if he’d made some friends, Zack responded with:
“Everyone in my class is my friend!”
I was open-mouthed with joy and relief. I know that he has made friends with children in years below and above him, as well as a few of the teenagers (see my previous post) on the coach/bus. He is now at ease with the coach journey - with where he sits and what he does. Those teething problems were a part of the adjustment process. He knows the names of other bus-trippers, and shares ear-phones with them. They play games and compare scores. It's so healthy.
We’ve also seen real signs that he is feeling better in himself - the past week has been pretty smooth going in the mornings. Having to get up every day at 6am, while it’s still dark, has been hard-going. In December we’d had a few really difficult mornings - Zack throwing enormous, shout-y tantrums and having to be carried (80kgs) to the car so he doesn’t miss the bus. But the past week or so, has seen a boy waking up by himself, without prompting, having set his own alarm. I’m still having to dress him, but not having to fight about waking up is a big thing.
Now that we’re into the second term of year 5, he has joined two after-school groups playing netball on Mondays and rugby on Tuesdays. It means he gets the late bus home, and I only pick him up at 6:50pm - a very late, long day for a 9 year old. But he often does a little dance as he walks from the coach to the car which speaks volumes about his inner state.
A few weeks ago, we went for a blood test at the local hospital, which didn’t happen because he’d worked himself into a state of high-agitation saying “I hate needles!”, “I can’t do this Mummy!”, “I’m scared!”… it’s a tough one, because I decided that it would be better to give him the heads-up that we were going. But the downside was that he had a few days to dwell on the terror of having a needle stuck in his arm. aaarrghhh!
Then, last week, he said to me, “Mum, my god-mother Heather only cuts her hair once a year. I think that’s a really good idea. If I cut my hair really short, I would also only have to cut it once a year.”
His hair is well below his shoulders now and the bird’s nest at the back of his head has grown. The challenge of brushing it and washing it, loomed large, as it we’d had a number of ‘discussions’ in December while in SA, to no avail.
I agreed, that cutting it a lot would mean not having to do it as frequently. As such he insisted that we make an appointment for the weekend, and he have his hair lopped off.
I took him to the hairdresser on Sunday, and we cut, cut, cut it. He cried a bit when she combed it - the part he hates the most. But it is now radically shorter, tho’ not a buzzcut. In the middle of it all, Zack said to me, “Mum, I am facing my fears.”
I just want to hug and kiss him. I squeezed his little hands and said, “I am so proud of you. This is a big, big thing. Lots of people never face their fears love, and you are nine and you’re doing it!”
When we got home the verdict was, “Mum, it’s not short enough! and the blow-dry makes it look poofy!”
By Monday the verdict had changed to, “its not really a boy’s haircut Mom. I look like a girl with short hair.” You have to laugh, because in SA he was addressed as ‘young lady’ and ‘madam’ a few times - a country where people CANNOT get their heads around a boy with long hair. ha ha.
So we now have another appointment for Sunday this week, with daddy’s barber, to have it cut much shorter and styled to look more like a boy. Watch this space!
And on top of all that, he said to me, “I think I’m ready to go back and have my blood test Mum”.

THE LOW DOWN

We got to a point where we really needed more answers so we took Zack to a psychiatrist, recommended by the psychotherapists. She has diagnosed him with some autistic traits (so he's neither autistic, NOR on the autistic spectrum, but exhibits some traits - which, now that I've done quite a lot of reading, are common in MOST HUMAN BEINGS!). He has developed a lack of social awareness and empathy, a lack of impulse control, obstructive, confrontational and non-compliant behaviour - whahey ! it's not rocket science.
Zack is suffering from depression, but he is also suffering from despair. No surprises there!
The sad, sad news though is that we cannot medicate him... we can't help him by removing the highs and the lows chemically. He has to keep going, however hard it is for all of us. No drugs - it's too risky. We were gutted to hear.
She is sure he doesn't have ADHD nor is he bipolar. That's something! a little twinkle.
He has O.D.D. (Oppositional Defiant disorder) which basically comes down to a 'naughty child' label. It's negative and disruptive behaviour aimed at those in authority, particularly parents and teachers. Apparently it's very common in kids with ADHD... BUT Zack doesn't have ADHD. hmmm....
At some point in his early emotional development he has gone off on a different path. Some of the resulting behaviours have now become quite entrenched and will be difficult to unlearn. She was optimistic: it is possible with the “right” support, and we hope that he’ll be able to find his way back to a ‘normal’ trajectory, or at least learn coping mechanisms to do so.
She said the very best thing we could do now is find him a new school which will offer more emotional support and change the approach to his therapy. Guess what I'm doing with my time ?!
It's been quite an arduous journey thus far... who knows whether we'll find a school in time. There are days when I feel hopeless, there are days when I think there's a glimmer.
I recognise that I just have to take it one day at a time. That's all there is.

how deep is the hole ?

It has been an shockingly difficult few weeks with Zack. His behaviour has completely nose-dived in the past 18 days. Is it the end of term ? What has precipitated this ? We've spent time thinking and talking about it. Keith was away in the States 6 weeks ago. I was away in Jordan 3 weeks ago. So yes, there's been some 'missing' bodies from home; but the rest of the activities and commitments have remained the same - unchanged, predictable. We've been in regular contact while away - both Keith and I. We constantly reassure that we'll be back, and do in fact return.
Things at school came to a head two weeks ago on Friday 5 December. Zack did something he shouldn't have. It was significant enough for us to write to the headteacher over the weekend about it. We were called in for a meeting. We have since had a second meeting with the teacher, senco and our therapist. Zack has continued to free-fall into one transgression after the next. I was very relieved that the end of term rolled around on Friday. I don't think anyone had any energy left.
It's not been great. Zack has feigned the suicidal thing again. He is very rough with Keith and I. There are times when I wonder "what next?". It's scary.
My dear friend X has said to me again and again, you need to move him to another school. We would if we had one. I think we need to renew our efforts and the search.

Bon vacances. Bonne chance

Or should I say "buona fortuna" and "buona vacanza" because we spent our holiday in Italy - 2 weeks of sunshine. And the final week of the school hols back home in London. The last 10 days were really very smooth and peaceful, all things considered. With no therapy to go to, and no school pressures, it does beg the question, "are we where we are because of the pressures of modern life?". The problem is, this life is not avoidable. Our livelihoods are tied up in the Big Smoke. We are neither farmers nor arborists. I have no desire to go and live in a small village where everyone knows your business. There is more than enough pressure on Zack right now, from his school mates, his peers, people in the wider social circle and our neighbours, to uproot us all and "opt out" of an urban existence. That would be traumatic for me, Keith and both children. We're staying in the city.

I spent a most worthwhile evening on the horn to a friend who's son has also struggled alot, around this age (8yrs+). It's so hard to know what to do, what to think, where to go from here. My friend has said not to dither, not to hesitate, but to act. I feel like I'm being too passive, sitting still. But at the same time, I see the value of just sitting with a problem and looking at it from different angles. An impulsive action is often driven by emotional overload, and the desire to survive overrules common-sense. I've submitted an application to a private school in Hampstead, in the hope that they'll grant us an interview if there's a place in the new year.

I've started making enquiries into a full-time nanny. The cost is crippling. I'm re-thinking it each week.

Zack is still going to therapy. We are still seeing a therapist too. There are times when I want to chuck in the towel, when it all seems pointless. But then we have a week where I see real value in Zack's therapy - when I can draw a straight line between his coping and incidents that have occurred. That's when it's also hard, because we've toyed with the idea of his going more frequently, but I don't think that he'd agree.

On a more positive note, he has had enormous success with rugby this term. We've had a few training sessions which have gone well - including incidents when he was high-tackled, kids jumped on his head when he was on the ground, getting kicked in the back and sworn at. All of which he's dealt with very well. He is much more resilient, much more.

it's been a whole week

So after much deliberation, angst and consideration we decided that Zack could go on a week's camp during the holidays. It's run by a group called CPAS. I spoke to every parent I know who's kids have been on one and the all spoke of it in glowing terms, talking about the great team who run it, the care, the experience they bring to the event, the other children, the friends they'll make, the activities they'll do. So last week we drove down to a spot in the sticks and left our 8 year old son in the care of people we've not met before (bar one - a friend from church who's a co-leader).

We wrote to him on Monday and he sent us a postcard which arrived on Friday. We worried and fretted about how it was going. We looked at the emergency number and wondered if it would ring. It didn't. We didn't hear a thing. In the meantime Calvin was clingy and demanding. I was at his beck and call the entire week with one thing and the next. He got to do lots of fun things that he enjoys like going horse riding, softplay, seeing friends, hamburgers with dad, and more. We were busy and our lives were so much quieter and calmer. It was palpable - like the volume had been turned down.
The only challenge of course was that my mum was staying with us, so I had another needy family member to "care for".
Saturday morning we got up at 5:45am and drove down and collected him. He was delighted to see us, we were so relieved to see him. He was fine! Full of news and songs and all the things he'd got up to in the week. It appears (and we haven't heard any differently) that the week passed without incident.
Coming home made me feel again that there is a terrible dynamic that has arisen between he and us. He rages with frustration and the yoke of oppression (it seems that's how he sells it to himself), he will not be told what to do - time for bed, time to bath, put your shoes on. It's ridiculous. He doesn't want to be told. Anything.
He came back smelling, with matted hair and filthy feet. I let it go last night but this morning I said to him, "you have to bath before we go out today". Of course that lead to an enormous tantrum, with screaming and shouting. He shrieks with anger and frustration but then when you offer to help, or the alternative of time alone he plays it both ways screaming "GO! A!WAY!" and then when you leave the room, screaming "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE!" so you come back in again. And 'round and 'round it goes.
Consequences? You throw things around in your room - you tidy it up again. You thrash around in the bath and splash water on the walls and floor - you clean it up.
He doesn't know what he wants. He screams how much he hates me and rails against having a mother, but then what's the alternative?
I've always been a parent who thinks that boundaries, routine, courtesy are important for a child. We've given Zack this. And here we are. There is a dynamic between us - one that leads to this crazy behaviour which is so tormenting. We spend so much time and energy talking it down, trying to be massively empathetic, reinforcing our commitment to him as parents.

Last week's review session:
Zack struggles massively with frustration. This is a very early developmental stage, he has not exited it. He doesn't know what to do, and his volatility and raging just points to this.
 - Surprise! surprise! Sometimes therapy tells you stuff you already know, sometimes it tells you something new. We know he is frustrated. He's been like that since he was little. He wants his own way. Every day. Strangely I have struggled with frustration too - but I think so much of it was about growing up in South Africa, parents, the State, feeling like you're not in control of your own life. Zack feels like that, but he's only 8.
He does not have ADHD.
- So what do we do?
He is intelligent, but hugely over sensitive.
He has excellent EQ but lacks self-control.
He is not resilient. Is this my fault ? I struggle with 'what people say', and often doubt myself. Have I unwittingly passed this insecurity on to my child. If I have, how did that happen ? Is it the outworking of "...don't do what I do, do what I say". But that he's done what I do, and not listened to anything I've said about "you are wonderful. you are smart. you are kind. you are funny. you are clever." Has he bought into, "Am I good enough? Have I failed? Am I a bad mother?" and turned that into, "I am rubbish. I am a failure. I am a bad son." ??

We've given him stability, lots of one-on-one time, he is so demanding and has the most god-awful stubborn streak. He has learnt that digging his heels in, is his way of taking control. We can't meet a deadline if he decides that he's not doing it. He has also taught his brother to do this, altho' in Calvin it can be circumvented because I can still pick him up and put him in the car/bath. It absolutely kills me - wrestling control from an 8 year old. The therapists all say, "there is no maliciousness, no desire to deliberately hurt us, it's ALL IMPULSES." But when he decides he doesn't want to do something, that is the end of that. He is 50kgs+ and as solid as a rock. The armchair critics - yes, I know you're out there (the web is populated with your type) - would say, why is your kid so fat? Why aren't you taking control? You're such a shite parent. What's the matter with you? Honestly...
Honestly?

Two things in response to
anonymous critics online :
1. If you're without fault, cast the first stone. (AND I'll listen to what you have to say.)
2. a version of the quote about walking a mile in a man's shoes...
"You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it"-- To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.