The frenemy doctor

So we went to see the new pediatrician today. 

She listened to everything  I had to say. And then she started talking. Her accent was very thick and she spoke very quiet and very fast. Needless to say, though she was speaking English, I could barely understand anything she said. (Have I mentioned yet that I am hard of hearing?)

Thank God I had asked my mom to come with me. She had to translate most of what the Dr was saying. Which was really irritating,

Additionally, when she asked how I reacted to being kicked in the face, I was honest with her and told her that I spanked Pookie. She chewed me out for “hitting” my kid. 

Number one, I didn’t hit her, I spanked her. There is a huge difference. Number 2, undermining a parent in front of their already defiant child only makes the parent’s job that much harder. 

Then she told me that I can’t hit or spank my kid. That  the only acceptable discipline is to say “no” in a quiet voice (yelling and lecturing are not allowed either) and then to calmly send the child to timeout. Pookie’s response to this was to do 2 things. First she looked at me and said “haha you can’t spank me”, then she kicked the Dr.

Needless to say we are still looking for answers. And we are still looking for a great pediatrician. 

I spoke too soon

I spoke too soon. I should know better by now. But, no, yesterday/s blog post was written too soon.

At school, Pookie stole from her teacher. Then she came home and lied about it. What did she steal? Lip balm. Again.

Then, she took things out of a shopping bag that did not belong to her. She took the package to her room, opened it, hid the trash under her bed and pocketed the item. When I confronted her about whether she had taken the item, she lied. What did she steal? A package of 2 chapsticks. Ellie had the other one. Notice a pattern?

As I was labeling the chapstick with a marker so that we could keep Pookie’s andPixie’s straight, I hear rustling around in the bathroom.

I look and Pookie is in my makeup bag, grabbing and pocketing lip gloss. And she lied about it, despite knowing that I had seen her do it.

A few minutes later, she is over by the computer desk, messing around and stuffs something down her pants (we had changed to pj’s by now) she told me that she didn’t have anything… just as a big eraser falls out of the bottom of her pant leg.

By this point I am practically in tears. I glance at the clock and it’s mercifully reading 7:15 pm, which means that it’s not too early for bedtime.

Pookie walked over to me, acting very apologetic and said she was sorry for being bad and asked for a hug. Of course, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her thinking that this is the silver lining to a very rough day… until I notice her using the opportunity to reach behind my back and grab something else to pocket…

Admitting there is a problem bigger than I am

So. Today has been rough. And that is an understatement.

My oldest daughter, has been stealing like crazy. She is only 5. Today I caught her stealing out of my purse and when I asked her about it she tried to run to her room (further confirmation that she had in fact stolen, if you don't have anything to hide, then you have no reason to hide). So I went after her and asked her what she took, and she told me she didn't take anything.

We have done this song and dance before and I have the choreography memorized. So, without further hesitation, I started to check her pockets.

She slapped and bit me which, I am sad to say, is pretty normal for her and I kept checking. Then, she kicked me. Twice. With shoes on. On purpose. She looked right at me and kicked me in the head.  

I have known for a long time that she had behavioral problems. But I always tried to fix it. To be a good enough mom and disciplinarian to correct the issues. I mean, what kind of mom am I if I can’t help my kid through some behavioral problems?

I have been told countless times that it is a reflection of my "bad parenting" that I am a "bad mom" or that I "don’t know how to discipline her right". So for a few years now I have had everyone blaming me and I have been too ashamed to ask for help.

Today, I called the pediatrician's office crying. I told the receptionist everything. I told her I felt like a failure, like I was a horrible mom. ... In short, I had a breakdown on the phone. I cried and apologized for crying and then cried some more. The receptionist could have tried to rush me off the phone and told me that it wasn’t worth crying about. She didn’t. Instead, she told me that I’m not a bad mom, because a bad mom would not ask for help. She told me that I’m not a bad mom because a bad mom wouldn't be in tears, loving her child so much and so desperate for help. She told me that I’m not a failure because a failure would not still be trying. She told me that I am not alone. that there are other mom's out there dealing with some of these same issues and that it's ok to cry but that it's not my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself.

She made an appointment for tomorrow morning at 8 am. I am terrified to go. I’m still so scared that someone will think I am a bad mom and try to take my kids. I am more scared to not go, to just keep fighting this battle alone. I am scared of my daughter hurting herself or a family member or a classmate. I am scared of eventually resenting my daughter, of us not having a healthy relationship as she grows older. I’m scared of so many things. 

I feel like a bomb went off this morning and I’m standing here looking at the devastation, frozen, terrified, in shock, trying to figure out what to do. And I have called out for help in a foreign land of medical professionals. I can only hope and pray that the person who is answering my call in the morning is a comrade, and not an enemy.