Middle dude (Joel, 10) is lucky I didn't call first thing this morning and sign him up for a lobotomy.
I very-uncharacteristically stayed calm, knowing that any minute now, he will turn on a dime and be fine. Such is life with a mood disorder. I am getting better at managing these things - not managing him, but managing the situation from my end. And staying calm is the key. Which is hard when every fiber of my body wants to SCREAM MY FOOL HEAD OFF at him.
I was in tears after he left, all questioning why I am even a parent, why God gave me three kids with three different neurological diagnoses, praying for a mentor to materialize in my life so I could have someone praying over me every day.
In the end, I know that prayer works - in fact, I'm counting on it - and that's the route I am taking because, honestly, I don't know which way to go anymore. I really don't know what else I can be doing but what I'm already doing. We're providing all three of them with the resources that their individual diagnoses require; we learn all we can about how to manage and help them from our end; Sean and I stick together like super glue to wade through it all; we pray consistently, every day (or every hour, as it seems).
What else is there?
Thanks for listening. Tomorrow is a new day (thank God).