Breakdown

It's been awhile since we updated the blogosphere about our Riley adventures. Maybe because sharing bad news is kind of daunting. But, I realized, I should document what's been going on because, one day, his parole officer is gonna want to know who he's dealing with. What? I'm just kidding! Jeesh.

Sort of.

Since we last wrote about this in January, we were implementing the Happy Face M&M Behavior Modification Program. The Modification Program has been modified several different ways since then as we continue to grasp, under the watchful care of mental health and educational professionals, for that something, ANYTHING, to bring Riley's hitting, pushing, spitting, kicking, biting and hair pulling tendencies under control.

The bitch of it is, he's not like that ALL the time. There are triggers: Someone is in the seat he wants. Someone is at the front of the line and he wants to be the line leader. Someone has the toy he wants. The rest of the time? He's smart, sweet, funny, playful and loving. As he's grown and learned more, he's able to communicate even more what the rules are, why it's wrong to hurt your friends, teachers and family members and to express deep regret, sadness and sorrow for doing so.

Yet, he still does it.

At our wits end when the hitting regressed back into biting, we sought out our pediatrician for advice. We got a referral to the one and only psychiatrist in the South Bay willing to bother with miscreants, er, patients, this young. After several visits where we tried even more behavior modifications (positive reinforcement! ignoring transgressions! timeouts!), we took a leap we hoped we'd never have to take: Medication.

They make a form Ritalin, the very popular drug used to treat Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, in a patch worn on the thigh. While no one is saying Riley has AD/HD, he certainly is showing some of the symptoms, namely, impulse control. Scared shitless about side effects like loss of appetite, sleeplessness and a zombie-like preschooler, we took the chance. We started small and, little by little, worked him up to a full patch daily.

And it worked!

For about a month.

In the last few weeks, the aggressive/violent behavior has returned with a vengeance. So, here we were, with a preschooler suffering weight loss and other side effects like paranoia, for nothing. The psychiatrist suggested two different approaches last week - an anti-depressant or a mood stabilizer. The latter seemed more controllable and had way less side effects (this time, look out for more sleep and increased appetite. Um? OK!). The drug, which we're weaning him on to in the tiniest of doses, is meant to address the emotion that underlies the behavior. Meaning, it tells his brain not to get so God damned pissed off about the freakin' chair, and maybe the body won't react.

We're four days in now and, up until today, were seeing some great changes. Yesterday, his teachers reported he seemed happier, more in control and reasonable.

But today?

Ring... ring. "Washington CDC" on the phone screen. "Hello?" "Hi Mrs. Nix? It's Gary Winning. I have Riley in my office...."

Because the school also thought he had a rash (he didn't, he just apparently turns red when he's mad), I was concerned that the new medication had some kind of negative side effect and whisked him back to the psychiatrist for an emergency visit. By the time I got him and we got there, he was significantly calmer (and not red). We discussed the morning and she seemed to think that this is just part of what Riley does and, as we increase his dosage, we'll see less of this behavior.

In the mean time, he's home with me today. Apparently, seeing Mommy cry and walk around in a sad fog does wonders for his contriteness. He's able and willing to talk about what happened. He checks in often to tell me loves me and assure me he's "still my fwiend."

I'm thinking of going back to that psychiatrist to ask if she's got anything to cure my wicked case of the Emotionally Spent Parenting Blues.