Love is a Battlefield

We are young
heartache to heartache we stand
No promises no demands
Love is a battlefield.

We are strong
no-one can tell us we’re wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield.

You’re begging me to go
then making me stay –
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
do I stand in your way
Or am I the best thing you’ve had?
Believe me
believe me
I can’t tell you why.

Pat Benatar had no idea how right she was. Or how much these lyrics apply to raising an adopted child.

It appears another battle has begun for us. It’s going to be a long one. It’s Battle School, or really, Battle Any Structured Environment Whatsoever.

I’m pretty sure my son might get expelled from preschool. I’d be okay with that, he would probably deserve it. In the past three weeks he has bitten his teacher twice, pulled the table cloth off during craft time to send other students’ work flying, and today he pooped in his Pull-Up, then pulled his pants down and smeared the contents of said Pull-Up on the reading rug. On purpose. Like a dog does when it has worms. He also got in trouble at Sunday school yesterday for refusing to follow directions, then refusing to sit in the time out chair, then taking his clothes off and rolling around naked under the table, then throwing a toy and hitting another child with it.

So, yeah.

I wouldn’t blame them if he did get expelled.

I’m a teacher, I know how they feel.

Here’s the part that people don’t understand: It’s not his fault and he can’t help it.

The poor teachers are trying, but they don’t know what to do. I sure don’t know what to do, and the really, super annoying part is that the behavior specialist he should qualify to have to go to school with him would know what to do, except we can’t get him one.

Because behavior problems are not covered as part of the LIU program that covers his other special needs. They’ll give him an occupational therapist because he still needs a sippy cup, but smearing poop on a rug and rolling around naked and biting your teacher aren’t covered.

Because Eddie makes too much money. Not that he makes an obscene amount of money, but we are comfortable. So our child has fewer rights. (Glad our tax dollars are being put to good use there.)

If we were below poverty level he would qualify for TSS support and get a behavior specialist to go to school with him. Also, if he had a lower IQ he would qualify to attend the special LIU preschool. But we aren’t, and he doesn’t. So the only way to override the system is to get a diagnosis from a therapist.

We’ve seen four.

None of them will diagnose him.

ARE YOU FREAKN’ KIDDING ME?!

I am not one to put unnecessary labels on a child, but Nicholas has Reactive Attachment Disorder. Any idiot can see that. The following is a list of symptoms for RAD. There are 32 things on the list. He has 26 of them. (The website says more than five means you need professional help. I’m thinking 26 is pretty bad.) There might be more in the future, but he’s too young to be starting fires at the moment.

1. My child acts cute or charms others to get others to do what my child wants.
2. My child often does not make eye contact when adults want to make eye contact with my child.
3. My child is overly friendly with strangers.
4. My child pushes me away or becomes stiff when I try to hug unless my child wants something from me.
5. My child argues for long periods of time, often about ridiculous things.
6. My child has a tremendous need to have control over everything, becoming very upset if things don’t go my child’s way.
7. My child acts amazingly innocent or pretends that things aren’t that bad when caught doing something wrong.
8. My child does very dangerous things, ignoring that my child may be hurt.
9. My child deliberately breaks or ruins things.
10. My child doesn’t seem to feel age-appropriate guilt when my child does something wrong.
11. My child teases, hurts, or is cruel to other children.
12. My child seems unable to stop from doing things on impulse.
13. My child steals or shows up with things that belong to others with unusual or suspicious reasons for how my child got these things.
14. My child demands things, instead of asking for them.
15. My child doesn’t seem to learn from mistakes and misbehavior (no matter what the consequence, the child continues the behavior).
16. My child tries to get sympathy from others by telling them that I abuse, don’t feed, or don’t provide the basic life necessities.
17. My child “shakes off” pain when hurt, refusing to let anyone provide comfort.
18. My child likes to sneak things without permission, even though my child could have had these things if my child had asked.
19. My child lies, often about obvious or ridiculous things, or when it would have been easier, to tell the truth.
20. My child is very bossy with other children and adults.
21. My child hoards or sneaks food, or has other unusual eating habits (eats paper, raw flour, package mixes, baker’s chocolate, etc.)
22. My child can’t keep friends for more than a week.
23. My child throws temper tantrums that last for hours.
24. My child chatters non-stop, asks repeated questions about things that make no sense, mutters, or is hard to understand when talking.
25. My child is accident-prone (gets hurt a lot), or complains a lot about every little ache and pain (needs constant band-aids).
26. My child teases, hurts, or is cruel to animals.
27. My child doesn’t do as well in school as my child could with even a little more effort.
28. My child has set fires or is preoccupied with fire.
29. My child prefers to watch violent cartoons and/or TV shows or horror movie (regardless of whether or not you allow your child to do this).
30. My child was abused/neglected during the first year of life or had several changes of primary caretaker during the first several years of life.
31. My child was in an orphanage for more than the first year of life.
32. My child was adopted after the age of eighteen months.

They say he’s too young to diagnose. All I know is that he’s not too young to exhibit 26 symptoms, attack authority figures and animals, and have strange toileting behaviors and nighttime rages. This is not normal and it is becoming majorly disruptive to his everyday life.

The most frustrating part is that he doesn’t want to act this way. He doesn’t understand why he is acting the way that he does and he doesn’t know how to stop himself.

So I will fight.

Not because I want to, but because it’s my job.

Call of duty.

I’m his mom.

Now I need to figure out what fighting looks like.

Does it look like homeschooling? Or more therapy appointments? Or writing letters to the government about the ridiculous circumstances?

What happened to “every child has the right to a free, appropriate, public education?”

I know my child is only three, but if we were living in poverty he would qualify for Head Start and a behavior specialist.

As it is, he will most likely be expelled from our private preschool, continue to be evaluated and not diagnosed, and miss out on the basic foundation for the rest of his learning experience, leading to even greater trouble in school.

Let me tell you something, letting this child slip through the cracks is not going to happen as long as I’m in charge around here.

Jenny McCarthy and I are going to march our Mother Warrior behinds (stretch marks and all) all the way up the ladder until something gives.

Because this is one battle worth fighting. And it’s one I’m sure as hell not going to lose.