As it is for us every Spring, Stink’s tics are up. Part of it has to do with the pollen. Part of it has to do with the fact that he is recovering from strep throat. AGAIN. Some of it has to do with more video games and food cheats than usual this weekend. Maybe some of it has to do with extra school work?
Oh, and some might just have to do with the fact that tics come and go. They come and go. Ah, yes, they come and go.
I’m not overly worried. A squeak here, a gulp there. Am I annoyed? YES. But do I know he’ll be fine? Absolutely.
We are out of his regular supplements. He’s just taking his Juice Plus (vitamins) and his focus pill. At some point I will plunk down the cash for his other regime.
I suppose I’m just done trying to fix this. I can’t. I’m happy where he is right now. He’s a well-adjusted kid who tics. Could be worse.
I am not trying to sound cavalier. I still take my Zoloft. I still go to therapy once/week. But much of that has to do with my own artist desires being squelched as I put my real spirit aside to raise my kids. While on one hand I’d like nothing more than to go writing 60 hours/week for some TV show, in my heart (and I don’t mean this in some martyr way) I know my place right now is here with my kids.
So I write for my local paper and do theatre reviews. (Hooray for front row orchestra seats on Tuesday for Beauty and the Beast!)
I do profile pieces for my daughter’s best friend’s papa who is a world renown artist. (See the piece on John Paul Thornton here)
I start my own websites on theatre reviews because maybe, just maybe, I will do this for pay one day.
And then I, very slowly, work on my book on Tourette Syndrome.
I don’t have the answers for tics. And I don’t attempt to have any answers for life. But one thing I know is that there is a season for everything – for calm and for chaos. For twitches and stillness. For valleys and highs.
I am learning to be content in less than peaceful circumstances, and I am ever so grateful.
What do you do when you are not worrying about Tourettes? Have you made any progress in that department? Does it help that I continually remind you that a kid with tics who is confident is better than a kid without tics who is a dweeb?
I love you all.
I love your kids.
We are in this together.
* Pic of Stink at the end of his fourth grade year. I’m not sure what happened, but he went from a chubby cheeked mama’s boy to a moppy haired boy band inspired pre-teen who won’t let me kiss him in front of his beloved teacher. Little shixxxt.