Tag: andrea frazer

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Mothers Tell Stories…

Andrea Frazer

 

here comes the dom

And so here’s mine. It seems as if the moment my kid hit 13 the teens hit full force. The defiance, the arguing, the overall surliness.

And, well, if I’m being honest, I thought it was going to be one of those deals where my kid, while still totally socially appropriate, would still find me amazing and cool and, despite being busy with friends and outings and Boy Scouts, would want to jump in the car the moment I say, “Hey, who wants to the grocery store and crash the free sample table!”

Every single little dream there? Lost. We’re not talking by a little. We’re talking epic defeat. For one thing, my kid is far from winning any social awards at school. Oh, he has a bunch of friends, but they’re kind of like him… a bit on the wacky side… a little bit clueless on the when girls like them side. (Yes, Stink, if she remembered to call you on your birthday, buy you a gift, buy you a Christmas gift and ask you to teen night, there just might be some interest.) Boy Scouts He doesn’t do uniforms.

Stink and his friends are like oversized male children with skinny legs, crazy fros and a scent that can only be described as a cross between testosterone and Axe.

The difference between him and his other friends, however, is that I can’t make out their duck quacks from across a crowded parking lot. When they roll their eyes, I know it’s because they are being sassy and not because Mr. Flappy Lid has made his appearance again. When his buddies nod, it’s to mean “yes” or “no”, and not the head jerk prodigal son making his triumphant return. (No, I’m not having a banquet for these returning relatives. But if I did, you could bet it would be gluten and dairy free.)

Stink’s tics – the loud ones – are back. And this time, they are stronger than before. (Gosh darnit, Taurine, you let me down again. You’re like that bad boyfriend. Just when I think I can trust you, you leave my sorry butt in a heap of despair!)

Here’s the thing, though: my kid, like his eyes, just roll. He doesn’t see them as a problem. They don’t make him different or geeky or less than. It’s simply something he does, not who he is.

In my brain, this should be enough. But in my heart, I still die a little bit. As a mother of a kid with this wonky disability, I fight so many demons:

  • Do I not love him enough for who he is – including his noises?
  • Do I not love him enough because I’m not making him take meds?
  • If I am not choosing to not put him on medication, then am I ruining his life with my occasional “Keep it down, kid. PLEASE!” (Oh yeah, Saturday’s “G-DAMNIT, STINK, QUIET DOWN FOR ONE SECOND!” was epic. He literally curled into the door frame of the car and didn’t talk to me for ten minutes. He also didn’t tic. And that made it worse. I won! For being a butt wipe! Hooray for me! Send the Mommy Shaming Award my way, FedEx!)
  • And what about his sister? I have spent soooo much extra time with her the past few years – I’ve wanted to… it’s not a challenge – but it’s a balancing act to say the least.

I had a good cry last night. I mean, a good one.

Me: Stink, I’m so sorry. I just suck sometimes. I feel so bad for yelling at you about that noise.

Stink: Mom, it’s okay. (Quack quack) I forgave you already! I don’t keep resentments!

Me: I know, but I feel awful. I just love you so much. I don’t want to ruin you.

Stink: Impossible!

Me: Well, thank you. And hey – I promise – I am not going to ask you to stop ticking again.

Stink: Also impossible! (He’s right. Now I’m really sobbing.) It’s okay to cry, Mom. You got to let it out. (He farts.) Ahhh… it just feels better to release, you know?

I swear, the noises from that kid never stops. But his biggest ticker is his heart. I’m grateful.

And so, once again, I am saying it here: I am determined to not get so wound up on tics. But I can’t do it on my own. I just can’t.

Dear God, get in the car and hang with me. Don’t drive like that Jesus Take the Wheel Song. That would creepy to see a long haired dude in a tunic driving my stinky SUV. But be with me. I need the support. Andrea. PS: I hope you can handle Cheeto crumbs and Country Music. 

Yup, when I give it to God, there’s just so much more perspective.

This morning, after a little praying, it dawned on me that I might not ever accept this disorder. I can, however, accept that it’s sometimes just hard. The reality of what is, not what I want it to be, was not always my first choice toward serenity, but it sure as hell makes for a more a more peaceful reality. I can do something with reality. I can fill bad days with joy. I can walk away from yelling at my kid and stroll in the sunshine instead. I can write. I can pray. I can help another mom who is suffering. (Write me, moms! HappilyTickedOff@Gmail.com).

When God’s at the center of my problem, not my misery, I can relax. I can remember that it’s not my job to make my son disability-free. It’s my job to love him. And boy, do I.

Final Thoughts

Tonight I took a break. It had been a long day of working and cooking and kid pick-upping and homeworking. Instead of sitting at home counting tics doing more Ebay listings, I went with my daughter to a YMCA banquet. She was one of 3 asked to perform for a fund raising event.

Playing Wendy in an upcoming Peter Pan show, she put on her yellow Mary Janes with white ankle socks. She stood straight, hair in bun, and spoke in a sweet British accent, “She’s the person who kisses you goodnight…” and then she sang… “your mother and mine… your mother and mine.”

She went on to sing, “Mothers tell stories… they often do… what you can’t do… mothers can do.”

Raising my kid with Tourettes isn’t unlike my daughter getting up on stage, singing in front of hundreds. I get to hide my fear with my poker face. I get to get dressed every morning (the bun is optional) and I get to sing my heart out because the lights shining on me. And maybe, at the end of the day, my son will remember his mother who loved him enough to write a book, to pen a blog, and hopefully help a few others out there not feel so alone.

“Mothers tell stories, they often do, what you can’t do, mothers can do.”

Moms, you can do it. You can. And worse case, if your day is hard, consider climbing into bed with your family – tics and all. You’ve got one childhood to tell a good story. (Pssst: You are an amazing hero in this story. Give it a good ending!)

my family

 

This post dedicated to Denise, who always seems to show up when I need it most. I am grateful. 

Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

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Tip # 3 to Reduce Tics: Limit Artificial Flavors

Andrea Frazer

rainbow-of-risks

Greetings from TicVille:

Yes, despite my big hopes that Taurine was the magic elixir that was going to eliminate all tics, twitches and noise, they are back. Turns out… crazy as this is going to sound…. that MY KID HAS TOURETTE SYNDROME. Apparently there is not a one-size-fits-all cure.

That said, the tics are not as bad as they have been in the past, leading me to believe that the Taurine and Magnesium protocol is helping. As soon as money permits we’ll go back to our favorite  nutritionist to get the rest of the testing done.

  • Does he he need to go on GAPS due to a leaky gut?
  • Does he need to eliminate dairy?
  • Does he need detox from some heavy metals left over from his vaccinations years ago?

Perhaps all of it. The old Andrea would want to do that now! Now! Now! The new Andrea… the one who is trying to pause before freaking out… is going to take it one day at a time. That seems to make life more tolerable – not just for me, but for everyone in my family.

Here’s the deal, folk. My kid is already 13. I can spend the rest of his remaining childhood freaking out over this crazy syndrome – about everything I could or could not be doing – or I can attempt to do the best I can and just love the hell out of him. I’m choosing the second.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to keep him as healthy as possible which leads to Tip #3 on my tic reduction list: Limiting Food Dye.

Below are a few excerpts from this post that talks talks about why it’s been banned in Europe.

“In 2008, a ruling was passed banning the use of the specific food colors in the UK [7]. This followed allegations that the artificial food colors used have promoted health problems in children [8]. Consequently, the UK Food Standards Agency has called for the ban on the use of six foods coloring in the preparation of ingestible products such as foods and drinks since they have been associated with promoting hyperactivity in children .”

And then there’s this:

“In the United States, there have been legal battles over the use of synthetic banned food dyes by Kraft Foods Group Inc. by two mothers. The two women wanted Kraft to adopt safer natural food coloring in the making of food products as practiced in many other countries such as the UK but declined to adopt the use of the natural food dyes.”

Does it Really Make a Difference?

This post talks about how the verdict is still out on food dye. It says that some kids aren’t affected by it at all, while others are highly allergic. My kid is probably somewhere in between. My goal is to keep him eating as clean as possible and then just hope for the best.

2016 – Making Good Choices for Mama!

 

I don’t 100% know if food dye makes a difference, but I know what does: taking care of me. That’s the goal this year. Why? Because if I don’t, who will?

As I head into 2016, I’m once again looking at my different work options. My husband is in Year 3 of his own business, and while it’s doing okay, we need the income. Ideally I’d do something that really uses my skills, like writing musicals about Tourettes and going on tour as the spokesperson for Yuban! But until that ideal job comes along, I have my freelance writing clients and my Ebay biz. I will take a steady approach to applying and not get crazy… like this morning… when after ONE HOUR of applying for an online job I was booted off the system. Oh, yeah, that was fun. I’m  not 100% sure what “taking it easy” with this job hunt will mean, but I do know this: God has a plan.

Being a Ball of Nerves Doesn’t Work – Who Knew?

It seems to me that when I get into self-will I get myself into a load of trouble. I’ve decided this year that rather than go nuts trying to make something happen come hell or high water (which involves lots of arguing, stress and occasionally screaming at my kids that “Your room looks like a Salvation Army with a bad case of the runs!” which… well… does not a peaceful bedtime make) I’ll just do a little bit each day.

And then I’ll rest.

Like today, when I stopped for an hour to have a cup of coffee with Marta, the 67 year old neighbor, who put in her teeth for the occasion and told me all about her son in Mexico who runs his own I.T. business and is sending his ma-mah on a $3000 tour of her home country in the Spring.

Do I want the tics to go away? Yes. But more important than that, I want to be sure I don’t miss out on the joy of my son’s beautiful laugh.

Do I want to make more money so my kids don’t have teeth resembling Tom Sawyer’s garden gate? Absolutely. But until that happens, there’s a Costco run in a few weeks with my adopted Jewish Bubba, Ginnie.

Do I want my kids to clean their room? Yes. But until they get their own space (which they’ll have in a few weeks thanks to a big rearrange) I’m just going to let the room go. Why? Because in the big scheme of life, it’s not important. But other things are.

gegeg

There’s cake to be baked with my daughter.

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There’s a warm fire to be had this evening where my son, tics and all, will read a chapter to me of The Hunger Games. (I’ll take it before he realizes just how uncool his mother really is.) There will, of course, be food! (Everything is better with Mexican food. Thank you, Fred – the kid’s janitor at public school – who makes a tamale like nobody’s business. )

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And there’s this blog to write.

In the hustle and bustle of making a buck, I’ve missed my personal writing. It’s what makes my soul happy. If you’ll check in, I’ll write.

Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

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Tip #2 to Limit Tics: Exercise

Andrea Frazer

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I won’t lie. My kid like to exercise as much as the Kardashian girls like to wear clothing. But never the less, it’s needed. I have no grand illusion that exercise is going to rid my kid of any particular vocal or physical tic, but it absolutely makes a difference in his mental energy.

And mine.

For the past nine months he’s taken a tennis class at the local park. It’s once a week only but there’s nothing more hilarious than watching a bunch of tween nerdy boys running around the court banging balls at each others’heads. I mean… it’s excellent exercise and great at controlling Dopamine production!

Every day but Fridays we walk to school. It’s as much about talking as it is about the walking. Given he’s now 13 (oy, can’t believe it) I’ll take all the bonding time I can get.

A few weeks ago, after our local city holiday parade, my daughter stayed with my husband to do some cleanup for the Kiwanis club. My son and I walked the whole three miles home. Despite some pretty steady vocal tics on his part, it was hard for me to worry about it or be frustrated. The sights of the floats, the sounds of Christmas music blaring through the radios of the viewers, the many dogs and babies waddling through the crowd… it made me happy to be alive.

Him: “Mom, I really want a new Nintendo DS for Christmas.”

Me: “Why? You already have a computer and a tablet.”

Him: “You already have a bunch of coffee cups, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy another one, right?”

Me: “Yes, but my hobby is a lot less expensive than yours.”

Him: “True, dat. But come on, Mom, don’t you ever want something just because it’s awesome and fun and you can’t wait to get your hands around it?”

Me: I wanted to shout, “Yes, it’s called you! Stop growing so fast!” Instead I went with, “Yeah. Yeah I have.”

And then he slipped his hand in mine. For the next mile we walked side by side, our fingers entwined. With his head at my shoulder, I can already tell he’ll surpass me by summer. I took it in… every step… and thanked God for him. For the walks. For everything.

And right there I made a commitment to have joy and gratitude in 2016 no matter what. So far, I haven’t missed a day of good old fashioned positive thinking. That’s exercise I could get used to.

us

PS: And as life would have it – the moment I decided to stop living in my comfort zone (fear and worry) the tics went away. The reason? Jesus appeared in my morning Yuban and blessed me with the Holy Spirit of Tourette Syndrome TAURINE. More later. (Tics down from even last post!)

Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you can’t change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

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FREE Happily Ticked Off Book Anyone?

Andrea Frazer

thanksgiving-retro-advertisement-turkey

I’ll send you the PDF in exchange for an honest review left on Amazon here.

Send me an email at Andrea.Paventi@Gmail.com and I’ll send it your way.

Meanwhile, have a wonderful Thanksgiving and talk to you on Friday as I work my way through the “how to suppress tics” list one item at a time. (See previous post.)

God, grant me the serenity to accept the tics I cannot change, the courage to change the tics I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Andrea

 

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20 Ways to Reduce Tics

Andrea Frazer

As many of you know, I’m all about raising a kid whose spirit outweighs a few tics. But now that my baby is, gulp, a month shy of 13, it’s become apparent yet again to take a look at management. His tics are loud. I mean, so loud and startling at times that this morning I yelled, “Holy Tic Man, take it down a notch!”

I get that he can’t help ticking. And I’m beyond happy that he’s okay with his Tourettes. (I know that many of your babies are not as comfortable with them. We deal with other issues and believe me, I get the heartbreak. You have an ally in me!)

But here’s the deal: I suffer from anxiety. I do. It’s waaaaay better now than it’s ever been, but here’s why. I don’t get to sit around all day and tell my husband through tears, “Ohhhh, I can’t work and pay the mortgage. I’m having a pity party and you’re not invited.” No. I take responsibility for my tendency to feel more neurotic than Willy Allen on 3 cups of Expresso fearful at times. I:

  • Eat well
  • Exercise
  • Take a little bit of Zoloft
  • Go to a few meetings each week
  • Talk to a therapist when I feel overwhelmed
  • Sleep well
  • Stay off of all mind alterating substances (No doobage and booze for this gal. I’ve been tempted lately, believe me, but I refrain.)
  • 2 cups of regular coffee in the morning only

The same has become true for Stink. The time has come for him to be a bit more pro-active with his vocal outbursts. If he can’t control them on his own (which apparently he can’t) we get to help him. We are the parents. We make the rules.

If you’re in that boat of wanting to suppress tics, here are some options for you.

BASICS (We’re on all of this except the dairy. That’s next.)

  1. Limit Screen time
  2. Insist on at least 30 minutes of exercise every day
  3. Limit sugar, food dyes and artificial flavors.
  4. Insist on a strong multi-vitamin
  5. Insist on a really good night sleep
  6. Get off gluten
  7. Get off dairy

MORE ADVANCED (We have the doctor and we started the magnesium. Next is the Taurine)

9. Naturopath – find one in your area that will take an integrative approach to tics. Ask him or her about supplements.

10. Supplements – Ask your naturopath about Taurine, Magnesium, a good fish oil

 SUPER INDEPTH (This is happening in January after Ticmas Christmas.)

11. Salvia Test: Complete a 23andme.com‘s genetic saliva test to see what his DNA has to show for itself. Once you know, your doctor can see what is working in his body and what is not and treat it more efficiently.

12. Finger Stick Food Allergy – Get a finger stick food allergy panel by Alletess Labs.  Cost is $120. The test kit is sent to you, you can perform it in the convenience of your home and and then ship directly to the lab. Have results sent to your doctor. Once you know what your child is allergic to, you can start eliminating offending foods.

BONUS OPTIONS

13. GAPS: The GAPS diet is very intricate, but it has stunning results. In a nutshell, it heals the stomach lining so that food no longer slips through the holes, hits the blood stream and causes brain inflammation (which can cause tics.) Personally I would not resort to this diet without knowing if your child does indeed have a leaky gut. I would work with a naturopath on this.

14. Hemp Oil: There has been much research lately about the non-habit forming part of the pot leaf providing tremendous relief (or shall we say “re-leaf” for tics and twitches. Here is a link that someone in my Twitch and Bitch provided. Her son’s tics were so bad he had to miss school. They are 90% reduced now.

15. CBT: Known as Cognitive Behavior Therapy, this technique allows a child to transfer a loud or strong tic into one that is quieter and less obvious. It requires a certified therapist to work with your child.

16. Meditation: Just 30 minutes of meditation per day can rewire neurons and calm down the dopamine that causes tics. Learning to breathe and center oneself can keep give your child an opportunity to have more control.

17. Therapy: Having your child talk to a therapist can be huge in teaching them how to advocate for themselves. It’s crucial (in my humble opinion) to have them see their part in everything. While they can’t control tics, they can control how they advocate for themselves and how they behave toward others.

18. Treat the other Conditions: Most kids with tics have other issues. Often times when one treats the ADHD or the OCD (or whatever else is present) the child is calmer and the tics become fewer.

19. Hobbies: Insist on helping them find a hobby they love: Often times when a child finds something they are passionate about, the tics become less when they are focused on it.

20. Love Them and Have Fun: That is the best tip of all. Your child might not always remember a tic free childhood, but they will hopefully remember one filled with the support of people who adored them no matter what.

me and dom

Come back this week as I’ll break down this list over the course of the next six weeks, giving more detail on each tip.

Until then, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

My book, Happily Ticked Off, is available on Pre-Order on Amazon. Get your copy today!

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7th Grade and Dropping the Rock

Andrea Frazer

So Stink started school last week. The four-month summer finally ended and he couldn’t be happier about it. Great classmates, great subjects, great elective. He’s learning music! Maybe I can finally stop whining about his hair and he can be in a band. God works out all for good for those who love him, right? And his own son had long hair, so I need to just shut my pie hole apparently. (Though, really, Jesus would not be allowed on a public school campus with those open toed shoes he was so fond of wearing. That crazy Christ. He was such a rebel.)

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For those of you who have read my blog from the beginning, I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m only neurotic as hell 25% of the time rather than 99% of the time. This is no small feat. If I can find peace, then you can, too. For me, eight years into this crazy journey called Tourette Syndrome, I’ve gotten to the point where the tics are what they are. I don’t love them (vocals still pretty consistent) and his focus is abysmal (I am sooooo sick of reminding him of a zillion things) but the boy is happy. If he’s happy, I have to be happy, too.

The truth is, even if I wasn’t loving life, I wouldn’t have time to complain about it. With a third book rewrite, a few new writing clients, some Ebay on the side to fill in the gap and parenting… I don’t have time to think about my problems. Which, well, aren’t problems. Issues with his tics are my perception, not the reality. The reality is that he continues to be happy with himself so gosh darnit I must be as well.

But, if I’m being honest, it still hurts sometimes. This evening, for example, a neighbor’s kid mentioned to me that a student in his class has the same case as Stink. “Oh, you mean he has T.S.?” I asked him. “Yes,” he responded. “And he is also in his own world a lot… just like Stink.”

Ka-plunk. 

Ouch.

What does that even mean? That my son is alone a lot at school? That he forgets a lot? That he is day dreaming and considered weird and strange and odd and eccentric and okay going too far, Andrea, STOP.

The old Andrea would have had a panic attack right there on the porch, called ten friends, sobbed to my mom, screamed at my husband for not supporting me on a diet that would absolutely eradicate tics thereby catapulting him to the top of the seventh grade social structure and then passed out on a bottle of Two Buck Chuck and a bucket of Trader Joe ho ho’s. .

This new Andrea. This sober thinking Andrea? I just let it go. Deep breath. Quick prayer. “God, take it.” As my sponsor is so fond of telling me, “Drop the rock, Andrea. It doesn’t matter. What matters is life on life’s terms.”

So, friends, with the goal to live life on life’s terms, here’s where I’m at.

  • I am not picking up burdens that aren’t mine.
  • When I do pick up burdens that hurt me, I will talk about them, but attempt to set them back down where they belong.
  • I will always run my burdens before other people who know more than I do when I’m feeling exhausted. Like tonight.
  • I will continue to give my problems to God who, apparently, doesn’t need my help. (What the hell is His problem? Does He not know how smart I am and if He just did as I said the world would work so. Much. Better?)
  • I will continue to learn more about this Jesus dude. (I don’t really get him. I just don’t. Who is He? Did he really die for me? If so, why don’t I feel it more?)
  • I will get back to taking care of me a bit more. (If I miss my personal writing so much, why don’t I blog more? Time to start that again.)
  • I will continue to look at the fine line between being of service (truly my key to contentment these days) and self-care.
  • I will continue to live in gratitude, because really, that calms me down. And a calm mom is such a better mom. At least for me, anyway.

I don’t know a lot. But I do know that I am so in love with my children. They are growing so fast. In six years Stink will be out of high school. I DO want to minimize his tics as much as possible through diet or medication, but I don’t want this to be my sole purpose anymore. My sole purpose is to love the hell out of him. He is what matters.

It is time to drop the rock.

But sometimes, when that rock lands on your foot, it hurts.

And, well, that’s where I am at tonight.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I wear steel toed boots and start over.

And you can, too.

Love you and miss you all.

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You’re a Good Egg Mama, And That’s No Yolk

Andrea Frazer

Okay, readers, all five of you that read here, hear this: I am NOT going to be doing my whole Deceptively Delicious approach to Taurine. Why? Because I’m not Jessica Seinfeld, Taurine is not veggies, and BECAUSE THAT’S INSANE.

Let’s get real: My kid is going to have enough to deal with in Junior High without his mother sneaking around him like the Pink Panther sprinkling amino acids in his hash browns.

Him: What’s this white stuff, Mama?

Me: Fairy, dust, kid. Gluten free fuck-it-all pixie fluff. Wait ’til you see how I hide it in your syrup!

I came to the above conclusion today, while standing in line with my husband at Costco. It was our big lunch out where we get to spend $1.82 each on a hot dog and soda. Only it had been such a horrible day of guilt for me, combined with some bad news from work and some friend drama, that I decided to ditch the dog for both the pizza combo slice AND the vanilla chocolate swirl. (I know, I’m a rebel.)

Standing in line, I had this awful sense of impending doom. Not guilt so much as ominous storm cloud harbingers of doom. What’s that stinky feeling called again? Oh yeah, a CONSCIENCE. And it goes something like this: “You can’t drug your child behind his back, dork.” My husband agreed. He loves our son as much as I do. We show it differently and I happen to show it better but in the end, we arrive at the same conclusion. We want the best for him always.

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I mean, what if my little scheme worked? What if the tics went away, but he took off for college, and suddenly they came back and he had no idea why. That would be awkward.

Me: “Oh, sweetie, those duck quacks are just cause you miss me. Come on home. I’ll serve you up some nice hash browns.”

What if there was a terrible reaction and he ended up in E.R. and I had to come clean with my husband. “Oh, that third testicle? It’s just from giving him Taurine. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be the voice of reason on my mad dash toward nutty thinking.”

No, the CRAZY making had to stop.

I don’t know about you, but I find that my most wonky thinking happens when my self-will is in direct opposition with God’s will. I want what I want, rather than accept what is. I don’t know why God allows tics, or why I can’t seem to drink one glass of red wine without wanting to down three glasses and pretend I’m sexier than a Cosmo model at Caesar’s palace when I’m really just alone on my couch, reading Outlander, wanting to have an affair with a fictional character.

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But the fact is, it’s not a good plan for me to drink – at least not now in my life. And, if I’m going to be honest about what I shouldn’t be ingesting, it’s likely not really a great idea about being dishonest about what my kid is ingesting.

hto blog

Before Costco today I was at Trader Joe’s… avoiding writing… scarfing samples… when the above egg container caught my attention. I had never noticed it before, so why it caught my eye today with my brain spinning more than the stories I tell Stink about amino acids, it just felt safe. “Place Broken Eggs Here” it read. There was no lying. No manipulation. Notice it didn’t read, “Nothing wrong here! Go on with your untarnished egg self!”

No, not only was it admitting to the world that sometimes stuff get cracked, it was offering a safe spot for them to land.

I find that safe place to be here at Happily Ticked Off. I find it with my book (that is truly almost done – third rewrite, folks.) I find it with my girlfriends and meetings and church and my kids and lately, with my spouse. We are really communicating beautifully and it’s lovely.

I know that I’m not always a perfect egg, but I’m loved even with my flaws. And that’s how I want my kids to feel. I want them to know that they have a safe container in their mama to rest. No perfection required.

Thanks for being here for me, people. I know this tics thing isn’t always easy, but I challenge every one of you, like I challenge myself, to remember the intention behind why we do what we do. Are we managing situations for our kids or for us? Sometimes we just don’t know. In my case today I knew it was management for me, because when I decided to put an end to The Sneaky Supplement Tour, 2015 I felt peace.

Plus I spoke to my sponsor. I believe her exact words when I told her about my grand plans were, “That’s crazy.”

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

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Deceptively Delicious: Supplements in Food for Tics

Andrea Frazer

sneaky mom

As you know from my last post, my kid refuses to take supplements for his tics, those specific supplements for now being Magnesium Citrate and Taurine.

Four days ago I was fine with that. He’s confidant! God loves him! Hooray! Guess what? Mama loves him too and she’s not happy about it at all.

It’s not just the sounds that are of concern to me. With them come a hyper-activity that is going to cause more harm than good when his father and I decide to kick him out of the house. It’s OVER THE TOP.

Who’s the Parent Here?

There is a fine line between letting a kid be confidant and taking control as a parent. And that fine line, my friends, is coming into play with diet.

Mom the Sneaky Chef

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I am putting some supplements in his food. This morning, he had rice, meat, veggies and a topping of salsa Taurine! It was “delicious” according to my ticking preacher. I am grateful that he was none the wiser and I feel better that in a few days we’ll hopefully (God willing) have a reduction in tics.

Mama Guilt Sneaks in the Back End

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I feel a wee bit bad about this, honestly. It feels a little con-artisty. That’s because it is. And maybe that’s okay.

When our kids were toddlers, did we ask them if it was okay with them that we mash bananas into their cup? Did Jessica Seinfeld ask permission from her kids to blend veggies into their pasta sauce? No. (And she made a crap load of cash off it, also! I really should ditch my spouse for a movie star. Having an affair with Hugh Jackman would not only cure Tourettes but it could quite possibly get me a cookbook! Duh!!!!!!!)

Making a Decision Based on a Bunch of Factors

Sometimes in life we have to look at what we’re dealing with. In my case, it’s a few things.

1. Confidant Kid: My kid likes himself. I don’t want to be the one person who makes him feel bad about his tics by constantly forcing supplements down his throat. (Believe me, I could go there. “No video games if you don’t take these, sucker.”)

2. Brain Unbalanced: While I am relieved that Stink is happy with himself, I see the tics as a sign that his brain is a bit unbalanced. While some things I cannot change (Translation: I am not going to fix Tourette Syndrome) some things I can fix (Translation: A few supplements, prescribed by a doctor, can even out his symptoms and help him to concentrate more in school, reduce tics and keep the energy level here down to a reasonable amount.)

My God Story

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While for my son the tics might just be a part of “God’s story” for him, I’m a child of God, too. As one person in my “Twitch and Bitch” private support group pointed out, I get to direct some of my son’s plot, just like God directs mine. This means calming down the symptoms a bit. He thinks he’s not taking pills (a win for him) and I see a reduction in symptoms (a win for me).

What’s My Intent?

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In closing, I have to really look at my intention with the supplement seeking. If I’m doing it just to make me feel better, that’s not good enough. If I’m doing it for his health, that’s another. If I’m sneaking around because I’m afraid to stand up to my own kid, that’s a problem. (No, there are MANY places I hold my ground.) If I’m working around it to allow him the grace to feel good in his own skin without constantly bringing up tics, that’s another.

What’s Your Intent?

Does anyone else out there struggle with this? I have found that situations like this are the most difficult part of my journey. I want my kid to advocate for himself, but at the same time, I don’t want to constantly throw “tics” and “tourettes” in his face. I want him to be a kid who is confidant, happy and joyful who happens to tic, not the other way around.

What is the story you want to write for your child?

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Free Range Me

Andrea Frazer

Well, my kid made it to Arizona safely. Shockingly enough, I didn’t spend the entire vacation without him in an anxious mess. Sure, I breathed a sigh of relief when I knew his plane landed safely, but that was about it.

The few days without Stink included lots of cherished time with Pip and her dad. We all stayed up late a few times, curled up on the green couches with books akin to those fat fluffy seals sunning themselves on rocks at the pier. (I’m currently reading Anne Lamott’s Grace, Eventually and just laughing out loud. That woman is brilliant and about as neurotic as I am. Though I have better hair – and that’s not saying much.)

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The day after he left, I had tea with Tuskany. While Pip and her daughter swapped books in the next room, Tuskany quipped that I had some free-range characteristics in my laissez-faire approach to parenting. I had to laugh, because in many ways, she’s not wrong. I didn’t check Stink’s luggage. (For all I know, he could have loaded up that suitcase with Twizzlers, pens and porn.)

I didn’t know who was parent chaperone was until I arrived at the airport that morning, groggy and disheveled from lack of coffee – hair resembling a greasy ballerina with bed head. (But my locks still looked better than Anne Lamott’s. The day I get dreads is the day I leave AA, my husband and join a traveling Reggae band: Mama Frazer and the Traveling Tickers, yah, Man.)

In stealing kisses from my man-child and reminding him to brush his teeth at least once on the three-day trip, I forgot to ask for his chaperone’s phone number. I reckoned to myself that if he needed to get in touch with me, he could take my advice and ask another parent chaperone or the teacher to use their phone.

I’m not sure how you, reader friend, would handle this. I do know that Tuskany would never operate in such a manner. I can attest to the fact that she is truly one of the best parents I know. She has this responsible thing down pat. (I mean, her kid eats veggies every day. EVERY DAY.) And her daughter, well, she’s a genius. Even Stink thinks so. (After Disneyland a few weeks back – which Tuskany was gracious enough to treat us to – again) he turned to me and said, “Mom, Nadia is the smartest girl I ever met. And she’s only in THIRD grade. Um… I think she’s smarter than me!” To which I responded, “She is smarter than you, kid!”)

Yup, I’m certain that this wunder girl’s mother would not only be sure that her daughter had her own phone, she would not be on a plane with a bunch of rag-tag public school kids going on an excavation in the first place! (I’d tell you the places they went, but I lost the itinerary before we even got to the airport. I had fuzzy ideas of sites containing red rocks, deserts and Indian caves with the name “Canyon” tied onto the end for the tourists – replete with gift stores and ash trays made from quartz.)

The thing is, though, I just knew Stink would be fine. He was surrounded by responsible adults. I even had cell phone #s for some of the parents who promised to send updates and snap shots. Here’s one from someone who, thank God, was kind enough to show me how much Stink was enjoying the culture on Day 1. I mean, really, could a mom be any prouder?

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Turns out all went well! When he landed late on Thursday, I watched him hunker down the hallway through the security gates. The moment he saw me, he threw himself in my arms. “Mom, I’m home!” he said, eyes tired, mesh shorts a bit stained from chocolate.

Or mud.

I couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care. I was just happy to have him home. He smelled of sweat, sweets and 12-year-old tween – the most glorious odor I’d sniffed in three days.

“Did you have a good time?” I asked him, taking one of his bags from his sagging shoulder.

“Yup,” he said. “But I’m so glad to be back.”

On the car ride home, his voice cracked. “Mom,” he said, looking at the rain outside, “This night… it feels so feels holy.”

Side note: This kid is going to grow up to be a con artist or a pastor. The verdict is still out. But I digress.

“Holy, huh? How come?” I asked.

“I guess because I was nervous to fly,” he said, “But then I said a prayer to God to get home safely. And then, I just felt peace… because I figured either I’d make it home to you or to my permanent home. And either way, I’d be okay.”

Re-reading that statement just now, I burst out laughing. It’s so melodramatic. But it’s also a true statement of his heart – a heart of a boy that beats of intellect, concern and faith. Its professions like that which not only make me grateful he has a God, but grateful that I do, too. This God of mine kept me from over thinking his trip. Without Him, I’d never let Stink go.

I’m certainly not saying that people who have faith are not allowed to be protective. But for the way I’m wired, which is pretty much tighter than a drum on pots of Yuban combined with hyper monkeys if I take myself too seriously, God keeps me from having a panic attack and screaming naked after my kid’s plane on the tarmac.

Classmates: “Dude, we’re at the Grand Canyon already?”

Stink: “Nah, that’s just my mom’s butt crack.”

My cheeks in the wind are not a national landmark any sixth grader needs to witness.

With Stink gone, I held onto my own faith and my favorite acronym for fear: False Evidence Appearing Real. I reminded myself that the chance of his plane crashing to the ground was pretty far-fetched. But if we’re being honest, it was also too scary to imagine, so I just didn’t think about it. I trusted my gut, and my God, that he would be fine.

The night of his homecoming, after kissing him on the forehead, I had my own holy moment. I lit a candle, got into the bath tub and gave thanks to God. “Thank you for bringing him home… to me. ”

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you can’t change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

Andrea

Connect with me on Facebook, Twitter and at Armonia on Mondays. (Email works, too! Warning: I’ll likely email back.)

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The Tics are Completely, 100% Gone…

Andrea Frazer

…because Stink is on a trip. Yes, my big sixth grader got on a plane yesterday with his class to hike the Grand Canyon and go on an archaeological dig. Not a bad scenario for a public school, eh? The most exploring I ever did in sixth grade was to go from one window of paned glass to the next for Stations of the Cross in our Catholic church. I’m thinking Stink is going to have a lot more fun and not even have to deal with incense. (Lucky bastard.)

Update on Tics

In case any of you are irritated at my false proclamation in the title, I will give you some hope that his tics have been dramatically reduced regardless of the Taurine being eliminated. I believe that the magnesium citrate and the NAC are our miracle workers. Frankly, I think it’s mostly the magnesium and not the NAC but I’m not willing to take that chance right now. I’ll do a supplement post next, but for now, I just want to talk about my 12-year-old. Why? Because he’s 12. And it is going by so fast. As I said in my post for my publishing company, Armonia, I only have 5 Christmases left with this kid.

Five.

That’s astounding. How many times have complained to him, “Put away your Wii system when you’re done with it!”

game

“Really? Do I have to remind you again that the table is for eating, not for your gaming obsessions?”

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“Um, the chargers and the homework and the key chains and the Disney pins…can you please put them away?””

school shit

And yet, now that he is gone, and I have a perfectly clean dining room, my heart is heavy. How I miss his banter! I am longing to wrap him in my arms again and run my fingers through his muppet mop beautiful curls only to have him scold me, “Mooooom, don’t touch the hair!”

Somehow, this kid has gone from this…

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To this…

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And while I’m lucky enough that he’ll still cuddle with me there will be a time when he’d rather be with his girlfriend. (His type, by the way? Asian girls.)

Me: “Why Asian?

Him: “I like their long, straight hair. And they are so tiny.”

Me: “Yes, and you are estimated to be 6 foot NINE. That’s quite a height difference between you and future girlfriend.”

Him: “It’ll be fun. I can carry her around.”

Me: “Like a doll?”

Him: “Sure, Mom. Like a doll.”

I can’t say that anything out of his mouth these days surprises me. He is unique and opinionated. He knows who he is. That’s more than I can say about myself when I was 12, and I didn’t tic.

Moms, this is your daily reminder that our kids’ souls and spirits far outweigh their tics. Hug that little ticker today, because one day they will be trading in their Thomas the Train suitcase for a carry-on and flying to another state without you.

And, like me, I’m thinking you’ll miss them like crazy.

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May your attitude today be like my refrigerator: messy with joy and gratitude for the blessings you have in your life.

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Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you can’t change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

Andrea

Connect with me on Facebook, Twitter and at Armonia on Mondays. (Email works, too! Warning: I’ll likely email back.)