Mid-CenturyModernMoms

Extra Responsibilities

This is Ora reporting for our dear Margalit, who once again has taken a turn for the worse and is in the hospital.  Yuk!!

So Ora has extra responsibilities.  Why?  Because I am Margalit's health care proxy.  And by the way, everyone is really worried about the Boy and the Girl.

What? You don't have a health care proxy?

You simply must take care of this at once- especially if you are single.  A spouse is assumed to be able to make medical decisions for you in cases of emergency, but what if you don't have a spouse (or worse, you do but you don't want him/her making your medical decisions!)

It's a simple form.  Margalit and I did ours through a lawyer, but you can easily download a copy for your state off of the web and get it signed and notarized.  Make sure that you tell the person you've picked what you've done, because they don't have to sign the form.

But in Margalit's case, the hospital (her standard one) was very concerned about the Boy since he was just recently released from a hospitalization to change his meds and we are all worried that he won't take the meds and won't go to his day program (he's started down that road already).

And, of course, the girl is very upset too.

And poor Ora is trying to manage all the stuff going on in her life, run to the hospital every day, check on the Boy and the Girl and juggle calls to and from the hospital. 

Rosie, though, always comes through in an emergency.  She received the first phone call from the hospital looking for me and gave them my cell number.  She offered to give up going to one of her drivers' ed classes to ease up on running around time.

The first night it seemed on the dire side for Margalit, but she is much better now.  The seizure didn't cause too many lasting effects- but she needed to be in the hospital anyway to deal with her congestive heart failure.  I think that she'll be there for a while.

Meanwhile, Ora is trying to juggle better.

Home Alone

Margalit's kids are home alone.  Margalit is back in the hospital to try to figure out why she keeps having to go into the hospital.  Of course, what was supposed to have been 2 days at a major Boston hospital has now been extended to 8-9 days.  But the Boy and the Girl have been by themselves, with drop ins from lots of adults checking on them.

Ora can report that the house had not been destroyed and that the kids were not fighting with each other- although we won't talk about the pile of dirty dishes in the sink!

Even though Margalit's kids drive her absolutely crazy, they seem to have risen to the unfortunately more frequent occasion and are growing up.  Wow.

Hopefully, she'll be released soon, with some answers.  She is okay, but everything is just taking lots longer than it should.  And while Margalit is luxuriating in the spa known as Brigham & Womens, she has had more than her share of bloggable moments, mostly centered on the elderly roommates that she has had to endure.  It seems that if you are sick and old in the Boston area, you get a free pass to yell at any nurse or aide for any reason, preferably in a language other than English.  Regardless of what your original language is the ability to understand simple compounds in English is beyond the capabilities of her roommates.  The best was the Portuguese lady who didn't know that you had to push a button to answer the phone!  Margalit will hopefully be back at full strength in the coming weeks.  But meanwhile, the Boy and the Girl will continue to do her proud as they show their independence.

I saw Kevin Youkilis cry this morning

As many of you know, Youk is a neighbor and a landsman who plays for the Boston Red Sox. What most of you don't know is that Youk also runs a charity called "Hits for Kids" that works with mental health organizations to prevent depression and suicide in children. This morning I had the distinct privilege of attending Strike Out Teen Suicide,  a fund raiser for the Riverside Community Care organization.hosts a panel to address the issue of teen suicide where the Red Sox first baseman was the keynote speaker.

In the town next to ours there has been a rash of teen suicides. More than a rash, more like a plague. After the last one, in March of this year, the kids in town and the kids who were off at college got together and formulated a suicide prevention plan. They were tired of watching their classmates die. They had had enough of the hidden depression so prevalent in high school and college. They banded together and promised to watch over each other and to care for each other. They also promised to tell each other when they were off their meds, feeling sad and hopeless, and were in danger of killing themselves. They affiliated themselves in an informal manner with Riverside Community Care, an organization my own family has been involved with for many years,

Riverside provides counseling, psychopharmacology, support groups, family stabilazion, emergency care for mental health patients in a very wide area of eastern MA.  It is an organization that sees patients on Medicaid or Medicare, patients with private insurance, and the uninsured. Besides the emergency rooms, Riverside is the only place to call when you have a severe mental health crisis in your home.

Kevin spoke from the heart. He's a young man who has been drastically affected by suicide, not once, but three times. The first was a friend from high school, who killed himself in his sophomore year. The second was his best friend and college roomate, who took his life in their sophomore year at Thanksgiving break. Kevin broke down when talking about his friend and how his death affected Kevin every single day of his life. Youk is an emotional guy, You see that on the ball field as well as off. Cryiing in front of a bunch of mental health workers and supporters must have difficult, but he handled it well, frequently looking at his wife to ground himself,. His talk was moving, especially when he addressed the kids who were all friends of the last suicide victim in town, many of whom were sitting at our table,

He spoke a lot about the kids he sees at baseball camps and clinics and how they are pressured by their parents to try for baseball scholarships, hoping to make the major leagues. He implored parents to stop applying so much pressure on their kids and to let them just have fun. He spoke about the kind of parents that expect not only great grade and test scores, but to be great athletes as well, implying that this kind of pressure often leads kids to feeling like failures if they aren't perfect, These can and are often kids who kill themselves when the pressure of educational perfection, athletic perfection is combined with a romantic relationship that has failed, He said he has seen this over and over again, This kinda freaked me out because I know a kid in this position right now, with a very driven mom who doesn't allow for a lot of down time. I hope this helps her to become more sensitive to the signs of depression.

The statistics of suicide are astounding. More people kill themselves than are murdered in the USA. And yet you don't read about suicide in the paper or see it on TV when it happens, Even in the town where so many suicides have happened, residents didn't know. Because we have such a stigma about mental illness, because depression is now supposed to be cured by a little pill (as if!), and because we are all blind to the warning signs of suicide, it isn't a topic for polite discussion. It should be. EVERY parent of teens needs to talk openly about suicide prevention.

Warning signs that someone may be thinking about or planning to commit suicide include:

• Always talking or thinking about death
• Clinical depression -- deep sadness, loss of interest, trouble sleeping and eating -- that gets worse
• Having a "death wish," tempting fate by taking risks that could lead to death such as driving fast or running red lights
• Losing interest in things one used to care about
• Making comments about being hopeless, helpless, or worthless
• Putting affairs in order, tying up loose ends, changing a will
• Saying things like "it would be better if I wasn't here" or "I want out"
• Sudden, unexpected switch from being very sad to being very calm or appearing to be happy
• Talking about suicide or killing one's self
• Visiting or calling people to say goodbye

Be especially concerned if a person is exhibiting any of these warning signs and has attempted suicide in the past. According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, between 20% and 50% of people who commit suicide have had at least one previous attempt.

It can't have been easy.....

There's more along the lines of what is going on in my world.

Hubbie came home from the big city hospital with a rod in his broken, tumor-ridden leg.  He seemed pretty weak to me, but hey, what do I know?  He managed to convince the right people at the hospital that he could handle being by himself all day at home.

The next morning, Rosie (15 yo, HS freshman) is enjoying a late sleep-in since her school has turned the schedule into a joke for her since the sophomores have educational assessment testing.

Crash!  Scream!

What a way to have to get out of bed!  Running to find out what just happened to her father!

Guess what?  Mom was right and dad was too weak to be left by himself and still perform all the chores of daily living.  He fell in the shower.

Ewwww!  I can't imagine how it felt for Rosie to have to find her Dad (undressed) in the shower, pick him up and turn off the water.  She didn't want to talk to me about it - and I gave her plenty of opportunity!  Rosie did admit that the past weeks have been a horrible experience for her.

But she did tell at least one friend at school about the experience and she talked about it to her therapist.

I've been really trying hard not to have her dad putting her into a position of responsibility for his care.  But his stubborness scotched that idea.  He's back in the hospital and then going to a rehabilitation center for awhile.  Rosie seemed almost back to normal after she talked to her therapist. 

But then I had to tell Abe the latest news!

.........sigh........

Two Different Kids, Two Different Approaches

This household has had a hell of a week.  Not-so-dear hubbie had been complaining for a month of pains in his leg.  He had even mentioned it to the oncologist who (wrongly) thought that it was not cancer related and told hubbie to go see his GP.  Rosie finally got him to go to the GP, but by then he was in acute pain (probably on pair with childbirth, but that's another story).  GP is going to send him for an X-ray but while waiting for a wheelchair in her office, he ended up in unimaginable pain.  Oops- trip to the Emergency Room instead for pain meds and X-ray there.  Turns out that there are 2 tumors growing in the leg and one them broke the bone and he needs to have surgery as soon as possible.

Okay, but how do I tell the kids?  And how much do I tell them?  I'm especially concerned about telling Abe (18 yo) who is a residential school and has PDD and accompanying emotional issues, and other things.  Rosie is Daddy's little girl at 15.

Hubbie says that he is going to call Rosie and tell her- but I ask him to wait until I'm home, or at least almost home.  But when I walk in the door, it's pretty clear that he had NOT called her. So, I become Sgt. Joe Friday (just the facts, ma'am) and tell her just the facts.

"I want to go to the hospital now".  I had expected this and planned on it, so we gathered some things together and went into town to see him.  Rosie was much better after having seen him, but he was in so much pain that it was scary for her.  She announced that she was sleeping with me in bed that night (okay by me) but I haven't gotten her back into her bed since then!

The next day, Rosie- without ANY prodding or even mentioning it- went to her guidance counselor because she was having a rough day at school.  The guidance counselor helped her a lot and told Rose that she'd talk to Rose's teachers and that the teachers would cut her some slack on home work and assignment due dates.  Since Rosie is very much her mother's daughter, and is very hard on herself about getting work done, this was just what she needed to hear.

Informing Abe, on the other hand, is a much more delicate proposition.  So while hubbie was in the ER, I called his school therapist and ask how I should break the news to him.  It was previously planned that Abe was coming home this weekend, anyway, luckily.  We decide that a call the next morning, with Abe and his therapist at one end, would be the way. 

I worked up a script that moved through the facts and told him that his Dad had his cell phone with him and that Abe could call and talk to him.  Turns out that he had a rough day and he availed himself of some of the supports around him.  Perfect.

When I had both kids together for Shabbat dinner, I told them the news from the surgery (worser and worser) and then we went to visit Dad in the hospital.  Rosie is all hugs when we are there, but once Abe has re-assured himself that Dad is in reasonable shape, he stuck his nose back into his book.  But the next morning at synagogue, the instant he walks through the door, he starts telling people about his dad.

Two different kids, two different approaches, two different attitudes.

Pre-op ramblings

How to approach this subject without resorting to TMI mode?  Metaphors and euphemisms, that's it.

Amigo (age 16) goes to the big state children's hospital tomorrow for tummy testing. He's preparing today, with clear liquids and the Pre-op Cocktail designed to, well, cleanse. (Oh, geez, I'm sure the spam will be tremendous on that reference) Humor? Maybe, but potty humor tends to fall flat with parents of teens. We've been through diapers and potty training; we don't need to read more of the same dirt, er, poop.

I could tell Amigo was nervous because his hand shook as I handed him the first glass. He was relieved it didn't taste too bad.  With the radio set up in the bathroom, he settled in for the duration while I set the timer for 20 minutes until the next dose.

The timing here is either bad or good, but not much in between. I have a nasty cold, stuffed up head, weepy eyes, and painful sinuses. If I didn't have to stay home with Amigo, I'd probably take a sick day of my own to rest. In short, I'm feeling lousy, in need of rest, and not sure I have the strength to help the teenager deal with his pre-op anxieties. It seems like a classic case of mom taking care of everyone else first, then falling ill herself. Even though I know better, that's my big weakness.

In between handing Amigo his every-20-minutes glass of Pre-op Cocktail, I'm dosing myself with fluids and vitamin C. I had healthy toast (whole wheat with flaxseed) with local honey for breakfast. I'm inhaling the steam before I drink my coffee; does that count? Eventually I'll make myself some lunch. I don't want to make anything that Amigo will covet, since he can't eat real food today. Eggs and toast might fit the bill: healthy basics, comfort food, nothing too exciting (but don't tell him I'm eating cheetos right now!). Tonight it's tomato soup and stuffed pork chops, not his favorite either.  He'll have chicken soup (no noodles) and jello. I made two flavors; lime and orange. No strawberry or raspberry; the nurse told us anything with red dye can appear in the tests and skew the results.

Meanwhile, I'll work in the garden and the kitchen. I have schoolwork in my bag, but it's too nice out to waste the day indoors. I opened the windows and turned off the heat, and now I'll harvest the rest of the spinach and a batch of tomatoes if they're ready. The math facts papers will wait; I can correct them while Amigo's in outpatient surgery and recovery.

If Amigo is up to it, he can study for the World History test he'll miss while he's gone. After he's done with his, um, dumping festival, he might stretch out on the couch and read the chapter once or twice. He has an ongoing novel project in the works now, too. He can work on that at the computer, which is fairly close to the Activity Room, so to speak.

We parents, moms especially, seem prone to the thought of "I have to do something! I must make this downtime worthwhile!" I still feel a bit of guilt putting off the math papers until tomorrow. Amigo will let me know if he's not up to studying today; why can't I be so straightforward?

Maybe that's the enlightenment of the day. It's not the test results tomorrow. It's knowing that it's okay to let things slide at work for a little while; the papers will still be there on Saturday. I can take care of myself and my teenager today.

When mom is sick, kids take advantage!

As a single mother, I tend to ignore my own life in order to deal with the constant drama of raising two rather unusual teenagers. I'd been sick for a couple of weeks with some kind of low grade but effective infection which made my muscles and joints ache like hell, gave me a whopping headache I couldn't quite quell, a cough that made my lungs bring up stuff I just don't want to remember (shudder), and a complete lack of sleep due to all those delightful symptoms. In other words, I was an aching mommy with a couple of "take advantage of the situation" kids, and it sucked.

After the second week of illness, I finally bucked up and called the doctor who told me to get my ass to the hospital toot sweet, and I sounded like death warmed over. Both of my kids were sick too, and only one had returned to school on Tuesday when I headed over to the ER. So I took my son, the big galoot, with me as he's always good for entertainment if nothing else. We arrived at the hospital and I gave my car to the valet parking guy thinking I would be going home that evening. This is due to my complete stupidity over grave situations regarding my health. I admit it, I'm a moron when it comes to caring for me.

Once we entered the ER things moved amazingly fast. My cardiologist had called ahead to expect me and these ER peeps were on top of things. Oh boy, a mommy that does not think about her health care until she's in congestive heart failure. What are the chances? In the back and ensconced into a curtain area with NO TV (which proved important later on) I was put on O2, given a chest Xray still in my gurney (which was a first), and then the doctors started to convene. First one, than the other, than in a small group, and finally in a big group they came to see me and talk about my symptoms and what they saw on the X-ray. Which was a nasty bit of my  heart that had died. Oh nice, let's hold a funeral for it. Now they had theories out the wazoo, but I wasn't particularly comfy about my son hearing them, so I arranged for him to be picked up by a friend's dad, as it looked like I would be admitted.

These emergency situations wreak havok on my life because I never can find coverage for my daughter. She's much harder to deal with because most of her friends parents can't be trusted do to substance problems that I won't allow her to be exposed to. I know, but it's just a fact. She's not staying over some alcoholic's house. Period.

From noon to 8 pm I waited for a room, and finally was taken up there where I could actually wheel and deal on the phone in relative comfort. I made a plan where my daughter would stay alone (she's 16) but several friends would stop by and call and check in on her. She was OK about it until she 'got a weird phone call' that freaked her out and decided, on her own without checking with me, to call her boyfriend's parents and ask them to pick her up and let her stay over there.

I have no clue she's made this little plan and I try to call her and she's not home and I have no idea where she is. I had to call all of the people I had arranged to check on her, hoping that someone might have taken her out to dinner or something, but nope. Nobody knew where she was. So of course I called the boyfriend's house and sure enough, there she was. After talking to Boyfriend's mom for a while, I said it would be OK for her to stay over on the 2nd floor while Boyfriend would be sleeping in the basement. Heh. I'm not a complete fool. Nor are the parents, who are currently caring for their 17 YO daughter's month old baby. Um, yeah.

The next night, we once again had to organize coverage. I asked both kids to stay home as I know they will snitch on each other with wild abandon, so whatever stupid thing they do, I'm gonna find out about it and react accordingly. Sure enough, daughter had her boyfriend over for a bit, and when he left she had the friend I DO NOT allow in my house sleep over. Just ask me how pissed I was when I found this out. Of course Friend's drunken parents never missed her (shocking!). Who the hell lets their kids sleep over a friend's house on a week night unless it's a family emergency? Drunk parents, that's who.

Of course my son the snitch told on her right away. I mean, how stupid is she that she believes he's not going to tell her secrets? He ALWAYS tells. And so does she. They revel in tattling on each other. They live for it. And I take advantage of it.

I'm home now, she's grounded, and he's sleeping over his friend's house tonight. We're back to 'normal' and I'm feeling way better. But geesh, why do kids try to get away with stuff like this? Do they ever learn?

Denial isn't helping anyone

This week has been particularly difficult for one of my support group members. We're all parents of difficult kids and we meet to discuss ways to deal with tough situations as well as to support each other. But one mom has been particularly difficult recently and the group is collectively frustrated by her behavior.

Her daughter has an extremely rare genetic disorder called Smith-Magenis Syndrome. Essentially there is missing genetic material on chromosome 17, and this causes the following characteristics:      

• Distinct facial features: brachycephaly (short wide head), mid-face hypoplasia, prominent forehead, epicanthal folds, broad nasal bridge, prognathism (protruding jaw), and ear anomalies
• Brachydactyly (short fingers and toes)
• Short stature
• Hoarse, deep voice
• Speech delay
• Learning disability
• Mental retardation (varying degrees, but have IQ’s typically in the 50-60 range)
• Low muscle tone and/or feeding problems in infancy
• Eye problems
• Sleep disturbances
• Insensitivity to pain
• Behavioral problems: hyperactivity; head banging; hand/nail biting; skin picking; pulling off fingernails and/or toenails; explosive outbursts; tantrums; destructive and aggressive behavior; excitability; arm hugging/hand squeezing when excited
• Engaging and endearing personalities

Note: Not every individual has all the characteristics, however.

This child is a teenager and because of her explosive behavior, she has not been in school in two years. TWO YEARS. At first it was because she couldn't handle the public schools and they couldn't handle her. But as time went on, more and more of the problem was of the mother herself. She's a lovely woman, but she's gone beyond enabling her daughter and has now entered the realm of disabling her. She just can't handle the pressure of having such a special needs child, she doesn't know how to seek out help, and she takes every rejection personally. Her daughter interviews at programs, but she has terrible anxiety and aggressive behaviors and the schools usually outright refuse her. At this point, because the school system has been out of compliance for 2 years when it comes to educating this child, they are willing to spend $250,000/year to send her to a special school in Pennsylvania for Smith-Magenis kids.

The mother won't even consider it. She won't even talk about it. Why? Because the school is too far away. So instead of providing her daughter with a tailor made education, fully paid for by her town, that is just for kids with her particular genetic anomaly, the mother continues to keep the child home and out of school.

Additionally, another child in the family is getting married next week, and the mother can't seem to find a place for her daughter to stay, because she can't come to the wedding due to her behavior issues. She has not yet told her daughter she won't be coming to the wedding, nor has she found care that is appropriate for her daughter. At our last meeting we spent the ENTIRE 2.5 hours discussing this situation. Every member of our group agrees that she needs to put her daughter into the hospital for the weekend, because it is the ONLY safe environment. The mother is not willing to consider this and might miss the wedding to care for her daughter. We tried mightily to talk to her about the resentment this would cause for years to come, but it fell on deaf ears. We offered to come with her en-mass to the hospital for an intake. Nope. She just cannot seem to let this kid go, even for a weekend.

The thing is, the entire family is kept hostage because of this special needs child. The mother is in complete denial about how this is affecting her family members, never mind her daughter. This child is regressing more and more, and the mother refuses to get her help. We've gone so far as to tell her that the state will, at some point, step in and remove the child from her home because of her refusal to educate her, but she doesn't believe it.

This is, by far, the most frustrating situation I've ever worked on. Everyone in the group is frustrated, we want to make things better for the mom and the daughter, but the mom's stranglehold on control makes help virtually impossible. She needs respite from her daughter. That much is obvious. She's been doing this for years with little to no help from her husband or other family members. She also needs to acknowledge that she is not the end all and be all for her daughter, and that she's denying her daughter the possibility of learning how to be self-reliant.

This mom isn't the only parent I know who is in denial about their special needs kid. I think a lot of fathers just don't know how to handle the fact that their child isn't what they expected. They seem much more reluctant to recognize the problem and then work on getting help. Mostly you see Moms at the school meetings, psychiatrist meetings, etc.  Mom is assigned as the caretaker, and dad pretends that nothing bad is happening. Moms search for the special programs while dad pretends that it's a college prep program.

As the mother of two special needs kids, I often bristle when I see parents in denial. Nobody is perfect, everyone is different, so why can't some parents accept that their child needs special accommodations? Why can't the accept that their special needs child will, at some point, need to be able to care for themselves as adults. Yes, it's scary to imagine my son trying to care for himself as an adult. He's obviously far from ready now at 15, but I work on it every single day with both of my kids. I make them learn how do transact with shopkeepers, how to return an item that they are not happy with, how to call to find out if the movie is indeed playing, how to advocate for themselves, and especially how to get their needs met when they're being screwed over.

Denying that your kid can make it outside your home isn't doing that child any favor. Every parent I know that has put their child in a residential program, be it for a week or for years, has learned the valuable lesson that there is only ONE mom, but there are many caretakers at residential programs. Never is a child dealing with a burned out wreck of a parent who has just lost the will to carry on. They instead have fresh-faced staff that are highly trained to work with them, and the ration of adult to child can be as high as 7:1. You can't get that at home.

You also can't get the kind of applied behavioral analysis at home that you can in a program. Or a schedule that is kept day in and day out with no deviations. Kids know what to expect in programs. They learn quickly that their good behavior earns them rewards while their negative behaviors keep them from participating in specials like field trips and movies. I don't care what kid of kid you have, and what their diagnosis is, kids need structure, and programs provide a structure that you cannot get at home.  Only when a child has learned to control their behaviors, learned to 'take space' when they feel anger boiling up, learn to recognize their triggers, learn how to self-calm are they able to return to the home. Special kids need to be taught these things, and it does nobody any good to refuse to teach your child how to get along in society.

Now, if we could only impart this to our reluctant mom. Because she's really doing harm to this child at this point, as well as to her entire family and herself.

Two different stories, one hurting kid

I attend a support group for parents of 'difficult' adolescents. Which isn't really what it is at all, incidentally. All of the parents who attend this group have kids with some type of mental or emotional disorder. We have depressed kids, suicidal kids, bipolar kids, kids with rare genetic disorders, kids who just don't fit any mold. The thing all these kids have in common is that they've been hospitalized, many multiple times, because they were either a danger to themselves or a danger to others. Oh, and they all have parents who are tearing their hair out in frustration trying to figure out just what to do.

We're a fairly tight knit group of moms. We not only support each other in our quest to find the best care for each of our respective kids, we attend each other's school meetings, visits to special programs, and just to hang out and give each other hugs. In the short time I've been part of this group, I've made a good friend, and I've gotten a lot of great advice. It's really a fabulous support group.

So what's the but?

Today, for the first time, we had a dad come to our meeting. It wasn't a big deal that he was male, as we're all grown ups. He is a single dad and he introduced us to his daughter (figuratively) who is a hurting buckaroo for a variety of reasons. We all encouraged him to take certain types of actions, we listened to his story, we were more than supportive to him, we didn't scare him off, and he promised to return.

And the problem is?

Oy! Privacy. My favorite issue. His daughter and my son were in a program together. A program that encourages the kids to share their issues with the small group. What my son knows of this girl is not essentially what the father reported to our group. This makes me VERY uncomfortable. Because I know things about her that her father doesn't, from the things my son reported. But it gets even more uncomfortable. While my son was in this program, another friend of his who we'll call Dirty (because he is) was also at the program. Dirty and my son have known each other for years. Dirty and this man's daughter evidentially had it in for each other, and when Dirty came over during this time, he talked a lot about this particular girl. Now, I had no clue I'd EVER meet this girl's parent. They live hours away from us. Who would have thunk it? But damn... the girl who was a big topic of conversation in our house for weeks is this guy's daughter. Doesn't that suck?

I know I need to keep my mouth shut. I'm not completely idiotic. But I feel incredibly uncomfortable knowing some things that her father SHOULD know, but apparently doesn't. His daughter is in a lot of emotional pain for reasons totally unknown to him. But not to me. And if that doesn't bite, I don't know what does.

That's one of the problems with your kids being in programs. So much is shared, some of it the truth, some of it false, but a lot of it just plain painful. They're encouraged to get their pain out their, to acknowledge it and then move on. The groups help these kids to learn coping mechanisms, to recognize where their behavior comes from, and to be able to grow from their problems. Those are all good things. But the problem is that the kids gossip both amongst themselves, and they often come home and bitch about the other kids in the program. Which is exactly what happened here. My kid and Dirty weren't outing this girl. They were talking about how tough she was to deal with, and during those discussions, personal things were revealed.

So, here I am, brimming with information I wish I didn't have and not knowing what to do with it. Any advice?

SOUNDTRACKS by Jenny Gardiner

My teenaged son was hit by a car exactly one year ago today.

I was driving home after having dropped my youngest at a school right across the street from where my older ones attend, when I found out about it. Looking back I realize that probably right about the time I was dropping off one kid within shouting distance, the other was being launched across a parking lot by a Jeep Cherokee.

That morning, lost in thought, having no clue what I would soon learn, I almost didn't answer my cell phone in time when it rang, and luckily caught it before it bounced to voice mail.

"Look, Mom, don't worry, I'm fine," my son said, his voice jagged and hepped up with the high of adrenaline. "But they're loading me into the ambulance."

I've had my share of heart-stopping parental moments, including the time we put one of our kids to bed only to find her---out of nowhere---in the throes of a seizure twenty minutes later. That episode led to all sorts of eventual angst and trauma, things that have contributed to making me a stronger person, no doubt, albeit a stronger person with a more acute fear of all that could go wrong in my beloved children's lives.

The minute you hear such words uttered, what flashes before you is all that might be wrong that you don't know. That he won't make it to the hospital before he dies, and you'll never have the chance to impart those last important words, the I love you's, because who knows? Maybe there are internal injuries and then what?

Last week in our small town that's exactly what happened. A sweet, friendly, athletic 16-year old girl was leaving her neighborhood en route to school. She turned left when the light turned green onto a busy four-lane highway, not realizing that an 18-wheeler was barreling down on her, its driver in such a rush to make it to his destination that he ignored the laws and the fact that he was manning a moving missile and just kept on driving right through a red light shattering the lives of so many people instantaneously. They say this girl died in the blink of an eye, upon impact. Of course her parents and her twin brother will have all the time in the world to die slowly from the heartache hoisted upon them.

The tragedy of this story has revisited me again and again since last week. Perhaps more so because but for the grace of God, it could have been me getting that same phone call that child's parents received that morning. Those parents who, if they were lucky, only a few short minutes earlier had kissed their girl goodbye and wished her a good day.

It resonates too with me because this is the sixth such accident in our small town in half a year's time. Two teens we know were nearly killed right along that same road by red-light runners, in one case a drunk driver. And yet it keeps happening, no one seems able or willing to stop it.

We were so fortunate. While my son was pretty banged up, had lots of cuts, scrapes and bruises, and even ended up passing out in the ER once the adrenaline wore off, he did live to tell about it, even sort of becoming a legend for a few days at school: the boy who got hit then run over by a car (by a girl who was text-messaging and speeding and who has since had additional moving violations yet still has her license). He, at least, was able to garner a few laughs over it.

I, however, remain haunted knowing that he was all alone at that moment of impact, when the front end of that Jeep met his backpack--laden as always with 30 pounds worth of textbooks that probably absorbed some of the force and likely saved his life--and sent him flying. And he was alone precisely at that moment the car then drove over his foot, the added insult to injury. This knowledge just kills me: that he was there---and I was probably right across the street--- and I couldn’t help him in such a lonely hour.

These thoughts often plague me when I hear of others’ tragedies. Innocent victims, people just going about their lives when poof, it all changes. And all ultimately alone when they most needed someone---or something---to sooth them.

I realized something interesting shortly after my son’s accident, though.

We were at a party with several families, watching a slide show of our vacation on somebody’s laptop, with an iTunes playlist on as a backdrop, when the song Wonderwall by Oasis came on.

“Dude, that’s the song I was hit by!” My son blurted out to his friends with a chuckle. Because he was listening to his iPod when he was hit, he has a personal soundtrack--a theme song--to probably the worst thing to ever happen to him.

A soundtrack. We all have those songs in our lives that bring us back to good times: that first kiss, the prom, graduation, a wedding day. But in this iPod generation, where most everyone tunes in whenever and wherever they can, songs probably link to more and more unexpected occurrences in our lives.

That my son had a theme song to the accident sort of creeped me out at first, but it didn’t bother him. In fact he was happy to hear it playing that night, even though the last time he heard it was under, uh, less than ideal circumstances.

I can't help but wonder if that girl had a favorite song playing on the radio just before her life was snuffed out. If she was lost in happy thoughts, excited about a big game, or planning to shop for a Mother's Day gift after school. Was there something there that helped her when she needed it most?

I guess I’m glad that in his hour of need, music was there to comfort, and--like that backpack--to soften the blow a little bit for my son. For me, I don’t think I’ll ever hear that song again without my heart stopping for just a moment, recalling that most important time in which I couldn’t be there for him. But perhaps when he hears Wonderwall my son will remember to be happy he’s alive, comforted just a little bit by music.