Mikey Lately

Okay, Kar. Time for a pep talk. We're going to try to remain positive with this post. Realistic, yes. Because that's how I roll. But with a positive twist. It will be tough, but I know you can do it. Readyyyyyy, BREAK!

Mikey. My squeaky wheel. My gender-confused little boy. The Screamer. The Puncher. The Hitter. That's the reality.

After he threw a toy at his cousin, causing his cousin's head to bleed, I was like, enough is enough. Are three-year-olds difficult? Yes. I've had two before him. But he is so exceedingly violent. So I took him in to the doctor and expressed my concerns.

The doc asked several questions, and after examining him physically as well, said, "Well, my official diagnosis is that you have an intense kid."

Uh, yeah. Understatement of the year.

The doc felt, and I concur, that Micah doesn't have autism. I taught austistic kids in school, and Micah's behavior wasn't striking a bell as far as that. The doctor gave us a referral for Mikey to go to a behavioral counselor and have some play-based counseling, along with some helps for me to know how to deal with him.

The doctor also said something that I thought was a really good idea. He said, "We always talk about 'time out.' With Micah, I would recommend some 'Time In.' He seems to be fighting for a place in his family. He's a middle child. Not the oldest, not the youngest. He's trying to assert himself to have a place, and when he does that, he tends to act out. Time In involves giving him a half hour per day of undivided attention. And you do an activity that he chooses. Let him call the shots for Time In."

So I've really been trying to do that for him. His ideas for Time In usually revolve around making cookies together (which is killing my diet), painting his fingernails and toenails, reading books, and putting makeup on him. He's an interesting fellow.

As far as counseling, our insurance covers 0% of any kind of counseling, and we just can't afford it right now, unfortunately. So Time Ins will have to do it for now. Maybe someday we'll have a good insurance policy that covers stuff like that.

Micah and Sadie continue to be BFF's, that is, Best Frenemies Forever. Every now and then, they'll play really well. But mainly, they fight. Hard core. Here they are, playing on the ottoman when I put it up so I could vacuum. They love when I vacuum. They treat the ottoman like a slide:

One night (when they were getting along for .2 seconds), they decided they wanted to sleep in the same bed. I was surprised at how long it lasted - maybe an hour or so:

Then Sadie fell asleep, which made Micah sad. He wanted to party with her. I took him into his own bed after that.

He continues to wear Dylan's jammy shirt as his "hair":

Yes, I let him wear it to church:

I fight so, so, so many battles with Micah. You know that saying, "Pick your battles"? I decided that other battles are worth fighting, say, "Don't punch people." Or, "Don't throw toys at people." I'm focusing on those battles right now. I don't have the energy to fight about every single thing. You should have seen him when I brought him into Primary a couple of weeks ago. All the kids turned and stared at him as he walked by. It was really funny.

Micah sometimes puts his hat on top of his hair. And then adds some of Sadie's other clothing items:

He really loves it when she's at school and he can have the run of her bedroom and all of her accessories:

Ben was scouting a place for our family to get pictures this last fall, and he found an area with all of these old stumps and tree trunks. He had Micah with him and had him pose in various places. The pictures turned out so cute, except for his dang cowlick:

Look at those gorgeous eyes of his:

And his skin is absolutely as soft as it looks. I've never felt softer skin than on my little Mikey. I like to smooch his cheeks.

I know he has a good heart. It's just hidden under a whole lot of insecurity. He truly does feel sorry when he hurts people. He just is....compelled.... to hurt people. He often feels threatened. Which makes me sad. And worried.

He loves to pray at night. Listening to his little prayers makes my heart swell with joy. And he is always, always, always game to cuddle with me. I love that he's a cuddler.

We'll get through this somehow.