This week began my new status as an "at home" parent. It's also Bob's first time having me around more than usual and not going to before and after-school care. It wouldn't seem like this would be a situation requiring an adjustment period, but it is.

A few weeks ago, I put the kibbosh on Bob's playing with the gang of boys in our neighborhood. My decision came after he made the unfortunate choice to ride his bike with them to the middle school (several blocks away and out of my range of observation). It was, I believe, a necessity--the boys are mostly older than he is and, I fear, use him more for entertainment than anything--but I still hated to do it.

After next week, I will be responsible for Bob's appointments--psychiatrist (which I already attend) and therapist (which my husband currently handles). The question I'm asking, however--given last week's observations by the therapist--is should we even bother continuing with talk therapy at this point?

There's a great deal of flexibility demanded of parents and other caregivers of mentally ill children. I don't mean physical flexibility (although that can certainly come in handy, as well)--I mean the ability--and willingness--to completely move from Plan A to B in the blink of an eye. I mentioned previously that some changes were in order for our family. After a lot of number-crunching, soul-searching, cussing and dis-cussing, nail-biting and everything else that goes with major life decisions--yesterday, I resigned from my job.

It seems Bob has officially won this round of "Stump the Therapist." She admitted today she isn't quite sure what to do with him at this point; that she can't determine how much of his problem stems from impulse control issues, and how much is just an "I don't give a s**t" attitude.

A friend of mine recently went to a new psychiatrist, who took her off the one (ineffective) medication she was taking and prescribed several new ones. I asked her the other day how things were going. “I can already see what the problem is going to be with this stuff,” she said. “Remembering to actually take them.”

It’s been a pretty quiet week on the homefront. No real “Boblems” to speak of. I know it won’t last, but I’m enjoying it to the fullest. As always, we are left wondering—to what do we owe the pleasure? Is it the recent increase in Bob’s Focalin dose? The extended period of sunshine we’ve been blessed with? Bob’s bipolar disorder just cycling through to a “baseline” state?

Let's talk about irritability. Our children suffer irritability because of their psychiatric conditions. But I'm not talking about their irritability--I'm talking about mine.

I was recently asked, "Does Bob have an IEP?" No, he doesn't--here's why.

You may have heard of the five "survival roles" often taken on by alcoholic families--Chief Enabler, Hero, Scapegoat, Lost Child, and Mascot. Sharon Wegsheider-Cruse is credited with identifying these roles within families living with chemical dependency in 1976. I learned these roles in high school when I attended a meeting for children of alcoholics to support a friend. Imagine my confusion when, in the course of the meeting, I began to recognize at least a few of the characters within my own family, even though none of us were chemically dependent. (The survival roles have since been applied to the broader scope of "dysfunctional" families.) A family is a single, cohesive unit (no matter how loudly some members may protest to the contrary). When part of the family doesn't function as it should, the other parts adapt in an effort to retain or regain that function as a unit. Every member contributes in some way. Unfortunately, even the youngest members of a family take on roles when the need is sensed.