ODD mom moments

“Hey, cute girl, how was school today?” I asked my 5-year-old, Aurora, as I picked her up from Kindergarten. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror and winced. The glare on her face told me that her mood was not so good, and I would be better to not ask anything. Too late.

With a rudeness that was almost a shriek, she said, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ohhh-k,” I responded, and we (me, my two daughters, and my baby–my oldest was still at school) drove home in silence. Nobody wanted to set her off.

“I’m getting a snack,” she declared as soon as we walked in the door.

“May I have a snack, please?” I intoned. “That’s how we ask. And right now it is lunch time. I will make some lunch.”

“I need a snack,” she responded as she walked to the pantry.

“I’m sorry. In this house we ask; we don’t demand.”

“Well, I am getting a snack. I’m hungry,” she said with a voice that was obviously growing in frustration.

“You can have LUNCH when you can talk nicely.”

“Everyone else gets a snack when they are hungry,” she yelled.

“And you need to speak with kindness.”

She walked over and grabbed a snack. I let it go. I knew she was hungry, and food sometimes will help her calm down.

After a messy snack of crackers and cheese and a cut up apple thrown in to make it “lunch”, Aurora wandered over to where her sister was looking at a book.

“I want that book,” Aurora told her sister.

“I’m reading it,” she responded.

“You’ve had a turn; it’s my turn.”

“I’m not done, yet.”

“Well, you’re not sharing. You have to share.” And she grabbed the book.

“Aurora, don’t,” she squealed. “Mooooommyyy.”

I rushed in to help, though I knew Aurora was close to exploding.

“I’m sorry, but in this house we don’t just take. You will have to wait until she is done.”

“You always say to share. She has to share.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t just take. How about this book?” I said holding up another book.

“No!” she screamed. “You’re not being fair. You’re only fair to Miriam, never to me. You are only nice to other people. I never get what I want. Only Miriam gets what she wants.”

Trying to save us all from an all-out scream fest, I said, “I’m sorry. You need to use a nice voice. I can’t listen to you when you scream.”

“I don’t care!” she yelled even louder.

“You need to go up to your room until you are ready to be kind,” I said, trying to remain calm, but starting to really become flustered.

“I’m not going to my room. You go to your room until you can be kind,” she retorted.

“I would love to go to my room,” I muttered too softly for anyone to hear.

I walked over and picked her up. Trying not to hurt her while also trying not to let her hurt me, I carried her up the stairs and to her room.

Years before, I don’t remember exactly when, I flipped her doorknob around so that I could lock it from the outside. No judging, please. She needed a safe place she could rage, and I needed a safe place to keep her until she could calm down.

I locked the door.

An onslaught of insults poured out from her room.

“I hate you. You’re the meanest mom ever. You are never nice to me.” And then one that I hadn’t heard before, “I’m going to cut you.”

I stopped mid-step. She continued to yell at me, but I really didn’t hear much after that. As much as I tried to ignore her words, threats of violence were a bit disturbing.

I wish I could say this was as bad as it got. It wasn’t.

I wish I could say this was a one-time thing. It wasn’t.

At this point Ike and I didn’t know exactly where to turn. Nobody we knew had a child who behaved like her. We were by no means perfect parents, but we were trying our best.  

I decided to call a neighbor of mine who was a child psychologist. With tears in my eyes, I explained some of her behaviors. I don’t remember everything he said, but he introduced me to the term Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or ODD, as a possibility. He suggested we try PCIT (Parent Child Interactive Therapy). He basically just assured me that we were not alone and that there was help out there. He probably doesn’t even remember talking to me about this, but his words set me on a path to widen my understanding of children’s behaviors and mental health. I had some new ideas to work with and some new acronyms to memorize (and google). The first of many.