Growing up...

First of all, a happy third birthday (holy cow...) to my adorable little nephew, Basil, who was pictured in yesterday's post (I have a very similar picture to that one from about a year and a half ago. Such a little ham).

Bazie is 3. Annalise is 2. Luke is 1. When did these kids start getting so old? And what does that imply about us?!

Alas, time continues to march on, with or without us, and I prefer "with."

I spent a good portion of this weekend watching ridiculous reality shows on MTV. I spent Saturday watching "16 and Pregnant," which is pretty much what it sounds like. I spent yesterday watching "The World's Strictest Parents," which is actually not an accurate moniker, from what I saw. It was more like, "People who actually do a good job of parenting." Most of them were not actually all that strict, there was a lot of respect for the kids, and there was a lot of teamwork and give and take. They put a lot of emphasis on the punishments, but there was a lot of positive reinforcement that went on as well. And that makes such a difference. If all you do is yell and criticize, of course your kids are going to get out of control. But the other thing that really struck me was that these parents all had their own shit reasonably well under control, at least in that they knew what of their own experiences and feelings had a place in their parenting and what didn't.

This is in stark contrast to how I spent my day today.

My first patient of the day was...probably delirious. Possibly psychotic, or catatonic, or something, but something was most definitely wrong with her, so I took her to the ER. My other two clinic patients went better, but in between all of this I spent way too much time on the adolescent unit. We had one of the most chaotic family meetings I've ever been in (my ears were ringing when I left), which ran over and I had to go see a clinic patient. So then I went back up to the unit and processed with my kiddo for a while. And I talked to the intern on the service, who was wonderfully validating of my observations in the meeting.

Peng says to me, later, in our office, "You know, all I'm saying is, nobody else's therapists go to the family meetings." I, of course, because I do this, started defending my decision to be part of this (although running it was not what I'd had in mind, but the intern is like two weeks old. I kind of wish the social worker had chimed in a bit more, but...). She puts up her hand and says, "no, no, I'm not saying you should or shouldn't have gone. I'm just saying, other kids who've been on that unit have therapists here and they never go to the family meetings."

And with that simple statement, she really makes so many really good points.

I think it was important for me to be there today - if nothing else, my kiddo needed someone who was solidly on her side, but who could be a little more objective and was a good referee - but this stuff always takes a toll on you, you know? It's hard work being the therapist. But it's also really rewarding sometimes.

See? I'm not a dominatrix. I'm a masochist. I'm not sure those two can really go together...