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To Duncan on His 14th Birthday

Note: I’ve often written notes to my kids on their birthday. This was originally written when Duncan turned 1o.

An open letter to my second child on his 10th birthday…

Mood Music:

At 2 a.m. on Sept. 15, 2003, I was jolted awake by your mom shoving me in the shoulder. I had just gone to bed 45 minutes earlier, and I had had a lot of wine the night before.

You weren’t expected for a few more days, so I figured I could drink and watch TV all night. I worked the night desk at The Eagle-Tribune back then, and Sunday night was MY time.

But your mom knew you were coming. And unlike your brother’s slow entry into the world two and a half years before, the labor pains you gave your mother came on fast and furious.

This was the first time you made it clear that you were going to be heard. It certainly hasn’t been the last.

Fun fact: On the ride to the hospital, as I drove over the train tracks, Mom’s water broke. The car was still brand new at that point, and that would be the first of many messes you would make of that car. We were afraid you would be delivered in that car. That’s how intense your Mom’s labor pains were. It was the first and only time Mom let me blow through red lights. Two of them, to be specific. When we reached the hospital, I accidentally slammed Mom’s finger in the car door. She barely noticed, with the labor pains you were giving her.

You entered the world by early afternoon, and you were perfect. You still are.

Sean couldn’t wait to meet you. He had a stomach bug and was throwing up all over the living room the morning after you were born. But he wasn’t going to miss meeting his new little brother. Not for the wide world.

Fun fact: We chose the name Duncan for you early on. Your mom and I each made lists of potential names and Duncan was the only name on both lists. A lot of people think we came up with that name because of Dunkin’ Donuts. But I’m a Starbucks kind of guy and people should know better. Actually, I put the name on my list because your brother was really into Thomas the Tank Engine at that point, and one of the trains was named Duncan. As you now proudly tell people, your name is Scottish for “brown warrior.” You carry the name of a leader; a chief. It’s a name of strength. The key is to put your stamp on it. With your kind heart and strong faith (how many kids your age go to the chapel AFTER Mass to pray a little more because they WANT to?) I know you’ll do great.

You have a beautiful command of language and vocabulary, and one of my great pleasures is watching you with your face buried in a book or writing stories on the computer. You gave yourself an awesome pen name in N.R. Rennerb (Brenner spelled backwards, for those of you who didn’t immediately catch on).

You’re as brave and daring as your name suggests. It was you who talked your brother into going camping with your grandparents for the first time. You also dove into Cub Scouts and basketball without hesitating. Learning to ride a bicycle was a big challenge, but you never gave up. Who would have thought the key was simply raising the seat an inch or so?

You say things that make me laugh. Like the time you walked up to the old man in the van in front of Toys R Us and scolded him for smoking. Your exact words were, “Smoking is dumb, you know. It puts holes in your lungs. You also left your back door (to the van) open.”

You’re one of the most giving, loving souls I’ve ever met. You love unconditionally, whether you’re spending time with your cousins or sharing your artistic gifts with us. I especially love the things you can do with Origami.

I love to snuggle with you on the couch as we watch “Star Wars,” “The Hobbit” or your favorite British comedy, “Keeping Up Appearances.”

I love to take you on road trips with the rest of the family, like the time we drove to Washington D.C. and got a tour of the West Wing of the White House. One of my favorite family photos is the one where we are in the press briefing room:

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As you’ve discovered by now, life can be hard. Learning to manage ADHD has been no picnic, but you’ve risen to the challenge. You study hard, take your grades to heart and got honor roll twice last year despite all the trouble you had staying focused.

ADHD hasn’t kept you back. It never will, because you won’t let it.

I can’t believe you are 10 years old. Where does the time go? I guess time flies for a Dad who is blessed with two precious boys like you and Sean.

Happy Birthday, precious boy!

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Stuff My Kids (And Other People’s Kids) Say: Tween Edition

It’s been awhile since I did a “things kids say” post. It’s getting harder to write these because my children have passed the adorable stage and are now well on their way to manhood. In a lot of ways this makes them more amusing than ever. It just took me a few months to adjust to their changes — especially with Sean, who is almost 12 and starting that phase of his life where Dad is a constant source of embarrassment and outrage.

My almost 5-year-old niece comes around frequently and supplies the adorable factor, which helps from a writing perspective.

One thing that hasn’t changed: The complexities and frustrations of everyday life always seem more manageable after you’ve seen it through the eyes if children.

And so, here’s what’s coming out of their mouths these days…

Heard in the other room: 

Duncan: “Sean, put a shirt on. I don’t want to see your stomach.”

Sean: “Stomach?! Duncan, these are abs!”

A few minutes later, after catching me shirtless:

Duncan: “Dad, cover yourself. That’s disturbing.”

***

Sean: “Dad, turn that guitar down. This is my house too and I have rights.”

Me: “But these all go to 11”

Sean: *Stares blankly*

***

When I walked into the daycare center to pick up my niece, one of her friends asked, “Are you Madison’s grandpa?”

***

One snow day, the boys looked out the back door and declared this the best weekend ever. Then I handed them shovels and told them to clear out the driveway.

***

Sean: “Dad, what’s the smelliest, scariest sea creature in all the ocean?”
Me: “I give up. Tell me.”
Sean: “The Butt-Kraken.”

***

Sean, on hearing that George Lucas sold the Star Wars franchise to Disney, and that Disney plans more Star Wars movies: “Fine. As long as they don’t make it all princessy.”

***

“Tell it to the butt.” Sean, in response to one of Duncan’s complaints. 

***

During a trip to a high-end kitchen supplies store in the mall… Sean: “Duncan, I’ve been following you all around the store.” Duncan: “That must have taken you a long time. I’ve been touching everything.”

***

“It’s just a little stain, Uncle Bill. What’s the big deal?” The 4-year-old niece, after I told her she couldn’t move her mud-covered tent into our camper. 

***

“When you say you know the way, it usually means we’re lost!” Sean, blaming me for getting us lost inside the campground we were staying at.

***

“It’s not my fault. It’s glitching!” Duncan, every time he makes a losing move while playing with the Wii.

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Heartbroken and Praying

This is not a post about whether we need more guns or fewer. This is not a post about what makes a man sick enough to fire a weapon at innocent children. It’s just a post to say how heartbroken we are in the Brenner house.

Mood music:

We don’t know any of the victims in Newtown, Connecticut. But we have children under this roof and couldn’t even begin to understand what so many families in our neighboring state are going through right now. I want to hug my kids and never let go, though I know I can’t shield them from every danger out there.

We’re praying hard for the victims and their families. At last count, CNN said 20 children, 6 adults and the shooter were dead. These kids were between the ages of 5 and 10. Precious children with full lives ahead of them. That this has happened before Christmas makes it all seem all the sadder. From here on out, a lot of people in Newtown will forever dread the holiday season. It’s all too much to take.

A while back I wrote about something Mister Roger’s mother once told him about terrible tragedies. “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping,” he once recalled his mother saying. “To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world,” he said.

I know the helpers will be there in this case. And that’s how I know that God is good, even when we want to hate Him. God has a plan. We have no idea what it is and many times I sure don’t like it. But when the helpers arrive, I firmly believe that’s Him in action.

Since the shootings, I’ve seen a lot of traffic coming to this blog, particularly to the post about Mister Rogers’ mother. I sure hope it helps the good people of Newtown find some comfort, however small.

God bless every one of you.

Related posts:

“Mister Rogers’ Mother Was Right”

“Why Does God Let This Happen?”

“I Accept God’s Plan, But I Don’t Have To Like It”
sandy-hook-prayers

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Welcome Back, Mrs. Silva

I rushed to the kids’ school this afternoon for a parent-teacher meeting and saw the most excellent sight: Eileen Silva, back in the mix, helping her fellow teachers sort through the usual chaos of afternoon dismissal. The first-grade teacher missed all last year due to illness, but she’s back, and it’s like she never left.

Mood music:

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We Brenners love Mrs. Silva for many of the same reasons other parents and students do: She’s a kind, nurturing and patient soul. But she’s particularly special to us because of what she did for Duncan at a very critical stage of his life.

Duncan was in first grade when he was first diagnosed with ADHD, and we didn’t know where to begin when the pediatrician gave us a list of recommendations as thick as a small novel. We brought it to Mrs. Silva during one of our after-school meetings. Some teachers might be overwhelmed to read a big bulleted list of recommendations like that. Teachers have plenty on their plate just dealing with the normal challenges of running a class full of boisterous children. Throw in a few kids with special requirements, and I’m sure it can be too much to take at times. True, every teacher has a few students with extra needs. That’s part of the job. But I’ve seen some handle it better than others.

Mrs. Silva took the list and lit up. She was thrilled to have so many details to work with, and she incorporated it into Duncan’s work load with grit and grace.

From our perspective, we had a big ally in our corner and felt like we might actually be able to get Duncan what he needed after all. Since then we’ve had plenty of support from other teachers and administrators. Duncan has done a lot of hard work himself, and we’re very proud of him.

But Mrs. Silva gets a very special place in our hearts because she helped us get this steamroller moving.

When I was Duncan’s age, I was the student teachers’ nightmares are made of. I had a boulder-sized chip on my shoulder because of serious childhood illness and my parents’ less-than-amicable divorce.

I also had learning difficulties. I received special services like Duncan did, but back then misbehaving kids were more likely to be written off as damaged goods. Today, the better school districts have a more rigorous process in place to ensure kids don’t fall through the cracks.

That’s how it often seems from my perspective, anyway.

There were teachers along the way that I felt were in my corner, rooting for me to overcome my limitations. But none were like Mrs. Silva.

For most parents, the greatest wish is for their kids to have it better than they did. When it comes to Duncan having an ally to guide him through the early rough patches, I got my wish.

Thanks, Mrs. Silva, and welcome back.

Mrs. Silva

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New Section: Resources for Readers

Today we launch a new section with links to resources specializing in mental health issues, including children’s issues, faith, eating and relationships.

We’ll be building the section over time, adding new topics as we go. Today, we’re starting with resources for parents and children dealing with mental health issues.

Check out the new section here.

Since this blog was launched in December 2009, the full focus has been on the author’s personal experiences with mental illness and all the related adversity that goes with it. In May we relaunched the blog with a wider focus in mind. The Resources section is a huge part of that.

The perspective of one person is certainly useful, but the more online resources we can give you, the more helpful we will be.

We hope you find it helpful.

—Bill Brenner

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Teachers Who Ignore Kids With Food Allergies Should Be Fired

When school officials repeatedly fail to protect a child from something like a life-threatening nut allergy, the damage to that child’s mental health is as bad as to their physical health. When that happens, even if the child is physically unharmed, the reaction from us grown-ups should be nothing other than outrage.

Mood music:

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In elementary school, I was banned from any food product with dairy in it. Even a trace of it was forbidden. That was the Crohn’s Disease. I often felt left out when some kid brought cookies to school or the class got to have an ice cream social. But overall, my teachers worked hard to make sure I was taken care of. Say what you will about Revere Public Schools in the 1970s and ’80s; I’ll always be grateful for the care they gave me as a little boy coming to grips with a scary and, back then, rare disease. Today everyone and their grandma seems to have Crohn’s Disease, but at that time the illness was still a mystery to most people, including those in the medical profession.

By contrast, the childhood nut allergies we hear about so much these days aren’t a mystery. Every day you can find a news report about a child having a severe allergy attack and in some cases dying from it.

So when high school friend Carl Sackrison and his wife Glenda told me about their son’s experience in the Methuen Public School System, I was mystified. I’ve had many backs and forth with them over this, and they permitted me to use their names because, as Glenda said, they’ve already been vocal and public about their son’s experiences.

There was the teacher eating Snicker’s bars in front of their son, even though the nut allergy is well-documented. There was an ice cream social where one of the toppings was contaminated with nuts (the container said manufactured in a facility with nuts), resulting in a facial rash and an ER visit for the young boy. And there was the teacher who told the boy that he wasn’t the snack police when he expressed concern that there was food in the room he might get sick from.

“When we sat down to talk about it, he said to me, ‘Why won’t anyone listen to me? Mommy, I just don’t want to die,'” Glenda told me. “This is very heartbreaking to hear knowing that this has been an ongoing issue since he started school and that there is nothing I can do to make it stop to keep him safe while he’s in school.”

When teachers make a child feel like his health is going to be threatened whenever he enters the classroom, it’s a mental health threat as much as a physical one. Glenda and Carl’s son has experienced a worsening anxiety and paranoia as a result of what’s happening in school.

If the school district doesn’t start dealing with it and getting him the help he needs, things will get a lot worse.

The district needs several big kicks in the ass to keep that from happening. Consider this post one such kick in the ass.

Kids and Peanuts

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Fatherhood Saved Ozzy, Eddie & Me

Yesterday I watched the “God Bless Ozzy Osbourne” documentary, which focused heavily on how his addictions maimed him and his family over four decades. Though my addictive behavior pales by comparison, it still struck a chord.

Mood music:

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What hit me deepest is how Ozzy finally decided to get real sobriety after his son Jack had kicked drugs and alcohol. It took his son to show him the light.

There’s a similar plot in the recent comeback of Van Halen. Armed with the knowledge that he’d be able to make music with his son if he cleaned up, Edward Van Halen finally got sober a few years ago.

The son showing dad the light theme is an old one. It’s the whole “Luke Skywalker helping Darth Vader find his good side again” story. Only in the real life examples, the fathers get to live after having their epiphany.

In the documentary, we see Ozzy changing into a different, crazy person who continuously brings heartbreak to his family — especially his children. The daughter from his first marriage is asked point-blank if he was a good Dad. Her answer is a simple “No.” We learn — though it’s not really a surprise, given how incoherent he was in all the episodes — how his alcoholism was at its worst during the run of “The Osbournes” and how his youngest kids started using in that period. Finally, we see his son Jack deciding to clean up, inspiring his father to do the same.

Like I said, my addictive personality didn’t come close to the levels of Ozzy Osbourne or Edward Van Halen. But it was bad enough that I can relate to things like being useless on the couch when my kids needed me. I was never that way all the time, and I’ve been a pretty active Dad more often than not. But I am guilty of those bad moments.

But what I relate to most is how it took becoming a parent to drive home the need for me to be a better man and reign in my demons — the OCD and addictive behavior    that was a byproduct of constant fear, anxiety and exhaustion.

It wasn’t an instant thing — Sean was almost 4 and Duncan was was barely 2 when I realized things were not right in my head — but the cattle prod was definitely my hunger to be a better parent.

So yeah, I have to say I’m inspired by these rock n’ roll stories.

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For A Girl Recently Diagnosed With Crohn’s Disease

The daughter of close friends just found out she has Crohn’s Disease. She’s suffering a lot right now, and I know exactly what she’s going through. This post is for her.

Mood music:

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Hello, my young friend. I’m sorry that you’re hurting so much right now. I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease when I was around your age, and spent many weeks in the hospital between ages 8-16. It stinks. But if there’s one thing I’d like you to remember after reading this, it’s that it WILL get better.

I experienced all the things you are now — the massive loss of blood, the knifing pain in the gut, sleepless nights in the bathroom, and more blood.

A couple times, I’ve been told, the doctor’s came close to removing the colon. Too much of it was under siege and they didn’t know where to start in terms of targeting it. But it never came to that.

The pain was pretty intense. I really don’t know how my parents were able to get through it. I think it would cause me more anguish to see one of my kids suffer than to go through it myself. That had to hurt. Especially since they lost another child along the way. It also couldn’t have helped that I would be in the hospital for six-week stretches in 1978, 1979, 1980 and 1981.

I mention this because you should know how hard it is for your Mom and Dad to see you hurting. They’re new to this Crohn’s thing, and they will worry endlessly about what they are doing for you and whether it’s the right thing. Be patient with them if you can. But if you need to yell at them once in awhile so you can cope, go ahead. That’s what parents are for.

As you will probably soon discover, the most popular drug to treat what’s making you sick is Prednisone, which comes with a long list of side effects. Your face might get puffy and you’ll want to eat everything in sight. But you’re a strong kid and you can handle that.

A lot of people helped me survive a childhood of brutal Crohn’s Disease: My parents, great doctors, school friends who helped me catch up with my schoolwork and rooted for me whenever I got out of the hospital, and a great therapist who helped me sort through the mental byproducts of illness.

I think you’re going to get through the current attack and that you will be able to move on to a better life. Again, I lean on my personal experience.

I’m probably one of the luckiest Crohn’s patients on Earth. The last bad flare up was in 1986 and I haven’t had once since. I still go through frequent periods of inflammation, but nothing that requires drugs or hospital stays. The colon is checked out every other year to make sure the layers of scar tissue don’t run wild and morph into cancer.

Had the doctors removed the colon when I was a kid, I think things still would have worked out. I would have learned to live with it. Whatever you have in front of you, I think you can make the best of it and push through.

Be strong and keep the faith, my young friend. I hope you feel better soon.

–Bill

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Strong Too Long, Or Weak Too Often?

There’s a saying on Facebook that depression isn’t a sign of weakness, but simply the result of being strong for too long. Somewhat true — though weakness does feed the beast.

Mood music:

I’m feeling it this morning.

I’ve always taken a certain level of satisfaction from my ability to stay standing in the face of death, illness, family dysfunction, depression and addiction. Sometimes, I get an over-inflated sense of survivor’s pride.

People love to tell you how awesome you are when you emerge from adversity stronger than before. The victor is placed on a 10-foot pedestal and life looks hunky-dory from up there. But it’s only a matter of time before the person on top loses balance and crashes to the ground.

I’ve fallen from that pedestal a bunch of times, and my ass is really starting to hurt from all those slips off the edge.

All this has me asking the question: How much can you blame depression on being strong too long when many times it comes back because the victim has been weak?

I don’t think there’s a precise answer. I only know this: I feel like I’ve been trying like a motherfucker to be strong 24-7. But I don’t seem to have the fortitude to maintain it, and I give in to weakness.

In the past, that weakness would involve indulging in food, alcohol and tobacco until I was too sick to function.

Today, the weakness involves getting angry and self-defensive and distant at the drop of a hat.

For all the progress I’ve made in managing my OCD, there are still moments where I go weak, put the blinders on and do some stupid things.

It’s the compulsion to keep staring at the laptop screen when one or both kids need me to look up and give them some attention.

It’s stopping in the middle of a conversation with my wife because the cellphone is ringing or someone has pinged me online.

It’s spending too much money on food and entertainment for the kids because it’s easier to me at the time than  cooking the food myself and playing a board game with them instead.

I’ve been working double-time at bringing my compulsive tendencies to heel, going through some intensified therapy. The short-term result is that I’m an angrier person than I normally am.

My therapist made note of that anger at our last meeting. The trigger in the room was him taking me back to my younger years in search of clues to present-day debacles. I thought I was done with sessions like that five years ago.

But I’m learning that the road to mental wellness is not linear. It goes in a circle. It’s like driving to the same place every day for work. The drive to work and back is a loop of the same landmarks, the same traffic patterns and the same behind-the-wheel thinking sessions.

I’m learning that managing my issues is going to involve frequent trips back and forth from the past to the present. This pisses me off. But I know I have to keep at it.

I guess I’ll always have my weak moments because of the events that shaped me.  But you can still be strong throughout it, learning to regain your footing more quickly  and being better at the kind of discussion with loved ones that prevents endless miscommunication from adding up to a mountain of pain.

I don’t know when I’ll truly reach that level of strength. But for now I’m leaning hard on all my coping tools, including the music and the praying.

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The Wit And Wisdom Of Sean Brenner

Today is Sean’s 11th birthday, and we’re all very proud of him. In honor of this special day, I share with you some of my favorite Sean-isms.

Mood music:

–Heard in the bathroom: Sean singing to no one in particular, “Your butt’s too big to be real…”

–Me: “I missed you Sean. I love you.” Sean, staring intently at the drawing he’s working on as I tell him this: “Dad, go get me a pencil”

–Sean, grousing about his loose pants: “This is ridiculous. If Eve didn’t eat that stupid apple, I wouldn’t have to worry about pants!”

–Sean, explaining The Prodigal Son to Duncan: “If there were a third brother, he would have just sat there chilling out, taking it all in.”

–Sean-ism of the morning: I learned Australian in second grade. It’s my second language.

–Sean, exasperated that Duncan is running around sans pants: “For Pete’s sake, Duncan! You’re a lot of work.”

–Sept. 23, 2010: I feel a strange sense of satisfaction for a Dad who was just informed by his oldest that “You are ruining my life.”

–Sean: “Babies come out the you-know-what” Duncan: “Gross. Why’s that?” Sean: “That’s just the way life works.”

–Sean, in response to me telling him and Duncan to do a chore: “Dad, if you’re trying to annoy us, it’s not working.”

–Me to Sean: “You’re so stinkin’ cute.” Sean to me: “You’re so stinkin’ ugly. No offense.”

–Sean, noticing the Greek Orthodox church we were driving past: “Gee Whiz! I didn’t even know Greek Mythology was still around!”

–Sean, trying to coach Duncan through a Star Wars game online: “Oh, for crying out loud Duncan… USE THE FORCE! USE THE FORCE!”

–The Sean-Duncan Star Wars feud takes a dark, stinky turn: Duncan says Sean keeps calling him Sen. Poopatine and he wants me to punish him.

–Bathtub chatter: Sean: “Cheese is your favorite food, right Duncan?” Duncan: “Of course.” Sean: “I read they’re gonna stop making it soon.”

–Sean’s take on his grandfather (my father): “I’ll tell you what, Duncan. There is nothing we can’t get him to do.”

–Sean, growing impatient with the DC-to-Boston drive: “What state are we in besides a state of confusion?”

–Sean: “Can I have more computer time?” Me: “No.” Sean: “Wow. That was unexpected.”

–I have a ZZTop concert streaming on the laptop while I work. Sean takes a look and asks if the guitar player is “that @jack_Daniel guy.” (Jack is a heavyweight in the security industry who looks a lot like Billy Gibbons from ZZTop)

–Sean’s Lament: “My workbook project calls for a mural about compassion. Much to my dismay, it makes me want to barf.”

–Sean just proclaimed that my iced coffee looks like cow manure with ice cubes on top.

–Sean: “One of the things I really love about Gramma and Grandpa is that they’re so disorganized.”

–Sean just kicked my ass at 3 games of checkers. Now he’s trash-talking me. My revenge will come later, and it will be spectacular.

–Sean-ism of the day: “Thank God for Dunkin Donuts. There’s always one along the road when you really need to use the bathroom.”

–Bad Sean joke #452 … Sean:”Why did the cop wrap the crook in tinfoil?” Me: “I dunno. Why?” Sean: “Because he wanted to foil the crime.”

–Sean: “I’m looking forward to seeing the White House tonight. Good food there.” Me: “We’re there for a tour, not dinner.” Sean: “Oh well.”

–Sez Sean, because I didn’t look at his computer game fast enough: “C’mon Dad, what’s more important, your son or your Blackberry?”

–Sean, fighting with Duncan: “My life was pretty good till you came along.”

–Sean scolded me for killing an ant cause “They’re God’s creatures.” Then he found one on his Lego sets, and now he wants all ants dead.

–Sean’s description of Duncan’s breath: “Like a cat climbed in your mouth, peed, pooped and died.” His breath was just as bad.

–Sean hasn’t stopped laughing since I told him Bun Bun — the Whites’ dwarf hamster — got caught in Sam’s closet and crapped everywhere.

“You are the picture of evil.” Sean, after I made them do homework on their snow day.

Sean, pretending to be a clone trooper from Star Wars: “I hate this job. I don’t get MLK Day off. Crap, I didn’t even get Christmas off!”

Me to Sean: “I have a thought.” Sean: “There’s a 50-50 chance I’m gonna protest it.”

Sean: “Duncan, how many kids do you plan to have?” Duncan: “20: 10 girls, 10 boys.” Sean: “I can’t watch all those kids. Scale it back.”

Sean’s 9-year-old reaction to news that Uncle Brian is getting married: “Oh yeah? Whatever.”

Duncanism of the day: If the inside of my head was empty, I’d be light-headed.

Sean’s reaction to the Duncanism of the day: “Duncan, you infuriate me.”

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Sean, wishing one of Erin’s friends well in an important business venture

“Get out of the way, Lando! For crying out loud!” Sean, temper flaring, during a particularly difficult Wii game of “Star Wars: The Complete Saga.”

–Said Sean, matter-of-fact-like: “If you don’t want your butt to get burned, don’t live in a frying pan.”