First let me say that “all the rage” has two distinct meanings at my house. Yesterday, “all the rage” was the way that my 15-year-old described Sperry Top-Sider shoes. (Yes, anyone who was in high school or college during the Reagan-era is now laughing hysterically!) For reasons that I have yet to comprehend these boat shoes have made an enormous comeback in my daughter’s high school. So enormous in fact that none of the stores within driving distance of us carried her size yesterday.

So, that’s where the other type of rage set in…for her.

For LuLu “all the rage” is about actual rage. Today was a rage day. The spark that ignited it appeared on the surface to be the elusive answer to 7x7. The fireworks went on for about 45 minutes. I am well aware that any type of intervention other than getting her to remove herself from the area is sure to escalate things. Even removing her from the room usually escalates things.

My detective radar is working overtime to figure out other “causes” of the rage. Or what could more accurately be described as other deficits that made it harder for her to control herself. Two most obvious were the missed morning dose of one of her meds, because I ran out and was waiting for a call from the pharmacy AND the fact she snuck a grilled cheese sandwich at the church dinner last night (and she’s casein-free). Either could have been the culprit, as that particular med does help her control her aggressive outbursts, and casein infractions show up as aggressive behavior and tummy aches (which she was also complaining of).

But, being the trooper that she is, once LuLu was able to pull it back together, she dove into her math test with both feet and got a 93% (only missing one problem – the elusive 8x4. She figured out 7x7 once her brain got off of meltdown overdrive.)

I gotta admit “all the rage” makes me want to rage as well! Not just her actual meltdowns, which have a tendency to derail schedules and always run the risk (although much less in the past year or so) of actual damage to our house. But also the frustration I feel at not being able to keep a balance in her complicated neurobiology. I’m frustrated that I let the med prescription run out (my excuse is that the insurance is forcing us to go to 3-month mail order and they are moving like snails on sending that gigantic order…could it be our credit cards are maxed????) I’m equally frustrated that I didn’t know she ate the grilled cheese sandwich. I’m miffed that she snuck the grilled cheese sandwich, but the tummy ache is a nice natural consequence and reminder.

So I resort to whining out here in the blogosphere. Why do things have to be so complicated? Why is there never one (and only one) clear cut answer as to “what’s wrong”? Why do I keep asking unanswerable questions like “what’s wrong”? Why does her inability to answer one math problem out of many trigger such a huge reaction? Again, why do I keep asking unanswerable questions?

And why am I not Googling to figure out where those darn Sperry Top Siders are…and do they have them in size 9????