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 knew the time would come when I would be hit with the old "I want to live with my dad!" routine. Every divorced or separated parent hears it, regardless of whether or not mental illness takes a seat at their dinner table. But knowing it's coming does little to soften the inevitable blow.

The holidays aren't the only thing that can send a routine down the tubes. From very early Monday morning until very early this morning, we had snow. Lots and lots of snow. Roughly 7 inches of the stuff in my neighborhood. Needless to say, school was canceled, and since I wasn't eager to make the 30 mile drive over mostly un-plowed interstate to my office, I stayed home with the kids. And with temperatures in the single digits, we're not in any hurry to get out and make snow angels. Apparently, one needn't live in a cabin to have "cabin fever."

Dating as a single mother--tough. Dating as a single mother of a child who never sits still, throws outrageous tantrums, gets kicked out of preschools and gives you black eyes--tough to the point you might want to consider adopting several cats and joining the spinsterhood. Once in a while, though, life throws you a curve ball, and you might just meet Mr. Fantastic--that's when the real work begins.

Part of having a child with a chronic condition is self-education. Whether you want to or not, you become a sort of layman's expert on whatever ails your child. I'm no exception--I know more about Bob's Bipolar and ADHD diagnoses (and others) than I ever wanted to know. The most frightening thing I've learned, however, is how little we actually know.

It's a common misconception among the "normal"--any time a child with a psychiatric illness demonstrates an undesirable behavior, it's surely connected to his diagnosis. Little do they know, mentally ill kids are, at the end of the day...kids.

There are people who think loneliness and children with psychiatric illness go hand in hand in a vicious circle--a child's illness causes him to withdraw; his withdrawal causes society to retreat from him even further. There are others who define themselves as introverts and insist they are not "mentally ill," they are "just" introverts. Which came first--the introverted chicken, or the mentally ill egg?

October is one of our household's more hectic months. My biggest time consumers are Bob's birthday and Halloween (our favorite holiday). My birthday gets thrown in there somewhere (I refuse to cop to when or which one it is). There are about umpteen school "holidays" when the kids are home. And, of course, there's that day that strikes fear in the hearts of parents and children alike... Parent/Teacher Conference Day.

The first time I sat in a psychiatrist’s office, it was for myself. He scared me. He wasn’t anything like the mom-like therapists I was used to. He barely made eye contact. He asked me a few questions, to which I gave rambling answers. He scribbled. He left the room, returning after a few minutes to hand me a prescription and bid me farewell. I’ve since visited a multitude of psychiatrists—for my own benefit and for Bob’s, my son with bipolar disorder—and found that first experience pretty typical.