Last week was certainly eventful. After Monday's outburst that led to a call from school, Bob was under strict orders to...well, just try to get through the day without any drama. He did relatively well, presumably because a school skate night at the roller rink was at stake. Or so it seemed.

The older Bob gets, the more he knocks me from my parenting pedestal with unexpected questions and requests. I thought he'd outdone himself with his recent query as to the purpose of testicles--but last week, he hit me with something that left me even more dumbfounded. "Nathan wants me to come sleep over at his house next weekend. Can I?"

As you know, my son Bob has bipolar disorder and ADHD. A few days ago, he had his first play date--at least, the first he can remember. How did it go? Take a look at this video.

Ah, the holiday season. Families coming together in joy and harmony, stuffing turkeys (and ourselves) full of all manner of deliciousness. Children singing and reveling in the magic and mystery and-- Who am I kidding? The last two months of the year can be trying for any parent, but for parents of children with mental illness, they can be far removed from the Rockwellian scenes we once envisioned.

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?

The summer before Bob started kindergarten, I signed him up for teeball. I’m still not sure what I was thinking. I’m not a sports fan and have always refuted the argument kids need involvement in team sports to be fulfilled. I guess there was something about the image of Bob in a tiny uniform that must have persuaded me. Whatever it was, we found ourselves on a team.