If you read here, or write here, you know the challenges, in a way outsiders don't, of raising a child who is different from other kids. Some differences are more subtle than others, but the differences are there. Some people get it, others don't.

My in-laws don't.

We traveled back to see my husband's family for Thanksgiving last week. His parents and brother's and sister's families live in a rural part of Iowa, and from Colorado it takes a mind-numbing number of hours to get there. The trip out was painfully long. The weeks leading up to the trip had my husband out of town, so he and I were already wiped out, and the boys were hyped up with the promise of a week out of school.

A doesn't do particularly well with change. No, wait, allow me to rephrase that. A is incredibly bad with change. Right before we left on this cross-country trip, his very best friend in the whole wide world amen moved a few states away. His emotional state was dropping as the final day approached, so by the time we left he was already a wreck. He was thrown out of his routine, sleeping on a pull-out bed, away from home. And then his already unstable coping mechanisms collapsed.

We dared to try to give him his ADHD meds. You might remember a post a few weeks ago that Christina put up about our son's difficulties with pill swallowing. I hate to confess that they haven't gotten any better. But we're still trying. A, after a great deal of pleading on my part, successfully got the pill down...and then lost.his.shit. Throwing, screaming, crying, wanting to hurt himself, threatening to run away (it was maybe 10 degrees outside) before running to the basement bedroom to hide.

This happened in front of my in-laws. The ones who don't know 1% of the crap we cope with on a daily basis (my parents, having survived raising my brother, know considerably more). They simply know that A has some issues and we're dealing with them. They don't know the scope, the depth, or the intensity of it all. They don't know the anxiety, lack of focus, the unexpectedness of it all. They saw a small portion of it that night. Tom and his mom went down to comfort him, until I finally threw them out to let me handle it. Grandma wasn't making things better; this wasn't something that you could cajole him out of by telling him he needed to be a good boy and come to dinner.

Later that night, my father in law tentatively asked if we might consider seeing a family therapist. I believe the only way to describe my response is "derisive snort." My sinuses still ache from that snort, but really? I've lost count of the number of specialists/therapists/experts/doctors we've consulted. I know the price tag is in the high thousands, and almost none of it is covered by insurance. I tried to explain that this is why I don't have a career, but I know it fell on deaf ears. Their belief is that Tom and I are trying to make A smarter by making him take these medications, and by dragging him to the various interventions and therapies, and if we just left him alone and let him be, he'd be fine. That was never said to me, but said to Tom, and he told me later he nearly packed us all up in the car to leave then (I wish he would have; the bed he and I were on was so bad that my neck is still killing me nearly a week later).

They don't get it. They don't get it, don't want to get it, and don't understand why they should get it. They figure Tom had similar problems as a kid, and he turned out ok, so why worry? Tom's reaction? Uh, I didn't turn out all that ok...

THIS is what frustrates me about having a twice-exceptional child. He looks fine, most of the time acts appropriately, is gifted giving the impression of greater maturity...but then, when you least expect it or want it...kablooey!!! The excrement hits the rapidly oscillating device. We're not pushing, he's pulling, and we're just trying to help steer around the roadblocks so he doesn't hurt himself. Family who seem to think that we're doing more harm than good by acknowledging those roadblocks and getting help is simply hurtful.

Thankfully we live a few states away and won't be back until this summer. Through sheer distance we can put this behind us and move on. In the meantime, yes, I am looking for another therapist, one who specializes in gifted kids and their families. Those roadblocks in front of A are getting larger and meaner, and we need an experienced guide to get through to the other side.

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Jen laughs to keep from screaming at Laughing at Chaos, and is a contributor to Colorado Bento and No Chip Left Behind.