This was a very up-and-down week. On Monday morning, Daniel dressed in a shirt and tie and accompanied me to the grocery store. He walked peacefully through the store, toy Godzilla in hand, and helped me shop. In the afternoon, though, he had a very public meltdown in the library. I got him out of there, but had to stop the car twice on the way home, with all four children in it, and wait for his tantrum to subside.

It's week 2 of the gluten-free diet. By the end of this week, possibly due to the diet, and possibly due to all the time we've been spending in a nearby creek in the green shade of the trees, and possibly due to the other interventions, we had a much calmer Daniel.

Eric the Intrepid has been going through a social skills book every night with Daniel, and he and Daniel are reading through a "teen" Bible at bed time. Daniel seems really interested, and I know he likes the one-on-one time with his dad.

We're working on things. We have Daniel's aide from two years ago coming once a week for two hours, to take Daniel out and do fun, social things with him. Daniel's still receiving Speech Pathology through the summer.

Still, this summer has been a lot more strenuous than last, at least in terms of dealing with an anxious, irritable Daniel.

Today, he was mostly peaceful until we were in church. He was unhappy that we wanted him to take the gluten-free wafers instead of the lovely, gluten-full bread, but he did okay. Then, he saw the cake in the Parish Hall, to celebrate the birthdays or anniversaries of anyone who had them that month. Before we could stop him, he ate two pieces, and began to shake and got agitated.

It could be the gluten. It could also be a blood sugar problem.

We got him out to the playground across the street and had him swing for a while before we headed home. He was mostly calm for the rest of the day, until we went for a walk in the woods and I had to turn him away from climbing a waterfall because his sister needed to go home.

Well, really, no teenager likes to be thwarted.

But. It's tiring, and frustrating to deal with.

We got home, and I spent some time thinking about people who have bigger problems than I have. One friend at church has a son who is dying of cancer. The fact that her son is thirty years old does not lessen her grief. I began to sing, quietly, trying to remember the words, trying not to annoy Daniel with the high notes at the end, "When you walk through a storm, keep your chin up high, and don't be afraid of the dark..." I sang it all the way through twice, most likely flubbing the words as I went. My voice was cloudy today, not clear as it was when I was younger.

Daniel said to his father, "Mom sings well, doesn't she?"

"You didn't use to let your mom sing," Eric said, "It used to hurt your ears."

It's a long, slow, revolving dance down the road to maturity. I keep hoping for a steady walk down that road, but that's not what we get, is it?