"This is the pulley of survival," Taylor announced as he hefted a 5-gallon bucket, filled with water, action figures, small plastic animals and even a fly swatter, by a rope swung over a nearby branch. "The ones that stay in the bucket are the survivors."

A quick countdown: 3-2-1, and the bucket crashed to the ground.

Taylor and a cousin raced to look what was left inside and then refilled the bucket.

The game took different forms: "survivors crash test

an empty box below the bucket; and "catapult

the toys flying across the yard after being launched from the end of a skateboard.

This summertime fun could be happening in any back yard.

Taylor's family has struggled for years to reach this idyllic playtime. But playtime isn't always this carefree, because Taylor is one of the thousands of children across America who struggle with mental illnesses.

Taylor has been diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, attention-deficit (hyperactivity) disorder, hyperactivity and Asperger syndrome, a form of autism.

One lingering misconception is that serious mental disorders, such as bipolar disorder, just don't exist in children.

"Nobody knows how to talk about it," said Lori Cerar, the executive director for Allies with Families, which advocates for and educates families who have mentally ill children. "Nobody knows how to deal with it."

The National Institute of Mental Health, an arm of the federal government, estimates 10 percent of children and adolescents are impaired by a mental disorder. Just 20 percent of those youngsters actually obtain services.

What is the impairment like?

"It kinda feels like your mind is spinning around and around and around," Taylor said. "Like when you're spinning a basketball on your finger."

When Taylor's mind is whirring, that makes managing the rigors of daily life a chore for him and his entire family.

There are handwritten lists taped to walls throughout the home telling Taylor when and what to do at nearly all times.

The one in his bedroom starts at 6:45 a.m. with instructions to get out of bed, get dressed and take medications. At 7 a.m., Taylor should be eating breakfast and 15 minutes later he needs to wash his face, brush his teeth and comb his hair.

The list ends at Taylor's 9:30 p.m. bedtime.

The schedules were conceived by Taylor's mom, Sherry Garrett, when she realized her son was so distractible that he couldn't clean his room. Even with the lists, Taylor remains unfocused.

"He has to be re-directed all day long," Garrett, who also has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, said.

Still, Taylor is doing better than ever. And Garrett attributes that to years of counseling, family behavior modification and four medications.

During a single day, Taylor takes 15 pills.

With pharmaceutical companies refraining from conducting clinical trials involving psychotropic medications and children, most mental health drugs aren't approved for children.

It's a situation that forces parents to make a tough decision between controlling a child today and unknown side-effects in years to come.

"These are little kids and you're putting very heavy-duty drugs in their systems," said Pat Baker, a family consultant for Allies for Families. "We don't know what the long-term impacts are on the child."

Baker adds, most families have tried every other option before turning to psychotropic medications.

For Taylor, the drugs made a huge difference, his mother said. There were drawbacks though.

Prior to his bipolar disorder diagnosis, physicians had Taylor on a stimulant for the ADHD. That drug pushed him to a psychotic episode, landing him in the hospital for three days and then to a residential treatment center for three months.

Doctors say those risks are often worth taking when dealing with children who become suicidal long before their teens.

"Our feeling is it's better to treat the child and get them help rather than having a child commit suicide," said Karen Platis, the program manager over child outpatient services for Valley Mental Health, a to Taylor and his twin 5-year-old sisters, one of whom has cerebral palsy. Garrett's husband works for a credit-card company but monitors his hours so his pay doesn't rise so high that the children lose their Medicaid coverage.

"We make it work," Garrett said. "We all have clothes. We all have food."

The work has begun to pay off.

Taylor is no longer labeled a "troublemaker" at school and, heading into the fifth grade, he's reading at an eighth-grade level. He remains in a self-contained classroom, meaning Taylor gets one-on-one attention and is segregated from most students, and Taylor is testing above average in the rest of his subjects.

"We've come a long way in five years," Garrett said.