Do as David Boreanaz Says - NOT as I do

If I thought there was any chance at all that David Boreanaz would actually see it or read it I would send the man a thank you note for his wonderfully insightful commencement address to the students of Ithica College.  He said, what I truly believe, every good parent wants their child to hear, to know, to internalize, and live their life by. He certainly said what I want my children to live by and what I believe in my heart is essential for them to understand as individuals that break the mold of normal, who think differently, who combine limitless energy and creativity with great intelligence in the pursuit of paths that are truly less traveled.

I was introduced to the show Bones not too long ago when my world came to a screeching halt with a long bout of pneumonia. It was my husband and children who encouraged me to watch it. I fell in love with it, in fact it may be the only TV show that I have ever fallen in love with.  Now they tease me because I follow the actors and actresses, the writers, and every bit of news I can find out about it. I became equally interested in the lead actor, David Boreanaz, as I watched interviews etc. because his energy, playfulness, impulsivity, and creativity reminds me of my children. I like finding successful adults who I can see my children's attributes in - it gives me hope that all the work and effort I put into raising mine will one day end well.  I like to see what has contributed to their success and hope to instill those principles into mine while they are still young and learn ways to encourage them as they grow older and struggle in a world that pushes for conformity rather than individuality.

early play

The commencement address given by David Boreanaz is great motivation and direction for young adults and adults; a pep talk before the big game, a reminder of what to seek and how to seek it to get the most out of life. It is also a great playbook of lessons to teach children as they grow up so that those messages are instilled in them from an early age. Whether you have children that are "normal" or kids like mine these messages are important. But when you have kids that march to the beat of their own drum, brake all the molds, and never knew there was even a box to think outside of these messages are critical.

One of the first things Mr Boreanaz laid out in his address was the importance finding your own authentic existence. To me he was saying find and own who you are, at your core. All of us have strengths and weaknesses it is not until we figure them out, until we own them, that we can begin to capitalize on our strengths and conquer our weaknesses.

He says he came by his authentic self through the honest process of play, "I cannot tell you the amount of times I spent and hours and the lives I lived among the gas cans and snow shovels and snow tires playing with those puppets and doing skits with my sisters. I learned early on that playing is so important...remember to play."

still playing

Play comes naturally to our children. In fact, they have played long beyond the age that society says they should and until I was listening to this talk and considering this post I never connected the absolute importance of it.  Next time I am complimented on the creativity, the talent in music and acting, their writing abilities, or what great artist they are and someone asks me how they all ended up so talented I know what to say.  Thank you, they are this way because we have always encouraged them to play.  And when my oldest, who has had such a wrestle with the notion of leaving childhood behind, is frustrated in her search for her path, I will remind her that growing up, when done right, does not mean you can no longer play. In fact, given her talents and desires playing may be the key to her
success.

Play, of course, must be combined with work to add up to progress. And work, the many jobs we hold on the path of life add dimension and experience to who we are.  David Boreanaz talked of the many jobs he held on the path to becoming what he is today and how those jobs worked for him in the end. He spoke of how each of those jobs helped him in his search for his authentic existence.  Some were, "tough...you guys have to work," he advised, "you have to earn it. No one is going to give you anything in this life. You have to earn it."

In a world where everything comes instantly it is hard for this generation to see that between steps A and step Z is a whole alphabet of experience. If we were to skip the experiences we skip all the wonderful stories and character they bring into our lives.


"laughing is essential." says David Boreanaz, "Laugh in your journey, laugh at yourself." I think I might have this one put on a plaque in my living room. Humor is critical to surviving the stresses and trials of life.  It is one thing that has made our family successful and saved us - otherwise the complete amount of chaos in this house would push us all over the mental edge. We have so many contradictory traits clamoring over each other, so much impulsivity, no filters on actions or mouths, people who need quiet and those that want everything loud, emerging social skills (and I use the term loosely) if we could not laugh at our weaknesses we would never have to strength to conquer them.

Get off the couch he advises, "it took an earth quake to get me off that couch." Taking charge of our lives and where we going takes effort and comes with risk and fear. Here, here is where I stumble, personally, and where I got the title for this post.  Mr Boreanaz says, "you see fear is a great motivator. So be uncomfortable, its okay, it gets you off the couch." And where I can say I have worked hard to instill these wonderful messages in my kids, whether I understood there relevance or not. I cannot say that I have been a good example of facing and conquering fear.  While Mr. Boreanaz seems to have a great relationship with fear I fall prey to it. While it is his motivator it is most certainly my captor, I think there might even be some water boarding involved. One of my greatest fears would be that while I tell my kids to take risks and not to let fear stop them they see that my example is just the opposite of my words.

In using the wonderful story Where the Wild Things Are (a family favorite in our house) he comes to a most beautiful conclusion saying, "there are so many malicious beasts at work in the world...the most destructive of all are the monsters born out of our own insecurities, you know them, its the negative messages that we give to ourselves. I can't do this. I'm going to fail. I'm not good enough. Don't listen to them...block them out...you can tame those thoughts. Don't be afraid. Fear blocks faith in yourself. it blocks your ability to love, it blocks out the sun if you let it ... be fearless."

And of course facing your fears brings you full circle to that search for your own self, your own story, the life you build and make and live. He says, "really living is the art of cutting through all the distractions of the day, finding a calm place in your head and your heart and getting to that core of yourself where you are most vulnerable and then own it."

This commencement address seemed perfectly timed.  It seems like for quite a while now we have been in a conversational rut with one of our older children. She tells us how frustrated she is with life and that it isn't progressing towards the end she really wants it to be going.  She points out how all of her friends lives are going places and how they are all doing things. She lists all their accomplishments. She laments that maybe she should take a different path, a more practical path like her friends.  She then sobs, real tears, over the path that she would abandon to be more practical.  I tell her to walk her own path, to recognize that her path
is different and different is good. I tell her to own who she is to not get lost in who other people are or distracted by what they are doing.

And after I listened to this address I said to her, "you HAVE to watch this, this was for you." I wanted her to hear someone else, who has lived a big life, tell her to trust herself, that authentic self that she has tapped into but is afraid to follow and act upon so she can live the big life she knows is inside of her. I wanted her to hear these powerful words that Boreanz spoke, "trust that what you love doing the most is what you're meant to do."  I wanted her to hear, not just listen, but hear him make this simple but beautiful comparison, "the dance floor of life is yours for the taking. Get out there, learn the moves, remember to strap on shoes that fit you, it's very important, not the ones that are perfect for someone else. Your turn on the dance floor, it won't be a minute waltz, more like a dance marathon."

And to her fear and mine he spoke, "You're going to make mistakes. Make them big, make huge mistakes, learn from your mistakes. You're going to get sidetracked, everybody gets sidetracked you might even get cancelled, don't take it personally please just get back out there because you know what, if you make it through season two they just might give you guys a spin off."

ADHD, dyslexia, SPD, dyspraxia, anxiety, OCD, dyscalculia, ODD, ASD depression they are all diagnosis, definitions, and parameters that help me understand the way my children think and how the way they are wired affects their actions.  When I say I wouldn't change those things about them if I could, I mean it.  They are amazing.  They are destined to live big lives and do great things using their unique perspective, their intelligence, creativity, energy, impulsiveness, imagination and more to change the world. Unique creative thinkers require unique and creative parenting. That is my passion, my children. I am certainly a work in progress myself  so for now I will say to my kids, you have to watch this, with the same enthusiasm and excitement  that they told me I had to watch Bones. I will sit them down and say listen to this, this is true and then I will add, "do as David Boreanaz says and I will try to also."

Up on My Soapbox: Regarding Adderall Addiction

the following was a response I posted on both Dr. Oz's website and Dr. Kenny Handleman's website regarding pieces done on Adderall Addiction

I may be selfish but stories like these strike fear into my heart.  I have a large family of ADHDers, my husband and 6 of my 7 children. All of them except one take medication for their ADHD, 2 of which are on Adderall products. Those two are by far have the most severe ADHD in our house and have been the hardest to find the right balance of medication for.  Adderall XR has been a godsend for them, for relief from symptoms, for their success in every aspect of their lives, not just educationally.  My fear for them is that abuse and negative press will put at risk the availability of a needed treatment.

My heart goes out to the families whose children are suffering from any sort of addiction. If anyone understands fighting for your children, for their needs, for understanding, for help I would say the ADHD community of parents does. We engage the court of public opinion, school systems, health care professionals (not all of which understand or accept ADHD) and often well meaning but uneducated family members as we push for help, treatment, acceptance, education, understanding, reform.
 
I worry that those that don't struggle with this disorder daily don't realize what a tenuous walk on the tightrope it is. The court of public opinion is always anxious to negate ADHD as a made up disorder, as bad parenting. There are always discussions about the risks of medication that seem to circle not around facts or case studies but around fear mongering and shock value. This debate, these sensationalized arguments negate the real struggles of people with real ADHD and the value of real treatment in their lives.They sit on either end of the tightrope and shake the wire we are trying so hard to successfully navigate. I felt like Dr. Oz was shaking my rope today as I watched the clips from his show, seeing clearly his concerns about Adderall addiction but not really seeing him make a distinction between those who need and appropriately use the medication and those that abuse it.  My question to him is this: is he willing to do a special on glaucoma where he addresses those who abuse glaucoma medicine in the same manner and title it A Case Against Glaucoma Medicine? Or insulin or any other medication that can and is abused but has real and necessary applications for those who need it, properly use it, and don't abuse it.  I really feel he did a disservice to those who have ADHD and need treatment by fueling the fire.  What about the child who is now not properly medicated because their parents watched that Dr. Oz piece and fear medication is going to turn their child into an addict? What about when that child turns to self medication and ends up committing suicide because they struggle with depression related to ADHD, because they feel ineffective in their life, because they live in a whirlpool of failure, because despite their efforts they don't finish, can't focus, drop out of school,or end up in prison, because they were not under the care of a doctor, getting the help they need, using medication wisely. While there is no doubt that this is an issue that needs to be addressed the manner in which we address it is critical.

I certainly don't want to be guilty of diminishing the experience of those parents of children suffering from an addiction to a medication they don't need and shouldn't have access too.  At the same time I feel protective of a treatment that I have seen work wonderfully when needed, properly accessed, and monitored by our psychiatrist.  It brings out the mother bear, I want to protect and defend the experience of my family members. It makes me want to sit these young people (and adults) down and do a little parenting myself. I want them to understand the risk they are taking not only with their own life but also with the lives of others, those who need the treatment and don't abuse it but run the risk of losing it to a panicked public and reactive uneducated law makers. 

Having said that - I agree with the solutions that were put forth on this by Dr Kenny Handleman and the couple addressed by Dr oz and Dr. Hallowell. I think they indicate the problem areas rather effectively.  Dr. Handleman certainly deals with the issue in a considerably more effective, less inflammatory way. Truth is there is no way to completely eliminate abuse of any substance.  Those that want to sell it and those that want to abuse it will always find a way, but we can make it more difficult. There is no doubt that this is an issue that needs to be addressed - the answer is not to stop medicating those that need it or to make medication out to be the bad guy (creating fear in those facing the decision whether or not to medicate).  The issue that needs to be addressed is how to stop the flow into the hands of those that don't need it and would abuse it. A clear distinction needs to be made. Sensationalism will never solve any problem and in its wake will certainly create as many problems as it attempts to solve. Let's remove the fire from the discussion, approach it in an open and honest manner and actually make strides towards real solutions.

Lisa Aro
The Queen of the Distracted

Role of a Parent in the Pursuit of Passion and Talent

I am not a soccer mom, I appreciate them, especially those that have their kids in year round leagues.  I admire their dedication to braving the elements, cut up oranges, Gatorade, and driving.  It's not that I wouldn't ever be a soccer mom it's just that my kids have never leaned towards those kinds of activities. In fact, I did a little time as a volleyball mom and little league mom.  I was almost a track mom, then my daughter came home totally disillusioned, "Did you know that you have to RUN in track?" I did, but apparently she didn't, what a rude awakening that was.

I am an art mom, art, film, acting, music, and almost any creative endeavor mom. I step over painting supplies, pick clay out of carpet, yell at those who would bump the camera, table or lights set up for stop motion.  I sit on set intolerably long periods of time, watch clips as they're edited together, give opinions, and ooh and aah at visual effects.  I read newly written poetry, short stories, and listen to endless ideas for future poetry, short stories, novels, film, and animation ideas.

Last night I caught my 14 year old son as he got out of the shower and told him he needed to remove the mascara raccoon eyes before bed.  That's a conversation that I never expected to have.  He's in his first stage play.  He's done some local commercials and short films but he's never had to wear heavy stage makeup before. 

Our kids, these amazing souls, are in our care as they develop. We, as their parents, have the responsibility of helping them discover who and what they are.  It's an important job, a hard job.  In fact, as parents, we set aside many of our own needs to make sure that we can help our kids develop in a healthy way.  When you have children who are wired differently, alphabet soup kids ADHD, ASD, SPD, ODD, or any of the other many disorders that change the way the brain receives, processes, and reacts to information everything we do as parents becomes more vital.  Helping our kids find and pursue their passions becomes even more critical to their development now and in their future.

Interests, obsessions, passions are not always where their natural talent lies.  Our oldest daughter wanted desperately to sing, over the years we worked out ways to get her vocal lessons.  To almost anyone who heard her sing early on this might have seemed like huge mistake.  As even she will tell you, she was awful, painful even.  But in pursuing a talent she wanted but was not naturally gifted at she learned some very valuable life lessons like dedication, perseverance, work ethic, sacrifice.  Recently, she was talking to one of her siblings about success, she was quick to remind him of how horribly she sang at first, how vital constantly working at what you want to be successful at is, and how it all turned out for her.  She has an amazing voice now and the life skills that she has learned getting that voice are not lost on her.  She understands how to set and achieve a goal.

at home ALWAYS "on"

Encouraging the pursuit of a passion can be hard, especially when dealing with the uniquely wired, because interest almost always equals obsession.  Obsession almost always equals being followed around day and night by a child who is absolutely fixated on one particular subject spouting facts, quoting, rehearsing, singing.  It takes a lot of patience to take in all they may be putting out.  Our now amazing vocalist, for example, sang nothing but Phantom of the Opera for a whole summer, 24/7.  She sang it so much that we weren't sure she actually talked at all that summer.  She sang it so much that her then 4 year old brother went to preschool one day, picked up his teachers hand and broke out into song, "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye remember me once in a while please promise me, you'll try..."

It is tempting, as parents, focused on our children's future, to think only of whether a skill is going to be useful to them as an adult.  I remember a friend who was horrified by her 7th grade daughters ninja obsession.  She wanted nothing more than to shut it down.  It was an obsession shared by my daughter, her best friend.  According to the other mom I was not nearly horrified enough.  They read on the subject incessantly, they drew ninjas, watched ninja movies, even learned some marshal arts.  I wasn't worried about it, I knew it would pass but when I talked to the other mom she was afraid that if she encouraged it, if she didn't squash it immediately, that it might be all her daughter did with her life.  While it is true that our children, in the pursuit of their passions may stumble on what they may do for the rest of their lives most likely they will just explore many ideas, activities, hobbies, that will be fond memories and life lessons but not career paths,  As I told this mom, I feel safe in saying that neither girl would end up a ninja.  I was right.

In some cases, however, they may find their future.  That's not a bad thing.  Especially for kids with ADHD and other similar disorders, finding a career they are passionate about increases their chance of success as an adult.  The ADHD brain does not do well when it is bored, it does exceptionally well when it is stimulated by something it loves.

I watched my son on stage the other night, his lack of inhibition (fueled by his ADHD) filled the room as did the laughter when his physical comedy stole the show.  I saw him buzz with the exhilaration at the audience reaction.  It was his first stage play, he had never had a live audience to feed his energy before.  I saw his confidence swell.  He found a niche, certainly a passion. 

For kids that fight everyday to remember and process what they are learning in class, to remember to put their name on their papers, to remember to turn in their work, who feel different from their peers, who know they struggle to keep up and to fit in; finding their passion, their talent, their niche provides a critical sense of success and accomplishment.  It gives them a balance to their struggles, an edge, a path to success in the future. 

Will he be the next Jim Carey as the family in front of us proposed?  I don't know and for right now I don't care.  This passion is giving him insight, teaching him skills he will use in everyday life, building confidence, teaching dedication, work ethic, sacrifice, team work, and most importantly opening his eyes to his own possibilities.  We will support him in the pursuit of anything that teaches those lessons, brings him to that sort of positive place.

And at the end of the night we will laugh when his 4 older sisters try and help him get the mascara off while lecturing him on his new found appreciation for all that girls do to look beautiful.

* special thanks to my kids for collecting all the art and writing stuff in the picture and to Mary for taking it for me

The IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) as it Should Be

I will be the first to admit that I have IEP (Individualized Education Plan) PSTD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)- I get bristly just thinking about it.  I'm sure it was the horrible 2 year fight with the school to get one in place for my daughter that is to blame.

I was new to ADHD, learning disabilities, and educational rights at the time, new and inexperienced.  I was under the assumption that we all wanted the same thing for my daughter and that it was a simple process to get it done. That experience was the perfect example of how the system is NOT supposed to work.  Recently, with the same daughter I have had the perfect experience of how it IS supposed to work and I think it bares telling.

I sat in a meeting a little over a year ago for my daughter Mary.  I am not sure I have ever been so nervous in my life.  We were letting go of the security and control we had in home school after 4 years and braving public high school.  That was a big step.  As it would turn out we were due for our Tri-annual IEP meeting, complete with evaluations and reassessing her special-ed placement.

I braced myself for a fight, not knowing what I was going to be dealing with at a new school and school district. Completely prepared for them to want to downgrade her services.   I was completely bowled over when the school psychologist started her report on the testing, "It is clear that Mary is highly intelligent, it comes out in her ability to compensate for her disabilities, which are also clear."

It was a dream, I was sure of it.  I pinched myself.  It was exactly what I saw as her parent and what I wished and hoped that others would see in her.  We discussed her weaknesses, her skills, ways to make the system work for her, and a new set of goals.

I had never been in an IEP meeting like it.  It wiped away years of PTSD from some really terrible experiences to the very removed and clinical experiences.  These people seem invested in my daughter, in her success, and most importantly working with me as a team in her behalf.  

More impressive was the communication and adjustments that were made through out the school year last year.  Things were working and moving forward for her and as they changed her intervention teacher wouldn't hesitate to call.  I have never signed an amended IEP in the course of the school year before but I believe I signed 3 or 4 of them last year.

Needless to say I was not the least bit worried about her annual IEP meeting this year.  I knew what to expect.  I knew it would be friendly, understanding, helpful, and productive.  I felt very safe in the process, for the first time.  I was greeted by her intervention teacher.  Got reports from her individual teachers.  Each acknowledging her effort, her dedication, her struggles.

One teacher even said that she saw Mary doodling on her notes and remembered what she had heard on a radio broadcast recently; that for some kids with ADHD they actually absorb more when they are keeping part of their brain busy with some kind of fidget like doodling.  She told Mary, who was there in the meeting, you can doodle as long as I can see you are taking notes on the highlights of the lesson too.  I was back to sitting in bewilderment, pinching myself to make sure it was real.

Her intervention teacher started to go over the goals.  Goals has always been so tedious and so ridiculously far off.  Not anymore, these were reasonable.  He talked about the previous years goals of getting her ready to take the actual California State Standardized test and not the modified version.  That was one of our IEP amendments I had signed last year, he called to tell me that he talked to all of her teachers and they felt she would be successful, she was ready.  They had been right, she was ready and quite successful.  This years goal would be to up all those scores.

Then he talked about a goal I had never heard discussed before in any IEP meeting - her plans after high school.  What her career goals were, what colleges she was looking into.  I pinched myself again.  A written out plan to look at colleges, go to their websites, research their entry requirements, set goals towards the careers she is interested in, and work towards being ready to meet those college and career goals - throughout each school year.

This last two years has proven to me that it can be simple - it can be about the success of the child.  An IEP team that actually worked as a team. An Individualized Education Plan can be, as I believe it is truly meant to be defined.  A plan to start where your child is at, acknowledge where they want and need to go, plan for how to get there, and work to make it happen. 

Please, No Memorial Day Repeats

As we are approaching the 4th of July I can't help but find myself pleading with Heaven that we don't repeat our Memorial Day mayhem.  The injury was not all that bad but the drama surrounding it wore me out.

It all started with a little obsession.  Weed eating.  My son had made a deal with his father; a video game in exchange for weeding around the house.  This was a big deal.  Hunter became the very definition of hyper focused.  I would never have guessed that, as a parent, I would have to tell a child to stop doing a chore but he was obsessed.

No, Hunter, you may not weed eat in the rain with an electric weed eater.  No, Hunter, you may not weed eat at the crack of dawn.  No, Hunter, you may not strap a flash light to your head and weed eat in the dark.

He was freaking out.  Late rains in the season and weed eater malfunctions were tripping him up.  He was sure that the weeds he had already whacked were growing again.  Finally, all things combined in his favor and we let him back at the yard.  The problem, once he started he wouldn't stop.  We were trying to keep him hydrated, and make him eat.  We finally had to pull the plug and make him stop.  He was very upset.

I consoled him by sending him to the shower, one of his favorite ways to calm down when overstimulated, and telling him to get a snack when he was finished.

He took his shower and headed straight for the peanut butter.  He and his oldest sister are obsessed with peanut butter, they could both eat it all day.  She, however, is much taller and to preserve it for herself stashes it on the top shelf of the cabinets in the kitchen, high above the counters.  Hunter is used to jumping up on the counters to reach it.

This time his aim was off.  He gouged his head on the cupboard corner.  Heads naturally bleed easily and his hair was still dripping wet from the shower.  Blood went everywhere.  Screaming filled the house.  It should be mentioned that Hunter, in addition to ADHD, is very obsessive.  In fact, he has self proclaimed "safety issues."  This is the boy that told me he saw the jaws of life on a TV show and thinks we should get a set for the trunk of the car "just in case."

This is the wrong child to have blood pouring down his head.

We spring into action.  Mark, the first aid guru, goes to look at the wound.  Fernie is trying to help calm Hunter down.  Jaren, who has quite a history with stitches, is lending his support.  I am trying to find my shoes, phone, keys and thinking about how long the ER wait is going to be for a minimal head wound on Memorial Day.

In the mean time I catch wind of an argument brewing.  Hunter's two oldest sisters are arguing over who is going to the ER with him.  Rachel is complaining that Mariah always goes.  It's true, she does, she hates worrying about people that are hurt and not being there to know what is going on.  Waiting is bad, waiting at home feeling helpless is worse.  Consequently, she has been present at nearly everyone in the houses traumatic moments.  It is a favor, really, to all those that would have to sit at home with her and endure her freaking out if she were left home.

Rachel, is so socially deprived by living in the secluded foothills, that the ER on Memorial Day seems like a great way to interact with society.  Clearly, I need to get her into town more.

I hesitated to take them both, the last time I did that was when Rachel went for torn ligaments.  She was so annoyed by her sisters inability to wait that she tried to safe surrender her to the workers in the ER.  "Is there an age or size limit on the safe surrender?"  Rachel asked the man at the admissions desk.  He looked very supportive and understanding as he started to explain the policy. "Cause, I want to surrender her."  she said as she pointed to her then 16 year old sister.

Both girls are now following me around pointing out why they should be the one to go with and how they have Hunter's best interest at heart.  Mary runs by with electrical tape.  Mark is applying direct pressure.  Hannah is serving up cheese cake and peanut butter, feeding the traumatized masses.  Mary is looking for paper towels.  The girls are still arguing.  I don't think Hunter wants either of them to come at this point.

He wants his Dad and Fernie.  Fernie, went with us when he had to have his eyelid stitched up because he ran into another scout.  Fernie, attentively talked about different weapons for hours while we traveled to the ER for that set of stitches and kept Hunter calm. 

I keep telling to girls to stop arguing, it doesn't matter who is going at the moment.  I am trying to call a friend who is a nurse to see if she can look at it.  I am thinking, I really don't want to go to the ER on Memorial Day, spend hours at the bottom of the injury totem poll, and contract some other evil illness that is waiting patiently for me there. 

Mary announces that she has fixed the cupboard, making it safer.  Hannah, hands me cheese cake, that is my weakness, definitely a comfort.  She hands Hunter cheese cake and a huge spoonful of the elusive peanut butter.  The girls are still arguing.

Donna, the nurse, answers the phone.  Thank goodness, she had just gotten home to our remote neighborhood, divine timing for sure.  The girls are still arguing as we pull out of the driveway to have her check his wound.  It is small, Mark tells me, but a little deep. 

Thank goodness she was home, she spared us an ER visit with sound advice and good instructions.

No one went to the ER.  Mariah didn't have to worry.  Rachel missed the stimulating social interaction, but lived.  Hunter's head stopped bleeding and he happily ate his peanut butter.

Everything went back to our normal dull roar of chaos.  Soon you could hear me say, "No, Hunter, you may not weed eat with a head wound."

Studebakers and Bullet Trains

It has been an interesting year and a half.  You know that they say you never realize what you have until it’s gone.  This last year and a half we have been deep in pre-production, then production and now post-production of a feature film and Mark has been mostly GONE. Boy have we learned some stuff in his absence.During production everyone got to help. 

It was a family affair as our 3 oldest girls finished school a month early so that they could work as production assistants for their father on the film.  They got to rub elbows with the actors, distress clothes, gather props and wardrobe, dress sets and break down when everything was finished.

Post production is very solitary work; there is just a bunch of editing, re-editing and special effects to attend to.  Consequently, Mark goes from his day job straight to the studio he shares with his brother where he works as long as he can keep his eyes open and then sleeps at the studio.  He is only home on the weekends, with the occasional exception of a birthday or emergency.

As it turns out Mark provides a great deal of balance to the house.  I think it is because, as he puts it, he speaks the native language, the language of ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). There are many times where he can understand, comfort and motivate in a way I can’t seem to achieve because he understands, really understands, the way a majority of the members of this house think and operate in their surroundings.

In his absence I am overwhelmed and overloaded.   The kids are struggling to find balance and communicate with me, who has very limited ADHD language skills.  I have really tried over the years to understand the way that Mark and our ADHD kids think, because there really is a difference in the way that we think and process information.  Despite my efforts I do not fluently speak the native language.

Every dark cloud has its silver lining.  We, the kids and I, are forced to better speak each others languages so that we can function, each other’s language. This is the key here and was the topic of much discussion this weekend.  Which resulted in what I thought was an excellent analogy.

Studebaker's and bullet trains, as you probably guessed I am in the Studebaker.  That is where Hannah and I mosey along the road taking in all the detail, enjoying a quiet peaceful ride, enjoying the view in its entirety.  The bullet train is, of course, traveling along with Mark and the 5 ADHD'ers in it at break neck speed.

Mariah argued that there is plenty of detail to be found on the bullet train, there are bug guts all over the windshield that can be seen in great detail.

Mark made the point that a lot of detail is lost because of the sheer speed at which the bullet train travels; comparing Rachel and Hannah and their reading skills.  It was quickly agreed upon that though Hannah and Rachel both read very quickly Rachel would finish a book faster if they started at the same time.  It was also agreed, as pointed out by Rachel, that Hannah would remember and comprehend more because Rachel skims the page and Hannah reads every word.

The problem in our house is that the bullet train keeps cutting off the Studebaker, they run right over us.  Enjoying the fast paced ride they rarely realize the offense, rarely stop to check out the damage, and rarely fix what has been broken.

It was interesting to listen as my husband explained the difference in these terms.  One thought, Hannah and I think that one thought in its entirety, from beginning to end (at least we try to).  One thought for his brain, for Rachel, Mariah, Mary, Hunter and Jaren’s brains is never one thought.  It opens an array, as he put it, in which every possible thought connected with that thought and a few that are not attached are explored in milliseconds.  It is its own conversation.

 Meanwhile, Hannah and I are still on the one thought, we are waiting to have the rest of the conversation and they are already done with it.  Anything we say or add is annoying because they have, mentally, already been there done that.

Their annoyance becomes obvious.

It was enlightening to our ADHD teenagers, especially Mariah who really has thought for years that the world was out to annoy her by telling her things that she already understood.  In fact, she put it just that way...

“You mean they aren’t trying to annoy me... they aren’t insulting my intelligence by continuing to talk about something I already get.”

It was a harsh reality as they started to recognize the side effects of life on the bullet train. 

Ironically, even as they were trying to rectify the situation and slow things down to listen to Hannah they kept interrupting her and then reminding themselves and her that they were going to let her express herself.  She must have restarted her thought about 20 or 30 times.  Fortunately she doesn’t have ADHD; she was able to keep track of what she was saying despite the interruptions.

Over the years I have made considerable effort to understand the way my ADHDers communicate and try…TRY to communicate in a way that they understand.  My husband, likewise, has made great efforts to communicate the way I do.  The result has been very positive for us.

He explained it to our kids like this; there are customs and cultures that come with any of the different languages of the world.  In a sense ADHD and non ADHD are like different languages, we NEED to learn to speak each others languages - each seeking to understand the differences and needs of the other. Learn to respect them, honor them.  That is hard to do while riding on the bullet train but it can be done.

More directly Mark said, “Just because you may already know where the Studebaker is going, it does not mean you have to spoil the ride for those that can't ride on the train without getting nauseous.  There is something of value on both paths and there is always something that can be learned from both means of transportation... it is the fool that is unwilling to consider both as viable and beneficial.  You may prefer one over the other, but if you want a true adventure, try the road less traveled now and then, you may actually learn something.”


Truth be told it takes great effort for those used to the bullet train to slow it down to the pace of the Studebaker.  Certainly it takes equal effort for those of us who like the Studebaker to brave the speeds of the bullet train and try to hang on for the ride.

...In the end we will all be better for it.

Nesting...and I Don't Mean the Obsessive Desire to Clean

Over the years we as a family have found that we have our own definitions and terms we use all the time – our own family language.  Take for example the term nesting.

Nesting:  When someone refuses to put anything away in its place and insists on having their belongs piled around a central spot like their favorite place to sit or their bed.  Creating a nest of stuff, where everything is mostly visible.

It is a strange phenomenon, nesting, one that took me years to figure out and I am still working on resolving it one child at a time.  It started with my oldest daughter, Rachel.  Rachel loves to draw and has drawn since she was about 18 months old. Rachel, I am sure, is personally responsible for the demise of a good portion of the rain forest.  In fact she is bound to be on an environmentalist watch list somewhere.  All those papers, piles and piles of papers ended up on her floor.  We bought colorful bins and folders, purple binders and decorated file boxes but they were never in use very long.  It was maddening. 

No matter where it started out it would end up in a tight circle with just enough space in the middle for her to sit. I turned to organizing books and plans – all laid to waste by Rachel.  Some did have interesting idea – one of which started me on the path to understanding.  Though I can not remember the name of the book the idea was that you had to organize based on your personality and needs.

This sent me on a quest to understand why Rachel felt the need to have everything she owned in plain sight.  It ended in a very interesting perspective.  Rachel was afraid that she would forget where she put something. She brought a whole new meaning to out of sight out of mind.  All my pretty colorful solutions were blocking her view and enhancing her fear that her memory would fail her. 

In my house, at least, this is a very common manifestation of ADHD (Attention Deficit hyperactivity Disorder) and causes a great deal of anxiety.  It causes anxiety for my kids as they try and keep everything visible; anxiety for me as I want it invisible.

Rachel ended up with very plain clear plastic bins that could be stacked easily and viewed from all angles. When we finally got Rachel’s nest under control we found the most interesting things residing in it.  Not the least of which was a huge red onion. We knocked her nest down a notch or two and made her room manageable for me and for her.  Notice I did not say perfect…manageable is okay.

I wish I could say that clear plastic was the solution to all life’s organization quandaries but then there was Mary.  Mary is my current nester.  She makes Rachel look like an amateur. 

When I brought home the clear plastic bins she wanted to pick the largest most unreasonable things to put in them, huge stuffed animals.  That filled the bins in no time at all with the mashed up faces of Build a Bears.  At this rate her room would have been filled with clear plastic bins and still had a nest of My little Ponies, Littlest Pet Shops, photographs, drawings, writings all held together by some brewing science experiments.

Not the idea or the result I was looking for. She thought I didn’t realize that ploy of distraction to draw me away from the nest of treasures.  I am not so easily fooled.  She may win the battle but I will win the war.

I am currently in the process of figuring out what works for Mary and it isn’t working as quickly as I want it to.  As much as I want to go in there and clean it all for her I know, by experience, that unless she has buy-in and is a part of the solution that works for her then it will be another short-lived de-nesting experience.

Can't help but wonder if this extreme nesting is another side helping from the ADHD buffet of co-existing conditions, maybe a little Obsessive Compulsive Hoarding going on!  Rachel, Mary, and Hunter I can definitely see it...all over the place.  Ahhhhh Hunter, who wants to keep the Hulk big wheel trike he had when he was little, the one that got run over by a car about 5 years ago, for his children.  Along with every paper he ever touched, every item of clothes and every toy.  

In the end i just hope for a reasonably clean room, I hope they’ll have learned to understand themselves a little better and come up with a coping mechanism that will help them manage themselves when they are on their own.   

Hopefully, I can have my house full of kids and be an empty-nester at the same time, hopefully.

Check out this link to hoarding that was sent to me and remember that the internet is full of it (LOL) so judge information you read on it carefully:   

http://www.ocfoundation.info/hoarding/about-hoarding/compulsive-hoarding-syndrome-introduction.php

What Box? Where?

This weekend has given me more material for this blog than I really care to admit.  After all, do I want the world to know that my 11 1/2 year old son, Hunter, tried to flavor his bath water with lollipops.   For that matter do I want the world to know that the summation of the experience was that he thought he really needed more lollipops to make it successful.

Ironically, Mark and I had been discussing our families inability to think inside the box, in fact, as we were reviewing a few experiences it became clear that we are far beyond the notion of 'thinking outside the box.'  We are somewhere around, "Box?  What box?  Where?"

Some people would definitely have issues with our embracing our uniqueness so wholeheartedly.  I am sure that some of our extended family question our tactics, feel that we should conform more.  Teach our children not to embrace who they are and what they are but squash it as much as possible.  As if it could or should be willfully set aside.

I want to be clear that we are not saying we or our children should act any way they please anywhere they please.  We have standards we expect to be met and consequences both good and bad.  We encourage choice with the understanding that they make their choices but do not choose the consequences. We, Mark and I, feel and have tried to teach our kids to embrace their uniqueness while respecting others and the boundaries of the situation they are in.

Boy that sounds simpler than it really is, it is a lot of constant work teaching them to recognize and establish boundaries.

For example, we went out for Chinese food for lunch on Saturday.  Our favorite family owned restaurant, The China Garden (in Fresno, CA).  Hunter's medication was clearly wearing off, actually that was a common problem at the table, and he was getting more and more hyper.    His hyper is not running around jumping on things hyper, his brain speeds up, he will sit in the same spot but is very fidgety and talkative, usually obsessively about one subject. He spent a great deal of time turning straw wrappers into a surly disguise while repeatedly asking Fernando, who is like a big brother to him, about a certain aspect of a video game.

Here is where my standard were enforced.  You can use all the straw wrappers on the table, no matter how embarrassed we get.  You have to stop driving Fernando crazy, and instead of your volume getting louder and louder you need to tone it down.

Fernando had asked him to stop because he was in public, to Hunter he was not in public, he was in a restaurant we always go to.  Hunter's world and perspective had shrunk to the table we were at with family and friends.  I turned him around and had him look at the other tables, "Hunter, this is the public, the other people around you."  Ahhhhhh...public.

So we are adding a sidebar box called Box? What Box?  Where? to illustrate the rather unique thought process and perspective that flows so freely in our house.  The perspective that leads a little boy, Jaren, in a new ninja suit to offer a sweet and humble family prayer asking for protection and safety for his family, say amen and then add maniacally - "protect them except from me." Then strike a menacing ninja pose.

Or to come up to me this morning with these little toothbrush shaped erasers that his sister got for Christmas and tell me that he wanted  his own set of toothpaste and toothbrush erasers so he could draw a picture of nasty teeth and then clean them.

But why encourage that mindset? Mark said this morning, "Our imagination is fed by what others see as impossible because it lies outside the boundaries of their own BOX."

We feed it because on the other side is art, music, humor, literature, film, acting, science that might never be dreamed of or created if we never got outside the box.  I feed it in faith because I am more of a why person than a why not person like my husband.

Yesterday it was a most painful rendition of Phantom of the Opera by a 6th grader that was just beginning to sing, sung over and over and over again. It was her sister who cried because she couldn't read music after her first music lesson but was reading it two lessons later. Today it is Border Patrol sung by those same young women who now have a message to share and the voice to move it forward. (www.blissmethod.com)

Attack of the Breadi

Darth Breader?  Is he white or wheat?  Was he wheat and then came back to the white side? Ahhh the early morning wanderings of the ADHD brain!  A family passion for Star Wars and a long standing debate over white and wheat bread had meshed together, the kids were riding the morning ADHD wave. 

Most of the time I am not as amused by the distractions. The time between when everyone gets up and everyone’s medicine kicks in is entirely too long.  But it was summer and nothing was pressing so I sat back, the passive observer.

Today’s musings centered on white vs. wheat bread.  There they were, all six of the kids then ranging in age from 16 to 7 years old at the time entangled in the heated debate.  They argued over texture and nutrition, lack of time and effort it takes to return white bread to dough form, sculpting abilities and flavor – They divided into sides and clubs; the ‘I love white bread’ club and the ‘I love wheat bread’ club (only to be compared to the past clubs of love and hate for enchiladas, kielbasa and other foods).

The white side even refused to acknowledge the existence of any bread but white bread.  Is there any other real bread?  They manipulated and argued, pointing out that “wheat breaders” do eat the white bread.  Does that make them traitors to their wheat bread cause? The “white breaders” insisted that they would not endorse the creation of a wheat bread army.

 “I am sorry, but the debate is not over. The senate will never approve the creation of a wheat bread army,” Hunter said mixing his current Star Wars obsession with the white vs. wheat issue.

 Maybe they need an army for protection since one of the other kids, Mary, mentioned something about having her younger brother for lunch on wheat bread with BBQ sauce. 

"STOP arguing and TAKE Your Medication!"  It was time to move on with the day.  

Someone cried out for a peace treaty.  The wheat breaders ate wheat and the white breaders ate the last bit of white bread.  What will they do for lunch? They will have to wait for the sequel, Hannah says. . . “Return of the Breadi!” 

On a different day with more pressing obligations, I would not have been so amused.  I would have been frustrated, bordering on angry as I fought the never-ending tide of distractions, as I pushed my crew of six up the river against the stream of their ADHD mindsets. On those days distractions and musings are very similar – I don’t enjoy them as much as I probably should.  Mornings and pressing schedules work in complete opposition to the ADHD brain.  A constant barrage of reminders about things one really thinks should be automatic and not require a parent’s attention: flush the toilet! Put your pants on!  Shoes!

I feel A bit of envy for the mom whose child gets up and ready and out the door in minutes rather than hours.  A driving desire to be more like that sends us on a never-ending quest for morning relief. 

I have used check lists, charts, and set out essentials the night before, so that we could slide the kids from one morning activity to the next, into their clothes and out the door.  I have begged, pleaded and threatened to take people as they were at the designated time – even if that meant they were half dressed and shoe-less. In the end I chickened out, I have yet to take anyone half dressed, ¾ dressed is another story.

One mom shared with me that she dressed her big 12 year old son or they would never get out the door.  She isn’t alone.  At one point I slipped my children their medicine in bed and let them go back to sleep for a little while so that they got up semi medicated – surely the closest we ever got to that ideal of the ‘normal’ house and morning ease.  I stopped that when I figured out that I was losing medicated time in the afternoon – homework time – precious much needed medicated time. 

Structure, my husband suggested over and over – following a flight plan so you have something to return to when they wander off forgetting what to do next.

For a long time, I thought the structure wasn’t working; I have used the same schedule since my oldest daughters were little. Early on I realized that feeding them before I got them dressed just meant dressing them twice.  Our flight plan: they get up, take medication, eat, wash up, and get dressed.  Every day I reminded my kids  what came next, as if this was a brand new system.  A decade of reminders makes you really question your system.

 I was not a believer in the structured morning, but my husband, who has ADHD swears by the importance of routine and heaven knows his routine is critical to the tone of his whole day.  When we changed to home school, I thought I would change the morning routine to  fit our new schedule.  Only then was I taught a valuable lesson.

There was a general revolt!

I was reminded, even lectured that I was wrong and we “didn’t do it like that.” It was obvious that the structure they appeared to ignore was a foundation for them.

In the end, what has changed the most is me.  I started to let go of the “Easy Morning” pipe dream and embrace the morning struggle.  It is our normal. 

Our normal is retelling every dream, talking over each other and interrupting in an effort not to forget that stroke of genius that hit like a bomb and is surely fleeting.  Our normal is bizarre plans for the day and profound thoughts like, ‘Pretend it’s the future and everything is chrome.” Our normal is a spontaneous discussion about Napoleon's European campaign and defeat in Russia.

I have learned to allow more time for normal, even hours.  Learned to roll with it on most occasions, the ADHD wave that rolls through our house .

I stop more to enjoy the chaos and creativity and at least chuckle as I say for the umpteenth time, “that is great, now please go brush your teeth.” and watch as a look of recall rolls over a child’s face, the “oh yeah that’s what I was doing” look.   

Math, Music and Social Skills

How does one receive a 0% on an non-graded assignment?  That is what Mariah wondered about her Math Lab post that many of you have read (if not see She Turned it in But Will They Post It).  She was sure that she was going to have to submit her rather plain alternative, "My name is Mariah and I am afraid of math."  When she finally got a hold of her math teacher and was able to ask her about the post.

Mariah, Rachel and Hannah attend a virtual high school through our school district called Dunlap Leadership Academy.  All of her work is on the computer and her teachers are remote, though they go up to the schools computer lab everyday to work on school (you can also do school remotely - it  covers 7 counties - but we already have 3 kids using our internet each day and they want a little social interaction). 

While Mariah had her teacher on line she cornered her about the Math Lab post - had she read it?  Did she need to redo it?  Apologize?  As it turned out the teacher was having problems with the school and it had arbitrarily given Mariah a 0%.  The teacher loved it and actually passed it around the school to other math teachers who all agreed that while Mariah might not be a math genius she was pretty smart and very funny.

In the mean time she insulted her music theory teachers intelligence by telling her basically, "I know the answer I am am just seeking your professional opinion and wondering if you really teach music or know anything about music."  Ahhhhhhhhh Mariah.  You can see why when Mariah tells us she's been talking to a teacher we stop breathing for a moment.  Waiting to hear if it is witty and brilliant or demeaning and insulting.

Mariah has never been known for her social skills.  It is truly one of her great ADHD struggles.  I remember well and share often a time in the 7th or 8th grade when some poor band-mate made the mistake of asking Mariah what she did over the weekend.  Mariah attacked her verbally then later asked how she could ever think that she knew her well enough to ask such a private question.  Imagine her surprise when I introduced her to the concept of small talk.

Over the years she has worked hard to develop those pesky social skills.  Probably the greatest skill she has gained is the ability to go back and try to communicate starting most conversations with, I really suck at this so please forgive me - I was trying to say...

She had that conversation with the music teacher - it ended on a good note.

Sometimes We're Sane...Sometimes We're Not

There are few things that I hate more than dealing with cars.  One, I hate spending money and cars have a tendency to make me bleed money.  Two, I know little about them.  I know where to put in the gas.  I know where to check the oil and to put oil in but I rarely do it until the car will no longer stay on.   It is a matter of principle, an in your face to my birth father who not only owns and operates his own auto repair shop, comes from a  genetically long line of mechanics (talking generations here)but

also has a great deal of clout in his industry.  I know…I know I am only hurting myself and my pocket book but it doesn’t matter – I can not help it.

So imagine how much I loved my last week which was a barrage of broken brakes (both cars) and calipers and tires.  I think I need a therapist just to get me over the hump. So yesterday when the battery started acting up I truly decided to ignore it.  After all what is the worst that can happen?  Let me tell you, the window can get stuck down in the Central Valley’s near Noah experience.  Point being denial doesn’t work…it just gets Hannah wet. 

Normally this is car thing would fall in Mark’s lap, good dedicated husband, who knows that car repair is synonymous with deep seeded adoption issues rearing their ugly heads.  Mark has spent the last, well over a year, pursuing and living a life long dream of making movies and at the moment is neck deep in his day job and post production for Finding Hope Now the movie.  Someday it will be Queen of the Distracted he works on and his own projects.  Oh to have his brilliantly creative, visual, driven mind but someone has to keep his feet near the Earth and that someone is me.

What this means is I have to deal with a lot of the slack…I have to get brakes and calipers and tires.  Silly me, I didn’t know that being all the same brand or type mattered – I thought it was like a vanity thing.  Why do I care if the tires match, they are just tires? Luckily we were visiting said husband when the battery would not start and he worked his magic on it, the window came up and Hannah was not drowned by the flood of 2010.

Hannah is our non-ADHD daughter (14), my voice of reason in an otherwise unreasonable house and Thursday my partner. She went with to my Rheumatologist and I took her took to get checked out for similar symptoms to mine.  We had been joking with her doctor about how Hannah seemed the most like me. Hannah missed the very prevalent ADHD gene that sprung forth from my husband and snagged 5 of the 6 kids. Her doctor, our family doctor, asked us how we do it, how we stay sane in ALL the insanity, all the ADHD.  That was a pretty fair question, I thought, though I really couldn’t come up with a reasonable response except...

“Sometimes we’re sane and sometimes… WE ARE NOT.” 

After we left though I could not help but think about how I stay ‘sane’; most of the time I actually enjoy the pace and energy of our house.  Most of the time I just roll with it or let it wash over me rather than fight it; I try and use it to get us where we need to go or to get done what we need accomplished. 

Today, however, I thought about it as I was driving, running errand after errand. As I was heading home, an hour drive – exhausted, too exhausted to drive.   I thought about it when I realized that all the chores that were supposed to be done weren’t.  The volume in the house kept rising getting louder and louder; dancing, singing, laughing, joking, talking, as I cried chores, chores, cores.

I thought about it as I was wishing Mark were home to help regulate and communicate with everyone, he speaks their native language you know.  To fix it like the battery, wiggle the cable and make it work.

I thought about it as I said for the thousandth time, please quiet down.  Please don’t scream. Don’t sing at the top of you lungs, right at this moment don’t get everyone else singing – I do not need a choir.  Don’t argue and talk over one another.  Don’t even squeal with excitement, don’t laugh. 

I was not feeling sane, just overwhelmed, over stimulated. 

I have learned over the years to try and stay calm.  I can not always do it but I have learned that if I stay calm that I get farther.  If I freak out on my kids they freak out on me.  If I loose my calm then they know that if they push hard enough they can get what they want. 

What appears to be extreme patience is really self preservation, staying stubborn in the pursuit of what I need them to do.

Sometimes I have to disconnect a little, to keep that bigger picture and stay calm. Get their attention one person at a time.  Lay out what I expect and what the consequences will be if they don’t reel it back in to acceptable levels. 

Later I take time to recuperate, engage in my guilty pleasure, I good crime show, read, blog, Facebook.  I think one of the hardest parts about raising a child with unique needs is that it comes at the extreme sacrifice or your own needs so much of the time.  I have said in the past that I do not have time to have issues; I am too busy dealing with everyone else’s issues.  In reality though I choose to set my issues on the back burner and take my moments when I can.  Their issues demand more attention.

So I sat listening to the rain, fielding the occasional queries about roof safety and likelihood of floating off the mountain, obsessive lightening/fire worries wishing my husband was not in Fresno at his studio, knowing it will not be forever and trying to breathe deeply.

HERE'S A COLLAGE OF PHOTOS FROM A RECENT TRIP TO OREGON.  MARK WAS WORKING SO I FLEW SOLO... SANITY STAYED HOME: