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."

The Color Purple - An ADHD Homework Nightmare

He emptied his backpack onto the living room floor.  It was like Mary Poppins' carpetbag or clowns coming out of a tiny circus car. I still don't know how he fit it all in his backpack to begin with but after he started pulling things out I had no question why he couldn't find the purple piece of paper that was the last and final part of his Service Learning Project Board.

For my two youngest sons, this is their first year back in public school after five years of home school. 
There certainly have been some major adjustments, homework being at the top of the list. To this day one of my favorite things about the home school years was no homework. No homework to keep track of. No makeup work after illness. No homework to agonize over when the meds have worn off and the brain just isn't functioning. No homework to lose.

Keeping track of homework, remembering to do it, doing it, remembering to turn it in are all hallmark problems for ADHD kids (and for adults though it wouldn't necessarily be called homework it would more likely translate into work assignments or projects).

My son's backpack is probably the stereotypical ADHD backpack. Looking at it I, myself, had to wonder how on earth the child is getting good grades and turning anything in on time.

It's simple: his absolute obsession and fear of disappointing a teacher overrides his absolute lack of organization. His anxiety level is intense, it's one of the reasons why we went to home school right before the 4th grade when the class size and intensity of curriculum were both going to take a big jump up. Nightly he paces the halls and worries that he didn't write something down in his planner, no matter how many times he reviews it. Clearly, organization is a coping skill we are working on but haven't come close to mastering.

This project board about sent him over the edge. Projects with lots of pieces and parts are also notoriously difficult for ADHDers. He had arranged to do the 10 hours of service at our local library, as an avid reader this was a magical place to serve. He had written all the parts of the project up, printed out the blurbs and pictures to glue onto the project board which he had painstakingly decorated like a huge bookshelf.  All he had left was the purple paper.

For days I had suggested talking to his teacher. His response, "I can't. I truly fear that woman." I reassured him as best I could, but, her strong PE teacher personality had him shaking in his boots. I've talked to her several times, truth is she loves him as a student, gets a kick out of his unique personality and intensity. But he still wouldn't talk to her. He was convinced that she didn't have any more of the precious purple papers, not one. Sure that he was going to fail the entire project without that purple piece of paper he turned to any alternative he could come up with.

He was going to talk to the girl he was supposed to do the project with, who bailed at the last minute, she might have one. She wasn't using hers, he explained, she's failing the class anyway so she didn't do the project or the board. I questioned whether someone who was that disconnected would have the purple paper. "Good point," he said, "good point."

At my request, he braved the backpack and went through it one paper at a time looking for the purple paper. I tried to edge in a little organizational time by having him sort everything into piles, one for each class. That didn't work, though he did find half of a white copy of the purple piece of paper. Clearly, it wouldn't do, he argues. In addition to being ripped, it was not purple.

He came up with a plan, he was trying to enlist the help of his oldest sister to "forge" the purple paper. She could do the forgery on the computer and then we could go to the store and find the right color purple paper and print it out.  How is this easier than asking for a new one? It's not, but, he reiterated that he really really fears that woman, so in his mind, it was safer.

Board completed. Minus the purple paper, having never found the original. No copy to take from a fellow student. Forgery vetoed by mom and dad. He took the project board to school to turn it in. He was going to have to brave his teacher and ask for a new one to glue on the board.

When he got home from school I asked how it all turned out.

"Oh," he exclaimed cheerfully, "the purple piece of paper didn't have to be on the board."

For your entertainment I have written down some of the fake book titles that my son put on his project board. He and his sister, the one he was trying to rope into a life of crime as a forger, had a great time coming up with them. It was late and the meds had definitely worn off (for both of them).

Sometimes I Eat Paper Clips - Overcoming PICA


Prunes and Prejudice

Fish - A Complete History

101 Ways to Slay a Clown

Mayonnaise is NOT Marshmallow Cream

Tapping Into Your Inner Dolphin

The Super Guide to Malaga and Beyond

How to be a Lumberjack - Sleep All Night - Work All Day

They Call Me The Rabbit Whisperer

Coping with Alien Abduction and Probing

So You Want to be a Llama Herder

Thank Goodness This is the Last Book by Ima Exhausted

and the banned book: 10 Reasons NOT to Get a Colonoscopy

ALL HAIL TO THE QUEEN

(a letter from the Distracted King and his court of jesters)

It is ADHD awareness week.  As some of you may already know, my lovely wife went along with my scheme to get her on a local TV show to talk about ADHD. Don't get me wrong, she is not afraid to talk, she is just embarrassed about how she looks and she feels frumpy, however she did it and did not complain.  Like so many things in our lives, she does them and DOES NOT COMPLAIN.  People ask her how she is doing and she usually says, "I'm fine" but little do they know, she is a master liar.  Well at least where HER health is concerned.  

She arrived a little early at the station on Monday because she had just finished attending a school intervention meeting with a friend that was in over her head trying to get accommodations and a diagnosis for her son.  For those of you that saw the video clip that we posted the other day, you probably saw a housewife and a mom, advocating for those that have a difficulty speaking for themselves.  She does it every day, all day for us and for anyone within her reach.


What you didn't see is the cane that is her constant companion and with her everywhere she goes... she happened to leave it in my office during the show (which I didn't realize until afterwards).  She did it because she doesn't like explaining to people why someone so young needs a cane and she doesn't want people to know that she is in pain all day every day.   

Lisa has an auto immune disease called "Ankylosing Spondylitis" (say that three times fast)... we just refer to it as A.S.  For many years the only thing that helped with the pain was a nasty little drug called Prednisone which does combat the chronic unbearable pain, but it has some very unpleasant side effects.  Major weight gain and Moon-Face are some of the more obvious side effects and sadly not as severe as some of the others that are associated with Prednisone.  Back when we were first married, the alternative was to lie still in a completely blackened room secretly wishing to die… sadly she started taking it years before she met me, I believe in her early teens. Thankfully, the Prednisone that has made the only difference in her pain for the last thirty years is now at a very low dose and is taken mostly when her NEW infusion medication is wearing off (usually at the end of the third week in her four week cycle). 



So in the interview, what you couldn’t see is how she struggles every day.  How the muscle relaxants and pain killers that they prescribe to help her manage the golf ball sized knots and muscle spasms do little to help. You can’t see how difficult it is for her to get in and out of our 15 passenger van because in addition to A.S. she (and several of our kids) have another lovely disorder called "ehlers-danlos syndrome (E.D.S)" so if the chronic pain, spasms and knots weren’t enough, she gets a whole new batch from the E.D.S.   E.D.S. is a connective tissue disorder that basically makes her elastic woman, but not in a good way.  Her joints are so loose that you can pull her kneecaps around the side of her leg. So stairs and steps, uneven ground... heck even flat surfaces are all accidents just waiting to happen.  So the disease is turning her immune system against her and literally attacking her muscles while the disorder produces far too much collagen in her skin and connective tissue so any support she might have with her joints is weak and minimal at best.  I guess she should be grateful that she is even upright at all.
  

She has determined that she will post something every day this week.  Today's post was going to be a picture with a funny blurb or something inspirational, but I am afraid that just won’t do!  The reason it was going to be a picture with just a blurb is due to the fact that today, she will spend several hours hooked up to an I.V. getting an infusion. To date, this medication has been the only thing that seems to really help slow down her disease... not cure it or stop it, but just slow it down.  After her infusion, she will be driven home by our daughter and hopefully, if the cards are aligned and no major school trauma comes home on the 4 o'clock bus, she will get several hours of restful mostly pain-free sleep.  If all goes well that blissful sleep might stay with her for a few nights, which will end up being the only decent sleep she has all month until her next treatment. 

Why am I sharing all of this? I am fairly certain that she will want to kill me when she discovers what I did. That's okay, I am ADHD, I don't really care about the consequences right now, sure I may later, but I am fairly certain I can outrun her. The truth is she doesn't want people to know, she doesn't want pity or anyone treating her differently because of it.  In some degree, I think her trials are partially why she understands US so well.  On some levels she has empathy in regards to not being able to function the way the average person does.  She may not get us entirely, but she understands enough to communicate with those of us that are lost in a world full of possibilities and distractions, absurdities and epiphanies all wrapped up snugly in a bundle of co-occurring conditions.

When we were engaged, many of her friends half-jokingly told me that I was marrying a medical bill.  Too true, our co-pays for her medications and all of the many medications that the rest of us take literally make-up at least 1/4 if not more of my monthly salary... and that's with health insurance. If I knew then, what I know now, I would still choose to marry my little 5' fireball.  She has saved me in every way that one person could save another (my Titanic quote for the day).  She has rescued me from myself and the down sides of my disorders, she has encouraged me to soar and given me the strength to do so, but has helped me stay tethered enough to not float off into the ether.  She is my light in dark places and she is the most incredible person in my life.  Without her and her influence in my life I would most assuredly be dead or at the very least a broken person.  Although our life has been far from easy, it has been a life of worth, one of value and one that I am not ashamed of.  There are not words to describe how I feel about my soul mate, my wife and my queen, but I will spend the rest of our time together trying to find those words and saying them often enough for her to never forget.  

This week is ADHD awareness week.  While we are doing our best to advocate for this disorder and to help those who need help, let us not forget to thank those heroes who sink into bed or the couch each night, exhausted from a day full of re-directing, encouraging, reminding and every other thing that our friends and loved ones do to keep us on task and on track.  Let's take a moment to thank them and let them know how much we appreciate them and what they do.  Let's not forget that while we are neck deep in our struggles and difficulties, that the hands that reach out to us, that lift us, dust us off when we trip or fall, dress our wounds and guide us through the rocky terrain of life with our disorders… let us not forget that they have burdens of their own and trials to carry in this life, unrelated to us. Some may be on the surface some may be buried deep, but while we struggle to communicate and function in a world that is not necessarily designed for us, let's be sure to remember, show appreciation and even praise those that give so much for us with so little in return. I believe that the greatest gift that we could give our heroes and  our caregivers, is to harness the UP-SIDE of our disorders and use our incredible minds and often untapped gifts to make this world a better place and in some small way (at least), to bless the lives of those that fight for us each and every day. 

I have asked each of my kids to take moment to share a thought about their mother and what she does for them.  So when the Queen is getting her medical care today, we will do our best to hold up the Castle until she returns.  Long live the Queen... (This is my greatest secret wish!)

Humbly,
The Distracted King





Rachel – Age 20 
(ADHD, Inattentive, Dyslexic -  allergic to painkillers and stimulants)
When asked to write a paragraph about what my Mom does for me, my first thought is "that's impossible....I'd have to write a book" and that's not an exaggeration. My mom is the coolest most bad-A mom on the planet. Not only does she take time to help me with my needs and wants in life, but she takes the necessary time to understand them. She has not just watched me fight my battles but been there alongside me, fighting them with me. I am so blessed to have a mother who cares about me and my disorders, so… so… so… blessed. A mother who, before I was diagnosed and even now would sit for hours with me trying to help me understand homework problems or just simple matters of life that I couldn't process or didn't quite get. I could go on and on and on, but thanks Mum, you really are the coolest mom on the planet, and anyone who disagrees is gonna have to deal with me... or Mia cause she's more threatening. I love you.


Mariah (Mia) – Age 18 
(ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, ODD)
My mum is a phenomenal person. She is selfless and empathetic and very, very stubborn. This is probably part of what makes her such an excellent mother and a strong competent voice for ADD/ADHD and learning disabilities. Her demand for respect is balanced by her kind eyes and gentle heart. She does not understand what it's like to be me, but she has made more effort than anyone else in the world to try and understand, more than that, to help me learn and grow as a person. She has taught me that I have absolutely no excuse to fail. I cannot blame it on my ADHD or my sensory processing issues. She's taught me that even though it’s hard and sometimes it really sucks, it's a part of who I am. I love my mum so much.

Mia’s follow up email #1
Daddy,
I am lying in my bed sobbing because I wrote my paragraph and my stupid iPod keeps malfunctioning and won't send the email. It keeps telling me I have the wrong password when I don't, and its making me sob I hate it! :( :(

I am so mad, my paragraph was perfect. I smashed my iPod against my bed and I'm still sobbing I'm so mad. I can't even think. F u Steve Jobs you f-ing bastard you suck and I hope you're miserable!!!!!! :'(

I guess I'm just gonna have to start over and idk why this is making me cry but I'm really upset. It’s been doing this since I installed the f-ing new iOS and iHate it. I need to write it later I'm so mad and sobbing I can't do it.

Mia’s follow up email #2
By the grace of heaven it looks like it sent! Let me know if it did. Sorry about flipping out, now my eyes hurt for no reason.

Love you,

Mia

P.S. I still hate you Steve Jobs

Fernando (Fernie) – Age 18
(he has lived with us for 3 years now, we have no insurance for him so he is currently un-medicated)
Lisa has done so much for me. I am the un-medicated ADHD child. She listens to me when I spout about comic book crap that she has no interest in, and she makes a great effort to understand what I am saying when I am talking about the shows and the stuff that I love. She asks how my day was at work and how my friends are doing. She bends over backwards like an Olympic gymnast and doesn't even think to ask for the bronze. Thank you and you deserve platinum.


Hannah – Age 17
(the only one without ADHD)
The things my Mum does for me are innumerable, but I think the main thing she does for me is keep me sane. When I'm bouncing off the walls going crazy because of something one of my siblings has done she understands me and talks to me. She gets me like no one else in the house does. I miss the days when we were able to drive to Denny's and sit and drink hot chocolate and eat fries for an hour just to help clear my head. I always enjoy the times when we can drive together in peace, without the buzz of a million thoughts surrounding us. Even though sometimes my needs are put in the back because my siblings need something I feel like she is always keeping me in mind. She is always supportive and there to talk to and sometimes ‘to talk’ is all you need. When my siblings don't understand me or what I am going through I know that she will, and that she will help me in any way she can. My Mum cares and loves me, she listens and understands and that is what she does for me.

Love you Mum,
Hannah aka The Voice of Reason


Mary (Maggie) – Age 15 
(ADHD, Dyslexic, Dyspraxic, Dysgraphic, etc.)
Ever since I was born, I have had lots of disorders and problems which made it hard for me to do pretty much anything… Talk, write, do math.  Most parents would find me an impossible challenge.  She took me every day at 3:00 to therapy, then the school finally gave up so she switched me to a personal therapist which was a 30 minute drive each way.  I would go on Monday and then every other Thursday my mom would take me to another place an hour away.  She took me and waited for me for all of this.  Out of the last four years she has spent 730 hours taking me to speech therapy and occupational therapy so I can learn to function in society today.  This what my mom did for me.  I love you mum.


Hunter – Age 14 
(ADHD, OCD)
Mum you do so much for me. You listen to my stories even when you are extremely tired. You support me in everything I want to do from writing and drawing to calligraphy. You make sure I can get where I need to go, and help me when I need help. Thank you so much mama.

Jaren – Age 11
(ADHD)
(The intro to his email is in Korean and Russian… I didn’t bother trying to translate it, but he sent an attachment in English for his mom… double spaced [which I removed] with no punctuation)

my mom is made of angel tears she is the most amazing person in the entire world she has always been nice to me even if she has been hurting extremely bad she also buys everything we like and she cooks the food we want and she makes the most amazing pies in the world she also bakes extremely good and lastly mum I love you so much I just want you to know that

Life Used to be SO Simple

I was driving the other day and came up behind a truck with this saying plastered to the back window, “Life used to be so simple.”  WOW!  This was very profound and especially hit home this week which seemed to be the explosive culmination of several crazy weeks in which life seemed to go completely sideways. 

So here is why I have not posted in such an intolerably L O N G time.  It started with Hannah’s anemia.  It has been a while now - Hannah has lived a tortured existence of iron pills, multi-vitamins and gross iron rich food.  I can not see a difference.  She is still exhausted, weak, and in pain.  She stays home at least one day a week to try and catch up.

Enter stage right Mark who has decided that now is a great time to abandon good health and be sicker than I have seen him in nearly 19 years of marriage.  A sinus infection and Bronchitis?  Really?  Bronchitis is my game not his.  He has been saying for three weeks now, “Man it stinks to be you!”  I appreciate the empathy but I wish that he would have kept it at imagining life in my shoes rather than living life in them.  He is now on a second round of antibiotics, prednisone, and inhalers.

One week ago Mariah injured her ankle; it has been hard to take it too seriously because she did it while sitting on her bed.  Surely, you can’t do that much damage just changing positions on the bed.  Wrong, she hasn’t been able to put pressure on it for a week, she has a date with the doctor on Monday to try and figure out what is wrong.

So we start the week with three members of the team benched for injury.  We are strong, we plug on, moving forward as best we can, faced with a crazy busy week of writing tests and Blue and Gold Cub Scout Dinners.  We are plate spinning at our best juggling school, church, film, life just to mention a few.

We get to Wednesday.  It is looking like Rachel is getting a little congested but I am hopeful because Rachel, like Mark has a stellar immune system.

We are baking cakes for the Blue and Gold Cake Auction, making casseroles for the potluck, racing to the church, decorating.  I think we have arrived when we sit down to eat.  Ha Ha Ha - silly me.

As we finish dinner and are getting ready to hand out awards when there is a huge collision in the doorway.  Hunter was running to get one of the boys and the boy was running to get into the room for awards. 

You can see where this is going, but here is what I didn’t expect.  The other boy is taller than Hunter and apparently had his mouth open.  His teeth went right into Hunter leaving about an 1 ½ inch gash right below his eyebrow.  

Hunter is realizing he is bleeding and starting to freak a little.  Hunter is a little OCD about such things, often telling people, “I have safety issues.” 

The other boy is walking around clearly astounded telling people, “I have blood on my teeth, but it isn’t mine.”

I grab napkins and slap them on Hunter’s eye.  Rachel announces that we hate to eat and run but that is exactly what we are going to be doing.

I say stitches, the other parents are trying to console me, maybe a butterfly bandage.  Until one grandpa opens it a little and the adults, who are all gathered around looking intently at the wound, step back in unison and announce, “Stitches.”

Off we roll; I drop off kids at home, and take a couple of the teenagers with me, Rachel and Fernando (faithful family friend).  We are on the road for an hour long journey to the hospital emergency room.  Fernando is dedicated about keeping Hunter calm and distracted by talking about various weapons and video games the entire ride.

It does not look good when we get there and of course you can’t help but over hear the horror stories of people there for 6 to 12 hours. 

I call Mark along the way and he wants to meet us at the ER, he has been working on the film after a full work day at the news station and the doctor’s appointment that lead to the prednisone.  Problem he is dizzy sitting down and dizzier standing up.  Not looking like driving is a good idea.

Hunter is sad, Mark is sad….I am SAD but life keeps going and I have to also.  Wait, wait, wait, stitch, stitch, stitch, and we are out of there.  I am thinking this going to be okay.  We get a snack and hit the freeway when Rachel announces she has a bloody nose.

Rachel gets bloody noses pretty frequently so I am not too alarmed…at first.  This bloody nose just goes crazy, the craziest thing I have ever seen.  Blood is pouring out her nose and she is gagging on it going down her throat.  I am trying to find every absorbable material in the car - I am running out.

I am thinking I am headed back to the ER.

But first I have to get some more paper towels or something, so I get off the freeway and think mini-mart.  There are NONE open!  I finally find one BUT they don’t sell paper towels or any towel like item!  After my frantic description the attendant hands me a whole package of there bathroom paper towels and a plastic bag of ice.  Thankfully the bloody nose stops.  We go home.

Wednesday transcended into Thursday - pharmacies, flat tires, more sickness and so it goes, right?

Friday, as I drove Mary to speech therapy in one town and occupational therapy in another town calling home intermittently to check on ankles, noses, and eyebrows I saw that truck, the truck of truth.

Life used to be so simple!

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