Our ADHD Holiday ADDventures

We are no strangers to adventures in holiday life - I have way to many stories - some charming and humorous, some terrifying, honestly, most are both.  It's just what you juggle when you juggle disorders like ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorders (SPD), anxiety, OCD, Aspergers, Autism, and many more.  Where "normal" families surely have bumps in their holiday road (I like to think they do anyways) navigating the special needs holiday highway can be a crazy obstacle course of road blocks and pot holes.

In case you're feeling like you're alone in having to juggle the holidays like exquisitely sharpened knives I thought I would share some of our families holiday adventures and mishaps

 I Saw Rachel Pantsing Santa Clause

Call it excitement, anticipation combined with impulsiveness.  Call it what ever you want to - I just remember sitting at a table with a bunch of other parents watching our adorable kids huddle around Santa, hankering for the candy he was passing out.  There was my daughter, about 8 years old at the time 9she's an adult now), impatiently tugging on his pants trying to get his attention. There was Santa, with his red furry pants around his ankles.  The parents were in an uproar, some racing to tell Santa - who had no clue he was flashing the entire Christmas Party.  Some literally rolling on the floor laughing.  Me, I was completely in shock - did that really just happen?

Twas the Night Before Christmas

One of our earliest holiday traditions seem to revolve around Christmas Eve.  Anticipation of the mornings stocking and present excitement building, cookies and milk set out, all the kids tucked safely in, surely it was time for mom and dad to relax a bit while everyone drifted off to sleep so the evenings real work could begin.  Magical, until, like clockwork, one children would wake up vomiting. Yep, we have an anxiety vomiter and Christmas Eve made her anxious.
Finally, one year, she cued us in on why we had established such a terrible Christmas tradition. When we were trying to get her calmed down she stammered out a question,"Why can't Santa leave the presents on the doorstep like the Easter Bunny?"

As she's gotten older she's expounded on her fear- she told us, 'think about it - an old man, who lives forever, who knows what you've been thinking, your deepest desires, who watches your every move, good or bad and sees you when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake.  He waits until you're asleep then sneaks into your house, eats food, and leaves presents. Creepy."

It was NOT okay with her.  I never would have guessed that in a million years.  The magic of Santa had never translated into danger for me. We didn't change our tradition of finding the presents under the tree or stockings full of small surprises but we did address her fears and figured out ways for her to feel safe.  Over the years she found enough peace to ditch her nasty Christmas Eve tradition - one we were all happy to see go. She loves the season she still is no fan of Santa. Lucky for her Santa loves her anyways.

Santa Claus is Coming to Town

A couple of years ago our oldest daughter was at the mall with our youngest son.  She thought she would do something special and sentimental with him so she offered to wait in line with him to see Santa Claus. He looked at her with skeptical eyes, "You want me to go sit on a strangers lap and reveal my deepest desires? Uh...NO thank you, that's not fun, that's creepy."

The Little Drummer Boy (Our not so little anymore flute girl)

Our daughter has played the flute since she was 7.  We got her started because she was such a little stress and anxiety ball and needed an outlet.  She's has always been gifted at it, had nearly perfect tone, and almost never hits the wrong notes.  Why?  She's has auditory defensiveness/sensitivity and hears wrong notes so intensely they drive her crazy.  She has a hard time enjoying music, though she loves it, writes it, breathes it like it was air to her, because she can't help but hear any missed variation.

Recently we were at a beautiful Christmas concert.  They had a flutist who had a very unnatural vibrato to everything she played.  Years ago our daughter would have loudly complained about it.  Everyone around us would have had a lecture on vibrato, and known exactly how violent this ladies was making our daughter.  We've found that progress in social skills and every other coping mechanism with our kids comes very slowly, sometimes it's down right imperceptible but then you wake up one day and all those little bits of progress have added up to something remarkable. 

She still complained, expressed her deep desire to run up to the stage, rip the flute out of the ladies hands and beat her with it. BUT, she didn't flee the building, huff and puff for everyone to see her disgust, and she whispered it.

"The Fire is so Delightful"

Our latest fascination it a video the kids stumbled onto while searching for Prep and Landing on Netflix.  It's a video of wood burning in the fireplace.  First of all, we have a fireplace to burn wood in but this has tripped every ADHD wire in their ADHD brains and they are fixated with it.  They keep joking about the special effects and fine quality of the video.  They were ecstatic to find out there was two episode and are eagerly awaiting a sequel.  They wanted to move the TV in front of the real fireplace just to watch the video, to buy a 100 inch TV so they could see it even bigger on the wall.  They run up and warm their hand in front of it, my son rips his shirt off because it's getting so hot, and they yell at each other for walking in front of the screen and obscuring the view.  Who knew a recorded fire could bring so much entertainment and fun, I didn't.

Hark, the Herald Angels Weep

My husband leaned over to me in church yesterday and said, "Do you think my plan for the tree topper angel is sacrilegious?" I honestly had to think about it for a minute or two.  I really don't hink of the Christmas tree is a very religious symbol of Christmas.  I know that their are all kind of explanations of how it represents different facets of faith but really I think those explanations  but personally I think the tree is a great decoration for the season and part of magical tradion and that's about it.

Qualifier, our kids are NOT very little anymore, our youngest is 12 in a couple weeks.  Fact, everyone in our house loves Dr. Who.  Add to this mix the fact that my husband has a deep seeded distaste for our Christmas Tree topper angel. Add to the old tree topper angel some serious ADHD, some creative genus, some impulsivity, some Modpodge, some spray paint, and you have a weeping angel Cristmas Tree topper.
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That's right, by tonight our new and improved weeping angel Christmas tree topper will be staring down from the top of the Christmas tree.  I leaned over to him and whispered back, "No, I don't think it's sacrilegious at all."

Holidays can be hard: uncomfortable clothes, overstimulating events, social skills war zone, organizational hell, too many demands coming from too many directions.  But in the midst of it all we have learned to compromise, teach, ditch the demands, and find what works for our family.  It's not perfect but it's our holiday, our traditions, and we love it.

Cutting the Apron Strings? Transitioning Adult Children with ADHD

Okay,  I am not sure cutting the apron strings applies to adult children with ADHD.  Maybe it is more like unraveling the apron strings one string at a time.  Or maybe the apron strings just fray apart from being tied so tight and tugged on so many times.  Regardless, there doesn't seem to be any distinct cutting in our house.

I really couldn't speak to what's "normal."  Nothing in our ADHD house, where 6 of our 7 children have severe ADHD and co-occurring conditions, could ever be construed as "normal" though it is certainly normal to us. I know in many houses 18 and graduation brings a landmark of change.  If we were to handle reaching adulthood in that manner I am sure it would be a messy disaster.  Adulthood, as we tell our children, is not a distinct and abrupt move it is a transition.

And let me tell you we are transitioning all over the place. We have three that are 18 or older and are making strides towards independence.   Each of their stories, like their personalities, like their struggles with ADHD symptoms is different.  Ironically, it seems like this last week our two adult daughters have taken a lot of big steps forward.

And She's Off...

Our kids have never been big on staying away from home, they like routine, structure, their own belongings and surrounding. Our oldest used to hide it well but then we found that when all the girls would go to camp or spend the night at someone's house she was the subversive one.  She would pull her youngest sister aside and whisper in her ear, "don't you miss your teddy bear...how are you going to sleep tonight with out him?"  Then pull aside another sister, "Doesn't their dog remind you of your dog?  You must really miss her, I bet it's hard to be away from her, maybe we should go home."  When one of them would finally crack, she was the martyr that would volunteer to come home with them.

She's still in no hurry to leave the nest.  So, when she came to us and asked what we thought of her going on "vacation" to visit her best friend since elementary school in Utah for two weeks we were a little surprised but encouraged it.  A little trip, a flutter off the side of the nest and then back.  An exercise in adulthood as she took responsibility for making travel arrangements and plans.

It has been a slow march with her as she has carefully taken over more and more responsibility for her own care, making her own doctor's appointments, refilling her own prescriptions, handling her own money.  Adding one responsibility at a time has allowed her to master juggling the new skill before taking on more.  As we walked her into the airport she was going over checklists with us.  Reading material...check, art supplies...check...meds...check.  She figured out that she would have refill her meds while away, then assured me, she could handle it, not to worry.

Everything was together, her biggest concern now was that if she started reading or drawing in the airport during a layover she would get so distracted that she would miss her flight.  Her father warned her to watch that, he himself had almost missed more than one flight that way.  We took pictures, waved, and I cried a little as we walked out of the airport without her...why?  Because she is growing up.  It's slow, sometimes painfully slow, but it's working and she is feeling the success and freedom that everyone her age should feel.

We got a call from her last night...her wings are a little tired from her journey outside the nest.  No little sisters there to push into coming home early.  Not that she really wants to, she is having a great time, great success, great growth.  And she just learned another valuable lesson, you can always call home, always be reminded to eat lots of protein, be told you're not getting enough sleep, always have someone listen to your troubles, always hear that you're loved.

Mommy, I have friends!

I know, not the kind of statement you would expect your 2nd year college student to make unless they happen to have ADHD and social skills have been a prominent problem in their life.  This would be the daughter that freaked out on the girl in 7th grade that asked what she did over the weekend because it was a personal question and none of her business.  The highly intelligent daughter that has stated throughout her life that she feels it a moral obligation to let people know when they are idiots, otherwise they might go their whole lives and not know.  You can see where she might run into problems in high school.

It was never that she didn't have any friends there was always one or two that she was close to and a whole raft of people following her around that she had jumped in to defend from one bully or another.  Very few, however, that she felt an equal bond with.  I always told her that she would really hit her stride in college.  As an intelligent. deep thinker, she would find more of her kind on a college campus than in elementary, junior high, and high school.  Between her growing and developing socially and her peer group shrinking to those who really want to be in school she seems to have found more of her people.

And with friends has come social opportunities and more growth.  She has been learning over the years how to manage her impulsive tongue and her quick wit (the combination of which can be deadly) she has also spent years learning to manage her auditory sensory sensitivity.  More friends, more social opportunities, more need to successfully navigate a noisy overwhelming world.

Most recently she was asked to go to a concert of a band she really loves.  She has braved outdoor venues before, like Warp Tour, but that's different than being in an enclosed space with that many people and that much noise.  Excited but nervous was certainly the way she woke up the morning of the concert.  I knew that she was fretful when she called early in the morning to go over plans for how things were going to work out late that night.

Finally, after trying hard to be awake and supportive I said, "call your father."  He's also ADHD, also has auditory sensory issues, also has no tolerance for crowds, and loves live music.  When she called him he lead the conversation with, "are you freaking out about tonight, let me give you some advice."  He knows her, as we say in our house, he speaks the native language and has years of tried and true coping mechanisms ready to share.

He told her that she has to expect certain things:

1. It is going to be loud... very loud.  One of two things will happen, it will either A.short-circuit (deaden) her overly sensitive audio senses and it would be almost calming, like white-noise or B it would freak her out.  If A. happens then she will be fine, it will probably be relaxing because it will mask all of the other crap that she picks up and allow her to focus on the music.  If B happens then she needs to have a back-up plan.  I told her that the back up plan should be to take her ear-buds and if it gets too overwhelming to put them in to help deaden the sound.  If that is not enough, when she is starting to panic, she needs to go out into the lobby and find a place to anchor herself where she can regroup. The lobby anchor point should be scoped out prior to the concert starting so she knows where she is going if things get chaotic.
2.  There will be IDIOTS in all shapes and sizes... don't react to them, just look at them, acknowledge them and check it off of your mental list that you knew you would see idiots.  Kind of like your own game of Where's Waldo.
3. Your sense will most likely overload, just role with it and follow the directions in 1. if they are to much for you to handle.  Sound and smell will most likely hit you the most, so just know that it will and don't be surprised when you experience it.
This daughter is not a tell it to her once kind of girl - she likes to go over them, make sure she heard right, reiterate, then write it all down and have you sign it to be sure - they went over the directions repeatedly until she was comfortable..
Then he texted her prior to the concert, this was their conversation copied out of text...

Mia: Thank you guys so much for letting me go to this concert tonight. This means so much to me I'm so excited. :) its like a landmark for me. <3 :=":" p="p" thank="thank" you.="you."> Daddy: You are welcome honey... Like I said to you earlier when you get in there, get the lay of the land and have a plan in place so you know what to do of out gets overwhelming. Take your ear-buds in case you need to use them.  Love you.... I think you will do fine.... Remember - there will be idiots, just plan to ignore them and have a good time.

(the next morning)
Mia: Ohmaigawsh. That was so amazing......
Mia: O.o morning!!!!!!!
Daddy: Morning.... So you had a good time then

Mia: It was the BEST......EVER......SO AMAZING.....SO COOL.....
Daddy: LOL... Cool!

I suppose in a "normal" house these experiences would seem so everyday that they wouldn't even draw attention but in our house these are some pivotal moments, landmarks, rights of passage successfully navigated and marked off the list so we can move onto the next set of opportunities to grow.  In our house each challenge met equals a few more threads plucked out of the apron strings on the way to adulthood.

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."

Warning: Objects in Motion Stay in Motion

We have a way of raising eyebrows and inciting laughter all at the same time.

Our shear numbers can be shocking.  Add to that a bunch ADHD and a lack of inhibition and we are pure entertainment.  It might make some people uncomfortable but for the most part people seem amused.  Sometimes they even laugh or comment on what fun we are obviously having.  That was certainly the case the other night when we met Mark for pizza. 

It all started with the jukebox and some Michael Jackson.  Toe tapping, then shoulders, and then everyone is dancing in their seats, even my husband, Mark.  A little singing along but restrained, well, restrained for our crowd.

On to some classic rock and head banging.

By the time Justin Beiber came on Rachel was singing to Hannah, "Baby, baby, baby, oh, baby, baby, baby, noooo!" and really getting into it.

Leaving we met one of pleasantly amused types.  The first question is almost always, "Are they all yours?"   Almost always followed by, "It must be a party all the time at your house."

Not always, though we certainly do have a lot of fun.  With so many people and personalities we certainly have lots of moments where someone is upset, angry, sad, tortured, depressed, traumatized.  In fact, some days it seems like I rotate from one drama to the next; but, not this night.


After pizza we were off to the grocery store where I couldn't help but think about the post I made the other day; Parkas in Summer, Shorts in the Winter.  I was remembering those days when they were all small and all held onto the cart.  In some ways life was a bit simpler.  In fact, I think I may have threatened to make them all grab a corner of the cart.


Yep, everyone in this picture at the grocery store is with me!

I wish you could have seen my expression as I looked up to this sight in the freezer section.  I think my head tilted to the side like a confused puppy!  I couldn't help but laugh when Fernie, a permanent fixture in our house and also ADHD,  went and stuck his head into the freezer case.  I was just about to ask what he was looking at when all of the sudden there they were with their heads down in the case.  He pops up, "I was just wondering how many would come and join me." 

It was a crazy fun night.  Truth be told no one was unhappy, no one was so far out of line that they were making the night stressful.  No one was sad or depressed or angry. 

Can you ask for more?

Rachel: Chalk Dust and Tassels

Rachel would throw her sidewalk chalk in the basket on her bike, hop on, and pedal as hard as she could up our driveway.  She was about 7 years old at the time, she would push and push up the steep driveway until she was going so slow that her bike would fall over sideways. 

Then she would pick herself up, grab the chalk and draw a long line across the pavement, hop back on the bike and ride down the hill.  A few deep breathes and she would do it all over again.  Over and over, day after day until she made it all the way up the long steep driveway.

As she accepted her high school diploma, I couldn’t help picturing her at the top of that treacherous hill of a driveway, drawing the last chalk line.  Victory!

School has never been easy for Rachel. 

Trying to remember letters and sounds eluded her despite hours of practice.  It took her years to, “break the code” and read.  There may be nothing worse in this world than struggling to read and having your little sister scream out the word you’re stuck on from across the room.

Math might as well have been Greek…in fact, Greek may have been easier.  M&Ms, beans, tooth picks, we used an arsenal of subtraction tricks to which Rachel was impervious.

It was struggle after struggle, hour after hour of work.  In the meantime, she was drawing constantly at a skill level well beyond her age. 

She was constantly creating incredible stories and plays. The children would line up at recess for parts in her dramas and directions. 

She was always ready for them, “You are the king.  Your evil step mother used to make you scrub the floors of the castle when you were little and now you rule the kingdom and you have to decide whether to have her clean the floors or be kind to her.” 

There was a huge contrast, a gap between a clearly great intellect and her constant struggle in school. 

We worked so hard with her at home that she was not totally sinking at school.  Rachel fell smack dab in the crack we try to keep kids from falling through.  When I would suggest something might be wrong, her teachers would tell me she was too well behaved, too nice, and tried too hard to have ADHD.

That same gumption that kept her riding up that driveway kept her trying at school.  That fight and drive has proven beneficial in so many ways.  No doubt, it will throughout her life.

We had such a limited knowledge of ADHD at the time.  But when I would think of Rachel I would think of great friends of ours from our years in Texas whose boys have ADHD.  The similarities were striking.  Junior high was imminent;  fear pushed me to research ADHD and to the doctor.

Mark, my husband, would have me point out that he told me not to go.  He didn’t believe in ADHD at the time.  Now he takes medication himself.  I took Rachel when he was out of town on business.  Dr. Rees, our pediatrician and a great friend of Mark’s, put all the pieces of the puzzle together.  He explained ADHD, brain chemistry, behaviors, and medication.  From all the struggles and great contrasts in our lives, a clear picture came into view.

This changed Rachel’s life -- it changed our whole family.

It was immediate.  She went to school the morning she started medication.  She had never passed a math benchmark test.  She came running, jumping, screaming out of school announcing to the world, “I got a 90% on my math benchmark!”

Medication has never peddled the bike for her, but it sure got her farther up the hill.  Each time she could mark her progress, her confidence grew. 

Diagnosis of ADHD and the beginning of treatment has in no way been the end of the journey -- it was truly just the beginning.  Mark was diagnosed, then Mary and Hunter, then Mariah and finally Jaren.

Shortly after the beginning of high school I found myself in a SST (student study team) meeting.  She had not qualified for a 504 in elementary because she was not doing poorly enough.  She was not doing poorly enough because we were spending every waking hour making sure she didn’t fail.

I tell parents now - get that 504 or IEP in elementary school because after you leave elementary school it just gets harder and harder to get.  The school and I were at odds.  I thought modifications were changes in homework, testing, assignments to help Rachel succeed.  They thought that modifications were listing the teacher’s office hours. 

I went home furious from the meeting and started researching and making a list of modifications that would help Rachel.  Ultimately, I looked at my list and thought, “The modification we need most is no distractions, no other students in the classroom and we will be fine.”

She stopped peddling - her bike tipped over and she fell unable to climb the road anymore.  The anxiety, the huge campus, huge student population, the academic struggle had overwhelmed her.  The little girl who had never met a stranger was having panic attacks in crowds.

We made a radical change when we switched her to an online learning environment.  What a remarkable difference.  The Cs and Ds turned into mostly As and Bs.  She was back on the bike, chalk in the basket, and heading back up the hill.

The struggle became keeping this wonderfully social girl happy when her high school became a one room computer lab with 10 to 15 kids attending at the school site.  Most of the students in her charter school never go to the school site they attend from home and are spread over 7 counties.

Even a month before the end of the school year and graduation from high school, she was begging us to move to Sacramento so that she could attend a small charter high school there with more students. 

Rachel brags that her greatest accomplishment was walking all the way to the stand, up to get her American Legion award, and to get her diploma with out crutches and with out falling in the big black boot she has been wearing while her ruptured ankle ligaments heal. 

I watched her on the stand.  I saw a beautiful, intelligent, talented young woman; inside there’s a tough little girl, chalk in hand, ready to tackle mountains, unwilling to give up. 

I imagine there is a little chalk dust on her tassel.

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

If I Knew Then What I Know Now

Well time did not come to a screeching halt.  We were on the eve of Rachel’s most dreaded 18^th birthday and last night she said family prayer,  in it she slipped in a little personal request, “God if thou will please stop time for me.” 

Thinking about our oldest becoming a legal adult started me thinking about her life.  As the oldest there is no doubt she is the child we learned on, our guinea pig in parenting.  That is especially true when it comes to ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) as she was the first diagnosed.

There is no good way to put into words Rachel’s brilliance or her struggles educationally.  She was about two years old when she drew the boy next door playing basketball.  There was a face, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, hair, body, with circles for all the major joints, feet, hands, and a basketball.  Developmentally that is astounding. 

But as she started school there was no end to her struggles.  She wrote her letters perfectly, but they were just art to her.  Perfectly formed but they had no meaning and she could not recall what they stood for or what sound was associated with then to save her life. 

As we worked and worked with her and she started progressing she was plagued by a younger sister who would blurt out the word she was agonizingly trying to sound out.  It was a never ending battle that raged in our house daily after school for hours on end.  Despite the years spent struggling, reading and math were like foreign languages to her and no matter how hard we tried or how many ways we tried she could not break the code.

I remember Mark and I many times trying to convince Rachel that she was smart, but one time in particular really sticks out and stings.  As Mark and I told her how smart she was and she argued back. She stopped the conversation, pulled out a spelling pretest with a big red F on it and said,

“See I am not smart... I am a failure.”

Our highly intelligent, amazingly artistic 8 year old could not be swayed.  To her core she felt she was a failure. It didn’t matter at that point what we said she wasn’t buying.  She had all the proof she needed. 

One of my biggest regrets has to be not seeking help for Rachel earlier. 

It was sixth grade before we would get her help.  Before she would get the help she needed.  The help she deserved.  I took her to a trusted friend and pediatrician and she was on medication the next day.  People have all kinds of things to say about medication, good and bad.  There are experts and studies to support whatever position that you want to hold onto.

There was, however, no greater proof for me than her excitement the next day as she greeted me at the school with the news that she had gotten a 90% on a math benchmark test. She had never ever passed a math benchmark test before. Never.

I have said before that medication takes you most of the way but is not a cure all.  Rachel didn’t ace every test or assignment placed in her path since she started medication but she was drowning before and it gave her the power to swim. 

Our last self esteem/intelligence talk was only a few months ago.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter how many successes she has had since she started medication, and she has had many, she still battles that rough start, she can’t get that big fat red F out of her mind.

I can’t help but contrast that with our youngest son Jaren who started medication in kindergarten. Of course by then we knew what to look for.  When he started kindergarten I told his teacher that we suspected ADHD, filled her ear with the family history.  I told her we were watching to see when, not if, to put him on medication.  She clearly thought I was crazy and assured me that I was over reactive.

It wasn’t three months into school when she grabbed me after class and indicated that Jaren was, “not available to learn.”  Jaren started meds with in a month or two.  Jaren has never doubted his intelligence or his ability to learn.  Largely because he has had the benefit of everything we learned from parenting Rachel.

He is not scarred by those years of frustration, the hours of work to get one assignment done, the supplemental programs, summer long work to retain,  not to mention seeing and feeling the difference between him and his peers that Rachel had before we got her help.

Mark always says, “IF ONLY will kill you.” That you have to live by phrase “NEXT TIME” and that is true.  Rachel has made it and we have worked one day, month, year at a time to better meet her needs.  Despite her own doubts she is a good solid student and an amazingly creative and talented young woman.

But if I knew then what I know now I would not wait to get help, I would pursue it with a vengeance that would make any mother bear proud.  I would go to my pediatrician, if I was not satisfied with the answers I got I would seek a second opinion. I would not wait to do all the research and reading that I did after I was given her diagnosis. 

I would not be afraid of any diagnosis because now I know the power of knowing, accepting and doing.  Today I would encourage anyone facing the same road as our family to do the same. 

The Great Composer Strikes Again

Mariah - the source of inspiration for the 'Oh yes she did just say that" has always had a terrible time communicating - you wouldn't know that now so much but she did. In fact, I am sure that some of her extreme humor and quick wit is to deflect what she really has a hard time expressing. When she was smaller she really could not communicate at all and she was a tightly wound ball of extreme stress. At 7 her grandfather introduced her to the flute to give her an outlet for her stress - something else to occupy her mind.

 

 She found in that moment an
instant ability and passion for music. 

It was not long and she was tugging at my shirt playing something she had created followed by, 'and the french horn will play this and that will play this.' Now before you think I am raising a total Bach or Mozart let me tell you that while she does compose incredible music she also has a little weird Al in her so you never know when she calls you in to hear something whether it is going to be a Bach moment or her personal rendition of Weird Al's Albuquerque.


Yesterday (while I was begging her to clean clean clean) she was coming up with new lyrics for Hey Diddle Diddle for our two Australian Shepards. So from the composer of The Attack of the Corn Martians and Me and My Llama we have a new and improved Hey Diddle Diddle now being sung by all...ALL...over and over and over again (I would say there goes what's left of my sanity but you know - long time ago!)

Hey diddle diddle Sid's not very little she weighs almost 70 pounds
she jumps on my lap and licks me on the face
and I beg her to get on the ground

Hey diddle diddle watch Pepper piddle anywhere he wants to go
he thinks he's the boss just cause he's a man
but he's just a baby you know


If you want to hear a more serious song she composed Mariah and her sister, Rachel, formed a band together called The Bliss Method and on their website is one of the songs they have recorded. Rachel is the vocalist and Mariah wrote the lyrics and composed the music. The website is blissmethod.com and the song is Border Patrol under music.

As a side note it is music that over the years has allowed her to cope with her stress. It is music and performing in front of people (squarely behind the music stand at first) that gave her the confidence to actually speak in front of people. It is music through which she often speaks her mind first and finds the words to express herself. Everyone has a music - the trick is finding it and using it. For Rachel it is art. I often say that Mariah breathes music like Rachel breathes art.