What Goes Around - The Return of Morse Code

My in-laws asked for Christmas lists for all the kids, they live out of town and don't get to see the kids that often.  Some lists were reasonable - some, well, not reasonable at all. One daughter asked for one of her favorite musicians for Christmas - grandma asked, "like a doll or poster?" Daughter answered, "No, I want the actual artist." Grandma went with option B, fluffy blue towel.

Some gave totally reasonable list unless you're a grandparent with a limited knowledge of the truly important things in life like Dr. Who.  Then you might end up in the tool department trying to figure out why there is no section for Sonic Screwdrivers. I know they were there and asking because they called from the tool department in Wal-Mart, a little confused and frustrated.

So, when my freshman in high school opened his present from his grandparents to find a light up moon that had a remote control allowing you to change the lighting to show the stages of the lunar cycle I really had no idea what he was going to do with it.  It wasn't Dr. Who related, or Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars, or Transformers.  It had nothing to do with mid-evil armor, or fantasy, or poetry, and writing. It really had nothing to do with any of his obsessions - past or present. He was great though - said he loved it, gave thank yous, hugs, and kisses. 

Later he would tell me he has totally accepted the fact that he's a pack rat/hoarder because he can find a use for anything and everything.  This, he pointed out, makes everything worth keeping. By everything, he means everything, as in every item of clothes he's ever worn, old shoes (one time he told me he couldn't part with his old shoes, they'd been with him every step of the way), every piece of paper from school or play...everything.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to me when he came barreling into the living room the next morning where I was sitting with his grandparents and his little brother.  He flopped the moon down on the floor and announced he had found the perfect place to hang it in there room so they could both see it from their bunk beds.  He then proceeded to ask Jaren if he was ready and started blinking the moon rapidly flashing short and long beams of light.

And there you have it - Morse code comes flying back into our lives.  

Several years ago we read a wonderful series of books as a family called The Mysterious Benedict Society.  Wonderfully unique characters use their various skills and abilities to work together to save their world.  When in dire circumstances they would use Morse Code and a flash light to communicate.  Our house was on a Morse Code kick for months.  Tapping it on tables, flash lighting it to each other, they even sent emails entirely in Morse Code. (- . - - - - . - - - - - . . - - . - . . - - . - - - . - - . - - - . - - . - . - - . Morse Code For, “No! You Can’t Make Me!”)  I have yet to find an obsession in our house that actually goes away and never returns.  If anything they get back burner-ed for awhile only to resurface to center stage for a bit before disappearing for a bit again.

So, here we are 3 or 4 years later, the day after Christmas, the boys went nuts.  They were writing out the messages they wanted to send to each other, passing the moon remote back and forth, laughing and moving in a total ADHD pace of excitement and joy.  My in-laws sat in awe, speechless.  Then after a blur of activity, a Morse code frenzy, my father-in-law blinked a couple of time and asked, "Where did you learning Morse Code?"  Hunter was too busy and completely wrapped up in his own universe.

He blurted, as if the answer was obvious, "Wikipedia."  A couple of minutes went by the he froze mid-sentence and screamed, "BINARY CODE! I have to learn it."  and ran off.

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What obsessions take center stage at your house? We'd love to hear from you!

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.

Dear Adam Levine, Thank You for Owning Your ADHD

We gathered as a family to watch the end of The Voice the other night.  But in my opinion the most important moment didn't come when all the superstars sang, or when they handed out keys to new cars for the finalist or even when they announced the winner.

As the mom to 6 ADHD kids (7 kids in all) and wife to an ADHD husband the most pivotal moment of the evening came as they played a video of Adam Levine playing the piano, the drums, the guitar, whistling, talked about him playing the accordion, and showed him singing.

In that moment one of my kids reminded everyone that Adam Levine had ADHD too. There was a level of pride filling the room.  "He's just like us." one said.  Another added, "you know it's because of his ADHD that he has to play all those instruments, that he's good at all of them!"  They know that drive, the unquenchable force that pushes you past distraction, past focus, and lands you on the positive side of hyper-focus.

and drums, basses, electric guitars & flutes

The excitement, the acceptance, the hope in that moment was tangible.

There are many successful ADHD people out there, more and more of them are coming forth and owning their ADHD.  I wonder if they will ever know the impact they have on the upcoming generation of kids with ADHD.  Those kids and struggling adults can find they have potential in the success of another person.  To struggle through school, through feeling different and awkward, through trying to master coping mechanisms, and find a way to use all this energy and potential seeing someone's success is a beacon, it's proof it can be done. Instead of just seeing all the things they aren't, they catch a glimmer of all they can be.

Every successful person who comes forth and owns their ADHD is important in the life of others who struggle with the same issues no matter what walk of life their success is in.  Adam Levine hits home in my house because he's creative.  Creative is what we do, art, music, singing, acting, writing, film, animation to see a successful person with ADHD inspires them towards their own greatness.

Stigma, shame, embarrassment, the threat of being judged by negative stereotypes for admitting your ADHD are real. The world would have us hide anything that is different or imperfect.  Ironically, the only way to change those negative stereotypes is to take that risk, to face that fear, and be bold about our disorders in front of the world until those walls are broken down.  Then, fear, stigma, shame,embarrassment, negative stereotypes can be replaced by knowledge and understanding.

There is no doubt that ADHD is a mixed bag.  There are struggles, endless struggles; but, there is greatness also.  Thank you Adam Levine for being willing to show both sides to the world.  Thank you to all successful people who stand up and own it.




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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

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."

A Triumph for Sure: 22 Books in Less Than a Year

"Hi, this is Mary.  She is going to be in your class this year.  Believe it or not she is medicated, on the highest dose allowed by the FDA of two ADHD medications.  You can't really tell but trust me there is a big difference.  You should know that she is also dyslexic, she only sees out of one eye, she has a speech problem - you can't really understand a word she says.  She reads like she writes like she talks - it is all jumbled. Oh, and when she runs she leans farther and farther forward until she falls.  Have a good day!"

Turns out besides ADHD she has dyspraxia, an overall motor processing disorder.  It is a combination of all the dys' - dyslexia, dysgraphia, discalculia, etc.  She also has a language processing disorder - she doesn't separate all the sounds that she takes in - meaning that language has sounded like jumbled words to her most of her life.

Needless to say, despite her intelligence, she has really struggled to do the things that most of us take for granted like reading and communicating.  Her education has really been a constant struggle for her - she has had to work for every bit of knowledge she has.

Frustrated with the answers we were receiving in traditional school, tired of her sitting in class with most information flying over her head, we turned to a public charter home school program.  The program we chose was California Virtual Academy (CAVA).   They are responsible for the evaluations that really discovered the extent of her problems.  They have provided her with private speech and occupational therapy.  I could not talk about her successes with out praising their efforts and the system that really worked both for her and with her.

As hard and slow as the progress has been going to home school is a decision I will never regret.

When we started with CAVA Mary was in the 5th grade but reading at a second grade level.  She couldn't visually track well when reading, skipping large chunks in the text.  What she didn't skip she mispronounced or misread.  The amazing thing was that while she was at a 2nd grade reading level her comprehension was at grade level and beyond.  Some how in the fragments and chunks she was able to read she was masterful at finding meaning.

When Mary was about 10 years old she described it this way to her Aunt Anita, "It's like there is a beautiful picture and everyone can see it but I am stuck behind a fence.  I have to look through the cracks and holes in the fence at little pieces of the picture and guess what the rest looks like."

How profound.  How troubling.  How true.  How beautifully put. 

After years of hard work reading finally clicked.   She really started to make some progress about 2 years ago.  First, we got her books on CD,  her interest and drive to read  were finally there but her ability and stamina weren't.  We didn't want her to just rely on audio books so we made a deal with her - she would read a book and then we would buy her one on CD.

Then last April Mary came across a book she could not resist, Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card.  No more audio books.  She is 14 now and since last April Mary has read 22 novels.

Just like I have always said about her, she is still reading like she writes like she talks.  With her improvement in reading we have seen an improvement in her writing and her speech.  Just a couple weeks ago she felt and heard the difference in making the right 'R' sound for the first time. Her occupational therapist says her visual tracking is improving and she crossing mid-line spontaneously more regularly.

Last night I sat and watched her conduct a Young Women's program, she was distracted for sure; but, she was confident and pretty clear as she emceed the event and read aloud from printed materials.  Most of the time we are so deep in the trenches that progress really seems slow.

Most of the time our view is centered on the length of the long row we still have ahead of us.  Last night was one of those moments when I get a better clearer view.  Instead of just seeing how far there is to go I could see how far she has come.

This tenacious young woman is really starting to see the pay off a lot of hard work.  She has been strong when it was embarrassing, when she felt alone, and out of sync with her peers.  Plank by plank she is tearing down the fence and with each board she pries loose the view is getting clearer and clearer.  No more cracks and holes, she is after a better view.

I am proud of her.

* special thanks to Lisa Martin, her speech therapist, Goodfellow Occupational Therapy at The California Learning Connection, and her CAVA teachers, Mrs. Falco who has been with us all the way and Mrs. Shea

- . - - - - . - - - - - . . - - . - . . - - . - - - . - - . - - - . - - . - . - - . Morse Code For, “No! You Can’t Make Me!”

Mariah got caught texting at school.  Well, actually she was emailing her little brother from her phone.  None the less, she could have gotten her phone taken away, but she didn’t.  Instead the teacher that caught her ended up walking off a little dumb founded leaving Mariah to her email.

She goes to a very small charter school that offers an online curriculum.  Most of the students attend from their homes but there is a “school” site with a principal and teachers and about 20 students in a one room computer lab.

It baffled Mariah at the beginning of the year that she could bring her cell phone to school but couldn’t use it.  Being Mariah she took it straight to the principal.  He explained to her that if there was an emergency at the school - especially a violent one - that parents wanted their children to have cell phones for communication. 

This tickled Mariah a bit.  She told the principal that she could see how it would all play out.  Someone would come into their one room school guns a blazing.  Her cell phone would save them as she warned her fellow classmates by text, “Franklin, don’t look now but the shooter is right next to you.”

We all love the principal of the school.  He is a great educator and mentor to these students.  He told her in that situation she could use her cell phone but not in any other.  No technology for this technology based school unless it was an emergency.

So when Mariah got caught using her phone she was quick to respond, “It’s not what it looks like.  It’s important.  I’m emailing my little nine year old brother.” 

The teacher could see her screen.  He did a double take, “Is that Morse code?  Your nine year old brother knows Morse code?”

Mariah’s response was simple but very true, “You would be surprised at all the things my nine year old brother knows.”

Our house runs on a continuum of focus - at one end there is absolutely no ability to focus whatsoever and at the other end is extreme obsession.  In between, there are degrees of momentary focus, focus, hyper focus, and varying levels of fixation.    

For the most part, I ride the wave of whatever is swirling in the hyper focus to obsession range.  I try and roll with it if it is not destructive.  I do have my limits though, for example, I don’t care how obsessed someone is with paint ball blow dart guns I am not buying one.

Some of it is like the tide -- it rolls in for a little while and then rolls back out.  Star Wars, instruments used for spying, Lord of the Rings, various foreign languages, Red Wall, Pokeman, Ninjas, Transformers, even movies or songs.  Anything that captures the attention, tickles the brain, or in others words is stimulating to the mind.   They love to ride the wave. 

Most of the time these are momentary fixations with a subject that come, get explored and played with a bit, and then go away for awhile.  They almost always come back to be re-examined and added to.   They roll in and out or our lives. 

This is good; my poor little non-ADHD brain can only handle so many random facts at a time before I think it is going to explode.  I welcome the rotating obsessions as a break, a chance to absorb information, to process it, and brace myself for the next round.

Morse code is one of those obsessions shared between Mariah and Jaren. 

It began a few years ago when we read an absolutely fabulous book series called The Mysterious Benedict Society.  It captured our house.  It was amazing to watch our kids; then six to sixteen, sit for hours listening to the story being read aloud then beg, beg, beg us to read more. 

The characters in the story, all unique in their own abilities, use Morse code to communicate in a very perilous time.  That is where it started.   

It rolls in and rolls out. 

Later that same day at school one of the other students got annoyed at Mariah for tapping on the desk.  He told her to cut it out.  She didn’t say a word to him; she just shot him back a look and kept tapping.

- . - - - - . - - - - - . . - - . - . . - - . - - - . - - . - - - . - - . - . - - .

It means “No! You can’t make me!” in Morse code.

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.