Queen of the Distracted

Imagine life in a house with 6 kids - now imagine if 5 of those kids and their father have ADD/ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) - that is our house! Welcome to an inside view of my life and our home dominated by ADHD... THERE IS NEVER A DULL MOMENT!

Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls!

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls!"

Those were our oldest daughter Rachel's first words, from the time she was a toddler she would belt them out proudly standing on the arm of the couch. At the time we had no idea what ADHD was or that it would play such a central roll in our lives.

Since then we have learned a lot, not the least of which is how many individuals and families suffer in silence. We have experienced first hand how misunderstood and misrepresented a disorder can be.

As a family we decided to take action - to risk embarrassment and labeling to get this important message out to the world. Come join our family, share in our lives, and see ADD/ADHD as we see it...
A gift with a heavy price tag.

WELCOME to life in the ADD/ADHD House!

Showing posts with label worry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worry. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Don't Give Up: Hope and Work Will Pay Off For Your ADHD Child

My husband and three of our six children had already been diagnosed with ADHD when my son's First Grade teacher chased me down after school. She was quick to point out that he would surely need to be held back. He couldn't write legibly at all, couldn't remember his alphabet, much less read. I told her to just give it a little more time. We were positive he had ADHD and were just waiting for our doctors appointment to confirm it and start him on medication.

He had the appointment, he started medication and he was reading at a sixth grade level by the end of the first grade. But, there were still lots of inexplicable academic behaviors. While his ideas were grand he couldn't put them on paper. His writing was completely illegible. He would write half way across the page with his left hand then switch to his right to finish off a line. He often started writing a word in the middle and added to both ends. He worked all math problems in his head and wrote them out on the math sheet left to right. At one point his Third Grade teacher told me he does his best writing when he has two sheets of paper and is writing the same thing with both hands at the same time. The very thought ties my brain in knots.

Time went on and his writing was still painfully minimalistic. Anytime an assignment required writing we'd both fall apart from the anxiety and frustration. It would take hours and in the end he might have a sentence or two. He was nowhere near writing a paragraph at the appropriate age and an essay was completely out of the question.

It all sounds pretty dismal doesn't it? It certainly felt that way.

One thing I've learned and wish I could instill in every parent with a child that struggles is a solid belief that the efforts that you put into today will pay off in the long run.


When my son stopped me in the middle of the hall and frantically demanded I listen to something he'd just written I listened in awe. What he once struggled with he is well on his way to mastering. As he read me what he had just written all the different remediation we tried over the years, all the frustrations, all the pushing, even tears, came flying back to my memory.

I couldn't help but remember all the uncertainty that I felt wondering if I was doing the right thing for him. Whether it's dealing with learning disabilities or ADHD or anxiety and depression, OCD or any of the many other disorders out there we parents wonder and worry that we are making the right choices for our kids.

What I've realized, having finally gotten farther down the parenting road, is that all that worry and work pays off. That first grader that couldn't remember his alphabet, the second grader whose writing was illegible, that third grader writing with both hands at the same time, as a 15 year old wrote this.

"Fire, an element of nature that can be seen on two spectrums. When controlled fire is a provider of warmth, light, and comfort. To a weary traveler fire can signify a warm meal and a comfy bed. Although fire is beautiful it is also deadly. When uncontrolled fire becomes a source of fear and despair. He becomes the almighty devourer consuming and destroying all things within his path. All fire does is hate and kill. He feigns the sense of comfort and the feeling of a warm embrace. He pretends to care and once close enough he strikes out his hand savoring the sound of every scream, the smell of every burn. He feeds off the pain and suffering that his fiery hatred causes all humanity."

Now he writes stories, this is for a new story he's working on. Back then he could barely get out a sentence or two. What made the difference? Hard persistent work over a long period of time. As well as some unconventional tactics to help him unwind what was already in his head.

We started by getting him on the computer using a writing program instead of having to hand write out assignments. The more he was on the computer the faster he typed the better tool it became.

He was still having a hard time organizing thoughts into sentences and sentences into paragraphs. With lots of older siblings Power Points had become a huge thing in our house. One day out of sheer desperation I told him to use Power Point to write a paragraph he needed written for school. One complete sentence per slide, five to six slides.

It worked.

It gave him the structure he needed to get his thoughts out. Pretty soon we moved up to a couple sentences a slide forming several paragraphs. He would write it in Power Point then copy and paste it into a regular document. Next came a paragraph per slide translating easily to a five paragraph essay.  Finally, he started writing by hand more and more and left behind the need for the Power Point altogether. Every once in awhile he'll come to me overwhelmed and frustrated by an assignment in Honors English and I'll direct him back to the computer, back to Power Point. It's a structure that works for him.

Bottom line, don't get discouraged. Regardless of the obstacles, trust yourself, keep working, and try different approaches until you find what works for you and your child. Never let a diagnosis create limits in your mind. Think of it more as a jumping off point because it is certainly not the end. Really it's just the beginning.






Sunday, January 24, 2010

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

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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