Resolutions for an ADHD Mom

NOTE: The term “ADHD Mom” could be taken two ways, meaning either a mom who has ADHD herself or a mom of a child with ADHD. For me, it means the latter, even if there are crazy days when I question my own ability to handle distraction.

  1. Prepare, prepare, prepare. 

I think some of my worst moments come when I don’t prepare, when I don’t consider how a situation will affect Dylan. What’s worse is that I know better.

Years before Dylan was ever diagnosed, when he was 3 years old, we took him to see Santa. It was actually his second visit to the big man, the first coming when he was about 10 months old and was the friendliest, happiest baby on the planet. The picture from that first visit shows a happy if slightly wary little guy thrilled with being the center of attention. What we didn’t know was that he was coming down with a whopper of an illness and surely was already feeling the effects. You can’t tell from the picture, nor could you from his smiles and giggles that day, which would become typical for him.

His dad and grandma tried to take him again when he was two, but he was not having it. He was not going to sit on the lap of some strange big man in red. No. Sir. Eee.

By three, he was a definite little boy. We staying in Atlanta, recovering from Katrina, and longing to return to New Orleans, but happy to celebrate Christmas in a big city for a change. And visiting Santa for a (finally!) talkative boy was definitely a part of the plans.

His eager smiles for everyone had turned into a definite shyness around strangers. We wondered how we could pull off the Santa visit. Preparation was the key. For weeks, we talked to him about what would happen. We described how there would be a line, that there would be other children – some happy and some not so happy – who would also be waiting to meet Santa. We talked about how Santa would be sitting in a big chair and we looked at pictures of Santa, dressed in his big red suit with his fluffy white beard. We read The Night Before Christmas. We told him how, when it was his turn, he would walk up to Santa and Santa would put him on his knee, and that mommy would not be right there. Mommy would be nearby and he could see her, but she would not be next to him.

We asked Dylan what he wanted for Christmas that year. In our house, the rule is that Santa only lets you ask for three things. Sometimes he brings you more, but you can only ask for three things. I’m ashamed to admit that I only remember two of the things he asked for that year: a microphone and a dump truck. We coached him often on what do you say when Santa asks what you want for Christmas, and he got very familiar with repeating his three items.

Finally, the day arrived. We loaded up the family and drove out to the Peachtree Mall where they have a very convincing Santa (with a real beard and a majestic red suit). There was a line, although not too big, and it looped around behind Santa’s chair alongside a gigantic Christmas tree. Dylan’s eyes were big. We wondered: will he do it? We continued coaching in line. What’s going to happen when it’s your turn? (I’ll walk up to Santa and mommy will stand off to the side.) What will Santa do? (He’ll pick me up onto his lap.) What do you tell him you want for Christmas? (A microphone, a dump truck, and that third item.)

Before we knew it, Dylan was next in line. And despite the fact that he was the kind of kid to hide behind mommy’s skirt, he walked right up to the big man in red, shook his hand, and got up on his lap. On cue, he told Santa what he wanted for Christmas. The photographer snapped a photo (we had prepared him for that, too) and he stepped down with a huge grin on his face!

Preparation worked impeccably well then, and still does today, at least when I have the foresight to think about it!

  2.   Let Go of Guilt

Dylan’s grades for fourth grade have not been stellar and I hold a ton of guilt over that. I don’t come by the guilt naturally (or at least not completely naturally). His school and many of his teachers have helped to add considerably to this pile of guilt. And in 2012 that will end.

I do what I can. I help with homework. I encourage good grades. I try to instill a good work ethic. But I am not his teacher. Yes, yes, every parent is a teacher. But I send him to school to learn the math, and science, and social studies. I can provide back-up, but for the primary task of teaching these subjects I have empowered professionals to do this. And I won’t blame myself for bad grades any longer.

RockStar and I already have plans to visit school the first week back and talk about Dylan's progress, or lack thereof. I will not entertain guilt about homework not done or how long it takes for him to write a paragraph. We do homework in the evening but I won't let him sacrifice sleep for the sake of a few more problems, especially when the medication has worn off by then. The teachers get him at his best and education is not about studying and working non-stop, even if (especially if!) you have learning challenges.  If I can see that he is trying and wants to learn but he is still testing poorly, then someone with an education degree needs to help us figure out why.  While I don't agree with all of the high-stakes testing we have now, the fact is that we live in the era of No Child Left Behind and my child will not be left behind.

3. Find Personal Time

I will admit, I’ve been having a hard time lately. One could even say that I have been depressed. There are a lot of reasons for this and as an ADHD mom, I’m certainly not alone, but one of the big reasons is a lack of quality “me time.” My personal time is the very first thing to go on the schedule. Not RockStar’s gigs, not Dylan’s Kung Fu, not Saints Games or Scout meetings. That has to change in 2012.

It’s well known that if momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy and that, I think, has been very true for us. I need to recharge. I need to spend time on things that are important only to me. No one else is going to do it for me.

4.        4.  Schedule More Family Meetings

In our house, we are famous for planning to have family meetings that never happen. We need to have them, we need to get on the same page, and we need to stick by our decisions. RockStar and I need to plan our time (see item #3), and we need to figure out together how best to handle Dylan’s challenges (see item #2). Dylan needs a plan (see item #1) so that rules aren’t thrown out on the fly, never to be followed. 

5.        5. Live More Spontaneously

It almost seems contradictory. Almost everything above has been about planning, and now I’m saying we need to be more spontaneous. I don’t think the two need to be mutually exclusive., however. Yes, we need to plan more, prepare more, have guidelines for all of us to live by. But I also think we are so focused on dealing with ADHD and dealing with modern American life that we miss out on the spontaneous moments. So often, Dylan says “can we…” and I say no because we are scheduled to do this or that, or because we need to do this other thing. We all need to enjoy more unscheduled moments. Walking the dog on the spur of the moment. Going to look at Christmas lights when we were going to cook dinner. Choosing to go see a movie instead of going to a sugar- and cake-fueled birthday party. Whatever it is, we need to allow more room for unstructured happenings. Not everything has to happen according to plan.

This list is certainly not all inclusive, but it’s a good start – a good list of broad goals to help us manage our family and help me manage me!

Working Full Time x 2

When does 1 + 1 = 0.5?

When you are a full-time mom working full time.  At least, that is how it feels to me.

Like many families, in order to pay our mortgage and put food on our table, I need to work full-time.  If that was ever unclear (it wasn't), it became crystal clear when my husband lost his job and was out of work for six months.  Had I not been working, we would have easily lost our home.

So work is not an optional activity for me.

Just as mothers who stay at home (SAHMs) hate for their role to be diminished, mothers who have jobs outside the home don't want their efforts to be viewed as less than they are.

The media frequently call SAHMs "full-time moms."  But even though I spend approximately 40 hours per week at an office, I'm no less of a full-time mom.  I'm there reigning in my mental wanderer when a flyer, a print on the wall, the dog, or an empty envelope distracts him during homework.  I'm there at doctors' offices, which we've seen many of since Dylan was diagnosed.  And I'm not only there at the Cub Scout den meetings - I'm there in uniform as the official den leader. 

When I am working, I try to put 100% into my professional responsibilities.  That is, until I remember that I haven't added the latest doctor's office appointment to Outlook.  Or until my mind wanders to try to figure out when we are going to pick up a present to bring to Saturday's birthday party.  Or until I recall a new ADHD treatment/compelling parent story/potential tutoring option that I wanted to look up.  There are days that I feel so distracted by all of these thoughts and concerns that I wonder if I have ADHD (I don't).

It actually makes me feel jealous of the SAHMs.  I don't want to.  I know that it can be equally hard to be there all the time.  To not be able to escape it and focus on something else.  But it does seem to open up more options.

I hear frequent tales of parents pulling their ADHD kids out of school so they can homeschool them.  I don't even know how I feel about homeschooling in general and I think I would be terrible at it in specific, yet...I can't help but wish it were an option on the table.  Or even that I had more time to work with Dylan after school instead of even having to consider hiring a tutor.

And besides all that, none of the above even leaves room to consider me.  What I might or might not want to do to nourish me.  Surely, searching for "me time" is not something that only working parents struggle with, but at least in theory, SAHMs (the ones who don't homeschool) have the hours that kids are at school to at least consider some of their own needs. 

I am not trying to purport a position that one is better or worse.  Both positions (really all positions since I haven't even touched on WAHMs) have their pluses and minuses.  I'm only speaking for working moms who struggle to get it all done.  Work, homework, the breadth of health needs, and even the "extras" like Cub Scouts.  It's like a road race but the finish line keeps getting pushed further and further back. 

Why I'll never use Chinese parenting with my son

Everyone is talking about Amy Chua's provocative essay in the Wall Street Journal, Why Chinese Mothers are Superior and it's easy to see why.  In this excerpt from her upcoming book, the Yale Law professor paints Western mothers as namby pamby pushovers who let their kids do whatever they want and fail miserably while Chinese mothers and a select group of mothers of other ethnicities enforce a strict regime to produce straight A virtuoso children who will take care of them in their old age.

When I first read it, linked from a friend's Facebook page, I just skimmed it and it still made me sick to my stomach.  Having just read it in full, I think I want to throw up.

Writes Chua:

If the child comes home with a B on the test, some Western parents will still praise the child. Other Western parents will sit their child down and express disapproval, but they will be careful not to make their child feel inadequate or insecure, and they will not call their child "stupid," "worthless" or "a disgrace." Privately, the Western parents may worry that their child does not test well or have aptitude in the subject or that there is something wrong with the curriculum and possibly the whole school. If the child's grades do not improve, they may eventually schedule a meeting with the school principal to challenge the way the subject is being taught or to call into question the teacher's credentials.



If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion. The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A.

All I can think is:  What in the world would a Chinese mother do with a child with an attention deficit (with or without hyperactivity)?

I've thought of this in other contexts.  Reading accounts of the pioneers when children were an integral part of life on the farm and good behavior was expected and enforced, I can't help but wonder about the little daydreamer.  A 10-year-old kid gazing off into the sky while the team plows right through the crops; a 12-year old girl trying to sit still and sew but completely unable to stay in her seat.  How did those parents - who surely knew nothing of disorders - react?

Chua describes being called "garbage" as a young girl, and repeating the cycle with one of her own daughters.  She says it proudly, as a badge of honor.  She describes 3-hour piano practice sessions, including one where she dragged her daughter to the piano, forcing her to play.

I saw this same type of parenting first hand when visiting a friend in my early 20s.  Her mother constantly berated her.  Later my friend told her that her mother felt it was her job to do so; that complementing her was tantamount to telling her she had done "enough" and wouldn't "encourage" her.  It was painful to be in the room when her mother was there, and I avoided her as much as possible.  

I won't deny the precision the Chinese display in areas such as gymnastics, ice skating, piano, and so forth.  But at what benefit.  Okay, so you are among the top five in the world who can do X.  But you spend 16 hours a day at it, have utterly no social life, and can't really have a dynamic conversation about a new book, a trend, or hot button topic.  A child with ADHD would not thrive in this type of world.

My son may never play violin like Joshua Bell.  He may not compete as a gymnast in the Olympics.  But I have no doubt that he will be able to talk your ear off on any one of a number of subjects.  He'll be able to describe beautiful images and create amazing inventions.  All because he has been encouraged and because we have worked with and not against his ADHD. 

One final note - I think the worst part of Chua's argument is that it paints parenting as either/or.  Permissive or strict.  Easy or authoritarian.  Personally, I believe most of us - from all cultures - use a blend of techniques depending on what we've seen, what we've experienced, and who our child is.  At least I hope we do.  One blogger, Wendy Sachs, seems to agree.

I hate Report Card Day

Open admission:  I was a straight-A student, at least most of the time.  Yeah, I had a few Bs here and there.  I think I even had a C at one point (which was devastating to me) but for the most part, I did well in school.  Some things came easy (English).  Some things I had to work at (math).  But I worked hard, got homework done right away, started studying well in advance of tests, and got good grades. 

In third grade, I don't recall a lot of homework or a lot tests.  I have only two really vivid academic memories from that year.  The first involves my handwriting.  On every report card, all of my grades would be S (satisfactory) except for handwriting, which was always U (unsatisfactory).  We didn't have letter grades or even an O for outstanding.  Just S and U.  In the space provided, the teacher's comment was always along the lines of: 

Deirdre is doing well in all subjects except handwriting.  She needs to work harder to improve her script. 

By third quarter, my mom was pretty tired of seeing that U and even more tired of seeing that comment.  She wasn't mad at me, though. 

In those days, we kids brought our own report cards home.  There was a place on it for the parents to sign, as well as lines for them to make comments, and the kids would return them the next day.

That third quarter, in her frustration over the repeated comment about my handwriting, my mother wrote the following in her own perfect Catholic school script: 

Obviously you can read her handwriting since she is doing well in all of her subjects.  

My second vivid academic memory of third grade is "helping" Billy with his schoolwork.  And by "helping," I mean letting him copy my work.  At the end of the school year, Billy was placed in "major works," which was what they called the gifted program at that time.  I was not invited to attend.

Was it my mother's response to Mrs. Gaudet, the fact that my writing wasn't up to snuff, or maybe my teacher just didn't like me? Whatever the cause, it's obvious that I was at least as academically deserving as Billy to go into major works, and very possibly more deserving.  Fortunately, in fourth grade, I had a wonderful teacher.  I don't thing she ever commented on my handwriting, and she saw that I bored in class (I would finish my work and go read in a corner) so she up recommend that I go into major works for the fifth grade. 

So third grade was pretty much the worst of my report card experiences...until I had Dylan.

I don't know if some schools still just send the report cards home with the kids, but at my son's school, the parents have to attend report card conferences if they want to see their child's report card.

It's not that any of Dylan's report cards have been really awful.  But the experience of getting them has been stressful and isolating. 

This past Thursday was report card day.  Or should I say Report Card Day, which is sort of how it's viewed at his school.  Like a bad holiday. 

I used to get there right at 3:00pm, which is when it begins.  But I always found a line of parents ahead of me.  So I got wise and started arriving around 4:00pm, by which time most parents had already come and gone.  That was not the case this past Thursday.  There were three parents in line ahead of me, and one who arrived right after I got there. 

While waiting, the parents chat.  And this is the part I hate most.  There's this constant, subtle one upsmanship.  Attempts at showing how gifted their kids are, hidden by self deprecation.  The dads don't really do this, but let's face it, it mostly moms who are there.   This is an example of the parent chatter:

"Oh, Xavier is starting soccer this week.  I just wish Mssr. Chauvin stop assigning so much homework.  It so interferes with our evening after practice is over.  And he doesn't really need the homework.  It's just busy work for him."

"Why do they want us to talk with them about grades?  I know Alysha is doing well.  It's not as if I don't see the teachers all the time when I'm volunteering."

"No, Ishmael does not participate in study group.  I already pay for aftercare.  What do they think, this is private school?  I can't afford another $50.00 for 12 weeks of tutoring....Christmas?  Oh, we got the kids a Wii, an XBox, that new Nintendo DS, and an iPad.  I wish Mssr. Chauvin would hurry.  My Lexus needs a tune up."

 It's even worse when they come out of the conference.

"Xavier got a 3.6, can you imagine?  I'm so disappointed in him.  I know he can do better than that.  He got a B in reading.  In reading!  That is even in his own language!  How does he expect to get into a good high school?  I'd rather that he were put in a lower reading group if the best he can get is a B."

Suffice it to say, I go into the report card conference from an entirely different perspective.  I would do cartwheels if Dylan had all As and Bs.  Heck, I'd do them if he had all Bs.  This quarter, he did get an A in language, which is his best subject.  And a B in math and in reading, both of which he struggles with.  But he got Cs in science and social studies.  While he vacillates over his opinion of social studies, he loves science, so it is frustrating in that even in a subject he loves, he struggles. 

So while it wasn't a bad report card, it's on the edge.  And, in discussion with the teacher, well...I have to wonder if some of those grades truly reflect his work.  Dylan gets accommodations and his teacher isn't convinced, sometimes, of what Dylan knows.  Dylan is permitted to answer verbally and...I think the teacher necessarily coaches the answers out of him.   And only grades him on the answers he completes, rather than the full test.  Even with accommodations, Dylan often does not complete the tests in ample additional time. 

Dylan needs academic help.  Our financial situation makes it difficult to pay that $50.00 a quarter for the study group, but because he needs every bit of help he can get to learn the material, we make it happen.  But it's group study with other kids, most of whom don't have significant academic issues.  Even that can only help so much.
 
He doesn't participate in sports because there's no way homework would get done.  And while homework often does seem like too much, he needs the review.  He does do a couple of activities but we watch it closely to make sure it doesn't impact his learning.  That said, the activities do help his self esteem and that is crucial for him.  Because he often does not feel good about himself in his academic life.

It's not that he's not smart.  He is bright and creative and interested in everything around him.  But keeping academic information in his brain in a usable way escapes him.  

It's hard for him, maybe even more so because a number of the kids in his class really are gifted.  Dylan feels bad when he doesn't do as well as those kids.  He wants to be that kid who zips through the test and gets an A.  But his brain, his distracted, frenzied brain, just won't let him.  And it's heartbreaking. 

I hate listening to those other parents go on about the wonderful things their kids are doing because it is wonderful and they - the parents - don't appreciate it.  Homework is annoyance for them, not an all-evening undertaking that often doesn't even result in completion.  They moan about the cost of after school help when they lavish fabulous electronic gadgets on their kids.  They're disappointed over excellent grades and in third grade no less!  Honestly, I want to slap them and say, "Hey, it could be worse!  Quit complaining and thank your lucky stars that your child can get through a test in the allotted amount of time.  That you have the time to volunteer, that  your child doesn't need tutoring or that you really could afford it if you wanted to, that even with soccer, your child can get his homework done."

So yes, I hate Report Card Day.  I wish a U in handwriting was all I had to worry about. 

No basis for comparison

I wonder all the time what other kids are like.

I'm an only child, and while I had friends, I didn't experience what other kids in a family are like.  I only knew me.  I was advanced, at least academically.  Possibly a bit behind socially, but I seem to have caught up in that area just fine.

I also had no first cousins.  Neither my uncle nor my aunt ever had kids.  My mother's cousins had kids, but our families weren't very close, so I didn't have that close family relationship with them.

As an adult, since I was an only child, I could never become an aunt within my own family.  And my husband's only sister never had children.

I don't even have really close friends, or at least none that live nearby, to see their kids up close on a regular basis.

And my mom was self-admittedly not maternal.  I don't feel as though I can get any parenting insight from her.

So sometimes, it's hard to know what is ADHD and what is normal kid behavior.  And how to respond.

Is it normal for an 8-year-old/nearly 9-year-old to want someone to sleep with him?  (And how do you break that?)

Do kids get so doggedly set on something, like walking daddy to his car when the child is already in bed?  (And how do you respond when you can't convince him otherwise?)

What about a sudden obsession with getting a flute - but not getting lessons or playing it in the band?  (How do you convince him that you don't buy a real instrument that you don't plan to learn how to play?)

What are their sentences in writing homework like?  (And how can you help guide them, especially when they want help but don't want to hear anything you have to say?)

Do they refuse what you are serving for dinner, even something they like, and only eat a croissant?  (I know enough that you don't make this a big deal on a given night.  But what about if it becomes a pattern?)

Do they get angry when you tell them something they know, even if it bears repeating? 

How do you figure all this out without role models or examples?