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ADHD Parenting Blog
A blog about parenting a lovable, exhausting child with ADHD.
She works part time at the public library in Ames, Iowa. Kay is the author of one (so far!) children's picture book, and finds other writing opportunities to legitimize the time she wastes communing with her laptop and drinking coffee (Sumatran, with creme) at Stomping Grounds several mornings each week. Her husband, Don, a landscape architect, may not always understand about her inability to cope with this very nice life, but supports her, without question, anyway. Kay has recurring dreams that it's the last day of vacation, and she hasn’t played in the ocean yet. She always misses the flight home. She loves reading (see a list of recent favorites on her website), eating Breyer's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, sleeping in, and Club Night (drinking wine and eating gourmet food with three other couples). She's thankful for her extended family, good friends, co-workers (most of the time, anyway) and reliable babysitters. Kay’s life may look picture-perfect, but one of her biggest blessings - being Natalie’s mom - is also her biggest challenge! Kay blogs about living in knee-deep clutter, the full-time job of managing Nat's special services, Nat's intense neediness (“MOM-EEEEEEEEE!”) and (oh, I nearly forgot) mothering her other child, and how she copes - or doesn't - with this picture-perfect life. Recent Blog Posts
Why is it that Natalie is able to hold it together so well for everyone else... then lets loose the torrent of her ADHD behavior on dear old Mom? Them:“She was a perfect angel all weekend. I didn’t have to say a word to her. Not one word!” “We sat right up front. She did great.” “She always picks up her toys at my house. It’s not that she doesn’t know how.” “Oh, no. Your mom would never force you to do anything. ” “You just need to keep on top of the mess. That’s what I do.” “Special needs? Oh yeah. She’s special, alright.” “I just sing the clean up song and she cleans up.” “No. Really? She’s smarter than a lot of the fifth graders I work with. She’ll be fine.” Me:…………….. ……………………….. ………………………………… I’m doing the best I can, so why don’t you just shut the f_ up. Oh, god. I’m crying at Stomping Grounds — AGAIN!
Keeping my ADHD kid healthy, happy, and calm consumes so much brain- and body-power that I've neglected my own diet and exercise. Today's glucose reading was a grim reminder that Mom's health matters, too. I'm not one of those SuperMoms who can do it all. For me, the demands of daily life — work, home, family — are a constant juggling act. And I never — I repeat: never — keep all the balls in the air. Parenting a child with special needs adds extra balls to juggle — occupational therapy appointments and at-home assignments, med-checks with the pediatrician, trips to the pharmacy, appointments with service providers… on top of high-alert, high-stress, high-energy parenting. The biggest ball I’ve let drop for the last few months is taking care of my own physical health. A couple years ago I was diagnosed with Type II diabetes (I’m old, fat, and lazy). When I was first diagnosed, I became a poster child for changing my life. My doctor actually called me that — her poster child — and asked if she could use me as an example for her other patients. I ate right — whole grains, no simple sugars, 6 small meals a day with a perfect balance of protein and carbs, lots of veggies. I exercised. I lost 15 pounds. My blood glucose readings were excellent. Over time, I’ve dropped the ball -- let my good habits lapse. Gained back the weight. Stopped exercising. And made sneaking sugary foods into an art form. Hey, I have an excuse, right? All those balls I have to juggle? The stress of raising an ADHD child? My New Year’s resolution is to get the diabetes-self-care ball back into the air. On New Year’s day I took out my glucose meter and dusted it off. Stuck in a test strip, and… nothing. The batteries were dead. To the drug store for batteries, and try again. This time, the meter worked. It showed that I last checked my blood glucose on Halloween. Fittingly, today’s result was scary. 308 — the highest reading I’ve ever had. Time to see my own doctor, not only keep up with Nat’s medical and therapy appointments. Time to focus on my eating habits, not just try to get Nat to eat more when her meds suppress her appetite. I have to exercise off the carbs I eat, not just get Nat to burn of her excess energy. I simply must juggle my diabetes-self-care ball back into the air. What other balls will I drop to make this happen?
Stricter state requirements mean that our family will lose all ADHD respite services in 2009. Happy New Year to you, too, Iowa. As I’ve mentioned before in my ADHD parenting blog, our family receives services through a Children’s Mental Health Waiver. The services are designed to help Natalie and the rest of us cope with her ADHD. When we applied for the waiver, our primary need was for respite — regular breaks from high-alert parenting, and perhaps most important of all, time to spend with our non-ADHD son. There were a couple of routes we could take to receive respite. The easiest to arrange would have been to send Natalie to a residential treatment facility one weekend a month. I couldn’t do that. She’s a baby! She’s 8 years old! I’d rather end up on the psychiatric unit myself than to hand her over to strangers in a setting like that. The other choice was to find individual providers on our own, and have an agency hire them and administer the waiver dollars. The agency wouldn’t find providers for us — they can’t find enough people to staff their own programs. So this means recruiting friends and family, or advertising and interviewing candidates on our own. We started out by hand-picking a couple of people Natalie already knew and loved, and asking them to take on this commitment. My sister Ann, Natalie’s aunt, was one of them. A favorite teacher at daycare, Allie, was the other. When I asked them to sign up to provide respite, I didn’t realize just how much I was asking of them. There is a lot of training required. They aren’t paid for their time for training, and they aren’t reimbursed for their expenses. The hourly rate they are paid is less than I pay babysitters, so there’s little financial incentive. When I asked them to do this, I thought the hourly pay was much higher. It turns out the agency administering the program takes a good chunk of it (in return for losing paperwork, forgetting to send training materials, not returning phone calls, changing staff 3 times in 18 months…). We lost Allie as a provider after just a few months because she wasn’t able to renew her first aid certification by the deadline. She’s a college student, was working at a daycare center, and was preparing to student teach. Meeting the training requirements — on her own time, at her own expense — was simply more than she could possibly do. I just found out that we’ll be losing our only other provider, my sister Ann, in June. Ann called me the other day to tell me that the state has added another requirement — Mandt training. Mandt is a system for safely restraining aggressive people. She’s had the training before, but her certification has expired. I had it too, years ago, when I worked in residential treatment for emotionally disturbed kids. And I use it with Natalie when she’s out of control, to keep her safe, and to keep her from destroying things around her. So, I can see why the powers-that-be would think it’s a good idea for providers to have this training. The problem is that the training takes two full days, and is only offered in a few cities around the state. Ann would have to pay for the training herself, take two unpaid days off work, travel out of town, and stay overnight at her own expense. And remember, she wouldn’t be paid for her time to take the training. That’s too much to ask of anyone. Too much to ask even of a family member. So, I’m afraid our only option will be to give up our services. And if we have to give up respite, how many other families in the state will find themselves in the same situation? Happy freakin’ New Year to you, too, Iowa. Thanks for nothing.
ADHD preschoolers don't have to sit still to enjoy Howard B. Wigglebottom's basic listening lessons. I was checking my ADHD parenting blog for comments this morning, and found a new comment from Howard Binkow. Hey, I recognize that name! Howard B. Wigglebottom--is that you? Howard says he’s the CEO of the We Do Listen Non Profit Foundation, but I recognize his name as the author of the book: Howard B. Wigglebottom Learns to Listen, one of my favorite picture books. It's great for the preschool through first grade crowd, and especially good for kids with ADHD, because it introduces some basic listening skills--without insisting that kids have to sit still in order to listen and take in info. Howard is a white rabbit that gets into a little trouble at school because he doesn’t listen. After picking up some listening pointers, his day goes more smoothly. There's a summary of the listening skills at the end of the book. The book is beautifully illustrated—I absolutely love the color scheme. The colors themselves are calming. This book is the perfect gift for the early childhood teacher on your list, or to read at home to help your little wigglebottom prepare for school. Natalie loved it when she was a couple years younger. Come to think of it, she’d probably like it now! I’ll have to bring it back out. A quick look at Amazon shows that since we last met, Howard has taken on feeling good about himself and bullying. I’ll have to take a look at his latest adventures! Happy reading, wigglebottoms! Thanks for contacting me, Howard!
How is it that Natalie's ADHD permeates our whole household? And where the heck are all those Christmas cards hiding? If you're one of those people who found the time, energy, and organizational skills to send out Christmas cards, I salute you. I haven’t managed to send Christmas cards for several years. If you are one of the kind folks who sent a card to my family, thank you -- and I’m sorry. I hope to find it and read it sometime before next Christmas. No, I do not have ADHD. My daughter Natalie does. Although she’s the only person in the family with ADHD, she generates enough chaos throughout our home to create the illusion that ADHD is a family-wide trait. If you walked in our front door, you’d be convinced that even Smokey Joe, our fat gray cat, must have it. This year’s Christmas cards have gone the way of everything else that enters our house, which is to say: they’re everywhere. It’s not that I don’t have a designated spot to display them—I do. I have a nice green basket on a table in the dining room. You’d think it would be simple enough to get the cards out of the mailbox, through the front door, and into this basket. You’d be wrong. The card from Don’s cousin Deb and her family flew right past the dining room and came to rest in the bathroom. Natalie made an emergency pit stop when we got home from work and daycare one night. I set the mail down on the counter next to the sink while I helped her, and it’s still there. I managed to at least read the return address — Denver -- before following Natalie to her next crisis. For several weeks I wondered when Deb’s family moved to Colorado without me hearing about it, but I kept forgetting to ask Don. I found out at Christmas with Don’s family that they didn’t move to Colorado — they’re living in Denver, Iowa. Pat and Tracey sent a gorgeous card with red flocking and a little jewel-type embellishment on the front. It was so beautiful and fragile that it had to be hand-cancelled at the post office. Inside was a great black and white photo of her three kids. I admire it every time I walk up the stairs. It’s still sitting on the bottom step--right next to the bill from daycare and the overdue library books-- where I dropped it in a failed attempt to catch Natalie as she ran through the house in her snow boots, tracking snow across the living room floor. So much for: “handle with care”. I gathered a whole handful of cards from around the house one day last week, and sat down at the kitchen table to open them. The sounds of Natalie in a rage in her room reached me before I could read -- before I could even open -- a single one. I have no idea where that pile of cards is now. So, if you sent a card this holiday season, forgive me for not reciprocating. Forgive me for not commenting on the lovely picture, the newsy letter. Apologizing is the story of my life -- my life with a child with ADHD.
Holiday stress isn't just for families with ADHD children. The excitement of Christmas and the upcoming vacation has everyone a little wired. It’s not just the ADHD kids now: the excitement of the Holiday season has permeated Natalie’s entire school. Natalie has never had a major problem with her behavior at school. Trouble focusing, yes. Serious acting out, no. (She saves that for me.) But, last week, from her reports, there was a disturbing change. She was getting “strikes” and “warnings”. Teachers were “yelling” at her. Oh, no. Is her new ADHD medication not working after all? I stopped in one morning to touch base with Natalie’s special ed teacher, Mrs. Carter. She hadn’t heard that Natalie was getting into any trouble. She’d check with the other teachers. She called me later that day. The music teacher asked Natalie to take the string from her shirt, which was supposed to be tied behind her back, out of her mouth. She hadn’t yelled, or given her a strike or a warning. In fact, no one had yelled. No one was seeing any changes in her school behavior. When Mrs. Carter talked to Natalie, even she denied any problems. (She later told me that she’d “fooled” Mrs. Carter.) But, the kids throughout the school were wired. The special ed room was loud, the hallways were loud, the lunch room was loud. Mrs. Carter, personally, had experienced the hardest week of her entire teaching career. The day-before-vacation-craziness had taken hold of all the kids--two whole weeks early. Added to that, Nat’s regular classroom teacher was gone a couple of days. First, to a meeting, and then out sick. Natalie has always reacted to the uncertainty of subs with weird behavior, so her false reports, and her “fooling” of Mrs. Carter fit. As did the day Dad had to pick her up after lunch because she had a bad headache. Last night, she started angling to stay home sick today. Her ear hurt. Her throat hurt. She woke up this morning with cold sores bubbling up on her bottom lip. I sent her to school anyway, with the reassurance that her classroom teacher will probably be back today. Do your best, I told her. If the teachers seem stressed, look around you. Could they be reacting to the other kids, not you? You don’t want to miss your party at religious ed Wednesday night, or your class party at school on Friday. Winter break from school—Christmas--then readjusting to school resuming in January. Ho, ho, ho! Looks like this joke’s on the teachers and parents.
For a child with ADHD, waiting for Christmas is challenge beyond her capabilities. When Natalie says, “I can’t wait for Christmas!” she means it literally. Christmas is coming, but not fast enough for Natalie. Do you know that holiday song? “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” Not at the Marner house. When there is a child with ADHD in the family, the song goes more like this: “It’s the most challenging wait of the year!” I’ve written before in my Parenting ADHD Children Blog about how hard it is for Natalie to wait for special occasions, and about what we’ve done to try and help her. Making a paper chain, and removing one link each day helped her to wait for her first Girl Scout meeting. It gave her a visual to help her see the progression of time—see that time was passing, that she was getting closer each day to her goal. With the coming of Christmas, I hoped an Advent calendar would do the same. It’s the same concept—counting down, being able to see the big day getting closer. The calendar I gave her even has a piece of chocolate behind each little window, so it’s kind of like a behavioral reward system. To my great disappointment, it’s not working. As with many things we’ve tried, what worked once doesn’t necessary do the trick a second time. Sure, Nat likes to open the little windows. She like the chocolate. But it’s doing nothing to prevent her from obsessing about getting a Nintendo DS, a Matchbox space ship toy, and Lucky, the electronic dog--the top three things on her Christmas list. She wants them, and she wants them now! Aaron gets excited about Christmas too. But for him, this excitement is normal. When he says, “I can’t wait!” he doesn’t mean it literally. When Natalie says, “I can’t wait!” she’s warning you of an impending ADHD meltdown that’s likely to result in physical injury or property damage. Forget trying to teach her that Christmas isn’t about the presents. And don’t assume that learning to wait is just a matter of normal development—I’m telling you, it ain’t happenin’. My mommy-radar tells me that her inability to handle anticipation isn’t normal. Is this typical for kids with ADHD? And, if so, does anyone have any advice to share about helping our kids learn to cope with waiting? If not, then for me, this month will be: “The most patience-trying time of the year.”
I tend to cope with my daughter's negative behavior and temper tantrums by blaming it on the ADHD. Is that a parenting cop-out? Last week, our in-home therapist, Gayle, helped me to feel good about an instinct I have when it comes to parenting my ADHD child. When Natalie is totally out of control—you know the drill—flailing around, kicking and screaming, biting, grabbing everything in sight to throw or to rip apart (shall I go on?) I try to figure out what set her off. I work on putting that into words for her. I focus on helping her to calm down and regain control. I don’t address each individual negative behavior. Last Thursday night my niece Hannah was at our house (she works for Gayle) to work with Natalie. Gayle stopped in, as she does every few sessions, to guide Hannah’s work. Nat was wild, and Gayle suggested Hannah help Nat to release some energy by doing some sit-ups and using her exercise ball. Nat complied, just barely, but this coping skill wasn’t working-yet. Nat was being mouthy, disrespectful. Gayle and I ignored it. Hannah didn’t. And I felt embarrassed; deeply ashamed. Hannah didn’t say this, of course, but this is what I heard: “No wonder your child acts this way. How can you let her get away with talking to you like that?” Somehow, Gayle sensed I felt this way, and she brought it up later, after Nat had calmed down. My instincts weren’t wrong, according to Gayle. For a kid with ADHD, in those particular circumstances, focusing on using a coping skill trumped confronting her smart-mouth comments. It takes understanding where a child’s behavior is coming from to see this. I strive for just that, and I can certainly see how looking for ways to connect her behavior to ADHD can look like a parenting-cop-out. I’m not a perfect parent. Not even a “very good” one. My feelings will continue to get hurt. But I’m trying.
Nat's weekend away with her ADHD friend and his parents worked wonders for her behavior and she's sleeping like a baby. Natalie arrived home from her weekend away with her friend Harry late Sunday afternoon. “We got some great pictures,” Harry’s mom, Victoria said. “There’s one of the two of them at a restaurant. Both of them are resting their heads on the table.” Two kids with ADHD tired out before midnight? Their strategy—let the kids play at the indoor water park until they wear themselves out—apparently worked. “What you don’t see in the picture is Steve and I clinking our glasses of wine!” Most of the weekend, it turns out, Natalie and Harry had the water park to themselves. Two ADHD kids vs. two lifeguards and two parents: I like those odds. Nat’s re-entry into family life went smoothly as well. I used to dread her homecomings from weekends away—not because I didn’t miss her like crazy, but because she’d inevitably freak out. All the control she’d exerted over her behavior for Grandma or Aunt Ann would suddenly give out, and the dam would break. Have you seen that pattern with your ADHD kid? This doesn’t seem to happen anymore with Natalie. We had a wonderful evening together—decorating our Christmas tree as a family. Sharing some cake for my birthday, which was Saturday. And when bedtime came, the water’s magic was still working. Nat went right to sleep, no Benadryl needed. Water park weekend, anyone?
We’ve created a wonderful arrangement with another family of trading off caring for each other's ADHD kids while one set of parents takes a break. I kissed Natalie good-bye this morning at the door to her second grade classroom knowing I wouldn’t get another kiss until Sunday night. She’s leaving town at 1:00 pm today (getting out of school early!) with her friend and soul-sibling, Harry, and his family. They’re spending the weekend at a new hotel with an indoor water park at Iowa’s Lake Rathbun. Harry’s mom, Victoria, said Harry’s dad, Steve, called the resort to find out what time the water park closes. He was told that it closes at 9:00 pm. So early? They were hoping for 11:00! Their plan is to let the kids wear themselves out until they’re ready to collapse, then give them their teddy bears and call it a night. I hope that’s exactly how it turns out, but there’s a good chance that Natalie’s ADHD-fueled excitement will outlast their best efforts—especially this first night--so I sent along some Benadryl. We’re so blessed to have friends that we can trust to take care of Natalie. They accept her and love her just the way she is. They understand her behavior, and are willing to deal with it; in the car, in the hotel, in restaurants. Natalie will feel safe, loved, and happy. We’ll owe Harry’s family big time for giving us this break! And we’ll reciprocate gladly sometime soon, with just as much love and understanding. We’ve fallen into a habit with Harry and his family of trading off caring for the two kids while one set of parents takes a break. Not long ago, this arrangement was fairly difficult. The demands of caring for two super-high-energy kids was hardly worth the break we got in return. But as the kids have matured it’s gotten easier and easier. It’s now—clearly—a win-win arrangement. Have you ever thought of trading childcare with another special needs family? « All Blogs |
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Kay Marner is the chronically overwhelmed mother of two: her neurotypical, very bright, biological son Aaron; and her one-of-a-kind daughter Natalie, adopted from Russia, who has ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, and developmental delays.