ADHD Parenting Blog

Archives: August 2008

The Burn of ADHD Impulsiveness

We do the best we can to protect our ADHD children, but sometimes they endanger themselves right in front of our eyes and we can't react fast enough.

That damn ADHD impulsiveness led Nat to burn her hand last night, and her tears nearly broke my heart.

Every night after her bath, without fail, Nat climbs out of the tub and onto the bathroom counter, where she exams, picks, and squeezes various scabs until they bleed. Last night, she reached up and touched a hot light fixture, leaving a dime-sized oozy burn on one hand. I could tell it hurt like crazy.

An ADHD medication screw-up at daycare was probably partly to blame. Nat moved to a new room when school started, so the teachers are less familiar with her. There was a sub yesterday who didn’t know about Nat’s meds. The director called me at 5:25 to break the news that Nat missed her 4:00 dose. Should she give it to her now? Yes, PLEASE. (And I’ll drive around for 20 minutes before I pick her up, I thought!) Since her 4:00 dose was late, we skipped her 7:00 pm meds. And by bath time, she was nearly Ritalin-free.

Nat’s perfectly capable of endangering herself even when fully medicated. She proved that earlier in the evening when she was the only one of 5 kids I was supervising as they rode bikes, scooters, and Nat’s Green Machine. (check out the Green Machine—although it isn’t made for this purpose, it’s a great natural occupational therapy tool) in the cul-de-sac across the street who didn’t “freeze” as instructed when a car turned onto the street. She kept right on riding right out in front of it. Luckily, the car stopped.

The scariest ADHD-fueled near-tragic experience I’ve ever heard of is detailed on a blog called Life With Fastboy, written by One Tired Mama. It’s terrifying. Have a read…if you can stand to. I can’t compete with this one on the scary story scale—and I wouldn’t want to! Can you?

Nat’s burn looked terrible, but felt better, this morning. The heartbreaking part of this episode, besides Nat’s pain and tears? I didn’t--couldn’t--prevent it. And I was standing right there.

School Picture Day

Getting ready for school picture day added some stress to our already ADHD-troubled night time routine.

Today is school picture day at Natalie’s school. When I dropped Nat off this morning the hallways were filled with little girls in fancy dresses, their hair in barrettes or pretty ponytails.

And then, there was Nat.

Getting ready for school pictures added some stress to our already ADHD-troubled bedtime routine. As the expert recommend, I set about laying out the clothes Nat would wear the night before. “I’m not wearing a dress!” Nat insisted. So I suggested a blue shirt from Old Navy that I particularly like. But Nat had other ideas.

She pulled out an Iowa State football t-shirt, and announced that she was would be wearing it. I’m all for supporting the Cyclones, but somehow I don’t think that’s what Grandma and Grandpa have in mind for their display of framed 5” x 7”’s of all the grandchildren. “What does Grandma have to do with it?” Nat asked, when I voiced this argument. “One of the pictures is for her,” I said, hoping this would pull a little weight. It didn’t.

I put Nat to bed, resolved to get my way, at any price, in the morning. I thought Natalie was asleep, when I heard, “Mom-eeeeeeeeeeee!”

“What’s wrong,” I asked.

There was that embarrassed half smile that I know means trouble.

“I’m going to look stupid in my picture. I’m an idiot butthole.”

This must be bad, I thought, if Nat’s using the worst words in her bad-word arsenal!

“Harry made me cut my hair.”

What to address first? Harry can’t MAKE you do anything. You need to make your own choices.

Or…When? Where? How?

Or…How bad is the damage, and why didn’t I notice it when I blow dried her hair tonight?

She pointed to the spot. Sure enough, there’s a short, choppy chunk of bangs the width of her left eyebrow. I guess it’s time to lock up all the scissors again.

This morning, I insisted Nat wear the blue shirt, but I let her wear her brown puppy earrings. Her glasses are all crooked, and falling down on her nose. And then, there’s the hair.

The photography company says they can retouch blemishes, but they can’t erase glasses, moles, or fly-away hair. Can they straighten glasses? Can they put back hair that’s missing?

If nothing else, this year’s school picture will show the real Natalie. And she’ll look beautiful—to me.

You’re The Parent of an ADHD Child When . . .

Sharing ADHD stories with friends is a great outlet for venting my parenting frustrations.

My friend Joani emailed me a link to a funny back-to-school post on the Special Education Law blog: “You know you’ve been the parent of a child with special needs too long when…” by Lori Miller Fox.

I certainly could relate to it! Thanks for the laughs, Lori! My experience with the Exorcist led me to be especially fond of this quip: “You embroider the number ‘666’ on your child’s t-shirt just so unwelcome strangers don’t come up and “bless” your child.” Love it!

That reminds me of a story. Please excuse me for getting a little off topic, but I just have to tell it. Remember when I wrote about Don and me getting away from it all at Lake Okoboji with friends Steve & Joani and Mark & Debbie? Well, I didn’t quite get away from it all.

I was still fuming at the time about the Exorcist. (Implying that I’m not fuming about her now? Wrong!) I’d just shared the whole episode with Joani and Debbie, and they were properly appalled, as friends should be. I walked out of our condo just as a (perfectly normal looking!) man walked out of the neighboring condo.

“They rebuilt the decks since last year,” he says.

“Yeah, they’re really nice,” I reply.

“Did you see the diamonds on them?”

“No,” I said. "Diamonds?"

“Yeah. There are diamonds all over them. Do you think they’re demonic symbols? I already asked the manager, and he didn’t think so,” the guy said.

You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. Why me?

That Little ADHD Rascal

Sometimes my ADHD daughter likes to turn up the drama just for my benefit--she almost got away with it.

In my last parenting ADHD children blog post I wrote about how, due to her ADHD, Natalie has problems with change. I predicated that even though she was excited about school, and thought she’d love her new teacher, she’d flip out when she got home after her first day. Unfortunately, I was right.

When I picked Natalie up from daycare Thursday afternoon, after her first day of school, she first broke the news that her glasses were broken—AGAIN! They didn’t survive one day of school. These are the new, unbreakable glasses, you know. Nat found their weak spot—the easy to replace nosepieces—and one “fell out.” She was worried about how I would react to the broken glasses.

I decided not to try to take her to Hy-Vee to get them fixed right away. Better get a handle on how she’s doing, give her something to eat, I thought. I’m glad I did. She fell apart when we got home—sobbing, looking exhausted, flailing around on the floor. “My teacher is horrible! I’m never going back to school!” She recounted how the teacher yelled when kids weren’t quiet during quiet time, full of dramatics. “And you know I don’t like yelling,” she said. Yes, I know she can’t tolerate loud sounds--unless she’s the one making them!

Since I’d expected her to have problems adjusting, I focused on helping her cope, rather than delving into the “horrible teacher” issue. I gave her a snack, and bribed her with time to play with a friend if she could calm herself down. By the time supper was over, she was doing much better. “I’m calm, Mom” she said. “Can I play with Sarah Rose now? Please?”

Sarah Rose came over. As they sidewalk-painted on the driveway, Sarah Rose asked Nat about her first day of school. “It was fine,” Natalie told her, then, realizing her mistake, looked at me—an embarrassed smile on her face. I looked back at her, eyebrows raised.

“I lied about all of that badness,” she admitted. The little rat!

Whew. Nat’ll be okay with school, given time. She just needs time to adjust.

By the way, I took Nat to Hy-Vee to have her glasses repaired after her second day of school. The optician had to work and work to get what was left of the nosepiece out in order to replace it. Nat says, “That’s funny. They always pop right out when I bite them!” Caught ya again, you rascal!

Back to School Jitters

I have mixed feelings about the start of school. I welcome the peace and quiet, but dread my ADHD daughter's adjustment period.

I can’t decide how to start this post:

Option #1: School started this morning. Thank God! I’m home, alone, for the first time in 3 months. I love my kids, but I can’t function without a little time at home to regroup.

Option #2: School started this morning. Oh my God! Another transition! It’ll take Natalie a good month to adjust. That means that the next month is going to be hell.

I’m not the only one in my household who has mixed feelings about the start of school. Both Aaron and Natalie faced the first day of school with a crazy-making combination of excitement and apprehension. Aaron, because it’s his first day at Ames’ huge middle school. Natalie because, well, because she’s Natalie! And because she has attention deficit disorder (ADHD.)

Yesterday, from 3:00 to 4:00 pm, kids were invited to visit school to find their classrooms, meet their teachers, and drop off their school supplies. I picked Natalie up from daycare at about 2:50 to take her to school for a quick visit.

Nat got along great during the visit. She loved her new teacher, Mrs. Morken, on sight. The principal, the special ed teachers, her first grade teacher Mrs. Junck, and other school personnel greeted her like a beloved celebrity. What a difference between this experience and her first day of summer school.

When we got home, however, Nat immediately fell apart. She turned on Don’s I Pod, and turned the volume way up. She took money out of a drawer that she knows is off limits. She pinned the cat to the floor with one knee, and “petted” him too roughly, making loud nonsense sounds in his face. When I stopped her she turned on me. Arms and legs flailing, she scratched me down the length of one arm.

I put her in time out. “Wrestle with your blanket, squeeze it as hard as you can,” I said. “Take some deep breaths. Use your words. Are you excited? Scared?”

Eventually she regained some control, but she stayed squirrelly all night.

This morning we arrived at school on time--with glasses on, hair combed, teeth brushed. Nat kissed me a dozen times, but let go of me to join her class without excessive clinging.

I’m expecting her to let it all out tonight—the pent up energy from trying to be good, the excitement, and the fear.

I hope that--just and hour now and then--of this rare peace and solitude will help me to survive Natalie’s adjustment. I have a feeling I’ll need all the help I can get!

On the ADHD Brink

Endless ADHD generated chaos doesn’t do it for me. I'm teetering dangerously close to the brink of losing it and I need a weekend alone to get it together.

I’ve been feeling more overwhelmed than usual for the last few weeks. It’s been a solid week since I’ve posted to my Parenting ADHD Kids blog, and that’s just one of the many things I’ve neglected.

My hair is three weeks past needing to be cut, and let’s not even talk about gray roots. I think I’m running my car out of oil again. I filled up with gas at 9:15 last night, on my way home from work, because the dummy light came on, but I couldn’t make myself check the oil. I haven’t spent a second on the presentation I’m supposed to have ready for a meeting that starts in one hour. I don’t have all the kids’ school supplies, and school starts Thursday. Natalie’s new glasses are broken, and need to be fixed by Thursday when school starts also. We’re all dangerously close to running out of clean clothes, and we’re already out of our household staples—milk and ice cream. Shall I go on, or do you get the idea?

Natalie, with her ADHD, is both a leading cause, and a prime victim of my recent mood. I know that, in order to go out into the world and enjoy the challenges of work, writing, parenting, and being a social being, I need certain things from my home base; my foundation. I need peace; organization. It’s sort of a feng shui thing. Endless ADHD-generated clutter doesn’t do it for me. In fact, it makes me crazy. But right now, the best I can do to fight it is to pick up the toys, blankets, clothes, stickers, markers, and garbage and throw them in a pile in Nat’s room so they’re out of my sight.

I’m also not in a good place to respond to Nat’s constant neediness. I reach my limit with Nat’s knees-and-elbows-wiggling-clinginess much sooner. I lose my temper, not just with Nat, but with her friends. (I said no screaming, Casey. Scream one more time and I’m calling your mom.)

My husband pays the price too. After 13 years of marriage, I’ve learned that I have to tell him when I’m feeling this way—it doesn’t show the way I think it does. hen he tries to give me a break now and then—20 minutes to read, lets me be the one to leave the house to buy groceries. He fills the dishwasher. He asks, cautiously, if I mind if he plays racquetball in the evening before confirming his plans.

I’ve been here before. I know what I need to do to get out of my funk. I need to ask Don if he and the kids could go to his parent’s house for Labor Day weekend without me. Maybe I’ll pay someone for extra help (I don’t miss the Exorcist, but I sure do miss the clean clothes and sheets). I need to finish a couple of lingering projects, feel the satisfaction of crossing them off my list. Schedule one evening per week of respite services. Go for a walk once a day, whether I have time to do so or not.

This morning, as I was worrying that maybe I’m less able to tolerate life than other people, I ran into my friend Rob. He and his wife Sarah don’t have kids, but hosted various nieces and nephews at their home throughout the summer. He couldn’t believe how hard it was, he said. And they were all really good kids. But they eat 8 times a day! And they need entertainment and company! He doesn’t know how people with kids do it. It made me feel so much better to hear that. Maybe I’m not crazy after all! Not only do I have kids, I have a kid with special needs.

Sometimes, Rob, parents can’t do it. Sometimes the best we can do is to live through it.

Fun With ADHD Transition Time

Expecting a hungry kid with ADHD to transition from daycare to car ride, right before medicine time, is just plain stupid.

In earlier posts I wrote that big ‘ol bites marked, literally, two out of the three over-stimulating outings we’ve attempted as a family so far this summer. Now I’ll tell you about the third.

We picked Natalie up from daycare on a Friday evening, and headed straight to Indianola to meet our dinner club friends at the Hot Air Balloon Classic.

What’s wrong with this picture, for an ADHD kid? Well, for starters:

·Can you say “transition time”?
·“I’m H U N G R Y !”
·Aaron turns his head, puts one fist up to his mouth, and coughs out one word: “RITALIN!” (That’s enough, Funny Boy.)
·I know a fun game. Let’s see who can sit still for an hour and a half in a confined space! Ready? Go!

Nat was out of control from the very start, and I cursed myself for lobbying to bring her along. We usually don’t take her to Club Night. This night was an exception. Instead of sitting around a dining room table, the adults would be outside. Instead of playing video games and watching movies, the kids would be running around checking out carnival rides and games. The rides would keep her happy for hours.

So, Nat’s grabbing me, throwing toys, whining, and yelling. What’s the first thing I say? “If you do that one more time, you lose going on rides for the night!” Nat, surprise, surprise, lost going on rides for the night.

Now what the hell were we going to do with her?

When we arrived in Indianola, greeted our friends, ate a little supper, downed a little Ritalin (Nat, not me), Nat and I both relaxed. I suggested she might want to trade in her no rides punishment for a time out, and we’d start fresh. She did her time standing by the fence, all alone, and looked so pathetic I nearly cried. “Can she be finished now?” Don asked. “Sure,” I answered.

I broke the biggest law of parenting, by not following through, I know. But the punishment should fit the crime, and expecting a hungry kid with ADHD to transition from daycare to car, right before medicine time, is just plain stupid.

The rest of the evening was great. Nat had a blast going on ride after ride. Our friends got to see her for the first time in months. I even got a free hot air balloon ride. As I floated in the silent air above farms and fields, I thought of Nat. Let her feel this kind of peace, I wished. And let me feel peaceful with her.

Operation Mean Man Patrol

Not everyone understands my sweet, charming, perfectly acceptable though not-quite-typical ADHD kid.

Once again, I’m writing from Lake Okoboji. This time, we’re on our family vacation—Don, Aaron, Natalie and I. We’re staying at Bridges Bay, a new family resort. It has an indoor water park and an outdoor pool. Great entertainment for busy kids.

Unfortunately, Nat had a bad experience last night—our first night here. I wasn’t right there when it happened, but from her description of the event, I’m guessing it related directly to her atypical social skills, and therefore, to her attention deficit disorder (ADHD).

I said atypical social skills, rather than poor social skills deliberately. I don’t think her social skills are all that poor. In fact, a lot of the time, her impulsiveness translates into a lack of social inhibition that is downright enviable. At other times, her lack of boundaries can be disconcerting.

Last night, once the two kids were acclimated to the area, I grabbed a lounge chair by the outdoor pool, and pulled out my book. This is what I call a vacation, I thought.

But before long, Nat came running over. “There’s a mean man in there! He yelled at me!”

“Tell me what happened,” I said.

Nat said she was swimming next to him, and he told her to “Shoo! Get away from here!” A line from my picture book, Dog Tales, ran through my mind:

“Go away,” said the man. “Go away! Get lost! Shoo!”

“What’s wrong sir?” Miss June said. “These dogs won’t hurt you!”

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trailing Natalie like a bodyguard, keeping the Mean Man in my sights; my body between him and Natalie. She was terrified. So much for a relaxing vacation.

Why did he “shoo” her? Maybe she got a little too close, didn’t respect his personal space. Maybe she stared at his butt-ugly face for a few seconds too long. She may have even spoken to him, or more likely to his daughter, probably a three year old, whom he held and played with ‘til closing time. None of these is too terrible an offense for a little girl in a swimming pool.

I hope he’s gone today, so Operation Mean Man Patrol can be over. I want to enjoy my vacation—with my sweet, charming, perfectly acceptable though not-quite-typical ADHD kid.

My ADHD Support Network Grows

This morning, I met another ADDitude subscriber and mom to an ADHD kid - one of Ames' very best teachers! Turns out she's one of us.

My fall issue of ADDitude arrived in yesterday’s mail. I had no idea that, as I paged through it last night, another mom, just a few blocks away, was doing the same.

When I dropped Natalie off at summer school this morning (2 days and counting!), I ran into one of Ames’ not just acceptable, but really good teachers that I mentioned in a previous post.

“I saw your name in ADDitude last night,” she said. “I didn’t know you wrote for them.”

“I didn’t know you subscribed,” I said. “Do you subscribe because you’re a teacher?”

She subscribes because she’s one of us! She has a child with ADHD. And she relies on the information she gets from ADDitude magazine and ADDitudeMag.com. She shared with me a dilemma her child had at school, and how she figured out how it related to his ADHD and what to do about it, by turning to ADDitude.

“The school subscribes, too. I’m going to write an article for the staff newsletter about what a good resources both the magazine and website are,” she said.

“Mention that the public library has it too!” I added. The more copies in teachers’ hands the better, I thought.

I have a message for every teacher who takes the time; who cares enough to learn more about ADHD and learning disabilities: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I don’t know what makes me happier: being reassured that our teachers care, or finding another local mom that I know and respect that I feel like I can turn to for support and advice. Learning both sure made for a great morning!

This Bites! Painful ADHD Overstimulation

Summer-event crowds, noise, smells, and heat are a killer combination for Natalie, who has major problems with sensory issues.

“Can we go to the State Fair?” Aaron asked. “Please?”

The State Fair is a big deal in Iowa, and one of the many ways I’ve deprived my 11-year-old son of a full life (others include not buying him a Wii or a cell phone) is by not taking him to it, at least not since he’s been old enough to remember.

The state fair means heat. Crowds. Noise. Smells.

“I’m NOT taking Natalie,” I said immediately, just in case Don, who isn’t a fair fan either, was wavering.

Crowds, noise, smells, and heat are a killer combination for Natalie, who has major problems with sensory issues, and summertime fun in Iowa tends to include all of the above.

So far this summer, we’ve braved three large events, and I came away from two of the three with bite marks to show for it. That’s right, bite marks. When Natalie is over stimulated, it seems the only way she can relieve the pressure is to bite down — hard — on my arm or leg.

I know better than to take Nat to crowded events, but sometimes, my desire to do things as a family, paired with recent small successes, make me overly optimistic. “Nat can do this,” I tell myself, “I’m just being lazy by not trying it.”

So, off we went this summer — Aaron and his friend Zach, Nat and her friend Bekah, and Don and I, when RAGBRAI, The Register’s Great Annual Bike Ride Across Iowa overnighted in Ames. Don, who rode on RAGBRAI BK (Before Kids, or to be honest, Before Kay) and I wanted to see the outdoor Styx concert, and the boys wanted to see Lance Armstrong, who gave a nice “Why I Love RAGBRAI” pep talk and introduced Styx.

We lasted through 3 or 4 songs (during which my 11-year-old did not allow me to dance or sing, even though I knew every word of the lyrics) before Natalie made it clear that we had to leave. The big bite came as we made our exit.

Then, Saturday, we went to Don’s company picnic at Adventureland. I have never seen it so crowded. Again, a big bite, followed by a long, hard 4-fingernail scratch down my arm, proved that we’d stayed too long.

I don’t know if we’ll take Aaron, but Nat won’t be experiencing the State Fair this year. If she wants to sink her teeth into something, it’ll be fresh Iowa sweet corn at home, not my arm at the State Fair.

Scouting for ADHD Milestones

Natalie, we thought, was maturing to the point that we could leave her unsupervised in the house for a few minutes. We thought wrong.

Natalie spent the night with a friend on Saturday. She left around 5:00 Saturday evening. Don, Aaron, and I spent a peaceful evening grilling out for dinner, then enjoying a fire in our outdoor fireplace late into the night.

We slept late on Sunday morning. I was on the back patio enjoying my coffee Sunday morning when Don left to pick up Nat. A few minutes after he left, I went inside to take a shower.

I exited the shower to pure chaos. Natalie was home.

She’d gone to the basement storage area and found a big role of paper that Don, a landscape architect, uses to draw plans. She’d unrolled what seemed like miles of it throughout both the upstairs and main level of our house, and was walking, running, jumping, and rolling on it, as our cat, Smokey watched — with equal parts terror and fascination.

“What are you doing? Where’s your dad?” I yelled. I didn’t know who to be mad at first — Natalie, for the mess, or Don for not watching her.

“Daddy went to get coffee,” she said.

What was he thinking, I wondered, fuming, leaving her unsupervised?

When he got home a few minutes later, you better believe I asked him just that.

“I was thinking how great it was that she was finally to the point where I could just drop her off, and know she’d be okay,” he said, the irony of his statement as thick as the cream in my coffee.

I couldn’t stay mad. I knew just how he was feeling. For those of us in the parenting fast lane, it’s the hope of reaching those milestones that keep us going. We haven’t hit this milestone yet, apparently, but we’ll get there.

Natalie is 8 years old. I sure do hope it’s soon.

Super Natalie vs. the Bendy Glasses

One week down... and Natalie's new memory-metal glasses are neither broken nor lost. It's a miracle!

Natalie got new glasses last Wednesday. They’re fire-engine red, with memory metal frames, and sun glasses that are like clip-ons, but magnetic. They’re pretty cool. And Nat loves them.

I thought memory metal sounded too good to be true. Sure, they’ll bend, I thought, but will they BEND? Will they stand up to the ADHD fidget-finger challenge?

So far, so good!

Nat’s new frames have survived 7 days of summer school, and though they’re a little crooked, they’re still in one piece. That’s a new record for Nat, when it comes to glasses. Last year, juggling two pairs, she didn’t end a single 5 day school week with one wearable pair. This new pair is--well, like new! In spite of the fact that Nat’s been up to her usual ADHD-inspired tricks.

After school, Day One, me: “Are your new glasses still okay?” Natalie: “Well, one of the nosepieces came off. (Yeah, right, came off, all by itself, right?) “But the teacher fixed it.”

I’d asked the optician about that. Sure, the frames are memory metal, I said, but how about the nosepieces? Nat bites them off.

They snap right back in, he said. And we have hundreds of them, right here, in this drawer.

Since the teacher was able to snap it back in, we didn’t even have to stop back in the shop! Yes!

Then, yesterday, Natalie: “Guess what, mom? My new glasses are really bendy! Watch this!” She took them off, bent them in half, then watched them spring right back in place.

I hadn’t told her they were made from memory metal, knowing she’d see that as a challenge: I’m Super-Natalie! Breaker of unbreakable glasses!

But, when she put them back on, they were no worse for the wear! Wow!

Listen to me—so pleased with a product for lasting—one friggin’ week!

Hey, no success is too small to celebrate, right?