ADHD Parenting Blog

Archives: September 2008

Inspiration from Two Remarkable Parents...

Tuesday night I attended a keynote address by Ralph, Emily, and DJ Savarese, sponsored by ChildServe, in Johnston, IA. DJ is a high school sophomore who is a non-speaking person with autism. Ralph, a professor at Grinnell College, and Emily, a specialist in autism, adopted him when he was 6. Ralph describes DJ’s journey from non-speaker to communicator, student, and activist extraordinaire in his extraordinary book, Reasonable People: A Memoir of Autism and Adoption.

I reviewed Reasonable People for ADDitude magazine and Adoptive Families, it’s one of “Kay’s Picks” in the staff picks section at the library where I work, and I recommend it on my website. So, when I received a flier in the mail from ChildServe announcing this presentation, I had to go.

Natalie isn’t autistic, so why do I care? Why am I so into promoting a book about autism?

First of all, I don’t believe that diagnoses are clear cut. They’re helpful in describing neuro-differences, and in guiding treatment, but very few kids fit neatly and completely into one diagnostic category. Does yours?

Take Natalie for example — while she clearly has ADHD, she also has Sensory Processing Disorder, and anxiety issues. She shares some stimming behaviors with kids who are autistic. When over-stimulated, for example, she flaps her hands, and she rocks when tired and to get to sleep.

No, she’s not autistic, but I can learn from, get support from, and give support to parents of kids with any type of special needs. And the Savarese family, with their vision of a world that is inclusive and respectful of people with neuro-differences, is particularly inspiring and energizing.

Unless Natalie bombards me with ideas for topics to blog about, as she seems to do, in the next few days I’ll share a couple of thoughts that I took away from the presentation.

For today, I want to leave you with a quote. This blog isn’t about adoption, but being an adoptive parent — and specifically a parent who chose to adopt a child with special needs - is an integral part of who I am, so bear with me!

From my March 2008 email interview with Ralph Savarese:

“I hate the fetish of blood relations. Not only does it make adopted children and families feel like second-class citizens, but it perniciously tells us that our ethical obligations extend no further than our natural (as opposed to artificial) ties.

So screw the homeless man on the street or the poor family on the other side of town. So long as I’m good to my mother, well, then, I’m a good person. Baloney! We need to open our eyes to the predicaments of those less fortunate; we need to look beyond the walls of the gated community that is often the blood family. More creative family making might actual help us to realize the sentimental trope of the “human family.”

For my wife and me, adoption was a FIRST-resort adventure in responding to the desperate plight of a badly abused, wordless little boy. This boy has given us MORE than we have given him. Has it been exhausting? You bet, the most exhausting and challenging and anxiety-producing thing I have ever done. Ever. But also the most rewarding.

Why are we on this planet? I believe to grow in our capacity to care and attend to human suffering. By stretching ourselves, sometimes beyond measure, we find a joy that approximates wisdom. My wife and I are NOT saints and don’t appreciate being compared to such beings. Our relationship has suffered. We don’t have time for the many things we used to do. But whose relationship hasn’t suffered with the arrival of kids, whether adopted or not.

Looking back on the last ten years, we marvel at what hope and commitment can accomplish."

Crazy Kay moment - I had (okay, still have) almost uncontrollable urges to paint this quote on my living room walls! Hope it inspires you, too! For additional inspiration — read the book!

Therapeutic Listening

We've decided to try therapeutic listening to help Natalie with her sleep issues.

As I’ve written before in my parenting ADHD children blog, Natalie often has trouble getting to sleep at night. At our last visit, our pediatrician suggested we try an occasional Benadryl, and that if that wasn’t enough, she’d prescribe medication for Natalie to take nightly.

The Benadryl does seem to help, but we’re needing to use it more than occasionally, and, by it’s usually 10:30 pm before I give up and give it to Nat, so . . .

This morning, I mentioned to Summer, Nat’s occupational therapist, that I couldn’t decide whether or not to ask Dr. Halbur for medication, and in doing so, offered her a perfect segue. She had an idea that might help, and was planning to bring it up with me today anyway. Would I be willing to try therapeutic listening again?

I’m not even going to try to explain what therapeutic listening is, because I won’t do so accurately. You can learn about it at Vitalsounds.com.

We’d tried it before, and I had trouble following through. The protocol involves having your child listen to specially made CDs through a specific type of headphones, for 30 minutes twice a day. Each listening session must be at least 3 hours apart. Nat didn’t like doing it, and I didn’t have the energy to make her, twice a day, every single day. We’ve tried, and quit, at least 3 times. It’s time to try again.

I do believe it will make a difference. After one two week stint, Nat’s handwriting had improved dramatically. If Summer says it will help her sleep, it will help her sleep. If she can do so naturally, rather than relying on medication, that would be huge.

So, I’ll be buying another portable CD player (Nat’s broken 3 of them), finding our headphones and CDs, finding Nat’s CD player belt, and starting again. I simply have to commit to this program, no matter how hard it is.

Has anyone else used it? If so, how did it work?

Natalie's Supercharged ADHD Brain

Stepping inside my child's revved-up, high-speed, never-resting ADHD brain can be an exhausting and clarifying experience.

When Natalie is riding in Don’s car, they listen to the radio.

“Turn it up, baby!” Nat calls from the back seat.

When I’m driving, it’s a different story. No music allowed. After all, it might interfere with Natalie’s back seat driving.

“Go!”

“Why did you slow down?”

“Come on… green light! Green light! Green light!”

“We aren’t in a hurry,” I say. “Relax.”

“I hate waiting!” Nat responds.

“Look at a book. That will make the time go faster,” I try. And, it will keep your eyes off the traffic signals, I think to myself.

“No!” she says. “Just GO!”

These thoughts go through my head:

What will she be like as a teenage driver? Scary!

Will you please just SHUT UP and let me drive?!

And, finally — geez, it must be awful to feel so pressured all of the time. Poor kid.

I’d never really thought about what it must feel like to live in Natalie’s skin, her ADHD brain always in high gear.

Think about it.

Off The ADHD Hook-Again!

It’s not as satisfying to get an ADHD respite if my husband is off the hook too. I feel guilty and, at the same, time want him to suffer!

I’m telling you, Victoria: this has to stop!

You know I’m all for moms of kids with ADHD or other special needs taking breaks to take care for themselves, and I do so, often, myself. Even though I know it’s important, I still feel guilty. Human nature, I guess. Or, more accurately, mama nature.

I went out for a drink after work with my friend Sarah last night. She hadn’t been to The Café lately, and was craving their sausage and mushroom pizza. And, she and I hadn’t talked—beyond saying hello as we pass in the hall at work—for months. It was time to catch up.

Since I work one evening each week, I shy away from scheduling anything else on week nights. Don commutes to work out of town, and doesn’t leave work until 6:00 at the earliest most nights, so expecting him to get home in time to pick Natalie up from daycare is a stretch. Plus, if I’m away two nights running, it’s hard for Natalie, and that shows in her behavior.

But, this time, I put my needs, and Sarah’s, first. Don agreed to pick Nat up. We were on!

I enjoyed catching up with Sarah over two glasses of delicious red wine sangria. Oooh! And it was tapa night at The Café! Perfect! But still, that old guilt was there in the background. I returned home, apology at the ready: “Sorry I stayed so long. Thanks for coming home from work early to take care of the kids.”

But—no.

Just as Don was pulling up to Nat’s daycare, he gets a call on his cell phone. It’s Victoria, Harry’s mom, asking if Nat can come home with them and spend the evening.

SHE DOES THIS EVERY TIME!

Somehow, without even knowing Don’s on daddy duty for the night, she rescues him! Every single time! She even had Nat overnight once when I was taking a break. She has some kind of crazy rescue-Don-radar!

Ironically, it’s not as satisfying to have a break if Don’s off the hook. Hmmm, I feel guilty and, at the same time, want him to suffer! I can’t make sense of that. But I know this—Victoria: This has to stop!

And I know just how to make it stop—next time I take a break, I’ll take Victoria with me! She’s the mom of a kid with special needs too. She deserves a getaway. November-Kansas City—women only-spa weekend. Put it on your calendar, Victoria! You’re coming with me.

Decide What Really Matters

Here is a tip for tired moms of kids with special needs.

Today I have a tip for tired moms of kids with special needs.

While watching Natalie work with her occupational therapist Tuesday morning, I flipped through a copy of Real Simple magazine. I came across an article about coping. Tailor made for me, huh? You know how I’m always complaining about feeling overwhelmed. I skimmed through it to see if I could pick up any new tips. I’m not sure this one is new—but given that I’ve been using it over, and over, and over, and over since I read it, it must be a good one!

Here it is, paraphrased, of course: When you find yourself upset or worried about something—at work, at home, or with your ADHD kid—ask yourself these questions:

1. Will this matter 3 days from now?
2. Will this matter 3 years from now?

I tried this first at work, after a contentious meeting, and it helped me come up with a bottom-line measurement for what’s worth fighting for at work—if it affects the customer’s experience, it’s important. It may determine whether or not the customer is still coming back 3 years down the road, whether or not they donate during the next fundraiser, and whether or not they promote our service when they talk to others in the community.

When it comes to parenting a child with ADHD, the bottom line is not always so clear. If I pick my battles--choose not to address every negative behavior (also my favorite excuse when I’m just too tired to react!)--then I’m not being consistent enough. This certainly could affect Natalie’s future behavior.

But some things are no-brainers. If Nat goes to school in an outfit that doesn’t match, it doesn’t matter. If she refuses to wash her hair once in awhile, no damage done. If she forgets her glasses a couple times a week, I’ll go back home for them, and she’ll have them soon enough. I don’t have to beat myself up about every mistake, every imperfection.

Try this for a few days, moms, and let me know what you think!

A Gripping ADHD Tip

I guess I’m in a tip-giving mood, because here’s another ADHD parenting tip!

I guess I’m in a tip-giving mood, because here’s another ADHD parenting tip!

Natalie has been working with an occupational therapist, Summer Barber, at ChildServe (We love you, Summer!) for a couple of years, and one thing Summer works on with Nat is improving her handwriting.

One of Nat’s problems with handwriting is how she grips the pen or pencil. Natalie has tried several different types of pencil grips, and none seemed to make much of a difference. She even did a product test on a special pencil, the Penagain Twist-n-Write ergonomic pencil, for ADDitude magazine. Although she liked the novelty of it at first, it didn’t do much to correct her grip or make her handwriting more legible.

After ruling out all of the usual strategies, Summer came up with another suggestion. She cut a section of foam tubing 3-4 inches long, and slid it on a pencil. When Nat grips the pencil, the tubing cushions her entire fist, not just her fingers. The foam has enough give to it that it helps with Nat’s hyper-grip. (You’ve heard of hyperfocus with ADHD. I’m coining the term hyper-grip for the too-tight grip that ADHD kids often have on their pencils!) It also makes the pencil bigger around, sort of like those fat crayons made for toddlers.

I took a piece of foam to Nat’s special ed teacher today. She’ll watch Nat use it as a pencil grip, and if she agrees that it’s helpful, I’ll find some more for Nat to use in the classroom too.

I’ve already decided that I’ll ask Natalie’s regular classroom teacher, Mrs. Morken, if I can donate some extra tubing, and maybe a variety of traditional pencil grips, so that if the other kids see Natalie using something different, they can try something new too. Nat hates it when the other kids ask things like: “Why does Natalie get to chew gum and I don’t?” Or, “Why does she stop in the office (for meds) before lunch?”

Summer said the foam tubing comes from medical supply companies. It comes in one long rolled up piece, and you can cut off any length you need. She also said it’s cheap.

Has anyone tried this? Has it worked? Can you recommend where to buy it?

Is Summer as incredible as I think she is? Yes!

Thanks for the tip, Summer!

Bonus tip: Chewing gum helps Nat focus, and helps prevent her from drooling when hyper-focused. Summer says that sour flavored gum will help the most with drooling. When Nat was younger, chewing gum helped her keep her fingers and other objects out of her mouth. Even if school rules prohibit gum chewing, your child must be allowed to chew gum if it’s in his/her IEP!

The ADHD Paper Chain

I've discovered a very useful creative tool for helping ADHD children better understand the passage of time and manage their anticipation.

I’ve been reading books about family traditions for a book review I just finished writing for Adoptive Families magazine, and I realized that we’ve started a new tradition with Natalie, for counting down to special occasions. It’s also an ADHD tip, of sorts, so I thought I’d share it with you.

Nat tends to be a concrete thinker, as I’d bet a lot of kids with ADHD and developmental delays are, so the concept of time can be difficult for her. She also has trouble waiting for—well, anything, really--and goes a little crazy when excited. Sound familiar?

Here’s a tip for helping your child gauge the time until birthdays, holidays, visits to grandparents, or other special occasions. Credit for this idea goes to Mrs. H; aka Beth Harmelink, the special ed teacher Natalie worked with last year.

About two weeks before school ended, Mrs. H had her kids make paper chains. Each link in the chain represented one remaining day of school.

You remember paper chains—to make a chain, cut strips of construction paper about 3/4 inch wide, and 4 inches long, in a variety of colors. Bend one strip to form a circle, and use tape, glue, or staples to secure it. Thread the next strip through your first circle, and form the second strip into another circle. A series of these interlocking circles forms a chain.

Beth had the kids write a number on each link of the chain, counting down from 10 to one. Nat brought her chain home, and we taped it up in our kitchen. Each morning, Natalie removed one link from the chain. When all the links were gone, it was the last day of school. Having this visual tool seemed to help Natalie understand the passage of time, and manage her anticipation a little better. She also got in a little practice with applied math. Best of all, she had fun!

In June, when Natalie kept asking how many more days there were before her birthday, Don helped her make a chain to count down. She loved it! She’s already asking how much longer it is until Christmas, and Don plans to make a Countdown-to-Christmas-Chain with her soon. He’s trying to hold her off for awhile. If they made the chain now, it would consume our entire kitchen!

Kids can get creative with making chains—add stickers, glue on sequins or glitter, or color-coordinate the paper to the occasion. They can write the actual dates on each link—Monday, September 15, 2008, for example. That will give them away if they impulsively cheat, and removed more than one link in the same day!

The paper chain can also be a great variation on a rewards chart. Instead of earning a sticker on a chart every time the child hangs up her backpack in the designated spot after school, for example, and after earning 5 stickers, receiving a reward, the child could take a link off of a paper chain each day. Write the reward on the last link, as a reminder of what the child is working toward. I know that any reinforcement we try with Natalie only works for a short time. We have to keep coming up with new systems to keep her interested.

This idea has a couple of hidden benefits—having the child actively participate in making the chain creates buy-in, and the project itself structures a bit of their time.

Natalie is terribly excited about joining Girl Scouts, and her first meeting is 2 weeks away. Time to make a chain!

DO try this at home! I’d love to hear if it works for you!

Thanks for the inspiration, Mrs. H!

A Major ADHD Meltdown

I’m not as bad at parenting as all the witnesses to Natalie's ADHD meltdowns must think.

Yesterday was full of incidents that, each building on the one before, pushed Nat beyond her capacity to cope. Nat ended up miserable. I ended up looking and feeling like a terrible parent. I’m not as bad at parenting as all the witnesses to yesterday’s debacles must think (see assorted excuses and explanations below). My biggest mistake was in trying too hard--not knowing when to call it quits.

The day started with me having a heck of a time getting Natalie to wake up. As I’ve written before, like other kids with ADHD, Nat often has trouble getting to sleep, and the night before was one of those nights. So, strike one for the day—Nat started out the day tired.

I took her to occupational therapy, where we learned that Summer, her usual therapist, was home with her sick toddler. A new therapist was filling in. She was wonderful with Natalie, but that didn’t keep Natalie from being anxious and scared. She started to act out as the session ended—jumping in the ball pit—several times--without permission—and with her shoes on, which she knows is against the rules—and ignoring directions that the session was over and it was time to leave the therapy gym.

“Jennifer was really nice, wasn’t she?” I asked, once I’d herded Natalie to the car.

“Yeah, but I thought she was going to be mean.” Natalie said.

Strike two—unexpectedly working with a nice, but potentially scary, new therapist.

The part that made me feel stupid . . . When it was time for Nat to put her shoes back on at the end of the session, she tried to take off her socks first.

“You have to leave your socks on,” I said.

“Are they bothering you?” Jennifer asked, and she had Nat put them on inside out, figuring out immediately that the seams are problematic for this kid with Sensory Processing Disorder.

Duh, I thought. She’s known Natalie for 45 minutes. I’ve been her mom for 5 ½ years. I’m well aware of her sensory issues. I should have realized that.

Gayle, Nat’s therapist, picked her up from daycare, and brought her home. We met with my niece Hannah, a college student with an interest in education, who Gayle has hired to work with Natalie. Hannah has babysat Natalie a lot, and has spent time with her at family gatherings, but had never witnessed her behavior problems. She got an eyeful, and an earful, during this meeting.

I could just imagine how the conversation would go when she joined her parents for supper after the meeting.

“She never acts that way for me. It must be bad parenting.”

It would look that way to anyone. It looks that way to me! But I (try to) believe that Nat holds in her feelings, and holds her behavior together for other people, then lets loose around me because she feels safe. And, that her really deplorable, disrespectful, testing behavior when Gayle is around is because Gayle’s talking with her about tough topics—her feelings and her behavior.

Strike three—Nat’s wound up from seeing Gayle.

And the night’s not over yet!

Next, Nat suffered a huge disappointment. Her friend Casey, who moved away after the two got to know each other in kindergarten, called to say she’d be visiting our area this weekend, and would love to sleep over at our house. Nat was devastated to hear that we have a respite weekend planned. She’ll be at Aunt Ann’s, and we are NOT willing to change our plans.

She cried, begged, growled.

Didn’t eat any supper.

And then it was time for…no, not bed, but the Open House and Book Fair at school!

Anger and disappointment that she wouldn’t see Casey—strike 4.

Hunger--strike 5.

Wait a minute—three strikes and you’re out, right? We should have called the game right then, and stayed home, but we didn’t. (We’re trying to be a normal family, remember?)

In the frenzied, hot, crowded, noisy school—strikes 6, 7, 8, 9, 10--Nat completely looses control. She’s on the floor of the media center, bawling, screaming, crying, kicking. Biting Don’s leg—hard—and not letting go. We can’t get her to stop. We can’t pick her up and carry her out. Parents we know are watching. Kids Natalie knows are watching. The P.E. teacher, holding her new baby. The media specialists. I’m embarrassed. Don’s embarrassed and angry.

“Want some help?” says last year’s special ed teacher. Don and I walked away, and a few minutes later, the teacher and a still tearful Natalie met us at the front door.

I imagined the conversation in the teacher’s lounge. “We don’t have any trouble with her behavior at school. It must be the parents.”

So I made a mistake, and it was a big one—wanting Nat to be able to enjoy her school open house, like her peers, when I should have known she couldn’t do it. Am I a terrible parent? Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I wish I didn’t care if other people think so, but do, damn it. I do.

The Icing on the Cake

Balancing the needs of my non-ADHD son with my ADHD daughter's demands is heartbreakingly difficult.

I hate the fact that, because he has a sister with special needs, my son Aaron often gets the short end of the stick when it comes to sharing parental time and attention.

Aaron turned 12 on September 2, (I labored on Labor Day!), but we didn’t have his birthday party until Sunday, September 7. My fault, I was too disorganized and overwhelmed to get invitations out in time for a timely party!

We had the party at Happy Joe’s, a pizza place with a game room. Just before the party, Aaron and I were finishing up preparing treat bags for each of his guests; counting out $5.00 in quarters for each boy to waste on arcade games in the name of entertainment.

“Does Natalie have to come?” Aaron asked.

“Yes, Natalie is coming,” I said. We’re trying to act like a “normal” family, remember?

Natalie was dying to go, but was in no shape to do so. Ten minutes before we were to leave, Natalie threw a fit--threw her glasses across the floor, grabbed the extra quarters and treat bags and ran off with them, cried, screamed, and stomped.

She was falling apart for her usual ADHD-related reasons:

1. A too-quick transition--she’d been home less than an hour and we were going to leave again.
2. It was getting close to medicine time.
3. She was probably hungry.
4. She was excited.

“I’ll just stay home with her,” Don said, when she showed no signs of calming down.

“You can’t! I can’t leave the kids alone at Happy Joe’s and go pick up the cake!” I said. I’d ordered Aaron’s ice cream cake from Coldstone Creamery; right down the street from Happy Joes. They didn’t open until noon, the same time the party started, and my plan was to send Don to pick up the cake right when it was time to eat it. Besides, I wanted him to be there for Aaron.

“Just go,” Don yelled to be heard over Natalie screaming.

Aaron and I left without Don and Natalie; without a plan for how we’d get the cake, without knowing if Don would find a way to join us later. Aaron was quiet in the car on the way there, responding to me with one word answers. Sad, instead of excited, like he should be. Same old story—his special needs sister was ruining everything. Taking Don’s attention—even his presence—away. Taking the cake—literally, this time.

“When Tracey comes to drop Jake off, I’ll ask her to pick up the cake,” I said. “Or, we can just have sundaes for dessert, and we’ll take the cake home, and have it tonight ourselves. Nobody will know the difference.”

“Whatever,” Aaron said.

Natalie eventually calmed down, and Don ended up bringing her, and the cake, about halfway through the party. She behaved beautifully. Aaron’s friends hardly noticed her. They all seemed to have a great time. And the cake was scrumptious! All’s well that ends well, right? Yes, but…Natalie’s behavior still impacted Aaron’s big day.

Balancing Aaron’s needs with Natalie’s demands is heartbreakingly hard. I hope he’ll be okay. I hope he knows how much I love him.

What is Normal Anyway?

Are we a “normal” family, or aren’t we?

Are we a “normal” family, or aren’t we?

Don was home later this morning than usual. Instead of leaving home at 7:00 am to commute to his office in Ankeny, he started his day with an 8:30 am meeting in Ames. I came downstairs after my shower, when I would typically wake Natalie up, and she was already standing at the kitchen table, eating breakfast (yes, she often stands to eat, but that’s another ADHD-related topic!). Don was helping her start her day. Great!

He and I were talking about our plans for the day and for the weekend, when I paused in the middle of a sentence to listen to an ad on the radio, about a sale on security systems for interior doors. Don looked at me funny, and I don’t blame him. Why…?

“I want to get Aaron a lock with a keypad for his bedroom door,” I explained. Don gave me another look.

“That’s ridiculous,” Don said. “Aaron doesn’t need a lock on his door.”

“Yes he does,” I said, “with Natalie as his sister.” He’s been asking me for just that, in fact, for several years, and I could see his point. His room is his only true refuge, the place I’ve worked hardest to keep Nat out of, to prevent her from impulsively pillaging his dressers, his drawers, his closet.

In spite of my vigilance, he comes to me often, hurt and fuming, after retrieving a ball cap, book, or gameboy from Nat’s room. “Nat’s been in my room again, and she took this. Can she be grounded?”

The idea of a locked door, with a keypad, seemed pretty reasonable, until I said it out loud. I guess it does sound kind of crazy.

“Let’s just be a normal family,” Don said, half disgusted with me. I think he’s fed up with me and my extreme-coping ideas, with my needing to focus on coping, period. He just, well, copes! With work, with the kids, and with me.

A believer in self-fulfilling prophecy, I adjusted my attitude. Maybe I am worrying too much, working too hard, getting wrapped up in thinking Nat’s ADHD is a big deal. Treat her like a normal kid, act like a normal mom, I thought. Of course we’re a normal family.

Nat’s been doing an excellent job getting ready for school in the mornings so far this year. But, today, something was different. She couldn’t focus on anything. Combing her hair, putting on her socks and shoes, brushing her teeth, putting on glasses—every task demanded prompt after prompt after prompt after prompt. When we were finally in the car, and on our way to school, a thought hit me, and I called Don.

“You gave Nat her medicine this morning, didn’t you?” I asked.

“No, I didn’t,” he answered.

I always have her take her medicine before breakfast, so when our routine changed this morning, I just assumed…

I herded her into the nurse’s office to take her meds as soon as we reached the school. She was glad I stopped in, because she needed to talk to me anyway, about signing some papers. And the special ed teacher needed to see me too…

…just like a normal family.

ADHD Age-Appropriate Behavior

I’ll take age-appropriateness in my ADHD kid—and celebrate it—whenever I can get it.

A few days ago I was reading "Terri's Special Children Blog, written by Terri Mauro, and this sentence, about why she tolerates a certain amount of talking back from her teenage son, really resonated with me: “When you've got a kid as developmentally off-kilter as he is,” Mauro says, “you take age-appropriateness where you can get it.”

As I wrote in a previous parenting ADHD children blog post, age-appropriateness is a big issue with Natalie, due to both the deprivation she suffered in her orphanage years, and her ADHD. And ever since our in-home therapist, Gayle, and I talked about this a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been more conscious of Nat’s behavior—when it’s age-appropriate behavior, and when it’s not. Where I can challenge her, and when I need to support her exactly where she is.

I noticed on the second day of second grade that Harry’s mom, Victoria, and I were the only mom’s still walking our kids to their lockers, and saying our goodbyes at the classroom door. The other kids walk in, unload their backpacks, and enter their classrooms independently. I decided then and there to encourage Natalie to model her peers.

Just then, her special ed teacher, Mrs. Carter, joined us in the hall. “Look, Nat,” I said. “Victoria and I are the only moms in the hallway. Now that you’re a big second grader, I bet you can walk into school without me.”

Mrs. Carter picked right up on this. “I’ll meet you both at the front door tomorrow,” she said, “and I’ll walk you in.”

“Can I still have a kiss?” Nat asked.

“Of course you can!” I said. “I’ll give you a huge hug and kiss in the car.”

Nat’s walking confidently into school on her own now, without even Mrs. Carter’s help. I’m thrilled! I’m bragging to everyone! This might not seem like a big deal to most people, but to paraphrase Terri Mauro, I’ll take age-appropriateness in my ADHD kid—and celebrate it!—whenever I can get it.

No ADHD Respite for Me

My plans for a long weekend alone have been dashed--time to flip the switch back to "on".

I was really psyched up for the long Labor Day weekend. As I said in an earlier parenting ADHD children blog post, I’d been feeling even more overwhelmed than usual, and had made a plan to deal with it. A key component of the plan was to take a break from the constant chaos, vigilance, patience, noise, activity, sleep deprivation, and neediness of parenting Natalie, with her ADHD. I’d told Don that I REALLY needed a break, and he’d agreed to take the kids and visit his parents for the weekend, while I stayed home alone. They’d leave Friday evening, and return Sunday in time for dinner at my brother and sister-in-law’s house on Sunday.

I imagined sleeping in, taking long walks, and working leisurely on a book review assignment for Adoptive Families magazine. Maybe I’d even move all of my writing stuff into my gorgeous new office center, which was delivered several weeks ago, and still sits empty. In therapy speak, I’d “refill my bucket”, and be ready, willing, and better able to parent Natalie when she returned.

Friday afternoon, I was at work, when I noticed my cell phone beeping. There was a message from Don. “Give me a call when you have a chance,” he says. “There’s been a change in plans.”

is dad was sick.

They weren’t going.

I felt tears fill my eyes. Instead of getting a break, I was facing a long weekend of being “on”. I’d pick Natalie up from daycare in a couple of hours; handle the difficult time between 5:00 and 6:30 alone. I’d have to make supper. And how was I ever going to read three books and write a review with Nat there?

This particular disappointment felt familiar. Nat coming down with a fever on Friday when a respite weekend was planned. Snow storms three weekends in a row when the kids were supposed to go to Grandma’s. I have been here before.

I took a deep breath and readjusted my frame of mind. It’s still a long weekend. I’ll get a break from my usual 10 hour work day on Monday. It’ll be great to see Kari and Tim and other relatives at Neal and Teresa’s house Sunday night. Think positively. I love my kids. I’ll be okay.

Don’s dad ended up at the emergency room Friday night. Pneumonia? Maybe a virus? He’s better now, thankfully. Don and the kids rescheduled their visit for this coming weekend.

Dare I say, I’m looking forward to it?