Every mother of a child with attention deficit disorder (ADHD or ADD) goes through it. You’re standing around, watching your kid in class, or at Scouts, or during a sports practice. And your kid will not shut up. He — or she, because that little girl was me once upon a time — keeps blurting out answers to questions, sometimes before they’re asked. She keeps asking questions before they’re solicited, and then maybe answering them herself. She interjects with random facts no one needs to know, and with irrelevant (and often embarrassing) stories from her own life.
The other little ducklings all sit in a row, nodding patiently at the coach or teacher. You watch as that coach or teacher deals oh-so-patiently, and then not-so-patiently, with your child’s impulsive outbursts. You notice the way the other kids roll their eyes at each other, and your heart breaks.
Just once could your kid act freaking neurotypical, like all the other kids? Could he stand in line, keep his mouth shut, refrain from relating weird, twisting stories that go nowhere? Could the other moms stop looking at you with a mixture of annoyance and pity? Could you just blend in?
And then you remember: ADHD is part of your child’s core being. And you wouldn’t change her for anything.