"Children with ADHD also tend to be less skilled in the use of complex problem-solving strategies and the organizational skills needed for solving intellectual or social problems." (Taking Charge of ADHD, Russell A. Barkley, PhD).
My good friend and neighbor, who often ends up being the go-to mom in the neighborhood for the kids, wrangles all of the various trolls and ferries them home from the bus stop each day, (a God send to every last one of us) had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of a complaint about Liam. Because I am never at the bus stop in the afternoon - I have to work until 6 PM - the bus driver spoke to my neighbor about Liam "using inappropriate language" and asked my neighbor to speak to me about it.
The offensive language? Liam was telling another little boy about how he used to call [the vehicle] Hummer a "humper. "
I'll wait a minute while you pick yourself up off of the floor due to the shock that I would possibly allow my 11-year-old son to use such inappropriate, profane language.
For the record, Liam has no idea that a hummer is a euphemism for a blow job. I'm not entirely sure what a "humper" is, except that it has the word "hump" in it, and that's possibly why it was so inappropriate.
What bothers me is the complete overreaction of the bus driver. If she had paused for just a second and thought to ask if Liam even knew what the words meant, she would've discovered that he was telling a story about word slip-ups, much the same way that I tell stories about how cute I thought it was that both of my sons called bananas "blannas" and how, to this day, I still call them that. Instead, she freaked-the-fuck-out and made my kid feel like he was being persecuted FOR TELLING A CUTE STORY.
...Way to kill a kid's spirit, helicopter parenting!
So my friend, good soul that she is, calls me at work to tell me about the situation. I started to chuckle about it and explain what Liam was actually talking about. She would hear none of it. THAT just about floored me. She kept saying things like, "well, if he doesn't know what the word means, he shouldn't use it. He needs to set an example for the younger kids."
/insert "da fuck?!" look here
She then goes on to tell me that Liam wanted to walk home and she made him get in the car so she could talk to him. When she pulled into my driveway, Liam hopped right out of the car and tried to go into the house. She tried to stop him and he threw his backpack and hat at the wall.
... The tantrum was a little over the top but, not for nothing, the kid was giving off all of the "I'm losing my cool" and "leave me alone so I can process" cues and she completely ignored all of them. I might've thrown my backpack, too.
After regaling me with that part of the story, she proceeds to tell me that Liam needs to "learn better coping skills" because, if he doesn't, "he's going to be in a lot of trouble later." I tried to explain that the ADHD brain doesn't really facilitate learning things like, "how to cope" quickly or easily. She cut me off and said, "I know about learning disabilities! People can overcome them all the time." Yup. They can. ADHD isn't a learning disability.
And that's part of the frustration of finding out your kid has this disorder. Firstly, it's almost always diagnosed after the child experiences profound delays in achievement at school. Usually, the testing is initiated by the school district and is followed up, after formal diagnosis - which can be made by the school psychologist - with a 504 educational plan.
...But it's not a learning disability. It's a behavior disorder that impacts a child's ability to learn.
Those are different beasts, my friends; they're not synonyms.
ADHD is also not a behavior disorder in the same way that anxiety or depressive disorders are. Anxiety and depression are the result of fluctuations and imbalances of brain chemistry - specifically norepinephrine, serotonin and dopamine. You can take pills to adjust those things. ADHD is a disorder of the brain structure:
"In general, the studies in [abnormal brain development in children with ADHD] have found that the prefrontal region, especially on the right side, several structures in the basal ganglia...the midline anterior cingulate cortex...and the central area in the cerebellum, again, more on the right side, were significantly smaller and/or less active in children with ADHD than in normal children. These five brain regions are usually involved during tasks requiring inhibition, holding information in mind to guide behavior, and other executive functions. All of these results have led scientists to the conclusion that ADHD arises from delayed or impaired maturation of these regions...than is typical of normal or non-ADHD individuals." (Taking Charge of ADHD)
Fortunately, ADHD changes with development, but typically presents with one or more other behavior issues. In Liam's case, the comorbidity is ADHD and ODD (oppositional defiant disorder). The ODD, which is really, really mild, is manageable and can be dealt with. However, with difficulties that present with ADHD - impulse control issues, decreased executive functioning - make learning coping skills (as we "normal" folks would talk about them) downright fucking impossible.
But here again is the problem of explaining ADHD to a world that thinks it's all shiny squirrels and college kids hooked on Ritalin: the world thinks you can just "willpower" this shit away. The kid seems like he can act normal most of the time. He behaves himself here or there. He's good with other kids. Sure... all of those things are very, very true. But those are also less emotionally charged situations.
In most cases, they're novel situations - a break from the routine that is the bane of an ADHDer's existence - and the ADHDer can certainly navigate those waters. But present an ADHDer - whose frontal lobes are smaller or less active - with a difficult emotional situation, such as being wrongfully accused of being inappropriate, and he can't physically process the flood of feeling hitting his brain because his brain is short on space. "Dealing with it" is not part of an ADHDer's emotional vocabulary.
But the kid doesn't look brain damaged. Well, he's not. His brain is just developing more slowly than a "normal" kid's brain. However, in order to get across the gravity of what we're dealing with here, the only way I know how to express it is to say, "Liam's brain doesn't work correctly." The wiring is there; it's just hooked up oddly.
Truthfully, Liam's brain actually does work correctly. It just operates on a plane that isn't considered "normal" in certain situations. Because of that, Liam will be expected to modify his behavior - rewire his brain, so to speak - to accommodate a world that thinks there's nothing wrong with him... simply because he doesn't have a big neon "I have a disability" sign flashing on his forehead.
The thing that most "normals" don't get about ADHD, either, is that it's not black and white. ADHD is all shades of grey. I can teach Liam how to cope tomorrow. The day after that is a different story. The best analogy I can think of is to say, "I have an old computer. Today, I'm only processing word documents one at a time and my computer can totally handle it. Tomorrow, I'm going to visit a web site with a lot of Flash, while I listen to music and write four papers simultaneously. My computer is going to move super slow and probably crash."
The really messed up thing with that analogy is that we'd get frustrated with the computer, but understand that it didn't have enough RAM to process everything. We'd adjust our behavior to accommodate the computer's limitations. Yet we don't hesitate to make the ADHD kid adjust his behavior instead of shifting our own expectations of his capabilities and letting him thrive in his abilities. We make the ADHD kid a victim of his disability. We're more humane to our hardware than we are to our children.
Liam does indeed need to learn to navigate the world at large because, as much as *I* think he's a mastermind of spoon bending capabilities, able to contort the world at his whim, the world doesn't agree with me. What his village - those of us that have made a commitment to help this child grow into adulthood - needs to do is adjust our teaching methods. Things like, "teaching him better coping skills" and "telling him he needs to make different choices" need to be stricken from our collective vocabularies. WE need to figure out how to help him learn to use what processing abilities he has in his immediate control - which means that we need to rewire our own brains.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Thursday, March 20, 2014
I went to #SXSW and all I got was this lousy beard.
I've actually been back from SXSW for about a week now. It's taken that long to actually process my peripheral experience there.
I should mention two things before I begin:
1) I went to scout the show for work - specifically, the vendor room.
2) I only had a film badge, so didn't get to take advantage of the full buffet that is SXSW.
Here's what I took away from what limited time I had there:
Hipsters! OH HOLY MOTHER! The hipsters were everywhere. Hipsters action packed full of being meaningful and making meaningful stuff and being so occupied with being the next big alternative thing (but just big enough not to lose their street cred) that they completely forgot about basic niceties and manners.
...Really? Saying "excuse me" is so difficult?
The hipster faction actually made me feel incredibly old. I felt like Grandpa screaming at kids to get off my lawn. I felt like I should've been walking with a cane and sipping from Metamucil tinged water, because I was certainly reminiscing a great deal about the good ole days.
I miss the days when Robert Mapplethorpe was considered shocking.
I miss the days when you could still see bands like Radiohead and Nirvana in small dingy clubs.
I miss when wearing a Grateful Dead shirt wasn't ironic.
I miss the days when beard wearing was reserved for hermits and hippies - un-ironically.
I miss when irony was pure and not part of some advertising campaign.
I miss the innocence of microbrew beers. I miss when MTV was full of music videos. I miss the purity of social movements. I miss when charities didn't get their start on Kickstarter.
Because I am old enough to remember some of the last great movements.
I'm old enough to have seen the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd.
I'm old enough to have inhaled nitrous balloons and to pass up free hits of acid.
I'm old enough to remember that crack is whack.
I don't know what this says about SXSW. But I know that the fact that Mapplethorpe is no longer shocking speaks volumes about the society we live in.
We're no longer genuine. We're no longer novel. We're not even controversial. All the great themes have been used up and turned into, not necessarily theme parks, but tongue-in-cheek ads for Oreos and Google.
We need genuine controversy. We need genuine movement.
I want to start the anti-movement movement.
Kill your television.
Put down your phone.
Tune in. Drop out.
Be genuine.
I should mention two things before I begin:
1) I went to scout the show for work - specifically, the vendor room.
2) I only had a film badge, so didn't get to take advantage of the full buffet that is SXSW.
Here's what I took away from what limited time I had there:
Hipsters! OH HOLY MOTHER! The hipsters were everywhere. Hipsters action packed full of being meaningful and making meaningful stuff and being so occupied with being the next big alternative thing (but just big enough not to lose their street cred) that they completely forgot about basic niceties and manners.
...Really? Saying "excuse me" is so difficult?
The hipster faction actually made me feel incredibly old. I felt like Grandpa screaming at kids to get off my lawn. I felt like I should've been walking with a cane and sipping from Metamucil tinged water, because I was certainly reminiscing a great deal about the good ole days.
I miss the days when Robert Mapplethorpe was considered shocking.
I miss the days when you could still see bands like Radiohead and Nirvana in small dingy clubs.
I miss when wearing a Grateful Dead shirt wasn't ironic.
I miss the days when beard wearing was reserved for hermits and hippies - un-ironically.
I miss when irony was pure and not part of some advertising campaign.
I miss the innocence of microbrew beers. I miss when MTV was full of music videos. I miss the purity of social movements. I miss when charities didn't get their start on Kickstarter.
Because I am old enough to remember some of the last great movements.
I'm old enough to have seen the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd.
I'm old enough to have inhaled nitrous balloons and to pass up free hits of acid.
I'm old enough to remember that crack is whack.
I don't know what this says about SXSW. But I know that the fact that Mapplethorpe is no longer shocking speaks volumes about the society we live in.
We're no longer genuine. We're no longer novel. We're not even controversial. All the great themes have been used up and turned into, not necessarily theme parks, but tongue-in-cheek ads for Oreos and Google.
We need genuine controversy. We need genuine movement.
I want to start the anti-movement movement.
Kill your television.
Put down your phone.
Tune in. Drop out.
Be genuine.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Treading Water - Thoughts on redefining normal
When you find out you're pregnant for the first time - and you're actually going to keep the child - you read every book that was ever written by anyone who has any kind of experience with children. You're nervous. You fret about everything you ingest. You absorb all the horror stories. You try all the advice. You know... typical new parent stuff. Then you realize that babies are, for all intents and purposes, pretty unbreakable. They're these beautiful clean slates; moldable and malleable. Sure, you have to contend with genetics and all that, but nurture has to have some effect, right?
As I may have mentioned, Liam (The Nugget) was recently diagnosed with ADHD. In my quest to understand everything I can about what's going on in his head, so I can help him navigate the waters of life, I'm reading everything I can get my hands on. The more I read, though, the more guilty I feel. It turns out, despite my best intentions, my boy had the chips stacked against him from the outset.
First, let's talk genetics. The Ex is ADHD, too. He never really outgrew it, as a goodly percentage of children with the disorder won't, but he seemed to have learned how to cope in life. Aside from a severe Peter Pan complex he seemed fairly normal. Or maybe I was just young and stupid, and didn't know any better.
Now let's discuss womb environment. So, Liam already had a potent cocktail of genetics working against him. I'm not proud of this, but I smoked during all three of my pregnancies. I cut way back, but I still smoked. While pregnant with Liam, I was down to no more than four cigarettes a day... until The Ex decided to leave me while I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with Liam. I immediately went back up to a pack a day.
Did I mention that, early in the pregnancy, I contracted bacterial meningitis? Theoretically, the placenta filtered the bad stuff out, but nobody really knows for sure that he wasn't affected.
Now let's get back to the stress and depression I felt during the latter part of my pregnancy. I couldn't eat. I could barely consume liquids (depression does that to you). I ended up losing weight. Combine that with a nasty smoking habit and Liam's womb environment was less than ideal.
When he was born, his APGAR scores were damn near perfect. There was no oxygen deprivation (he was as pink as the shrimp I was so fond of while pregnant with him). The delivery, via c-section, went without a hitch. He was smack dab in the middle of the weight and height ranges. Nothing indicated that he wouldn't be perfectly normal.
So what was different? My pregnancy. The Monkey had the same genetic cocktail to work with and yet he is, at least as far as I can tell, unaffected by ADHD. Hell, I didn't even cut back as much on the smoking while pregnant with The Monkey (which accounts for his birth weight being on the lower end of normal), and I definitely drank a ton of coffee with him. But I hadn't contracted meningitis and I wasn't suffering from a broken heart.
There's nothing I can do about any of this now, short of building a time machine. And I'm all out of plutonium at the moment. What I can do is try to help my boy navigate the waters of life in the context of our new definition of normal.
But the spectrum of normal has shifted a great deal for me. I freeze when I need to address a discipline issue because I don't know what the right move is. I am wracked with guilt and this guilt tinges almost all of my interactions with Liam. My thought processes are frozen in a constant loop of "you did this to him. you did this to him. you did this to him." I want to help him, but I don't know what helping him means anymore.
Intellectually, I know this is bordering on insanity on my part, and probably the result of internalizing far too much of what I'm reading right now. But emotionally, I can't help but feel like I'm treading water.
When you get a diagnosis like this for your child, it doesn't come along with a bunch of handouts about what to expect with your ADHD kid. No. Instead they send you off with the test results and a 504 plan with calm reassurances about reevaluating him again in a year. They don't explain how to intercede when outbursts at the supper table just won't stop happening. They don't explain how you're supposed to be able to tell how much of the behavior is "...an imperfection in the brain that causes the... poor impulse control..." or how much of it is your kid, who is abnormally perceptive anyway, trying to use his ADHD as an excuse to be an asshole. They don't explain to you how to explain to your kid that it's not OK to hug strangers, no matter how much you want to, because other kids will make fun of you. Because, guess what? ADHD kids have a really fucking hard time processing future consequences. In fact, future consequences don't exist in the ADHD world. They don't tell you that part, either.
No map. No directions. You're a foreigner in a new land and you don't speak the language.
So how do you parent that? How do you guide your child through the rapids when your child sees the rapids as just any other body of water. Oh and your kid can't swim, either.
Where's the fucking manual for that?
As I may have mentioned, Liam (The Nugget) was recently diagnosed with ADHD. In my quest to understand everything I can about what's going on in his head, so I can help him navigate the waters of life, I'm reading everything I can get my hands on. The more I read, though, the more guilty I feel. It turns out, despite my best intentions, my boy had the chips stacked against him from the outset.
First, let's talk genetics. The Ex is ADHD, too. He never really outgrew it, as a goodly percentage of children with the disorder won't, but he seemed to have learned how to cope in life. Aside from a severe Peter Pan complex he seemed fairly normal. Or maybe I was just young and stupid, and didn't know any better.
Now let's discuss womb environment. So, Liam already had a potent cocktail of genetics working against him. I'm not proud of this, but I smoked during all three of my pregnancies. I cut way back, but I still smoked. While pregnant with Liam, I was down to no more than four cigarettes a day... until The Ex decided to leave me while I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with Liam. I immediately went back up to a pack a day.
Did I mention that, early in the pregnancy, I contracted bacterial meningitis? Theoretically, the placenta filtered the bad stuff out, but nobody really knows for sure that he wasn't affected.
Now let's get back to the stress and depression I felt during the latter part of my pregnancy. I couldn't eat. I could barely consume liquids (depression does that to you). I ended up losing weight. Combine that with a nasty smoking habit and Liam's womb environment was less than ideal.
When he was born, his APGAR scores were damn near perfect. There was no oxygen deprivation (he was as pink as the shrimp I was so fond of while pregnant with him). The delivery, via c-section, went without a hitch. He was smack dab in the middle of the weight and height ranges. Nothing indicated that he wouldn't be perfectly normal.
So what was different? My pregnancy. The Monkey had the same genetic cocktail to work with and yet he is, at least as far as I can tell, unaffected by ADHD. Hell, I didn't even cut back as much on the smoking while pregnant with The Monkey (which accounts for his birth weight being on the lower end of normal), and I definitely drank a ton of coffee with him. But I hadn't contracted meningitis and I wasn't suffering from a broken heart.
There's nothing I can do about any of this now, short of building a time machine. And I'm all out of plutonium at the moment. What I can do is try to help my boy navigate the waters of life in the context of our new definition of normal.
But the spectrum of normal has shifted a great deal for me. I freeze when I need to address a discipline issue because I don't know what the right move is. I am wracked with guilt and this guilt tinges almost all of my interactions with Liam. My thought processes are frozen in a constant loop of "you did this to him. you did this to him. you did this to him." I want to help him, but I don't know what helping him means anymore.
Intellectually, I know this is bordering on insanity on my part, and probably the result of internalizing far too much of what I'm reading right now. But emotionally, I can't help but feel like I'm treading water.
When you get a diagnosis like this for your child, it doesn't come along with a bunch of handouts about what to expect with your ADHD kid. No. Instead they send you off with the test results and a 504 plan with calm reassurances about reevaluating him again in a year. They don't explain how to intercede when outbursts at the supper table just won't stop happening. They don't explain how you're supposed to be able to tell how much of the behavior is "...an imperfection in the brain that causes the... poor impulse control..." or how much of it is your kid, who is abnormally perceptive anyway, trying to use his ADHD as an excuse to be an asshole. They don't explain to you how to explain to your kid that it's not OK to hug strangers, no matter how much you want to, because other kids will make fun of you. Because, guess what? ADHD kids have a really fucking hard time processing future consequences. In fact, future consequences don't exist in the ADHD world. They don't tell you that part, either.
No map. No directions. You're a foreigner in a new land and you don't speak the language.
So how do you parent that? How do you guide your child through the rapids when your child sees the rapids as just any other body of water. Oh and your kid can't swim, either.
Where's the fucking manual for that?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
What Resolutions? (A blog about finding out your kid is different)
I feel compelled to blog, though I don't know where to begin. Should I be witty? Should I be candid? Should I just stream of consciousness this post? There's so much and nothing at all in my head right now. But where to start?
The quest to actually follow through on my New Years resolutions has fallen way, way short. Mostly this is because life has demanded my attention be focused elsewhere, and all at once. The people in white lab coats say that the human brain is not capable of actually, literally multitasking. I don't think they did those scans on full time moms with full time jobs. Or maybe my brain is just really good at switching between tasks.
...Which, come to think of it, is not necessarily true. Because I forget a LOT of stuff most of the time. I drop balls like a novice juggler. Hell, I'm not even making decent analogies right now.
Speaking of brains, The Nugget was recently diagnosed with ADHD (inattentive type) and ODD (for those of you who don't know, that's oppositional defiant disorder. The first step on the path to conduct disorder. For those of you who don't know what conduct disorder is, introduce yourself to most of the habitual offenders in our prison system today). I won't even begin to wax knowledgable about either of these disorders, because I'm still learning all I can about these disorders. But looking back on my poor sweet boy's life, in perspective and through the lenses of these labels, so, so much makes sense now.
There's a certain level of comfort in finally having a label for the thing that has made parenting The Nugget for these last 11 years so difficult. He couldn't remember to do basic tasks, like shutting the front door or to change his socks. He was almost four before he was fully potty trained. He was almost nine before he learned to tie his shoes without help.
Then there were the issues at daycare and at school. Every new school year, I braced myself for the onslaught of notes and conferences that seemed to always accompany The Nugget through school. Every week - sometimes every day - there was a new note. Really, though, it wasn't a new note so much the same note on a different day tinged with a growing frustration that The Nugget just couldn't seem to get his shit together.
Before that, it was at least once a week that he was being sent home from daycare because his behavior was just so abysmal the teachers couldn't control him.
And nothing seemed to work to change the behavior. No amount of punishment or reward; begging or bribing would make The Nugget behave. I remember one time, when The Nugget was about four or so, when, sobbing with frustration about being reprimanded again, he wailed, "but Mama! I'm being haved!" For him, he really was trying. He was being his version of "haved". I didn't know then what I know now. And now that I know, the story isn't as cute anymore.
I chalked it up to The Nugget being a boy. The Monkey outgrew all of this behavior, surely The Nugget would, too! Then I chalked it up to the teacher being an asshole, but then The Nugget had some really fantastic teachers and I couldn't use that as an excuse anymore. I clung desperately to the idea that maybe he was just Huck Finn and why on earth would I want to change that? I was in serious denial that there was something actually wrong with him.
And now I have a label; I have a reason for it all. But that label and the reason don't make things any easier. In fact, I have a tremendous amount of guilt in letting it go on for as long as I did before I really truly insisted on getting him tested. Though, letting it go on and letting his record get supremely thick helped us skip right through all the bureaucratic bullshit red tape. We passed go. We collected our diagnoses. He has an education plan which will help get him through elementary school, at least.
Depending on what you're reading, the root causes for ADHD and ODD aren't entirely clear, but they do know that it happens in the brain - whether it's a structural cause or a chemical imbalance is still a matter of debate. They don't know exactly what contributes to these defects - everything from maternal consumption of caffeine and nicotine while pregnant to genetic factors have been cited - but everyone seems to now agree that it's not just teachers and parents looking to medicate kids to the point of zombie-hood.
The Nugget's... actually, let me pause. He deserves to be spoken of as something more than an anecdote. The Nugget's name is Liam... the version of ADHD that Liam has is the inattentive type. We're luckier than some folks there because he really doesn't need medication. He's capable of sitting still. He's capable of focusing some of the time (and only if there are absolutely no distractions). He has some mild tics and socialization issues, but nothing that is considered clinical (just borderline) in that arena. Liam also has a very difficult time processing his emotions in a "normal" way, and suffers a fair amount of anxiety most of the time.
But what makes a disorder like this more difficult for families like ours is there's no outward appearance of abnormality. There's nothing that screams "my child has special needs! Back the fuck off and show him some respect!" because he looks normal. People expect him to be able to operate on the same level as most folks. He just can't. He can fake it. He can find ways to cope in the world. But he will. Never. Be. Normal. And folks will just keep on wondering why the weird kid is weird.
That's a hard pill to swallow as a mama. Especially at this stage of the game. My child has special needs. My child will never be normal. My child will always struggle in the world. My child will always have to work extra hard. My child will often be at a loss to explain why he did something and why it was wrong (or why it was right) and will get in trouble for it. Because he looks normal.
------
I don't know how to sum this post up. It's open-ended, I suppose, because there's still so much left to learn. I'm still grieving for my boy and am still processing all of this information in a space of grief. No, he's not dying - and I am lucky for that! And he doesn't have a terminal illness. But his life is, and always was, inexorably changed.
The quest to actually follow through on my New Years resolutions has fallen way, way short. Mostly this is because life has demanded my attention be focused elsewhere, and all at once. The people in white lab coats say that the human brain is not capable of actually, literally multitasking. I don't think they did those scans on full time moms with full time jobs. Or maybe my brain is just really good at switching between tasks.
...Which, come to think of it, is not necessarily true. Because I forget a LOT of stuff most of the time. I drop balls like a novice juggler. Hell, I'm not even making decent analogies right now.
Speaking of brains, The Nugget was recently diagnosed with ADHD (inattentive type) and ODD (for those of you who don't know, that's oppositional defiant disorder. The first step on the path to conduct disorder. For those of you who don't know what conduct disorder is, introduce yourself to most of the habitual offenders in our prison system today). I won't even begin to wax knowledgable about either of these disorders, because I'm still learning all I can about these disorders. But looking back on my poor sweet boy's life, in perspective and through the lenses of these labels, so, so much makes sense now.
There's a certain level of comfort in finally having a label for the thing that has made parenting The Nugget for these last 11 years so difficult. He couldn't remember to do basic tasks, like shutting the front door or to change his socks. He was almost four before he was fully potty trained. He was almost nine before he learned to tie his shoes without help.
Then there were the issues at daycare and at school. Every new school year, I braced myself for the onslaught of notes and conferences that seemed to always accompany The Nugget through school. Every week - sometimes every day - there was a new note. Really, though, it wasn't a new note so much the same note on a different day tinged with a growing frustration that The Nugget just couldn't seem to get his shit together.
Before that, it was at least once a week that he was being sent home from daycare because his behavior was just so abysmal the teachers couldn't control him.
And nothing seemed to work to change the behavior. No amount of punishment or reward; begging or bribing would make The Nugget behave. I remember one time, when The Nugget was about four or so, when, sobbing with frustration about being reprimanded again, he wailed, "but Mama! I'm being haved!" For him, he really was trying. He was being his version of "haved". I didn't know then what I know now. And now that I know, the story isn't as cute anymore.
I chalked it up to The Nugget being a boy. The Monkey outgrew all of this behavior, surely The Nugget would, too! Then I chalked it up to the teacher being an asshole, but then The Nugget had some really fantastic teachers and I couldn't use that as an excuse anymore. I clung desperately to the idea that maybe he was just Huck Finn and why on earth would I want to change that? I was in serious denial that there was something actually wrong with him.
And now I have a label; I have a reason for it all. But that label and the reason don't make things any easier. In fact, I have a tremendous amount of guilt in letting it go on for as long as I did before I really truly insisted on getting him tested. Though, letting it go on and letting his record get supremely thick helped us skip right through all the bureaucratic bullshit red tape. We passed go. We collected our diagnoses. He has an education plan which will help get him through elementary school, at least.
Depending on what you're reading, the root causes for ADHD and ODD aren't entirely clear, but they do know that it happens in the brain - whether it's a structural cause or a chemical imbalance is still a matter of debate. They don't know exactly what contributes to these defects - everything from maternal consumption of caffeine and nicotine while pregnant to genetic factors have been cited - but everyone seems to now agree that it's not just teachers and parents looking to medicate kids to the point of zombie-hood.
The Nugget's... actually, let me pause. He deserves to be spoken of as something more than an anecdote. The Nugget's name is Liam... the version of ADHD that Liam has is the inattentive type. We're luckier than some folks there because he really doesn't need medication. He's capable of sitting still. He's capable of focusing some of the time (and only if there are absolutely no distractions). He has some mild tics and socialization issues, but nothing that is considered clinical (just borderline) in that arena. Liam also has a very difficult time processing his emotions in a "normal" way, and suffers a fair amount of anxiety most of the time.
But what makes a disorder like this more difficult for families like ours is there's no outward appearance of abnormality. There's nothing that screams "my child has special needs! Back the fuck off and show him some respect!" because he looks normal. People expect him to be able to operate on the same level as most folks. He just can't. He can fake it. He can find ways to cope in the world. But he will. Never. Be. Normal. And folks will just keep on wondering why the weird kid is weird.
That's a hard pill to swallow as a mama. Especially at this stage of the game. My child has special needs. My child will never be normal. My child will always struggle in the world. My child will always have to work extra hard. My child will often be at a loss to explain why he did something and why it was wrong (or why it was right) and will get in trouble for it. Because he looks normal.
------
I don't know how to sum this post up. It's open-ended, I suppose, because there's still so much left to learn. I'm still grieving for my boy and am still processing all of this information in a space of grief. No, he's not dying - and I am lucky for that! And he doesn't have a terminal illness. But his life is, and always was, inexorably changed.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
A new year and new resolutions -- 12 Things Edition
Ah yes. It's a fresh year. It feels good, this clean slate. For several months now, I've been processing changes. For me, it takes a great deal of time to process any kind of change because, for so many years, I simply didn't like change and would avoid it at any cost. Now, I kind of dig change, but I'm a stubborn so and so, and won't readily admit when habits of mine need to go away.
Usually the pattern goes like this (it's almost always in conversation form)
Me: Yeah, it's really rather selfish of me to keep buying so many books. I haven't finished the last 20 I bought.
Brain: But you work hard and take care of your family. You deserve a treat.
Me: Do I need a treat every single week?! Amazon hasn't charged me my annual prime fee, I spend so much on there!
Brain: See! You're saving money!
Me: No I'm not!
Brain: No, really. You are. Jeff Bezos might send you a Christmas card.
Me: Really? You think so?
Brain: You're one of his best customers. I'm sure he will.
Me: That would be SO COOL. (clicks "add to cart")
Brain: (look of smug satisfaction)
Lather, rinse, repeat until I start leaving my debit card at home and change my Paypal password to something I can't remember. Ever.
So, for all of cyberspace, I am putting my resolutions out there. I expect you to hold me accountable, Interwebs -- all five of you who might read my blog.
1) Cliched as it is: to lose weight. I have set a goal of four pounds a month for a year. That's 48 pounds that I want to lose by this time next year. 12 pounds off what I really need to lose in order to be at my weight when I got pregnant with the monkey. Which was still a good 20 pounds off from what I need to weigh and be at the appropriate weight for my height.
And those numbers might be off, truth be told. I haven't gotten on a scale in two months because eating holidays and all that. But I'm going to start with 48 pounds.
2) In consideration of goal number 1, to cut out all the excess sugar in my diet. I will make exceptions for coffee and tea, but this means no soda, redbull (ACK! Kill me now!), candy, or other sweets.
3) In consideration of goals number 1 and 2: to cut out all the carb snacking that happens in my life. This means no trips to the snack baskets at work and to bring in healthy snacks for myself. Since I don't usually eat lunch at work, I must also endeavor to bring in healthy options to eat for lunch.
4) In consideration of goals 1-3: to exercise at least three times per week, gradually working up to five times per week. This one is going to be tough for me considering how much I hate mornings, so I know I won't wake up in time to actually go for a walk or do any yoga. And I don't get much down time before 10 at night. Right now, I don't have the excuse of the weather being too hot. It's perfectly lovely walking weather. I just need to f-bombing get my lazy tush out of the house.
5) Once a week, preferably twice, I will not make dinner and I will tell everyone -- even the Lady Gray -- that they have to fend for themselves so I can disappear into the studio and be creative. It doesn't matter what I create, so long as I create.
6) Not to overcommit: time, money, energy, resources. NO will be my key word of the year.
7) To actively work toward my goal of having a creative business. This means that that #5 and #6 need to happen. It also means I need to follow through on some of those classes I signed up for, work on my web sites, work on products and work on a business plan. It also means that I need to be more organized, thoughtful and productive.
8) To listen more attentively and to give my attention. The electronic devices will get put away and I will focus.
9) To save money each month. This means I'll have to forgo my Christmas card from Mr. Bezos, I suppose, but it'll be worth it in the long run. It also means that I'll have to plan meals for the week and only shop for the meals, rather than whatever strikes my fancy at any given time; look for specials and deals and learn to tell myself no. Instant gratification only lasts for an instant anyway.
10) To really quit smoking. Good lord does this need to happen. No more cheating just at work. No more using stress as an excuse to buy a pack of cigarettes. I have an e-cig, I need to use it.
11) To find opportunities for volunteerism and to give back to the world.
12) To spend more time with my family -- this includes my family up north, my family here and Jeff's family. I need to make an effort to see them and spend time with them. There's precious little time that each of us is allotted on this sphere, so I need to make the most of it with the people that I love.
----
Because I've run out of "things", here are some other goals: to get ready every Sunday for the week ahead at work. To get to bed at a reasonable time so I wake up refreshed. To use what little time I have available each day to work toward achieving my goals. To remember that, in order to be able to give to my family, I need to, first, give to myself. To remember that I am worth love -- my own especially -- and to make the effort to love myself a bit more (this does not mean go shopping every week. It means that I need to honor each phase that I'm in, dwell in my heart a little bit more, and take time out for me). I also need to remember that I cannot and should not control the people in my life or their behavior. I need to love and respect my loved ones for who they are right now, not who I think they should be.
It's going to be tough to make all of this happen. There will be a fair amount of pity partying happening, methinks. Theoretically, I shouldn't try to do all of this at once since so much change might seem daunting and I'll just quit. But you know what? I use that as a damn crutch. And, like my dentist said (as she was filling my very first cavities), "go big or go home, huh?" Damn straight, Doc. Damn straight.
Wish me luck!
Usually the pattern goes like this (it's almost always in conversation form)
Me: Yeah, it's really rather selfish of me to keep buying so many books. I haven't finished the last 20 I bought.
Brain: But you work hard and take care of your family. You deserve a treat.
Me: Do I need a treat every single week?! Amazon hasn't charged me my annual prime fee, I spend so much on there!
Brain: See! You're saving money!
Me: No I'm not!
Brain: No, really. You are. Jeff Bezos might send you a Christmas card.
Me: Really? You think so?
Brain: You're one of his best customers. I'm sure he will.
Me: That would be SO COOL. (clicks "add to cart")
Brain: (look of smug satisfaction)
Lather, rinse, repeat until I start leaving my debit card at home and change my Paypal password to something I can't remember. Ever.
So, for all of cyberspace, I am putting my resolutions out there. I expect you to hold me accountable, Interwebs -- all five of you who might read my blog.
1) Cliched as it is: to lose weight. I have set a goal of four pounds a month for a year. That's 48 pounds that I want to lose by this time next year. 12 pounds off what I really need to lose in order to be at my weight when I got pregnant with the monkey. Which was still a good 20 pounds off from what I need to weigh and be at the appropriate weight for my height.
And those numbers might be off, truth be told. I haven't gotten on a scale in two months because eating holidays and all that. But I'm going to start with 48 pounds.
2) In consideration of goal number 1, to cut out all the excess sugar in my diet. I will make exceptions for coffee and tea, but this means no soda, redbull (ACK! Kill me now!), candy, or other sweets.
3) In consideration of goals number 1 and 2: to cut out all the carb snacking that happens in my life. This means no trips to the snack baskets at work and to bring in healthy snacks for myself. Since I don't usually eat lunch at work, I must also endeavor to bring in healthy options to eat for lunch.
4) In consideration of goals 1-3: to exercise at least three times per week, gradually working up to five times per week. This one is going to be tough for me considering how much I hate mornings, so I know I won't wake up in time to actually go for a walk or do any yoga. And I don't get much down time before 10 at night. Right now, I don't have the excuse of the weather being too hot. It's perfectly lovely walking weather. I just need to f-bombing get my lazy tush out of the house.
5) Once a week, preferably twice, I will not make dinner and I will tell everyone -- even the Lady Gray -- that they have to fend for themselves so I can disappear into the studio and be creative. It doesn't matter what I create, so long as I create.
6) Not to overcommit: time, money, energy, resources. NO will be my key word of the year.
7) To actively work toward my goal of having a creative business. This means that that #5 and #6 need to happen. It also means I need to follow through on some of those classes I signed up for, work on my web sites, work on products and work on a business plan. It also means that I need to be more organized, thoughtful and productive.
8) To listen more attentively and to give my attention. The electronic devices will get put away and I will focus.
9) To save money each month. This means I'll have to forgo my Christmas card from Mr. Bezos, I suppose, but it'll be worth it in the long run. It also means that I'll have to plan meals for the week and only shop for the meals, rather than whatever strikes my fancy at any given time; look for specials and deals and learn to tell myself no. Instant gratification only lasts for an instant anyway.
10) To really quit smoking. Good lord does this need to happen. No more cheating just at work. No more using stress as an excuse to buy a pack of cigarettes. I have an e-cig, I need to use it.
11) To find opportunities for volunteerism and to give back to the world.
12) To spend more time with my family -- this includes my family up north, my family here and Jeff's family. I need to make an effort to see them and spend time with them. There's precious little time that each of us is allotted on this sphere, so I need to make the most of it with the people that I love.
----
Because I've run out of "things", here are some other goals: to get ready every Sunday for the week ahead at work. To get to bed at a reasonable time so I wake up refreshed. To use what little time I have available each day to work toward achieving my goals. To remember that, in order to be able to give to my family, I need to, first, give to myself. To remember that I am worth love -- my own especially -- and to make the effort to love myself a bit more (this does not mean go shopping every week. It means that I need to honor each phase that I'm in, dwell in my heart a little bit more, and take time out for me). I also need to remember that I cannot and should not control the people in my life or their behavior. I need to love and respect my loved ones for who they are right now, not who I think they should be.
It's going to be tough to make all of this happen. There will be a fair amount of pity partying happening, methinks. Theoretically, I shouldn't try to do all of this at once since so much change might seem daunting and I'll just quit. But you know what? I use that as a damn crutch. And, like my dentist said (as she was filling my very first cavities), "go big or go home, huh?" Damn straight, Doc. Damn straight.
Wish me luck!
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Well hello! Sit down. Have a cup of tea with me. Let's catch up.
I have been, as usual, missing from my blog spot. There's been a lot going on, what with the holidays and such. But Christmas has come and gone and the new year is right around the corner. It's time to clean out the old and begin fresh and new.
I've been considering an overhaul of this space -- or to scrap this one and start anew. Well, I won't scrap this blog, because so many wonderful memories and rambling thoughts have been shared here. But, as time goes on, my priorities and goal have shifted. And maybe it's time for this space to shift with me.
This isn't to say that I've lost sight of my "two" year plan (which is edging closer to five years now) or my life lists. Those things still simmer in the back of my mind and I am cognizant that every decision, no matter how big or small, that I make brings me closer to my goals.
We're three days away from 2014 and I'm excited about it, for once. Usually, the new year makes me rather melancholy. I don't know why, but it does. This year, I see nothing but bright lights and shiny futures ahead for all.
So while I won't scrap this place, that has been so special to me for a few years, I'll reserve it now strictly for random life updates, pictures and goals. I am going to start another blog, that I will link to through here (should those of you that check in here wish to read it) that I'll fill with my more controversial thought processes: namely sex, politics, religion and my relationships.
I'll catch you on the flip side.
Namaste
I've been considering an overhaul of this space -- or to scrap this one and start anew. Well, I won't scrap this blog, because so many wonderful memories and rambling thoughts have been shared here. But, as time goes on, my priorities and goal have shifted. And maybe it's time for this space to shift with me.
This isn't to say that I've lost sight of my "two" year plan (which is edging closer to five years now) or my life lists. Those things still simmer in the back of my mind and I am cognizant that every decision, no matter how big or small, that I make brings me closer to my goals.
We're three days away from 2014 and I'm excited about it, for once. Usually, the new year makes me rather melancholy. I don't know why, but it does. This year, I see nothing but bright lights and shiny futures ahead for all.
So while I won't scrap this place, that has been so special to me for a few years, I'll reserve it now strictly for random life updates, pictures and goals. I am going to start another blog, that I will link to through here (should those of you that check in here wish to read it) that I'll fill with my more controversial thought processes: namely sex, politics, religion and my relationships.
I'll catch you on the flip side.
Namaste
Monday, September 16, 2013
I'm such a fucking hipster
And I say "fuck" a lot. I need to stop that. My grandmother might read this blog one day.
Then again, I say "fuck" around her, too.
I'm going to Hell.
And in other news, check an item off of my life list -- I am now the proud owner of a MacBook. Well, sorta. My job technically owns the MacBook, but since I work for my parents and will probably never, ever leave, I'm probably going to be buried with this thing.
And with the addition of a MacBook to my iCollection, I officially own an iPod, iPhone, iPad (regular and mini) and MacBook.
Did I mention my vast collection of scarves. Also, I own a pair of black chucks. And yes, my glasses are black rimmed. See? I told you I'm a hipster.
When the box arrived today at work, it was sort of anticlimactic, actually. I had yearned for years for a MacBook that the yearning had sort of become my thing. I plotted and planned and contrived different ways to get a MacBook, and there it was. On my desk. It took a full two hours before I actually felt like opening it.
What am I going to do now that this goal is off my list? Granted, I have seven thousand other goals on my life list, but this was high on my radar. Superficial, yes, but a goal within my grasp.
It got me thinking, though, that so much of my life list is rather superficial. But the superficiality is what makes the goals realistic and tangible. Getting the item off of the list, though, wasn't nearly as satisfying as I had hoped. That part made me sad. I was more giddy ordering the MacBook than I was getting it. Maybe it's a sign that I'm evolving -- I don't want things anymore, I want experience. Or maybe it's because, as a pretty consummate Apple fangurl, I'm Appled out.
But it's easy enough to put the MacBook down and focus on what's important: making my little girl say "mommy" again and hanging out with The Trolls; and gazing at my beloved next to me, while I think about how lucky I truly am.
Then again, I say "fuck" around her, too.
I'm going to Hell.
And in other news, check an item off of my life list -- I am now the proud owner of a MacBook. Well, sorta. My job technically owns the MacBook, but since I work for my parents and will probably never, ever leave, I'm probably going to be buried with this thing.
And with the addition of a MacBook to my iCollection, I officially own an iPod, iPhone, iPad (regular and mini) and MacBook.
Did I mention my vast collection of scarves. Also, I own a pair of black chucks. And yes, my glasses are black rimmed. See? I told you I'm a hipster.
When the box arrived today at work, it was sort of anticlimactic, actually. I had yearned for years for a MacBook that the yearning had sort of become my thing. I plotted and planned and contrived different ways to get a MacBook, and there it was. On my desk. It took a full two hours before I actually felt like opening it.
What am I going to do now that this goal is off my list? Granted, I have seven thousand other goals on my life list, but this was high on my radar. Superficial, yes, but a goal within my grasp.
It got me thinking, though, that so much of my life list is rather superficial. But the superficiality is what makes the goals realistic and tangible. Getting the item off of the list, though, wasn't nearly as satisfying as I had hoped. That part made me sad. I was more giddy ordering the MacBook than I was getting it. Maybe it's a sign that I'm evolving -- I don't want things anymore, I want experience. Or maybe it's because, as a pretty consummate Apple fangurl, I'm Appled out.
But it's easy enough to put the MacBook down and focus on what's important: making my little girl say "mommy" again and hanging out with The Trolls; and gazing at my beloved next to me, while I think about how lucky I truly am.
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