House Full of AD(H)D

Over the last couple of months, J is slowly coming to the realization that he too, may have AD(H)D. Minor, like I have it, but there nonetheless. It has been entertaining to watch him comprehend what a world with AD(H)D is like. I was diagnosed with it as a child, and raising Xavier, I always saw our common ground when it comes to how we correlate with the world surrounding us. However, J, having always been under the impression that it was anxiety issues alone, didn't put two and two together until his new doctor asked him if he might think he has AD(H)D. Since then he has been reading books upon books, trying to determine if AD(H)D was the case all along. And it seems that it might be the case.

I'm actually thrilled with this new turn of events. This means that I can stop blaming myself in the dark corner of my mind, for being the sole parental unit responsible for screwing up Xavier with my genes. It looks like we are equally at fault, yay!

What has been the most entertaining has been watching J read these books about how AD(H)D can show itself, and his realizations on how it affects him. He'll tell me over dinner how, after reading the latest chapter, he learned this awesome new coping skill. It's called a schedule. And you write EVERYTHING down that you need to do, but only choose five things a day to focus on. Otherwise you would get overwhelmed.

Yeah, it's called a calendar. And everyone who knows me knows that if it's not written in my calendar, it doesn't exist. And I call it a busy day if there are three or more things I have to do in one 24 hour period. Even if it's just going to the pharmacy.

Then he mentioned how he learned that AD(H)D people procrastinate, because time doesn't work the same for them as it does for regular people. For example, if you know you have a deadline a week away, the average person will put that time to good use and parcel out time to work on said project a little bit at a time. But if you had AD(H)D, oh no!!!! That is NOT what we do. We physically can't, because that gives us too much time to focus. Instead, we wait until the last moment, panic, and begin what is called hyper focusing. It will be all that we can think of for that short period of time. It causes anxiety, which actually drives us to focus, and complete said project.

I did that all the time in high school, when I would have an eight page essay due. I still do it today with my blog. I lack the focus to sit down in a scheduled fashion and write a blog. Hell, I forget half the crap I want to blog about. Instead, when I have inspiration, I sit down and blog three to ten blogs in one sitting, then schedule them out so you are not inundated.

Another point J read, was that there are only four times we folks with AD(H)D can actually focus:

• When something is new and catches our attention (like my Pintrest/Twitter spree I do once every few months).
• something is of personal interest (reading for me. J finds that if I am into a good book, he literally has to stand in front of me, waving his arms like those guys at the airport who wave planes in, and shout my name three times.)
• something is challenging
• or you have an important deadline and time is running out

This explains my sporadic blog sprees. My blog is most definitely a personal interest, but like any blogger, sometimes it becomes more like work than fun, trying to find interesting things to post about while smacking my head against the monitor, trying to jump start my sarcasm. So you can thank my AD(H)D for acting like a moron and leaving you all to wait for when inspiration jumps me and smacks me down to the ground.

The latest nugget of information J dropped in my lap was that people who have AD(H)D do not "see" clutter. It doesn't register. He wandered upstairs while I was sitting in my recliner and surfing the web, despite the fact that our kitchen sink resembles a high rise in NYC, our bedroom looks like a tornado blew through it, and our dirty laundry pile resembles the leaning tower of Pisa.




Yup, I'd say that statement of clutter is quite accurate.




I'm actually very excited to know that J deals with AD(H)D. For one thing, he has always thought that he had an anxiety issue, or was suffering depression. But now that he is finding all these puzzle pieces that fit together, he seems to recognize what is actually the culprit. With that, he seems to be more relieved and less stressed because there is a VALID reason for why he feels the way he does. And there are tools that can help him.

Also, now that he is recognizing the symptoms, it's like we're suddenly talking the same language. Well, most of the time. We still suffer the XX/XY chromosome language disconnect. But in terms of why we do what we do, it seems that we aren't so different after all. And that makes it easier to  give one another support when we forget things, or act as we do. And as J learns new tools to help him, we can offer these tools to Xavier when he starts middle school and faces tougher deadlines. Having three of us in the family think the same way will help understand and acknowledge upcoming issues.

Lastly, I am just so happy that I am not the sole parental unit who gave poor Xavier the ADHD gene. J can no longer blame me when Xavier is off his meds and running around like a loon. I now can look over at my husband and smile beatifically, then stick my tongue out at him. Ha!

To My Children's Dad

Today is Father's Day, and with it will come a slew of home made gifts for dads across the country, or big gifts, like a new grill, seasons tickets to his favorite sports team, etc. And dads will smile, thank their children, and then the following day all will go back to normal.

While J was out of the house yesterday, I asked my boys why they loved their daddy.

Xavier:

• He gets up with me in the (early) morning and gets me breakfast
• He helps me when I get hurt
• He's really funny
• He lets me stay up late on weekends
• He helps me set up my games
• He surprises me with treats
• He is the best dad in the whole world!

Ashe:

• He helps me buy my games
• He gives me baths
• I like his clothes
• He's a boy like me

Soren:

• I just do

J is an amazing husband and father. I hear all sorts of stories from other moms about how hard it is to get their husbands to help around the house. This is not true in our household. If anything, I would say that J pampers me and the kids. It's so obvious that he loves us, and he shows it in so many ways.

J gets up every morning at the crack of dawn with the boys, because he knows that I have never been, nor ever will be, a morning person. He never complains about this, and feeds the boys breakfast, gets their lunches for school ready, gets them dressed. Each school day I just need to roll out of bed and carpool them. Even then, J carpools twice a week so that I can sleep in for an extra hour.

While I do the cooking, J does the dishes. Every night.

We alternate putting the boys to bed. He brushes the boys teeth, reads Soren a bed time story, chases monsters away, just as much as I do.


He's the Bath Master. He helps each kid clean up, washes the younger boys hair, and drains the tub.

J takes out the trash every week.

Every Saturday, J takes one boy out and does our food shopping.

I bring down the laundry, wash and dry it. Then J brings it up three flights of stairs and sorts it out.

J is always there to help out the family with electronic stuff: games, blogs, shows... anything related to electronics, J is our go to man.


J is an amazing father. You couldn't fantasize better.



Over the past few months I have heard him grumbling under his breath as he is packing lunches for the boys. When I asked him what was wrong, he would pick up the juice box case and point to where it said "Approved by Moms". He was bitter (and rightfully so) that it said moms and not parents. Because he is a DAD, and dads need recognition for choosing healthy food for their children.

We headed out food shopping one day and as we pulled into the parking lot, J grumbled again. When I asked him what was wrong, he said that he didn't think it was fair that the reserved spots where tagged for "Moms with Kids." Why couldn't it be "Parents with kids"? Dads do their fair of food shopping with little ones in tow.




And you know what? He is absolutely right.




Take away this one day a year, and what we hear from the media is how hard it is for moms. How much work we moms do to raise our children. How we moms are the ones to help with homework, drag kids to soccer practice, dry away the tears when our kids fall, or have a fight with a friend at school. How we moms are superwomen and can multitask a job, maintaining a household, and raise our kids.


But, aside from this one day, where is the praise for dads? Yes, there are articles being written that this day, dads are more and more stepping up. Dads are spending more time with their kids than ever before. Dads are stepping up and helping around the house more and more. And that is FANTASTIC! But most of the time when I read these articles, it almost seems as if it has been written as a relief article for moms, not a praise for this generation of dads. Now granted, there are a few out there that ae giving dads the praise that they deserve, but there are not enough of them...yet.


So you know what? Today, and every day, I want us to stop for a moment, and praise dads. Praise our husbands, our children's father. The man who checks the closet and under the bed for monsters. The one who packs a nutritious lunch for his kids. The one who will stop what he is doing to fix a boo boo. The one who is always ready for a hug. The one who helps to teach our children what it is to be a good guy, a role model for the future generation.


To all you dads out there, you rock! Seriously, society doesn't give you enough credit. Thank you for all that you do. You deserve so much more recognition than one day a year. You deserve a special parking space in the grocery store parking lot. You deserve equal rights of approval for juice boxes and other food products. You deserve equal recognition in the media.


I appreciate you dads out there.


And J, I appreciate and love you more than I can ever express. I couldn't do this journey without you. Nor could the boys. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for ALL that you do for us, your family. We love you so much.

Saved by the Eldest!

Told to me by my mom:


Soren runs up to G-ma and asks for a back scratch. She complies. A few minutes later:

Soren: Ahhh, that feels good. Now scratch my arms. (She complies).

Soren: Ok, now scratch my legs. (Which she does. As she is scratching his legs, Xavier wanders downstairs).

Soren: That feels sooo good! Now... scratch my penis.
(G-ma has NO clue how to respond to this and stares, flabbergasted, until Xavier, with an annoyed look on his face responds.)

Xavier: Do it yourself!
Soren: Oh.... ok!


G-ma saved from an embarrassing convo!