Barnmaven

Understanding ADHD

One of the regulars in one of my online 12-step groups said something a couple of months ago that gave me pause.  I'm glad she said it, glad I read it, and glad I paid attention. 

Often in life when things go wrong, we console ourselves by saying "Don't' worry, it will change.  Things always do."  But the point my friend wanted us to remember is that as much as change is inevitable in the bad times, this holds true for the good.  Sometimes when things are going well in life we have a tendency to think that this upward trend will hold indefinitely.  If we don't have a healthy perspective on the inevitability of change, a downward turn can really throw us off the bus. 

I wrote not long ago about how well my Amazon Girl was doing, in school and at home.  She had a terrific report card and her teacher raved about her behavior and her schoolwork at her parent-teacher conference.  I'm not going to discount ever how wonderful that was, particularly  with our history.  Thankfully I have a healthy expectation of change, and so was not too terribly surprised by happenstances this week.

Last week was spring break.  I kept Little Man in daycare, they had a week of fun activities instead of the usual kindergarten program he participates in.  Amazon Girl spent the week with her Grams and Poppy.  I could have saved a few bucks and kept both of them out of paid care the whole week, but like a lot of siblings, my kids fight a LOT and my parents just don't have the energy to keep up with that anymore.  On their own, either one of the kids is typically delightful, and that was true last week.  Child A had a terrific time baking cookies, making pictures, doing Google research on things like "how far is it from the earth to the moon?" (238,857 miles from earth) and "how fast does a rocket fly?" (as much as 17,000 MPH to reach orbit).  They did puzzles, cut out paper dolls, took walks.  She had a wonderful time, basking in the glow of grandparental love.  My mom as a grandmother is a great big plate of fun and love with a huge side of awesome sauce.  She is the kind of grandmother her own mother never was, and I'm really grateful for the special spot she has in my kids' lives. 

This week it was back at school.  Whether it was a coincidental crossover with an uptick in her bipolar cycle, or just an example of the difficulty with changed structure that kids with her issues have, we had a pretty horrible week.  Monday night, over a very minor issue, she threw an hour-plus long tantrum.  It really was a little thing - and I know that the BP and the ADHD make even the slightest delay in gratification difficult for her.  But she also has to learn to function in the real world, so when I can't give her what she wants RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND and she has a tantrum about it, I'm not going to make things worse by trying to buy good behavior by capitulating.  She HAS to learn to cope with minor frustration.  So what she wanted then got taken away, and the tantrum escalated.  By the time she finally blew out, we were all exhausted. 

Tuesday, I got a call from the guidance counselor at school.  She had picked up a smaller child (in a hug?  Not sure) and then put him in a headlock.  I think she thought she was playing, but she really scared the other kid, and made his school day start off in a way guaranteed to negatively impact his learning experience. 

Yesterday I had to go conference with her teacher as she made the poor choice of throwing a stick at another child's head during recess.  Again, she wasn't doing it out of anger, which is a big relief for reasons I can't even begin to explain coherently, but it seems like her impulse control is simply nonexistent this week.

Sadly, the collective memory of her classmates is starting to improve and the tolerance for her social ineptitude is getting narrower.  As her friends and classmates age, her behavior is starting to cause her social problems, and she is old enough to recognize it and be hurt by it.  It breaks my heart for her. 

I wish I could help her classmates understand why some things are just harder for her than they are for "normal" kids.  At our last therapy session, her therapist showed me a terrific graphic.

The picture below shows pet scans of two brains:

The brain on the left is of a child who does not have ADHD.  The scan was taken while the child was playing a video game.  The purple aura around shows the energy emissions of the brain, the areas in orange are the parts of the brain that are active and firing while the child concentrates.

The brain on the right is of a child with ADHD.  This child is playing the SAME video game, just as successfully.  Except you can see that the brain is firing at a much reduced level.  So in other words, this child is doing ten times the work to concentrate on this game. Keep in mind that the ADHD child is performing just as well as the non-ADHD child, its just that they are doing it with a lot less resources.  No wonder the ADHD child is so easily distracted!   Also important to note is that in the frontal lobe, where most of our corporate governance work takes place, there is almost no activity.  The frontal lobe of the brain is the place that helps us make better decisions.  It is the place that grabs an impulse by the collar and says "Hey, pal, are you sure that's such a good idea?" when we feel like tossing our monitor out the window.

As a result, ADHD kids have some typical characteristics:

• Impulsitivity
• Difficulty delaying gratification
• Hyperactivity
• Emotional over-arousal
• Non-compliance
• Social problems
• Disorganization

My daughter's ADHD is compounded by her bipolar disorder, which has many of the same characteristics as ADHD and is also marked by lower frontal lobe functioning.  A lot of her functioning is driven by the bottom part of her brain, much closer to the hypothalmus and more easily stimulated by fight/flight impulses.

I wish I could help her classmates to understand how my kid is different in ways that would help them be nicer to her.  But I remember how hard it was for me as a child, how my inability to control my voice and my impulses made me the weirdo in school.  My heart breaks for my child, especially when as a result of her own behavior, her classmates give her dirty looks, call her "stupid." 

As parents we suffer with and for our kids. I know that our early intervention is making a positive difference for her.  I can't imagine what she would be like if we had not recognized a problem and started getting help early.  I just wish it was emotionally easier for her and for all of us.  She's a good kid who is going to continue throughout her life to have problems making good choices.  What I wish others understood was that at heart, she is one of the best, nicest, most loving children that ever lived.  Even when she's in full-on DESTROY mode, I still know this about her. 

She's my baby.

I hate that kids are judgmental.  Parents are too.  I stopped paying attention to the dirty looks and the muttered insults when we had a bad day at the grocery store or the playground a long time ago.  But I wish that more people really understood what my child has to live with.  So when you see that kid in your kid's class or at the mall or the library or at the grocery store who is acting out of control, who is having a tantrum, or screaming, or unable to control their desire to get or have something RIGHT now...instead of judging the parenting capabilities of the likely overwhelmed mother, give a thought to lending some empathy instead.   When you see a child acting like this, its more than a fair shot that you are looking at a child with a neurological disorder, at a parent who is coping the best they can.  And if your "normal" kid is with you, use it as a teaching moment to treat other kids with compassion and care.  Every kid needs a friend.  Mine sure does.   

 

Random Crap Tuesday V. 4.6

Tuesday seems to be the day I can't think coherently. Its one of my least favorite days of the week, truly.  So last week's Tuesday post was a compilation of random crap.  I think I'm going to roll with that and make it a weekly phenomenon. (Which, translated from ADHD-speak, means:  I'll do this as long as I can remember to do it and until something else shiny catches my attention.  Heh.)

*My favorite days of the week, in order:

First Best:  Saturday - If the weather's nice I get to ride my horse AND I get to have my morning coffee usually free of the need to be somewhere or doing something at a specific time, and most especially, free of the sound of fighting children.

Second Best:  Friday. Yes, I have to work, BUT.  I drive myself, so I don't have to get out of bed at an ungodly hour when even the SUN is not up.  I can make pancakes for the kids for breakfast.  And the kids spend the night at Dad's, so I get to do WHATEVER I WANT when I get home from work.  (If I were a more exciting person the "whatever" might involve something truly fun, however since I'm a boring old lady, it usually involves wine, my computer, and television.  And no porn to be found anywhere)

Third Best:  Sunday.  You might think that Sunday should take second place, but Sunday's have gotten hectic what with church, bath night, the advent of lawn-mowing season and the fact that its the night before Monday, which means I can't ever sleep.  Still, work is not involved, so it makes the top three.

Fourth Best:  Wednesday.  I work from home, so there are usually Pajamas involved for at least part of the day, I can watch MSNBC all day long, my dogs don't have to spend the day in their crates, and I get to have lunch with my son.

Last best:  Monday, followed by Tuesday which is usually worse than Monday, and Thursday. 

*My blog has gotten a ton of hits today because apparently Chicken Liver/Michelle McBee of Poop on Peeps is scheduled to appear on MSNBC.  People are googling madly, and I wrote a post or two about some of the bigger kerfuffles, so thanks Chick for the extra blog traffic today.  Word on the street is that the interview, originally scheduled for today, is now delayed until tomorrow (or later), for those of you who are interested.  For ShePosts take on it, read here. 

*The dutch door on my barn finally broke and I'm afraid to fix it because even though I am really awesome at  fixing stuff usually, I"m pretty sure I"m going to screw this one up.  I think it might be time to bring in professional help.

*When I was in the fifth grade I took second place in the school spelling bee because I misspelled "lawyer."  I've not misspelled it since.

*Tonight I will be doing my second workout for the third training week of my Couch to 5K program.  I kind of lost a week, but I've been working out and I'm on the week where I"m running in 3-minute stretches.  Its going well, and my knees seem to be tolerating things so far.

There are a few things I would like to make note of today that don't fall under the category of "random crap."  As much as I like to be a wiseass with a dirty mouth, some things aren't funny.

First of all, my thoughts and prayers are with the families, friends, neighbors and coworkers of the miners who lost their lives in the Massey Energy Co. Mine in West Virginia.  Please send up some prayers of your own on their behalf.

Secondly, my thoughts and prayers are also with Mike and Heather Spohr today, as they remember their daughter Maddie who left us far too soon a year ago today.  Join me in honoring Maddie's memory by supporting Team Spohr in the March of Dimes marathon.

Finally, please go to Violence Unsilenced and honor the newest contributor, Gwendomama.

Peace out, y'all. 

  

Cycle Up, Cycle Down

I’m either motionless or I’m a tornado.

Something like that, anyway.  Maybe my perception is skewed, but it seems like it some days.  I can tell when I’m on the downswing of my pendulum.  I don’t want to go anywhere, talk to anyone, do anything.  I gravitate toward the things that hold my attention without requiring effort – books, computer games, movies.  The cleanliness level of my house hovers on the threshold of “barely acceptable.”  Laundry piles up.  The dishwasher is run, but sits waiting to be unloaded.  I feed my children precooked meals and agonize that I’m not giving them proper nourishment.  This might go for a few days, the nadir of the the needle on my internal meter.

 

  

Because I do this in solitude, even people who know me well do not believe that there is even such a setting on my dial.

At times I loathe these slow days.  I pummel myself mentally for not being a better person, for being lazy, for just doing the bare minimum required to get by. 

Eventually, though, the weight on the end of the string returns, as it must, to the apex. 

Ahhhh, mania.  The siren call.  Irresistable, welcome, intoxicating mania.

In my younger years these were the days of binge partying, spending sprees, life in the fast lane.  I was a car with the pedal pushed all the way down.  Its like watching your life set on fast forward, all the time.  Who needs sleep?  Everything is there to be done, and demands that you join in the fray.

Years later, with the gravity of real life with children and a lot of work to be done, the incessant restlessness of my mania sends me out into the barn, the yard, the pasture.  My floors are clean, my dishes done not just every day, but every meal.  I cook.  I wash clothes.  I read endless stories and dance with my children in the living room to the loudest music imaginable.  I laugh, I call people on the phone and make plans.  I live.  And I hide the checkbook.  I have learned.

As I grow older, as I manage myself better, I have fewer days where I am at either of these extremes, and many more days where I am somewhere rather in between. 

I am so incredibly blessed to have the understanding of my own experience.  With every year that passes I see these not as symptoms of a disease but as hallmarks of a life lived on every tick of the emotional scale.  I have known the highest and the lowest, and felt every moment of joy and pain.   As a mother, my life on the pendulum helps me understand how to listen to, advocate for and support my daughter. 

If I could choose to have it any other way, I’m not sure that I would.  No, I don’t think that I would. 

WTF Internet?

I love blogging.  I love social media.  I love connecting with people all over the planet in the immeasurable depths of the great swimming pool that is the Internet.  Sometimes I think if I couldn't blog, couldn't tweet, couldn't facebook that I might suffer real, actual physical pain.  I read the blogs of and follow people on Twitter who don't even know or care that I exist, and I love them.  I laugh at their funny, I get mad when life or other people are shitty to them.  I adore their children, their spouses, their home decor.  I cry when they suffer and sometimes when I have spare change I send it to them because they need it or to their pet charity because they were promoting it.  There are people out there on the internet that I have yet to meet in person that I consider to be among my best friends. 

But I am honestly perplexed when I witness these *explosions* of animosity that erupt what seems like every few days.  Yes, I've blogged about this before.  There were a couple of big twitterfuffles taking place yesterday that highlighed the things that despite my deep devotion to the Internet cause me to hold some reservations about it.

I guess its the same thing that bothers me about some of our major political discussions extant these days, about the extremists in the Teabagger movement, about the guys who go around murdering doctors at abortion clinics, about people who shout racist epithets at our elected representatives. 

I do not understand why some people lack the mechanism to be able to hear and acknowledge someone's differing opinion.  Why is it necessary to send hate-filled epistles to people who blog or twitter something you disagree with?  Why do people insist on escalating things to the point of no return? 

I almost don't even want to bring up the White House panel on workplace flexibility this week, because my blog is small, relatively unknown, and I don't want the wrath of a million angry TweeterBloggers falling on my head.  But I'll risk speaking out.  If there's anything that I would implore of the Twitterverse and the Blogosphere is this:  STOP LOSING YOUR FUCKING MINDS WHEN YOU DON'T AGREE WITH SOMEONE.  Seriously!!  STOP! 

Par example:

So Heather Armstrong, the A-Lister of the A-List bloggers (and someone whose blog I read almost daily and enjoy immensely) was invited to participate in a panel on workplace flexibility at the White House earlier this week.  Personally, I think Heather is a good selection, she represents a portion of the workplace currently not recognized in mainstream workforce discussions.  She is an employer, she is a small business owner, she is a Brand.  She has worked in the mainstream and outside of it; she has experienced what its like for a struggling family when one spouse's workplace won't be flexible during times of family crisis, she has dealt with trying afford health insurance when working in a non-traditional (i.e., without healthcare) field.  Her experience and voice are entirely different than what someone else might bring to that panel and about as far away from my own experience as possible, but I didn't assume when I first heard of her selection that she was being selected to represent someone like me.  I assumed she was being selected to represent someone like HER.  And I assumed that there would also be other people selected who WOULD represent me.  And I didn't give a shit either way about it, except for wondering, momentarily, why the Presiden't hadn't asked ME, PERSONALLY.  Maybe he lost my phone number.  Whatevs.   So that was my take on it.  I was delighted for Heather,  And I'M NOT SAYING that my viewpoint is the correct one, or the "right" one.  The one thing I am damn well certain of is that it was not the ONLY one.

As surely as rain is falling outside of my window at this moment, any mention of Dooce in any forum is guaranteed to generate reaction.  5% of the room will immediately say how much they hate her and everything she stands for, 10% will say they don't really like her much.  Instantaneously 30% of the room will lose their collective minds and immediately start calling for public floggings of the 5% AND the 10%.  The rest of us will stand there in complete confusion, scratching our heads and wondering why the walls are suddenly splattered with monkey feces.

A couple of folks whose blogs I read Tweeted their curiousity about the selection.   I even responded to one mentioning that I felt Heather would represent well, and she responded to me quite agreeably.  And that was it.  No big deal.

Except that suddenly this blogger is being absolutely  FLOODED with hate mail.  Because she dared question. As are, I'm gathering from the blog posts, tweets and op-eds, everyone else who had an opinion on opposite sides of the water. 

I love Dooce.  It doesn't particularly bother me that some people don't.  But it does bother me very fucking much, thank you, that the people who hate her and the people who hate the people who hate her have to act like a roomful of two-year-olds at a birthday party.  Same goes for the rest of the so-called "controversial" bloggers out there. 

What the hell is wrong with you people?  Is the world not big enough for your differing opinions to exist AT THE SAME TIME?  Really?   Is it really too much to ask that a world full of presumptive grownups ACT like it?  Is the art of respectful discourse truly dead?   Or is this the way we've always truly been and I was just too naive to notice?  I dinna ken it.

Fresh Roasted

My friend Cheryl sends tweets every morning with her coffee joint of the day.  I used to live in Seattle, where the opportunities for self-caffeinating were as endless and varied as stars in the sky, so these tweets evoke a slight twinge of green-eyed envy within me.

My Jersey friends all live and die by their WaWa coffee, but any true coffee lover knows that you have to come to the Pacific Northwest to become a true brew snob (and this applies to beer as well - there are no good microbreweries East of the Rocky Mountains to my knowledge.  If you know of one let me know, please).

I've loved coffee for as long as I can remember being an adult.  When I was in college (yes, back in the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth and people commuted to work on the backs of mammoths and pterodactyls) I used to go to Starbucks for my caffeine pickup when there were only TWO Starbuck's storefronts in existence. IMAGINE THAT:  TWO STARBUCK'S.  Nowadays it seems like every municipality planning code requires a Starbuck's on every second block.  I went to the University of Washington, and there was a store on The Ave.  That was back when the Starbuck's Mermaid was a lot bigger and you could still see her boobs.

(In later years, when they wanted to  enter the Saudi market, the logo got politically correct and the boobies went into hiding.  Sad day.)

 

In my life BK (that's Before Kids) I used to go get my caffeine from the cafe's and the espresso stands.  When I lived in Seattle I was just a few blocks from a little roastery called Cafe' Appasionato.  The cozy setting with soft chairs and sofas, warm fire, newspapers and fresh pastries tempting me from the display case was no different than millions of other such coffee houses, but it was my neighborhood and therefore MY coffee house.  Coffee here was reserved for weekends, when there was time for a leisurely morning stroll, past the corner store to grab a Seattle Times and then spend a quiet hour doing the crossword puzzle and enjoying my cafe au lait. 

Workdays meant a quick run in for a latte (20 oz, triple shot, nonfat milk).  Yes, back then you actually had to GO INTO THE SHOP for your coffee drink.  It took a few years for the drive-through concept to catch on, but once it did, Boy-Howdy!  You could get a latte ANYWHERE.   Latte stands popped up in almost every location imagineable.  My main requirements were that the barista's be personable and talented, and that the owner of the stand at least KNOW how to spell "Espresso" on the stand-up signs.  (I refuse to buy a latte from anyone who refers to it by spelling or pronunciation as "Expresso."  SHUDDER.)

Now that I have kids and the logical consequence of a budget, I have to settle for making my coffee at home.  Nonetheless, there are rules and standards for this too.  I like my coffee fresh ground.  Canned coffee grounds are a no-no.   In 1998 when I moved to New Jersey to live with J, it was a terrible shock and disappointment to learn that my new partner and his parents needed to be schooled in the intricacies of good coffee.  When I woke up the first morning and found the only coffee in the house was a big fat blue can of Folger's - and that the only coffee pot was an old percolator - I nearly sat on the kitchen floor and wept.

The one area that I currently compromise on, mostly out of financial necessity, is my beans.  I can't afford the beans I would like to have, so I buy mine at Costco.  Starbucks roasts for them, so its not as bad as it could be, although if I were buying the beans I really wanted to get I would be getting Torrefazione Napoli*, but I really can't justify the expense.  Or can I?  Mama needs her caffeine.

My coffee is made every morning with filtered water and freshly ground beans.   I drink it with organic 2% milk, no sugar.  The first cup is enjoyed while I check email and read the blogs I follow. Cup two assists me with getting dressed and putting on my "work face."  Cup three travels in the car with me and gives me that last infusion of LIFE needed to face the day. 

Coffee.  Love of my life.  How do you take yours?

*I have not been paid or requested to provide endorsements for Cafe Apassionato, Starbucks, Costco or Torrefazione.  These are my personal preferences and are only represented as such.