The hubs and I are doing a 21-day jumpstart "diet" to get our metabolisms up and running, and to get ready for bikini season. We both are all in, and truth be told we're about 4 months late for the beginning of bikini season (in Arizona, bikini season starts on January 15 and ends on January 14). The jumpstart involves eating very little complex carbs, lots of green and raw veggies, and lean protein. And avocado.
I fucking hate avocado. I DESPISE it. Just looking at it makes me gag. I haven't addressed this in therapy yet, but there is a very real chance I was attacked by a giant avocado as a child. Apparently people feel about avocados much the same way they feel about poodles or modern art - either you love them or you hate them. Let me be perfectly clear. I. Hate. Avocados.
But I'm committed to these next 21 days, and because I'm always telling my kids that you must always at least have a "No thank you bite", I have to walk the walk. So this morning, Matt chose the "best" avocado (sounds a lot like choosing the "best" form of torture to me), cut me a sliver, and chopped it nicely. (If he had mushed it up I would have been out - the texture is already disgusting. I don't need to have it look like a baby ate too much prune juice.)
I asked Matt, "What does it taste like?" He thought about it for a second and said, "I always thought heaven would taste like avocados." Liar.
I cannot emphasize enough how taking that first bite of avocado was like jumping out of an airplane. There was that much anxiety for me. To continue the analogy, eating avocado was like going skydiving - and then realizing, as soon as you jumped out the plane, that you forgot to put your parachute on.
That "fake" gagging thing that Sam does when he's eating something he doesn't want to? Yeah, I think that's legit. I did that. And I laughed at how ridiculous it was. And I took another bite. And gagged again. I got through my whole sliver, but by the end I was holding my nose and swallowing it whole. I have no idea how you avocado-lovers do it. That was the most disgusting thing I've ever done, and I have had a toddler throw up in my mouth before.
Apparently, avocado is some miracle weight-loss food. For me it's because I lost all appetite after eating it. And - shit - I have to do this 20 more times. And the reward for my bravery? A snack of raw cauliflower.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
The Question
We were sitting on the couch as a family, watching TV, and out of the blue, Sammy asked:
"Mom and Dad - what does being 'gay' mean?"
I looked at Matt, Matt looked at me, and we both looked at Sam. And Matt oh-so-wisely replied:
"What do you think, Mom?"
Asshole.
My first concern was how he had heard the word used. I needed to make sure he hadn't used it or heard it used as slur, and that he knew that using in such a manner wasn't going to be tolerated in our family. We were safe - Sam had heard it on TV when we were watching Modern Family one night (LOVE that show!), and he wondered what it meant. Fair enough.
Matt and I don't usually dance around tough topics with the boys. We try to talk about things in age-appropriate terms, but we don't avoid the conversation. So we were both on the same page about Sam's question. We were going to answer it in a way that a 7-year old could understand, and we were going to earn some major Awesome Parents points as we did so.
So we explained: "When a person is gay, it means that a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman." Simple explanation, but honest and to-the-point. Awesome Parents: 1, Uncomfortable Topic: 0.
Sam thought about it for 0.015 seconds and said, "Well I'M a boy and I love daddy and PopPop and Lucas (his BFF). So I'm gay, right?" Aaand...Uncomfortable Topic pulls ahead.
Us: "No, not exactly, honey. When you're gay you love someone like you want to spend the rest of your life and live with them forever. Like mommy and daddy. THAT kind of love." Oh yeah. That'll do it! Matt and I gave each other a mental high-five.
Sam: (pensively) "Well, I want to live with Lucas the rest of my life. We're going to be best friends for the rest of our lives, so we can be gay together!" Shit. Increasingly Flustered and Not-So-Awesome Parents: 1, Uncomfortable Topic: 3,142.
Us: "Sammy, when someone is gay, they romantically love another man or another woman. They want to hug and kiss, like mommy and daddy do. They want to marry each other. It's a different love than how you are with Daddy or PopPop or Lucas. Does that make sense?" Pleasepleasepleaseplease...
Sammy: "OOOOOOH! Okay. Can I have dessert?" YES!!! Awesomest Parents in the Whole Wide World for the WIN!!
Matt was more than happy to get Sammy his dessert, and I think we both breathed a little sigh of relief. And then Sam asked:
"How do gay people make babies?"
Sammy got dessert twice that night.
"Mom and Dad - what does being 'gay' mean?"
I looked at Matt, Matt looked at me, and we both looked at Sam. And Matt oh-so-wisely replied:
"What do you think, Mom?"
Asshole.
My first concern was how he had heard the word used. I needed to make sure he hadn't used it or heard it used as slur, and that he knew that using in such a manner wasn't going to be tolerated in our family. We were safe - Sam had heard it on TV when we were watching Modern Family one night (LOVE that show!), and he wondered what it meant. Fair enough.
Matt and I don't usually dance around tough topics with the boys. We try to talk about things in age-appropriate terms, but we don't avoid the conversation. So we were both on the same page about Sam's question. We were going to answer it in a way that a 7-year old could understand, and we were going to earn some major Awesome Parents points as we did so.
So we explained: "When a person is gay, it means that a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman." Simple explanation, but honest and to-the-point. Awesome Parents: 1, Uncomfortable Topic: 0.
Sam thought about it for 0.015 seconds and said, "Well I'M a boy and I love daddy and PopPop and Lucas (his BFF). So I'm gay, right?" Aaand...Uncomfortable Topic pulls ahead.
Us: "No, not exactly, honey. When you're gay you love someone like you want to spend the rest of your life and live with them forever. Like mommy and daddy. THAT kind of love." Oh yeah. That'll do it! Matt and I gave each other a mental high-five.
Sam: (pensively) "Well, I want to live with Lucas the rest of my life. We're going to be best friends for the rest of our lives, so we can be gay together!" Shit. Increasingly Flustered and Not-So-Awesome Parents: 1, Uncomfortable Topic: 3,142.
Us: "Sammy, when someone is gay, they romantically love another man or another woman. They want to hug and kiss, like mommy and daddy do. They want to marry each other. It's a different love than how you are with Daddy or PopPop or Lucas. Does that make sense?" Pleasepleasepleaseplease...
Sammy: "OOOOOOH! Okay. Can I have dessert?" YES!!! Awesomest Parents in the Whole Wide World for the WIN!!
Matt was more than happy to get Sammy his dessert, and I think we both breathed a little sigh of relief. And then Sam asked:
"How do gay people make babies?"
Sammy got dessert twice that night.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Dirty little secrets
I have a confession to make: I have SNMIC - Special Needs Mom Inferiority Complex. Right or wrong, I don't consider my boys' special needs to be as severe as other special needs kids', so I feel bad even calling myself a special needs mom.
But the truth is, while Jack and Sam's special needs are different from others', they're no less significant or important.I have NEVER had a special needs mom (or dad) say, Your kids JUST have ADHD or ODD. No one has ever told me My kids' needs are more special than yours. There's a real camaraderie among those of us with special needs kids. Though our challenges may be very different, we speak a similar language. And this became very apparent today when I read an article in the Huffington Post today.
The article shared 6 secrets that special needs moms have. The author never states what her daughter's condition is, and I suspect it's not by accident. She's not comparing her kid(s) to mine. We're on the same page and we have the same secrets. The secrets identified below are hers, but the experiences are mine.
But the truth is, while Jack and Sam's special needs are different from others', they're no less significant or important.I have NEVER had a special needs mom (or dad) say, Your kids JUST have ADHD or ODD. No one has ever told me My kids' needs are more special than yours. There's a real camaraderie among those of us with special needs kids. Though our challenges may be very different, we speak a similar language. And this became very apparent today when I read an article in the Huffington Post today.
The article shared 6 secrets that special needs moms have. The author never states what her daughter's condition is, and I suspect it's not by accident. She's not comparing her kid(s) to mine. We're on the same page and we have the same secrets. The secrets identified below are hers, but the experiences are mine.
- Special needs moms are lonely. Word. Not lonely, like no one likes me and I have no friends, but rather like no one understands exactly what we go through. It's extremely isolating when you're in public and your kid is in the middle of an ODD episode and a million sets of judging eyes are staring at you and thanking God their kids don't act like that. Or worse, when some passive aggressive asshole says to someone else (but within your earshot) Geez, if I ever acted like that when I was a kid, my mother wouldn't have stood for that. Special needs moms also need to learn to bite their tongue and not punch people. (And I'm proud to say that in that case, I didn't hit anyone.) It's lonely not to go to (fill in the blank event or location) because you're afraid of what your kid may say or do, and how that will reflect on you. This is the dirty secret of special needs moms, and why we all like each other as much as we do. It's nice not to feel quite so lonely among one another.
- Special needs moms have to work extra hard to preserve their marriages. I've said it before and I will say it again - God bless our marriage counselor. The stress of the boys' ADHD, defiance, bad grades, poor behavior - it all buried us and the weight was (and sometimes still is) unbearable. We individually felt (and many times, still feel) like awful parents. But until our counselor, we would turn ON one another instead of turning TO one another for support and comfort. She taught us our "I feel" words. I can't overstate the importance of counseling and learning to communicate well with my partner. Marriage is hard work as it is. Add in two kids with varying degrees of ADHD and ODD? I'm shocked I'm still married some days.
- Special needs moms are not easily offended. I've written about this. It takes A LOT to offend me. A lot of time, I choose to laugh at ridiculous politically incorrect things because I don't have time or energy to get pissed off about it. I'm too busy trying not to punch someone for making some dumbass passive aggressive remark about my poor parenting. (Special needs moms may also need to learn not to hold grudges a little bit better.)
- Special needs moms worry about their child dying. This is one area that I DO know my kids' situation is not as severe as others'. The boys' physical health is not directly impacted by their conditions. For that, I'm grateful. But sadly, I know many special needs moms who have lost their children, or who live with that constant fear over the possibility. I cannot even imagine. I don't WANT to imagine. But I do worry about how my children have been bullied because of their ADHD, and about their resulting anxiety and depression. All of these things are issues that have been tied to suicide. And that scares the living shit out of me. I will forever fight to teach my kids healthy coping skills, and to value themselves highly, but that fear is always there.
- Special needs moms are fluent in the transforming body language of touch. I remember when Sam was about 3, and his rages were often, and they were severe. He would punch, kick, scream, throw things, tear things up, hit himself, hit others. Words were meaningless when he would rage like that. And all I could do was hug him. Sometimes I would have to squeeze so hard that I was afraid I was hurting him. Honestly, sometimes I didn't care if I WAS hurting him. But if I hugged long enough, I would feel his muscles relax, one by one, until he was hugging back. Sam doesn't rage like that anymore, but I can still feel him relax when you hug him long and hard. It changes him. It changes me.
- Special needs moms know to savor the gift of a child saying "I love you." Part of Sam's ODD is that he doesn't like to show affection unless it's on his terms. He generally won't say "I love you" in response to you - he has to say it to you in his own way, on his own terms. Hearing "I love you" from your kids is always special, but when I hear it from Sam I know it's real and it's because he wants to say it, and not because it's in response to something.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
ECON 101
In the last week, both the boys have had the opportunity to earn some money and to show me how well I've taught them the value of a dollar. What I've found is that I'm raising one son who will likely never leave home, and one son who will grow up to become a future sweatshop operator.
Jack has been invited to travel to the UK with a Student Ambassador group, but the total cost is more than I'm willing to front. (I'll admit it - I'm a selfish mommy, and if anyone is paying that much money to go to Europe for three weeks, it's going to be me getting the VIP treatment.) However, I agreed to work with him to figure out how he could earn enough money to pay for the trip. In doing so, I get to be cheap AND teach him a life lesson, all at once.
Jack's been earning money babysitting his brother and has been successful enough doing so that we've agreed that he could continue doing so. We've also agreed to sign him up for a Red Cross Babysitting course so that he could babysit other kids. In talking about how much he thought he could charge for babysitting, I taught him the concept of Market Rate - as in, Mom and Dad don't pay it. I won't share how much we paid him for 4 hours of watching his brother the other night, but I'll tell you that I probably broke a few child labor laws because of how little I forked out. Jack doesn't have enough of the killer instinct yet to use that information to force us to pay more. Instead, he thinks everyone else should pay LESS because we pay less. If only it worked that way, son. If only...
After reasonably estimating how much he could make babysitting over the next year, he asked if he could also make money selling baked goods. Baked goods that *I* baked. Um, no. Okay well, what about mowing lawns? He estimated that he could make $3,000 over the next year mowing lawns. Sounds great, but I wanted to know how he planned on accomplishing that. He wants to charge $10 a pop, and mow only 5 lawns a month. Once I walked him through the math he realized that wasn't a business model he should go with. We're still talking through his game plan - I actually think his lawn-mowing biz could work, but it's obvious he needs to rethink his pricing structure and service model. The things you have to deal with when your mom's an accountant.
Sam, on the other hand, is going to do quite well in the business world someday. A friend of mine owns a reading center, and "hired" Sam to do some scissor work and cut out several hundred flash cards. For his time, she paid him $20. He was very easy to get on board, and once he knew the job was his, he meticulously planned how he was going to cut the cards, how quickly he was going to do it, and what he was going to do with the money.
On the day he set aside as Cutting Day, his neighborhood friends came over to play. He was very excited as he told them what he was going to do, and how important he was because he was HIRED to do this, and how fun and cool it is, and - HEY! Do you want to help me!? I'll pay you 50 cents!! TWO WHOLE QUARTERS!!! And I'll be damned if those 3 little kids didn't jump right on board with that game plan while Sam stood off to the sidelines to supervise. Matt and I put a stop to it right away - we watched it play out until it became clear that Sam was hiring his own personal workforce - but with that one interaction he was salesman, supervisor, investor, and capitalist. I was so proud.
Just one more way my kids show how opposite they are. And that I have about 6 more years to teach Jack how to survive in the big, bad world. I bet his brother would teach him. For a price.
Jack has been invited to travel to the UK with a Student Ambassador group, but the total cost is more than I'm willing to front. (I'll admit it - I'm a selfish mommy, and if anyone is paying that much money to go to Europe for three weeks, it's going to be me getting the VIP treatment.) However, I agreed to work with him to figure out how he could earn enough money to pay for the trip. In doing so, I get to be cheap AND teach him a life lesson, all at once.
Jack's been earning money babysitting his brother and has been successful enough doing so that we've agreed that he could continue doing so. We've also agreed to sign him up for a Red Cross Babysitting course so that he could babysit other kids. In talking about how much he thought he could charge for babysitting, I taught him the concept of Market Rate - as in, Mom and Dad don't pay it. I won't share how much we paid him for 4 hours of watching his brother the other night, but I'll tell you that I probably broke a few child labor laws because of how little I forked out. Jack doesn't have enough of the killer instinct yet to use that information to force us to pay more. Instead, he thinks everyone else should pay LESS because we pay less. If only it worked that way, son. If only...
After reasonably estimating how much he could make babysitting over the next year, he asked if he could also make money selling baked goods. Baked goods that *I* baked. Um, no. Okay well, what about mowing lawns? He estimated that he could make $3,000 over the next year mowing lawns. Sounds great, but I wanted to know how he planned on accomplishing that. He wants to charge $10 a pop, and mow only 5 lawns a month. Once I walked him through the math he realized that wasn't a business model he should go with. We're still talking through his game plan - I actually think his lawn-mowing biz could work, but it's obvious he needs to rethink his pricing structure and service model. The things you have to deal with when your mom's an accountant.
Sam, on the other hand, is going to do quite well in the business world someday. A friend of mine owns a reading center, and "hired" Sam to do some scissor work and cut out several hundred flash cards. For his time, she paid him $20. He was very easy to get on board, and once he knew the job was his, he meticulously planned how he was going to cut the cards, how quickly he was going to do it, and what he was going to do with the money.
On the day he set aside as Cutting Day, his neighborhood friends came over to play. He was very excited as he told them what he was going to do, and how important he was because he was HIRED to do this, and how fun and cool it is, and - HEY! Do you want to help me!? I'll pay you 50 cents!! TWO WHOLE QUARTERS!!! And I'll be damned if those 3 little kids didn't jump right on board with that game plan while Sam stood off to the sidelines to supervise. Matt and I put a stop to it right away - we watched it play out until it became clear that Sam was hiring his own personal workforce - but with that one interaction he was salesman, supervisor, investor, and capitalist. I was so proud.
Just one more way my kids show how opposite they are. And that I have about 6 more years to teach Jack how to survive in the big, bad world. I bet his brother would teach him. For a price.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
In the eye of the hurricane
It's been a full week since I got smacked upside the head with Jack's ADHD - inattentive type diagnosis, and our family is still struggling with it. Not "struggling" in a "Our entire lives have been a LIE up until now and we're in a tailspin and what do we do!? WHAT DO WE DO!?!?!?!" type of way, but more in a "Huh. Where the fuck did that come from?" type of way. We had finally gotten our feet back under us after surviving the drama surrounding Sam's diagnosis, then Jack's diagnosis came whizzing by and knocked us back on our asses. We weren't really equipped to handle Jack's diagnosis the same way we were equipped for Sam's, and therefore this past week is like going into uncharted territory all over again.
First, the timing of the chain of events that led to Jack's diagnosis CHBB (that's shorthand for "Could Have Been Better". I prefer the phrase ISA, or "It Sucked Ass"). His last-minute appointment was a whirlwind and I was completely under-prepared. Matt wasn't available for emotional support. This appointment was much more condensed than our first appointment with Sam (because the doctor didn't feel the need to walk so slowly through it with us since we had just gone through it with Sam) and therefore didn't include as much hand-holding. I was bombarded with the same information, but for a new kid.
Second, the boys have differing types of ADHD - Sam's is hyperactive/impulsive, and Jack's is inattentive. Their symptoms look EXTREMELY different, although both have wreaked havoc on school and home life. Before Sam, I didn't know exactly what ADHD looked like, but once Sam's behaviors and symptoms started, I knew that ADHD looked like THAT. If Sam was doing it, THAT was what ADHD looked like. Jack looked nothing like that, therefore it couldn't be ADHD. As much as I had read, studied, and learned about ADHD and how it could look for various individuals, I had read it through the lens of a mom with only one child with ADHD. I still haven't made the mental connection between all the reading and studying I've done and my older son.
And because Jack's so different from Sam, the strategies we've been using have to be adjusted for Jack, and in some cases, scrapped altogether. For example, if we were to ever send Jack to the quiet corner to "reset", he'd grab a book and we wouldn't see him until his 16th birthday. (Hmmm...actually I may keep that one on file.)
Another reason this caught us so off guard is that we've been dealing with Jack's "idiosyncrasies" for so long, and until recently it hadn't caused significant upheaval. He was identified as gifted by the school district when he was 8 years old, and gifted children often show many of the same traits as ADHD children. In our minds, this was just that giftedness meeting Jack's growing sense of independence and self - not ADHD. No way, no how. Surprise!
And lastly - Jack isn't responding to his medication as well as Sam did. There are no ill side effects yet (except for a mopey, put-upon disposition and that's more due to his affliction with the dreaded Preteen-ese), but there hasn't been any marked improvement in his classroom behavior. While we knew the first scrip may not be the best scrip, knowing something and KNOWING something looks very different. We were used to a little boy who perked up and became an improved version of himself very quickly. We aren't prepared for an almost-teenager who is still acting like an almost-teenager. We'll address this with his doctor, and we know we'll find the right prescription, but in the meantime it's disappointing (to us and to Jack) that the impact wasn't as fast and furious as what we had hoped for.
Overall, we're dealing. We're okay. As is the case with most unwelcome surprises, the immediate aftermath of Jack's diagnosis overwhelmed us and made the molehill seem like more of a mountain. It certainly wasn't a molehill I was looking forward to climbing, but it still wasn't the Mt. Everest my mind had created. I'm probably cursing myself by saying this, but Jack's diagnosis has been rather anti-climatic - here's hoping it stays that way.
First, the timing of the chain of events that led to Jack's diagnosis CHBB (that's shorthand for "Could Have Been Better". I prefer the phrase ISA, or "It Sucked Ass"). His last-minute appointment was a whirlwind and I was completely under-prepared. Matt wasn't available for emotional support. This appointment was much more condensed than our first appointment with Sam (because the doctor didn't feel the need to walk so slowly through it with us since we had just gone through it with Sam) and therefore didn't include as much hand-holding. I was bombarded with the same information, but for a new kid.
Second, the boys have differing types of ADHD - Sam's is hyperactive/impulsive, and Jack's is inattentive. Their symptoms look EXTREMELY different, although both have wreaked havoc on school and home life. Before Sam, I didn't know exactly what ADHD looked like, but once Sam's behaviors and symptoms started, I knew that ADHD looked like THAT. If Sam was doing it, THAT was what ADHD looked like. Jack looked nothing like that, therefore it couldn't be ADHD. As much as I had read, studied, and learned about ADHD and how it could look for various individuals, I had read it through the lens of a mom with only one child with ADHD. I still haven't made the mental connection between all the reading and studying I've done and my older son.
And because Jack's so different from Sam, the strategies we've been using have to be adjusted for Jack, and in some cases, scrapped altogether. For example, if we were to ever send Jack to the quiet corner to "reset", he'd grab a book and we wouldn't see him until his 16th birthday. (Hmmm...actually I may keep that one on file.)
Another reason this caught us so off guard is that we've been dealing with Jack's "idiosyncrasies" for so long, and until recently it hadn't caused significant upheaval. He was identified as gifted by the school district when he was 8 years old, and gifted children often show many of the same traits as ADHD children. In our minds, this was just that giftedness meeting Jack's growing sense of independence and self - not ADHD. No way, no how. Surprise!
And lastly - Jack isn't responding to his medication as well as Sam did. There are no ill side effects yet (except for a mopey, put-upon disposition and that's more due to his affliction with the dreaded Preteen-ese), but there hasn't been any marked improvement in his classroom behavior. While we knew the first scrip may not be the best scrip, knowing something and KNOWING something looks very different. We were used to a little boy who perked up and became an improved version of himself very quickly. We aren't prepared for an almost-teenager who is still acting like an almost-teenager. We'll address this with his doctor, and we know we'll find the right prescription, but in the meantime it's disappointing (to us and to Jack) that the impact wasn't as fast and furious as what we had hoped for.
Overall, we're dealing. We're okay. As is the case with most unwelcome surprises, the immediate aftermath of Jack's diagnosis overwhelmed us and made the molehill seem like more of a mountain. It certainly wasn't a molehill I was looking forward to climbing, but it still wasn't the Mt. Everest my mind had created. I'm probably cursing myself by saying this, but Jack's diagnosis has been rather anti-climatic - here's hoping it stays that way.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Well, THAT wasn't what I expected!
Jack has always been scattered, absentminded, and disorganized, but it was considered more of a family joke until this school year when his grades took a dump. This year, much more so than in years past, has been a constant stream of tears, fighting, incomplete homework assignments, more tears, bad grades, teacher conferences, and to top it all off - more tears. We were especially concerned because he goes to Jr. High next year, and the chaos that we've been going through this year will seem like a guided pony ride if we don't get things under control.
However, throughout all this, we believed the issue with Jack was behavioral. Even after going through everything we went through with Sam (and in fact, probably BECAUSE of it), we didn't really believe that Jack had ADHD. But we had made an appointment for late next month with Sam's doctor in order for Jack to be assessed for ADHD or other learning disabilities. I was certain this appointment was going to rule out any type of disability, but that it would provide at least some sort of answer as to how to address Jack's issues.
I got a phone call today at 10 am letting me know about a cancellation at the doctor's office, and that they could see Jack at 1 pm this afternoon. The doctor's office is about 40 minutes away to the north, and Jack's school is about 20 minutes away to the south. I had none of the preliminary paperwork completed, and neither did his teacher, since we expected the appointment to take place in about 4 weeks. I had 3 hours to complete the paperwork, ask his teacher to complete hers, leave work, drive to the school, pick him up, and get him to the appointment on time. I literally walked in the door to his appointment at 1 pm on the dot.
Sam's (and now, Jack's) doctor met with us and did the same thorough evaluation of Jack that she did of Sam. She talked more with Jack about his experiences than she did with Sam, and he was extremely forthright and honest and got emotional when talking about how hard school has become for him, even though he knows he's smart.
And then she showed us his assessment results, and despite everything we've been through, everything I had heard, you still could have knocked me over with a feather when she said:
Jack has ADHD.
There's no good reason for me to be surprised by this news. Jack's brother is ADHD, as are my sister and Matt's brother. There's a genetic component and Jack's behavior is and was clearly indicative of it. Of the family history, Sam is the only one with the hyperactive/impulsive type. The rest are inattentive type.
Part of me is looking out the window of my vacation home on the River Denial, part of me is pissed off that I need to go learn all about inattentive-type ADHD now (because dammit, I studied the shit out of hyperactive/impulsive-type. Whatever parenting test that was, I aced it!), and part of me feels like shit that I've been dragging my feet on this because I was SOOOO sure the answer was that Jack was "just" a gifted child, acting out and we needed some behavioral therapies, and that was it.
Jack's giftedness did mask some of his ADHD traits, but what his gifted abilities couldn't make up for was his brain's inability to sort through information, process and organize it, then do something with it. But because our experience with ADHD up until now was with Sam, and Sam is SO different than Jack, we didn't see it.
Jack is over the moon with this diagnosis. It's sort of his "I told you so!", and he deserves one. We've been on his case for many years about school work, and his cries of "I'm trying!!" always sounded like excuses. Now, he has a medical diagnosis that says he WAS trying but trying wasn't enough to change his brain chemistry. I'll beat myself up over that tonight over a glass or three of wine.
We've decided, with Jack's input, and with the doctor's blessing, to start Jack on a course of meds as well. His will be different than his brother's (based on his age, his symptoms, and other medical history), but we'll be just as diligent about watching for any side effects. I'm actually more nervous about putting Jack on medication than I was with Sam, but I do believe it's the right thing to do.
It's crazy how much things have changed in the last 4 hours, and how much they're exactly the same. I don't see our day to day life changing much because of this, but like it did with Sam's diagnosis, maybe it will just become an improved version of the same ol', same ol'. At least, that's what I hope for.
However, throughout all this, we believed the issue with Jack was behavioral. Even after going through everything we went through with Sam (and in fact, probably BECAUSE of it), we didn't really believe that Jack had ADHD. But we had made an appointment for late next month with Sam's doctor in order for Jack to be assessed for ADHD or other learning disabilities. I was certain this appointment was going to rule out any type of disability, but that it would provide at least some sort of answer as to how to address Jack's issues.
I got a phone call today at 10 am letting me know about a cancellation at the doctor's office, and that they could see Jack at 1 pm this afternoon. The doctor's office is about 40 minutes away to the north, and Jack's school is about 20 minutes away to the south. I had none of the preliminary paperwork completed, and neither did his teacher, since we expected the appointment to take place in about 4 weeks. I had 3 hours to complete the paperwork, ask his teacher to complete hers, leave work, drive to the school, pick him up, and get him to the appointment on time. I literally walked in the door to his appointment at 1 pm on the dot.
Sam's (and now, Jack's) doctor met with us and did the same thorough evaluation of Jack that she did of Sam. She talked more with Jack about his experiences than she did with Sam, and he was extremely forthright and honest and got emotional when talking about how hard school has become for him, even though he knows he's smart.
And then she showed us his assessment results, and despite everything we've been through, everything I had heard, you still could have knocked me over with a feather when she said:
Jack has ADHD.
There's no good reason for me to be surprised by this news. Jack's brother is ADHD, as are my sister and Matt's brother. There's a genetic component and Jack's behavior is and was clearly indicative of it. Of the family history, Sam is the only one with the hyperactive/impulsive type. The rest are inattentive type.
Part of me is looking out the window of my vacation home on the River Denial, part of me is pissed off that I need to go learn all about inattentive-type ADHD now (because dammit, I studied the shit out of hyperactive/impulsive-type. Whatever parenting test that was, I aced it!), and part of me feels like shit that I've been dragging my feet on this because I was SOOOO sure the answer was that Jack was "just" a gifted child, acting out and we needed some behavioral therapies, and that was it.
Jack's giftedness did mask some of his ADHD traits, but what his gifted abilities couldn't make up for was his brain's inability to sort through information, process and organize it, then do something with it. But because our experience with ADHD up until now was with Sam, and Sam is SO different than Jack, we didn't see it.
Jack is over the moon with this diagnosis. It's sort of his "I told you so!", and he deserves one. We've been on his case for many years about school work, and his cries of "I'm trying!!" always sounded like excuses. Now, he has a medical diagnosis that says he WAS trying but trying wasn't enough to change his brain chemistry. I'll beat myself up over that tonight over a glass or three of wine.
We've decided, with Jack's input, and with the doctor's blessing, to start Jack on a course of meds as well. His will be different than his brother's (based on his age, his symptoms, and other medical history), but we'll be just as diligent about watching for any side effects. I'm actually more nervous about putting Jack on medication than I was with Sam, but I do believe it's the right thing to do.
It's crazy how much things have changed in the last 4 hours, and how much they're exactly the same. I don't see our day to day life changing much because of this, but like it did with Sam's diagnosis, maybe it will just become an improved version of the same ol', same ol'. At least, that's what I hope for.
Monday, March 25, 2013
The new babysitter
My kids' school district is on a modified year-round schedule, so that means extended fall and spring breaks, and a shortened summer break. A two-week fall break is fantastic; I prefer to take family vacations in the fall, when fewer people travel. By the time we return from vacation, it's time for the boys to go back to school. And since we travel in the fall, a shorter summer break means less time and money (okay, mainly less money) spent putting kids in summer camps. But a two-week spring break is always iffy. There are intersession camps available for our kids, but our kids aren't usually super-excited about them, and I hate to pay good money for my kids to be bored at a day camp site, when they can be bored at home for free.
This year for spring break, we flew the boys to Oklahoma to spend time with my mom and my aunt and uncle on the family farm there. They spent ten days doing what my cousins and I did when we were their ages - roaming the pasture, skipping stones, taking target practice with the BB gun - and learning what it's like to be a kid in a small, rural town. This trip was the answer to our spring break quandary - my kids got to spend time with their grandmother, Matt and I got some alone time, and for those ten days we didn't have to worry about daycare accommodations. But when they returned we still had one more day off before they returned to school. What are two cheap-ass working parents to do?!
Answer: Resort to desperate measures.
Jack is twelve and has been begging for more responsibility. Sam is seven and has been begging for the opportunity to take advantage of his brother. With one fell swoop, we answered two prayers for the price of one. So today, Jack is home alone with Sam (God - just typing that is filling me with anxiety). We agreed to pay Jack $20 to watch his brother. We also agreed to pay Sam $15 to listen to his brother. (Sam seriously needs to go into sales. I realize that we were effectively blackmailed into paying that $15 to him, but he made me WANT to pay him. He's that good.)
My day looked like this:
7:37 AM - Matt leaves for work with a smile on his face. He is WAY too calm about this.
7:38 AM - Sam asks me for the third time since last night if Jack has to do anything he asks him. I tell him yes.
7:42 AM - Jack realizes what I said four minutes ago and wants clarification on what "anything" means. I tell him that as long as the police aren't called, I don't care what Sam asks - if Jack wants to get paid, he will do what Sam asks AND LIKE IT! And because I'm a good mother, I want to be fair, I ask Sam not to bound and gag his brother while playing cops and robbers.
7:54 AM - After going over all the rules for the gazillionth time - don't answer the door for strangers, no neighbor kids allowed in the house, no starting small fires just to watch them burn - and after warning my boys about the slow, painful torture I'd put them through if I called and no one answered the phone, I put on my brave face and walked out the door. Then came back in to make sure they knew where lunch was. THEN walked out the door.
8:12 AM - I call Matt to ask if we made a colossal mistake. Matt doesn't seem concerned, but I can't tell if it's because he trusts our kids, or because he needs to get off the phone. I'm going to assume Option A, because I really, really want to be able to do this again some day.
8:50 AM - I lasted a whole hour before I called the kids for the first time. Jack answered on the 5th ring and it almost goes to voicemail. I'm about to drive home just to make sure he's alive so that I can beat the bejeezus out of him. But he answers. They're alive. Playing Minecraft. I remind him to make sure they brush their teeth and get dressed for the day. Oh yeah, he says. I say a silent prayer that some day my child learns personal hygiene without having to be reminded.
9:32 AM - My phone, which I have been carrying around all morning, rings - it's Matt. I answer on the first ring. (THAT'S how you do it, Jack!) What's wrong!!?? What happened!!?? Nothing, he says. I just wanted to see how your morning was going. Gah!! Men!! Don't they know better than to be caring, thoughtful husbands when their kids are home alone!!??
10:10 AM - Phone call # 2. Jack answers on the 3rd ring. He's getting better. They haven't eaten their AM snack yet, but they're getting ready to. Still haven't brushed their teeth BUT they have gotten dressed. I decide to be happy with a small victory.
Approx. Noon - It's been a crazy busy morning at work so I haven't been able to call in almost two hours!!! My panic is full-steam ahead for phone call # 3. Fortunately, Jack answers halfway through the second ring. This overachieving will come back to bite him in the ass. He sounds annoyed when he answers. "Heeeeeey moooommmm." He sounds like a teenager, with his bored, insolent tone - they grow up so fast. Everyone's still breathing, still got all their limbs, not tied up, have eaten lunch, AND they brushed their teeth!
2:13 PM - I've backed off my diligence a little bit. So far, Jack's been a rockstar babysitter, so I allow myself another two hours before making phone call # 4. They're considering going to the park next to our house, but Sam wants to wait until the neighbor kids gone. I hear Sam in the background: "They're so CLINGY!"
4:18 PM - I call one last time before heading out. It takes Jack three rings to answer the phone, and I panic because the one-and-a-half rings rule has become my standard. I ask him what took so long to answer and he replies, "I was just letting the stranger in the house." Smart ass. I'm so proud.
4:32 PM - I call one last time - for real this time - to let Jack know I'm stopping at the grocery store before heading home.Jack says they may go to the park finally, and will leave a note if they do.
4:48 PM through 4:56 PM - I grocery shop faster than I have ever grocery shopped before.
5:17 PM - I arrive home and the garage door is wide open. I walk inside to an empty house. I panic and I'm pretty sure I hold my breath for the 40 seconds it takes me to find the note. "Mom. Went to the park. Go to the end of the street, turn right, and the park is on the right. That park." His growing grasp of sarcasm is about to make me cry tears of pride and makes me almost forget about the fact that he left the garage door wide open.
5:32 PM - Jack and Sam arrive home. There are no broken bones, they're smiling and joking with one another, and when quizzed separately, each says the other was great all day. And they seem to mean it. Could it really be this easy?
7:15 PM - Dinner has been eaten without complaint, showers have been taken without incident, and my announcement that school starts again tomorrow seems to actually excite them. I'm not entirely convinced that body snatchers didn't take my children, and I don't particularly care. I'll keep these versions. I pay the pod people their $20 and $15, and they ask when they can do this again. Worlds of possibility open up.
I was on edge and nervous all day, and even though it turns out that I had no reason to be, I'm not sure when I'll do this again. But Jack is cheap labor and Sam is a cheap extortionist, so the potential upside to our monthly family budget is significant. I'll admit I feel irresponsible, entrusting my 12-year old son to take care of and protect his brother, but really I think I feel this way more because I just don't want to admit they're growing up so quickly. I don't want to acknowledge that they do just fine without me breathing down their necks all day long. They're supposed to NEED me, dammit!
7:45 PM - It's time for bed, and Sammy, asks me to tuck him in. Before I do, I kiss him good night, thank him for being such a good boy today, and tell him I love him. He grabs my neck hard and squeezes. "I love you momma. I love you all the way up to God and back and back to God and back again."
This year for spring break, we flew the boys to Oklahoma to spend time with my mom and my aunt and uncle on the family farm there. They spent ten days doing what my cousins and I did when we were their ages - roaming the pasture, skipping stones, taking target practice with the BB gun - and learning what it's like to be a kid in a small, rural town. This trip was the answer to our spring break quandary - my kids got to spend time with their grandmother, Matt and I got some alone time, and for those ten days we didn't have to worry about daycare accommodations. But when they returned we still had one more day off before they returned to school. What are two cheap-ass working parents to do?!
Answer: Resort to desperate measures.
Jack is twelve and has been begging for more responsibility. Sam is seven and has been begging for the opportunity to take advantage of his brother. With one fell swoop, we answered two prayers for the price of one. So today, Jack is home alone with Sam (God - just typing that is filling me with anxiety). We agreed to pay Jack $20 to watch his brother. We also agreed to pay Sam $15 to listen to his brother. (Sam seriously needs to go into sales. I realize that we were effectively blackmailed into paying that $15 to him, but he made me WANT to pay him. He's that good.)
My day looked like this:
7:37 AM - Matt leaves for work with a smile on his face. He is WAY too calm about this.
7:38 AM - Sam asks me for the third time since last night if Jack has to do anything he asks him. I tell him yes.
7:42 AM - Jack realizes what I said four minutes ago and wants clarification on what "anything" means. I tell him that as long as the police aren't called, I don't care what Sam asks - if Jack wants to get paid, he will do what Sam asks AND LIKE IT! And because I'm a good mother, I want to be fair, I ask Sam not to bound and gag his brother while playing cops and robbers.
7:54 AM - After going over all the rules for the gazillionth time - don't answer the door for strangers, no neighbor kids allowed in the house, no starting small fires just to watch them burn - and after warning my boys about the slow, painful torture I'd put them through if I called and no one answered the phone, I put on my brave face and walked out the door. Then came back in to make sure they knew where lunch was. THEN walked out the door.
8:12 AM - I call Matt to ask if we made a colossal mistake. Matt doesn't seem concerned, but I can't tell if it's because he trusts our kids, or because he needs to get off the phone. I'm going to assume Option A, because I really, really want to be able to do this again some day.
8:50 AM - I lasted a whole hour before I called the kids for the first time. Jack answered on the 5th ring and it almost goes to voicemail. I'm about to drive home just to make sure he's alive so that I can beat the bejeezus out of him. But he answers. They're alive. Playing Minecraft. I remind him to make sure they brush their teeth and get dressed for the day. Oh yeah, he says. I say a silent prayer that some day my child learns personal hygiene without having to be reminded.
9:32 AM - My phone, which I have been carrying around all morning, rings - it's Matt. I answer on the first ring. (THAT'S how you do it, Jack!) What's wrong!!?? What happened!!?? Nothing, he says. I just wanted to see how your morning was going. Gah!! Men!! Don't they know better than to be caring, thoughtful husbands when their kids are home alone!!??
10:10 AM - Phone call # 2. Jack answers on the 3rd ring. He's getting better. They haven't eaten their AM snack yet, but they're getting ready to. Still haven't brushed their teeth BUT they have gotten dressed. I decide to be happy with a small victory.
Approx. Noon - It's been a crazy busy morning at work so I haven't been able to call in almost two hours!!! My panic is full-steam ahead for phone call # 3. Fortunately, Jack answers halfway through the second ring. This overachieving will come back to bite him in the ass. He sounds annoyed when he answers. "Heeeeeey moooommmm." He sounds like a teenager, with his bored, insolent tone - they grow up so fast. Everyone's still breathing, still got all their limbs, not tied up, have eaten lunch, AND they brushed their teeth!
2:13 PM - I've backed off my diligence a little bit. So far, Jack's been a rockstar babysitter, so I allow myself another two hours before making phone call # 4. They're considering going to the park next to our house, but Sam wants to wait until the neighbor kids gone. I hear Sam in the background: "They're so CLINGY!"
4:18 PM - I call one last time before heading out. It takes Jack three rings to answer the phone, and I panic because the one-and-a-half rings rule has become my standard. I ask him what took so long to answer and he replies, "I was just letting the stranger in the house." Smart ass. I'm so proud.
4:32 PM - I call one last time - for real this time - to let Jack know I'm stopping at the grocery store before heading home.Jack says they may go to the park finally, and will leave a note if they do.
4:48 PM through 4:56 PM - I grocery shop faster than I have ever grocery shopped before.
5:17 PM - I arrive home and the garage door is wide open. I walk inside to an empty house. I panic and I'm pretty sure I hold my breath for the 40 seconds it takes me to find the note. "Mom. Went to the park. Go to the end of the street, turn right, and the park is on the right. That park." His growing grasp of sarcasm is about to make me cry tears of pride and makes me almost forget about the fact that he left the garage door wide open.
5:32 PM - Jack and Sam arrive home. There are no broken bones, they're smiling and joking with one another, and when quizzed separately, each says the other was great all day. And they seem to mean it. Could it really be this easy?
7:15 PM - Dinner has been eaten without complaint, showers have been taken without incident, and my announcement that school starts again tomorrow seems to actually excite them. I'm not entirely convinced that body snatchers didn't take my children, and I don't particularly care. I'll keep these versions. I pay the pod people their $20 and $15, and they ask when they can do this again. Worlds of possibility open up.
******************************************************************************************************
I was on edge and nervous all day, and even though it turns out that I had no reason to be, I'm not sure when I'll do this again. But Jack is cheap labor and Sam is a cheap extortionist, so the potential upside to our monthly family budget is significant. I'll admit I feel irresponsible, entrusting my 12-year old son to take care of and protect his brother, but really I think I feel this way more because I just don't want to admit they're growing up so quickly. I don't want to acknowledge that they do just fine without me breathing down their necks all day long. They're supposed to NEED me, dammit!
******************************************************************************************************
7:45 PM - It's time for bed, and Sammy, asks me to tuck him in. Before I do, I kiss him good night, thank him for being such a good boy today, and tell him I love him. He grabs my neck hard and squeezes. "I love you momma. I love you all the way up to God and back and back to God and back again."
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