So your ETL, forgets his homework – more than a few times. Should you help him organize his locker? Email teachers and ask for assignments to be sent to you? Check agenda for fourth time?
Or, there’s problems with friends. Should you check Face Book to see what’s going on? Should you call parents?
Even worse, your ETL is an adolescent and finds himself in trouble with the law. Should you help him get a lawyer? Should you help navigate the consequences or help with fines? Continue reading
I fly at least once a month for my job and each time I arrive at the airport, I am met with the announcement of what color Homeland Security has assigned to our potential travel threats. The color red equals a severe threat of attack, while blue offers a “guarded” risk.
Everywhere we drive, colors represent something similar, as well. From the first time we start to drive, we recognize that the color red, whether on a stop sign or light, dictates that we should stop, while yellow guides us to slow down or proceed with caution.
At least once a month, I see someone post something on Facebook about being “dumb enough to wear a red shirt in Target” and after seeing some version of that sentiment for about the tenth time, I started thinking.
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What if I was able to wear a brightly colored shirt that enabled me to alert those around me that I was in the company of a small child with ADHD? What if I had the luxury of presenting myself with a universally-recognized color garment that told people to “proceed with caution” both in how they regarded my child and how they addressed me? Continue reading
A life long resident of upstate New York, Kristin Osborn lives at the foot of the Adirondack mountains with her husband and two kids, 11 and 4. Kristin is a graduate of the State University of New York’s creative writing program and has been working as a manager in medical sales for 10+ years. Being a mother to a son with ADHD has finally given her the outlet to start writing again, as being able to put her feelings into stories is a therapy that’s hard to match.
I have been following the site for a few months now and it has really helped me to deal with my feelings about being a mom to a four-year-old with ADHD. I know so many people ask questions on here, but for me, it’s helped me to just write down my thoughts about my experiences. It’s even helped me to consider starting a blog, just so I can have an outlet. I bet some people can agree! Here’s something that happened just last week:
Last week a Dora the Explorer fruit snack took an 800-mile trip with me. Through a thirty-minute wait at security and through two flights, that chewy little purple smush hung on tight. I travel a lot for business and so because I have a small child with ADHD, I relish those overnight trips by myself. I get to wear clothes that are clean and that also match and I get to eat in restaurants where the food doesn’t come served exclusively on a red tray. Continue reading
Today’s guest blogger is a 35-year-old mom with a 5 year old kiddo with ADHD and ODD. Her child has been on medication since August.
Note: ETL stands for “easy to love,” which is short for the title of the book: Easy to Love but Hard to Raise.
If you asked me to define myself a few years ago, I would use the following words, “failure, divorced, single mother & thirty-one”. At the end of 2009, I asked my ex-husband of seven years, to move out of our home and filed for divorce. He unfortunately got himself heavily into drugs months before his eviction and as a result, he was a danger to me and my child, “M” who was 2 at the time.
M was always a “spirited” child from birth. As 2010 arrived, M was showing more signs of ADHD and M’s behavior was not for the faint of heart. M’s acting out, biting, hitting and uncontrollable anger was exhausting and difficult. As M’s behavior worsened, I felt alone. It was hard for other family members and friends to understand M’s actions and often times; I was looked at as “the problem”. I was emotionally drained. With working full time and dealing with single motherhood and my ETL, I wondered two questions. (1) if I would ever be able to get myself out there and (2) who would want to be a part of my madness? For those that are single mothers and raising ETL kiddos, there is hope.
I decided to take a tiny leap and took the dating world on slowly. I tried EHarmony and went on a series of many bad dates. Either the chemistry was not correct, date did not take hygiene seriously or moved too fast (wanting to meet kids after first date). I actually had one person that wanted to do a “family” date after two dates. That may work for other women, but not me. Not only were the dates bad, but what single working mom really has the time to date, especially a mom of an ETL kiddo? I came to a fast realization that (1) I barely even have time to shave my legs in the shower without M knocking down the door (2) makeup and trying to look cute are overrated (3) Babysitters are few and far between (4) uninterrupted sleep may outweigh a date (5) having thirty minutes to myself definitely outranks a date.
I admit, I had a negative outlook on the whole dating thing and it was not until I crossed paths with someone special that I realized dating might be okay. I ran into someone I knew a long time ago and for me, there was instant chemistry. Even though there was chemistry, our paths would not cross again for five months and when they did, I knew that this person, “B” was special. We took things very slow and did not involve M for many months.
Once M was involved, things got interesting at times. There were times that M had massive tantrums and many therapeutic holds ensued in front of B, who never judged me. Throughout 2010 and 2012, M’s behavior was a see-saw of ups and downs and when there were downs, it was not fun. It took a few years and a therapist to get M evaluated and on medication. Even with M’s medication, M had shares of tantrums and moods. There are two evenings in particular that stand out. One evening, M was in a mood and I had to give M the emergency meds for the first time. M was angry and having a massive tantrum that involved hitting and biting and a therapeutic hold. Once the meds started working, M calmed down but it was about 30 minutes of “fun”. While this was going on, B did not judge me, intervene and most importantly, did not leave. When all was calm, B was outside and I stepped outside to tell him it was safe to come back in and B gave me a hug. I was in emotionally drained and in tears and B told me I was a good mom.
Another time, B came over for dinner. While I was trying to finish dinner and set the table, M started to get in a funky mood. It escalated at dinner and I had to remove M from the table and put M in time out. I had to hold M’s door shut and M had a big one. M destroyed the room, screamed bloody murder and was throwing objects at the door. B asked me if I needed help and I told him I have it handled and to enjoy his dinner. Even though I did not find it funny at the time, I find it comical now, as this is my life at times with M.
Even though it took some time, I was able to find someone that does not judge me or M. B is good to M and provides a positive male role model for M, which I am grateful for.
Raising ETL kiddos is hard, draining and emotionally exhausting but there is hope! Through my story, I want to leave you with the following: 1) Single ETL mommies can date and have a successful relationship 2) your ETL kiddo will be able to handle someone new in their life 3) take things slow and take your time introducing kiddos in the mix 4) try to take time for yourself whether it is gym time, nap or relaxing 4) Humor can make the worst day a better one 5) Things may not be perfect but you can be happy.
The saying between a rock and a hard place couldn’t be truer than when you’re trying to help someone with mental illness, addiction and/or another condition. You’ve got your loved one’s irrationals thoughts and need for help and on the other side the bureaucratic red tape of agencies and HIPPA rules alongside of that. The situation can become so muddled you can feel like you’re watching an episode of “The Three Stooges”, but no, this is your life – the reality of it all.
A mental health agency’s recorded message states to make an appointment call between 8:00 AM and 10:30 on Wednesdays. The future client calls – and then calls. After a time, a new message tells the client appointments have been filled – have to try again next Wednesday. On the third Wednesday, the client gets through to a person, a real live one, who tells him to make an appointment, he first has to have a referral from a doctor and a physical (because it’s been some time since he’s been seen by a doctor).
The client then tries to find a doctor. He begins calling a local clinic. I try to help by calling them first to see if they accept the type of insurance and if they’re accepting patients. They are taking new patients, and the receptionists says the future client can call the office. He calls the office; The receptionist says the persons who takes new appointments isn’t there and to call back at 11:00 the next day. The future client tries for two more days with the same result. I call the office back and the receptionist explains that appointments for that day have been filled and the future client just has to try back each day. Continue reading
If you’re reading this, chances are you are mourning the lives lost in Newtown, Connecticut. As the nation begins to emerge from shock and horror, as we pass into a phase of soul searching and debate over gun control and mental health care, dozens of teachers from Sandy Hook Elementary School will start the new year by walking into a school in the neighboring town of Monroe and do something unfathomably courageous. They will greet the hundreds of children who must return to school for the first time since the shooting. They will give reassuring hugs, they will keep a keen eye out for both physical and emotional well-being, they will dedicate every ounce of their being toward making the world right again for those in their care. They will fight the tears that threaten to gush forth, they will suppress their own sorrow and fears so that their children might eventually learn to feel safe again.
I cannot imagine the courage these teachers will have to muster. But I can imagine the love and commitment that drives them. It is the same love and commitment all caregivers have for those who need us.
There have been numerous calls to action to honor those whose lives have been forever altered by this nightmare, most notably Ann Curry’s call for everyone to perform Acts of Kindness for those around us as a way to pay tribute to those who’ve been lost to us. One act I’m going to do is to write thank you notes and deliver them to the Newtown Superintendent, asking her to deliver them to the school staff. Here’s what I want to say:
Thank you for your courage. Thank you for the love you give every day. Thank you for giving the gift of yourself no matter how hard it is sometimes. The people in your world are richer because you are here. You make a difference. You matter.
I read this to myself over and over, wanting it to be concise yet wanting it to speak volumes. Then something occurred to me. This is the same note I want to send to a few of my friends who struggle with depression. With the dark and cold months ahead, I worry that they’ll forget how important they are to their kids, to their grandkids, to me. This is the same note I want to give to my husband to make up for all the times I get too busy to make the time to show him how much I love him. This is the note I want to give myself because I’m trying to be a good friend to me. This is the note I want to give to my son and to my daughter. No matter how often I tell them, they can’t truly comprehend how rich they have made my life, how much they inspire and teach me, how deeply I love them. I want to indelibly write this into their brains so they never, ever doubt just how much they matter. This is the note I want to send to every child who feels disconnected, who feels that no matter how hard he or she tries, (s)he is just too different to ever fit in, to ever be understood.
You matter.
I care.
And so I send you a note today, as a caregiver of children who really, really need you:
Thank you for your courage. Thank you for the love you give every day. Thank you for giving the gift of yourself no matter how hard it is sometimes. The people in your world are richer because you are here. You make a difference. You matter.
Throughout the year, there are obligatory events that make parents of an “easy to love but hard to raise” child cringe – birthday parties, vacations, trips to see relatives, the start of the school year and the double-whammy of Thanksgiving and the gift-frenzies of December. These are the events we dread because they come with a generous helping of judgment. Every year, you see magazine articles and blogs helpfully entitled “How to Start the School Year Off Right” or “How to Survive the Holidays with Family.” You roll your eyes, knowing there’s no hope for you and your offspring. But you read them anyway. Maybe you’ll glean a smidgeon of insight or at least be reminded that you’re not alone in your dread of gatherings.
The general theme of these essays is that 1. Your child is bound to draw unwelcomed judgment upon him/herself and (guilt by association) you and 2. You can do damage control. I now totally disagree – at least on Point #2.
Recently, my extended family gathered to mark an event (pick any event – they all have the same story). Inevitably, someone made a casual comment about a relative who wasn’t there. That was followed up with a story about the last family event this relative attended where words/actions bypassed someone’s brain filter and led to hurt feelings. Before long, the whole extended family was on Freud’s couch, being analyzed, poked, prodded – and judged. Not all judgments were harsh. There were some nods to noble qualities and thanks for support given in a needy moment. But unkind sentiments weren’t exactly on the endangered list. My overall reaction was to clam up, to move away from a conversation that could become toxic. I’d like to imply this was because I’m above all that, that I don’t have a catty bone in my body. But you’d probably know better.
Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go: I have a really great family. My parents, my in-laws, my sisters, their husbands and my nieces – all have been really understanding and forgiving when it comes to dealing with Little J.
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There are literally hundreds, if not thousands of people who are involved in my child’s life. At the same time I think it’s really easy to feel isolated as the parent of a child with the type of special needs that my son, Little J, has. His over-arching diagnosis is Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, or FASD, which includes behaviors similar to ADHD and mood disorders – what some people, including me, consider to be “invisible” disabilities.
If you are parenting a child with an “invisible” disability, like I am, and you go out in public and your child has a tantrum or an outburst or rages or otherwise acts up, you are instantly judged as a bad parent. People just don’t understand a child who looks perfectly “normal”, yet whose brain-based disabilities impact behavior and emotional regulation. I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve been told that I just need to spank my child – by perfect strangers and acquaintances alike. Family and friends don’t get it, and although they may care about you and your child they can also be quick to judge – based on assumptions they’re making about your parenting, or about witnessing isolated incidents, or through caring for your child for a couple of hours when he was “perfectly fine for me.” Professionals – even those whose profession is helping a child like yours – need to be educated about your child. And support is hard to find. Add that to the exhaustion and unrelenting stress of trying to find answers to your child’s problems as well as the day-to-day management of your lives and it’s easy to become a hermit. A lonely, stressed-out hermit. Continue reading
