An ADHD Christmas

I follow a bunch of different blogs, one of which is TotallyADD. TotallyADD is a great site for adults with ADHD. I was playing around on it the other day when I came across this little gem, and I just have to share it.

Note: Yes, I realize this post would have been better timed had I posted it before Christmas, but I didn't have it then. So you just shush and keep reading. And if you recognize yourself in the poem, well...you might want to visit the website.

T’was The Night Before… an ADHD Christmas

                   

T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was on time, not even my spouse.
The stockings were half up, the gifts were half wrapped,
Cause the scissors and tape were buried ‘neath crap.

The children were glued to their laptops, by God,
While visions of new apps danced on I Pods.
And mamma in her kerchief, and still in pajamas
Had just settled her brain, which was going bananas.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clutter
Of lawn chairs, car parts and my rusting grass cutter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore my shin on an old box, and made a deep gash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Made me think of a cow, then an old TV show.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But the memory of shoes I had misplaced last year!

Also where I’d left that new wooden broomstick.
Oh, and look, there are cows! Oh, and there’s old Saint Nick!
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

Now Dasher, and Dancer, now watcha-ma-callit?
On Comet! On Cupid! Oops, forgot my wallet!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
But he rushed without checking, and took a great fall!

As my thoughts that before a wild hurricane fly,
I should do my taxes, or at least I should try.
Did you see that movie? Oh, what was I saying?
Oh, right St Nick and his reindeer were sleighing!

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
Some tools I’d left there, being kicked by a hoof.
As I drew in my head, thoughts came in a bunch!
So I missed Santa land, I was so out to lunch!

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were tarnished with ashes and soot.
The bundle of toys he had flung on his shoulder,
Looked quite a mess, like my bills in file folders.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
Like that guy that I knew. What’s his name? Bob? Or Larry?
Santa’s droll mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Which reminded me once more of that TV show.

The wreath of smoke from his pipe made him blink,
But he explained that nicotine helped him to think.
In his hand was a coffee, and a second one waiting,
And a joint and vodka. It’s called self-medicating.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old chap.
And we laughed when he tripped on a pile of crap.
He told me, “I have A.D.H.D. in my head.”
I said, “Me too, Santa! It’s nothing to dread!”

He spoke not a word, for a second or less,
Then nattered non-stop, piling gifts on our mess.
And checking the pockets of all of his clothes,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he soared on the breeze,
“Happy Christmas to all! Oh darn, where are my keys?!”

By Rick Green
TotallyADD.com
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

The Best Christmas Present Ever

The Christmas season has been a little hectic here in the ODD household. If you have a child with ADHD, ODD, or any other mental health challenges, you can probably sympathize. For one thing, everything takes twice as long when you have a child who requires more attention than the average child. Add in the excitement of Christmas, and you have a little boy who is a little crazier than usual, if that's possible. Add in a toddler, and you have two children who require a heck of a lot of attention.

With all the chaos of Christmas, one particular present stood out this year. It wasn't anything under the tree. It wasn't even wrapped. (Well, I guess it was, in one respect. It was wrapped in jeans and a t-shirt and an elf hat with bells on it.) It was, however, the best Christmas present I've ever received.

Last Thursday was the day that parents look forward to all year. You know the one. The day where you go sit in a packed gymnasium on hard plastic chairs with a squirming toddler (well, maybe you've done it sans toddler, but it adds a whole new level of challenge) while for two hours you watch other people's children sing songs to which they've forgotten the words (fine...one hour, but it feels like two) in order to see your child -- your star -- sing his or her little heart out for two minutes. Yes, you guessed it...last Thursday was school-Christmas-concert day.

Being the dutiful mother that I am, I made the requisite phone calls to grandparents to alert them to the fact that their presence had been requested by Bear. Bear's never been much of a performer, so he's never really wanted anyone other than Mommy and Daddy in the audience. This year, however, the family turned out in droves at Bear's insistence. Including Stitch, who provided us with endless entertainment while we were waiting for the star of the show, there were seven family members present to cheer Bear on. OK, that may not constitute droves, but that's a pretty good turnout for one little six year old. (We're growing in numbers. The first year was a pregnant me, the next year was three adults and an baby, and this year was six adults and a toddler. Can't wait to see next year!)

I warned everyone that they shouldn't expect too much from Bear's performance. In the past it has been a little lackluster. Perhaps lackluster isn't the right word. Non-existent is perhaps more accurate. You see, an unmedicated little boy with severe ADHD doesn't have the patience or the attention span to learn a song, especially not a song with hand gestures. (And what good kindergarten performance doesn't include hand gestures?) Put this same little boy on stage and what do you get? Well, let's put it this way. I took a lot of pictures at last year's performance, and he wasn't facing the audience in one of them. But I have great pictures of him bugging the friend beside him, bugging the friend on the other side of him, staring at the ceiling, staring at the floor, checking out what's going on behind him...anything other than what he was supposed to be doing.

This year I anticipated the same thing, despite the fact that he's now on ADHD medication. Given the anxiety issues that he's had this year, I would have been happy just to see him get up on stage. He was really excited about being in the concert, but that doesn't mean anything. He can talk a good talk about something he's excited about doing, but then often backs out when the time comes. We've learned not to let our expectations get ahead of us, because then we're disappointed. Not with him, mind you. He does the best he can, and we know that. But constantly anticipating a good day, a fun day, a big breakthrough...or whatever it is you're anticipating...and then being disappointed is emotionally exhausting.

Despite my cautious pessimism (less exhausting than cautious optimism), I grabbed the camera on my way out the door, thinking to record Bear's performance for TheODDDad. (TheODDDad works an hour away, so being there wasn't an option for him.) Now, I should tell you that I've never recorded one of these before, so why I decided to this time is a mystery -- but I'm glad I did. (Do you see where this is going yet?)

When it was time for Bear's class to perform, I scooted up to the front of the gym to sit on the floor with the other parents who were recording the performance. Out walked the kids, with Bear first in line. He walked to his spot, knelt down, and looked at his teacher for direction. I waited for him to wiggle. He didn't wiggle. The music started. I waited for him to look lost. He didn't look lost. The kids started singing. I waited for him to simply kneel there, not singing. He started to sing. The hand gestures started. I waited for him to get confused and ignore the hand gestures. He made all the hand gestures. And then it sunk it...for the first time in his life, my little boy was able to participate in something just like all the other kids.

The song finished. Bear stood up and bowed with all the other kids.

I cried.

If a Mommy Were in Charge of the Elf Brigade

You know, the Elf on the Shelf is a cute idea, but it's really pretty useless. Granted, it's fun to watch the boys go looking for the elf in the morning. Even Stitch gets in on it. Every time the Elf catches his eye during the day he gleefully screeches "Ebbie!" which is toddler for "Elfie!" I haven't yet tired of that little piece of cuteness, but even that has its limits.

I think the main problem with Elfie is that he can only do one thing: He watches the boys and then he reports back to Santa. A multi-tasker he is not. Now, put a mom in charge of the elf brigade, and you'd see some changes. (cue the cool music as we transition to my vision)

1. No more hiding. Mommies, especially Mommies of little boys who tend to wander off, don't like little people who hide. I really couldn't care less that you're a magical elf and you're playing a game -- no more hiding!

2. No more good boy/bad boy (or girl, I guess) thing. That stopped working ages ago. Kids these days are smart -- they know darned well that Santa's going to bring them presents regardless of how they act. Have you ever heard of a child who didn't get toys from Santa for behavioural reasons? Santa either needs to improve his follow-through (Read a parenting book, Santa!) or stop with the threats.

3. No more flying to the North Pole every night. Come on Santa...that's what e-mail is for! That time could be much better spent doing something productive.

And speaking of productivity, Elfie's job description would expand. In my world, all elves would receive remedial training in the following areas:

- floor washing
- child bathing
- dish doing
- present wrapping
- cookie baking
- fudge making
- tree decorating
- card writing
- party planning
- back rubbing (I know...a back-rubbing elf...sigh...bliss...)
- furniture dusting

I figure if an elf is going to hang around my house for a month, he'd better be useful. Otherwise, back to the North Pole with you, Elfie. I don't need another thing to dust.

The Angry Elf

I have to admit...Bear's been a bit of a pain in my behind lately. (Hhhhmmmm...if I lose weight and my butt gets smaller, will he be less of a pain?) His behaviour has definitely improved since we upped his meds, but bed time has once again turned into a battle. Things had been going really well for a while, and then BHAM...a regression. I guess that's to be expected to a certain extent, but it's still frustrating. You start to wonder what you're doing wrong or what you're doing differently to bring about this change, but the answer is normally nothing. Most kids go through fazes, right? Well, I guess so do kids with ADHD and ODD. At least that's what we're telling ourselves.

Anyway, the last couple of nights have been a little rough, so tonight I don't really feel like wrapping Bear's Christmas presents, which was my plan for the evening. Instead, I informed TheODDDad, I was going to wrap Stitchie's presents and tomorrow I was going to return Bear's. Not that I ever would, but sometimes it just feels good to be mean. Well, not really be mean. Just talk about being mean.

TheODDDad, being the more warped of the two of us (something I really love about him), suggested that it would be way more fun to draw angry eyebrows on Elfie (our Elf on the Shelf who has so far sat everywhere except on a shelf) and tape his hands to his hips (the way an angry Mom stands). That would freak him out, TheODDDad gleefully declared.

Yes. Yes, it would.

Sometimes being mean just sounds like so much fun.

Going on an Elf Hunt

If you don't have little kids, you may not be familiar with the latest craze in "Christmas." To be honest, I hadn't heard of it until the other day, but had already managed to successfully block it out of my mind -- until yesterday, that is, when Bear heard about it. Now it's the only thing on my mind.

Elf on the Shelf is the brainchild of a mother and daughter who wrote a best-selling children's book based on their own family tradition. Along with the book comes your very own elf, who you have to name and everything. Here's the fun part, though. Said Elf keeps an eye on your children in the weeks leading up to Christmas and reports back to Santa. Not only does he report to Santa, but he actually flies back to the North Pole every night while your little monsters are in bed and hands in his report in person to the Big Guy himself. No joke! I guess all that flying must make him tired and affect his memory, though, because he never ends up back in the same place come morning. This is the best part for little critters, because it means they have to run around the house looking for him every morning. (Fun!) So Elfie isn't so much an elf-on-the-shelf kind of elf as he is an elf-wherever-the-heck-he-ends-up-in-the-morning-because-Mommy-and-Daddy-were-feeling-kind-of-twisted-the-night-before kind of elf.

Bear came home from his friend's house yesterday full of elf stories. Did we know they had an elf? Where was our elf? Had we seen him? Had we heard him? Bear was ready to launch a full-scale hunt for our lost elf at supper time last night, just as I was trying to get the chicken out of the oven and the vegetables drained. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, tapping his index finger against his cheek, chanting "Where could he be? Where could he be?"

I did some fast thinking and very matter-of-factly explained that the elf always lets me know when he arrives for the season, but he hadn't checked in with me yet. He usually comes on December 1st (see how I bought myself some time...clever Mommy!) so he wouldn't be here for at least a few more days? How many sleeps? Oh, let me count. Four more sleeps, Sweetie. That blasted elf that Mommy now has to find in a small town comes in four more sleeps. Why does your friend already have her elf? Oh, I guess her elf must have come early. Maybe she and her sisters have been especially naughty this year. (OK, I left that part out because Bear would have been repeating that at school this morning, but you have to agree that it's funny.)

Anyway, now Mommy is on an elf hunt. I have to admit that it's a really cute idea and I'm sure we'll have fun with it for years to come, but right now it's just one more thing I have to do, and I only have three more sleeps.