Just another day in paradise.

So, today I was upstairs getting ready to take the kids to a birthday party. Last thing I knew the 3 year old was in his room watching videos and eating french toast sticks.

As I walk down the stairs yelling at everyone to get their shoes on, we were leaving (while mentally patting myself on the back for being on time), Ben comes running up and tells me something is wrong with the microwave. I quickly look in the direction of the kitchen and smoke is wafting out the door. I dash into the kitchen expecting sparks to be flying out the microwave, but no--it's just smoke. I turn it off, open all the windows and doors, curse the fact that we don't have a functional fan in the kitchen due to the renovation and ask Ben what number he pushed for the smoldering french toast sticks. "Ummmmmmm 3, 4, 5, 6" So he either cooked the french toast sticks for 34 minutes and 56 seconds or just pulled those numbers out of his ass.

Pretty sure either option is possible.

And we were late to the party, too.


Here is a picture of the offending sticks. My friend Kelly told me if I actually paid attention to my kids and fed them, maybe they wouldn't have to try to cook for themselves at the age of 3.
Whatever.

A little background on our ADHD

When I was in my 20's, I used to say that ADHD didn't really exist. I thought (and would verbalize--what an ass, I know) that it was all due to bad parenting skills. I've learned the hard way not to make such statements anymore. In fact, you could say that statement bit me in the ass. My oldest son (H) was diagnosed with ADHD at age 6.

My son was 6 weeks from his 4th birthday when my mom died. He was very close to her, and my husband and I took him to see a psychologist. That's when we first heard ADHD. The psychologist did warn us that it was hard to diagnose ADHD at that age because many of his behaviors could be due to the simple fact that he was 4.

Fast forward to age 6, we were having a meeting with Hayden's TK teacher, his summer school teacher, and the director of the school (who, by the way, gushed over the fact that my husband took time out of his busy schedule to come to the meeting while barely giving me a "hello"). Basically, they kicked us out of the school. We scrambled to find a school that would take him and found a fantastic one with small class sizes and wonderful teachers and a pretty hefty price tag. He went to that school for 2 years and it was a wonderful experience. This year we transitioned him to public school because we have 3 kids and to send them all to private school would mean I would have to work full time and we'd have to sacrifice things like food and shelter. I work part time and really enjoy being there for my kids when they get home from school. Don't get me wrong, I'd go back to work full time if my son really needed to go to an expensive school, but our public school is fantastic.

And when I say fantastic, I mean do mean fantastic. My middle son(L) also goes there and we have been very pleased with how he's doing. H is having some problems. We think the class size is too big for him. He went from the private school which had 12 kids in the class for K and 1st grade to 24 kids in the class at public school. He's also in one of the "learning cottages," which is a fancy word for trailer. I'm not against the trailer, per say, but the acoustics of the room do nothing to help his inattention or his sensory processing problems (more on that later). I asked the school counselor if I should just pull him out and send him back to his private school because his anxiety has really reached an all time high. She said she was going to see if she can get some "pull out" help--meaning he will be pulled out of the classroom for up to 3 hours a day to work in small groups. We have our 1st IEP (Individual Educational Plan) meeting scheduled in mid April. I've heard horror stories about kids with ADHD being denied services at school, but I am really hopeful that H will get what he needs. If not, we're going to be forsaking food and shelter to send him to a school whose yearly tuition is in the 5 digits. I feel fortunate that that is an option for us, but it would still be a stretch.

Anyway, I wanted to write down our journey dealing with ADHD and Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). I haven't even touched on our medication trials, the 6 hour round trip drive to the Duke ADHD clinic before I found a child psychiatrist in Charlotte that I entrusted my child's mental health with, the incorrect Asperger's diagnosis we received when he was 7, the multiple social skills classes, the OT appointments, the wanting to strangle my hyperactive child when he screams at us, the classes we've taken to help us deal with ADHD. I wish I would've started writing this down earlier, to see how far we've come from where we started. We still have miles to go and will start a "sensory diet" after we meet with an OT who thinks we can minimize a lot of H's symptoms with OT. I am skeptical, but will keep an open mind as this OT took quite a bit of time explaining to me WHY the sensory exercises work to help and it made sense.

More on all of this later, I wish I had more time to put down all the thoughts swimming in my head, but I must go make my 3 boys breakfast.

Happy Birthday Mom.

Today would have been my mother’s 58th birthday. She died of lung cancer not quite 4 years ago. She was a remarkable woman, my mother. She worked most of my childhood, but I can never recall a time she wasn’t there for me or my sister. We miss her.

On her first birthday after her death, I went to the cemetery, roses for her gravesite in hand. She had picked the cemetery in Columbus, Ohio—because Columbus was where her life began and where she met my father. She also said it was because Riverside Methodist Hospital could be seen from her gravesite, and she would feel better knowing that I was close by, I worked there at the time. I went alone, and as I got out of the car, I realized I couldn’t find her exact gravesite as the marker was not up yet. I sat under a tree, flowers next to me, and cried. I don’t know how long I sat there, but the poor man cutting the lawn made 2 passes before he gave up and left me alone. My husband showed up then, a gift from God, I think, and gently showed me where the grave was. I placed the roses over the site and saw the plant from my uncle. “Happy birthday, sis” was all it said.

The thing I grieve for the most, is that my mother will never know my children and vice versa. My oldest son knew her for his first 3 ½ years, but his memories of her are hazy. When I think of the relationship they would have had when he was older, I get so angry that she is no longer here. My younger two will never know the unconditional love of a grandmother.

What a grandmother she was!! All Hayden would have to do was ask for cookies for breakfast, and that’s what he would get. Stay up late? No problem. Watch TV in bed? Sure. My husband and I would joke we’d have to “deprogram” Hayden when he returned from Grandma and Grandpa’s house. She would have given anything to take him to Disney World, but ran out of time.

I have so many questions for her. Questions that I never thought to ask. “What was I like at age 5, 6, 7?” “Should I hold Hayden back before sending him to kindergarten?” Every time I need her, it’s like I have to realize that she’s not here and I grieve again. I’ll go weeks and be OK and then something happens and it’s almost as if the pain is as intense as when she first died. Everything I’ve read says this is normal, that grief is not a linear process, but one with peaks and valleys. My sister, father, and I all have gone to pick up the phone to call her only to put it down, the realization setting in.

To my mom on her 58th birthday, you are missed.

Don't cry over spilt milk.....

unless it bakes in the North Carolina summer sun onto your baby's car seat.

Whew!! Stinky. Even the boys complained about the smell.

First day of work...

First day that is, without the wonderful nanny, Laura, we had all summer.

My friends kidded me about my "nanny, " but, with 3 kids it was a definite money saver. The kids adored her and she took them swimming, and to Discovery Place. She returned to her job as an elementary school teacher and the world is a better place for it.

However, I had to get all 3 guys up, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, and taken to daycare/preschool/Aunt Jill's house. I had forgotten how stressful the process was, spoiled by Laura.

Hayden went to my sister's house because his school hasn't started yet. When Luke found out Hayden was going to Aunt Jill's house without him, he cried. I tried to tell him Aunt Jill wasn't all that, especially because she stole sweaters and I had to drive her to high school when she was a lowly sophomore, but Luke would hear none of it. They have a great time with Jill and her boys.

So, all 3 boys dropped off, I could finally relax for about the 10 minutes I had alone while driving to work.

Whew, glad I'm off tomorrow!

First day of school

My youngest 2 guys started school today. Luke is in the 4's preschool class, and Ben has started toddler daycare. Luke was happy to be starting because he got to go to the "big kids" class and play on the "big kids" playground. He was so excited, when he arrived at school he was jumping around and fell and his nose started bleeding. He was a trooper, though. He stopped crying, washed up in the bathroom and said "OK Mommy, I'm ready!"



Ben was a little more difficult. He's never been in daycare, so this was new to him. He went in with all of us easily enough, he started playing. When it was time for us to go, he cried. His teacher took him to look out the window and the rest of the day was uneventful. When I came to pick him up (3 hours later), he did the happy dance and I received the best hug. He is now napping with no problems.

Hayden starts Year 2 (first grade to us Americans) at the British School after Labor Day.

I wish they would stop growing!

Why can't they stay little forever?