Research Study

The girls were upstairs doing whatever it is they do when they're Playing Independently (something that almost always involves my high heels, latex gloves, hair accessories, or a combination of all three), and so I decided to take a moment to to my daily* Wii Fit Body Test.

I used to do these Body Tests fully clothed, subtracting anywhere from two to four pounds from my weight based on what I was wearing.  It finally occurred to me that, if I was truly looking for an accurate measure of my weight and my Overall Fitness, perhaps guesstimating how heavy my jeans were wasn't the best idea.  (Yes, I've been known to do Wii Fit wearing jeans.  And corduroys.  And perhaps my slippers.  What of it?)

So then I decided that the only way to truly get an accurate measure would be to do the test at the same time every day.  Naked.

Okay, naked is a bit of a stretch.  I always wear my underwear and occasionally a bra, too.  (If I've already put on my clothes for the day.  If I'm still in my pajamas when I do the Body Test, then I'm a briefs-only kind of girl.)

It takes a few minutes for the system to fully boot, and then the actual Body Test itself takes 10 seconds or so you stand still while the Balance Board does its thing.  During these minutes, I gradually disrobe until I'm standing there in my undies (and maybe bra), and then I whip my clothes back on because I tend to feel like a Crazy Person standing in my living room in only my skivvies at 8-something in the morning.

The system had booted and the Body Test was about to begin when the doorbell rang.  I literally jumped off the Balance Board (which caused the system to have to reboot, adding another 10 seconds to the Body Test) in surprise: Who the hell would be ringing the doorbell at 8:58 a.m. on a Tuesday?  

My first thought was that it was the water meter person or someone selling something, so I did what any sensible person would: I removed my pants and continued to wait for the Body Test to re-calibrate, because I could read the water meter myself, thanks, and surely I didn't want whatever was being sold, anyway.

When the doorbell rang again, I realized that this was either one really persistent salesperson... or perhaps it wasn't someone selling something after all.  Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, a little spark occurred that told me, WAIT!  I KNOW THIS ONE!  

And then I remembered that I'd agreed to allow research students from the University of Rochester Child Development Department to come to the house -- at 9 a.m. -- to do a follow up interview with E.  An interview where people would come into my home and talk with my daughter and try to determine how well-developed she is.  

Until that moment, I'd completely forgotten that I'd agreed to allow them to come.

Awesome.

Knowing that the interviewers were standing outside the door, I then did what would make any ADHD-er proud: I took off my shirt as well.  Because, hey, it had already taken many minutes for the damn Wii Fit to get itself to this point, anyway, and if I didn't do the Body Test now, it would mess up my whole system.  And I just knew that it would only take another 30 seconds or so, and I could surely have the Wii Fit measurement taken and put my clothes back on and go upstairs to retrieve the E from the tangle of heels and gloves and hairbands and get the house presentable and make it look like I'd been prepared all along... all in just a minute or so.  Surely, the interviewers wouldn't mind - heck, they might not even notice I was late.  The fact that Joey was barking so loudly and continuously that it sounded like we were being invaded would only make the interviewers feel welcome, right?

So.  I let the Wii take its measurement.  Then I put my pajamas back on, turned the tv off and put the Balance Board away, cleared off the coffee table in one large arm-sweep, flew upstairs and informed E that, Hey!  People are here to talk to you!  Let's go NOW!, raced back downstairs with A in my other arm, locked Joey inside the bathroom, and then opened the front door to greet the interviewers with an apologetic smile.  "So sorry," I fibbed ever-so-slightly, "There was small incident, and I didn't quite get to the door until now!  Come in, come in!"

Once E and the interviewers were settled, I took some time to put on some real clothes, and then tried to breeze through the next 20 minutes as though it had been the plan to allow Joey to bark at them for 4 minutes while I stood nearly naked a few feet away and got my Wii Fit on.  I figure, as a Mom with ADHD, it's good to teach my girls the value of being able to a) follow through with something (I was doing that damn Body Test come hell or high water) and b) the ability to look at even surprise situations as something good rather than something problematic.

The students are coming for a follow-up interview next Tuesday.  I'm still trying to decide what ADHD values to instill in the girls this time.

Pajama Day

Last Friday, when I picked up my oldest daughter from preschool, she literally began leaping up and down excitement.   I could hardly understand what she was saying ash she shouted at me, but the words she seemed to be screaming with the most frequently were: "PAJAMAS!" "MOVIE!" "IN SCHOOOOOL!"

Her teacher then rescued me from E's hysteria, explaining that, as a very special treat, the children were all invited to wear their pajamas the following Wednesday, and that the class was going to watch a Winnie the Pooh movie.  E danced around with glee, totally jazzed at the thought of wearing her pajamas to class.  "PJs? To school??   That is SO FUNNY!" 

Over the course of the weekend, E mentioned the pj-to-school thing at least 5 times daily.  She invited her GranMary (visiting from Minnesota) to help her pick out the pair of pajamas that she would wear to class (four days later) and hemmed and hawed over which stuffed animal would accompany her.  At last, Tuesday night arrived and we joyfully laid out her painstakingly chosen jammies (2 piece Pinkalicious faves) and coordinating slippers.  Yesterday morning, after finally deciding that her stuffed dog, Star, would join her, I spent a good 10 minutes doing E's hair in an "extra special" style.  

When the phone rang around 15 minutes after they'd left, I knew it was Nick (very few folks call at 8:35 a.m., thankfully) and wondered what tidbit he'd forgotten to share with me before they'd gone.  He was calling to report that one of the other preschool moms (a "know-it-all-mother," in Nick's words) had informed him that today wasn't pajama day; next Wednesday was pajama day.  And, to further illustrate the correctness of her statement, she pointed out that her own daughter was not wearing her pajamas.

I thanked him for the heads-up, but really didn't think too much of it.  I remembered discussing PJ Day with E's teacher, and remembered that it took place on Wednesday.  That made sense to me - there's no school tomorrow (Good Friday), and inviting the kids to come to school in their jams to watch a movie seemed like the perfect activity for a slightly off-kilter week.  Still, I decided to phone the school in a bit, just to confirm.

Shortly after 9 a.m., I called and spoke to someone at the front desk, who dutifully checked with E's teacher.  

Pajama Day was most decidedly not yesterday.

It will take place next Wednesday.

When I hung up, I actually felt sick to my stomach.  How could I have been so blatantly wrong?  How had I entirely misunderstood?  Bad enough that *I* couldn't keep things straight... but knowing that poor E was sashaying through the Y in her Pinkalicious PJs because of my memory blip... Just not cool.

My forgetfulness and ADHD-ness had won.  I'd done it YET AGAIN.  

Then I remembered the school calendar - the one that E's teacher hands out at the beginning of each month.  It has taken extreme brainpower on my part to override my ADHD tendency to magically lose every paper that my daughters bring home from school, but somehow, I've actually hung on to nearly everything that makes it into the house -- not only that, but I actually have a folder where I keep such communications... and I keep the folder in the same place, all the time!  

Will wonders never cease.

Upon locating the April calendar, I scanned to next Wednesday, and my fears were confirmed: Wear Your Pajamas To School.  

Written there.  Plain as day.

Thing is... I'd read the calendar.  I remember reading it.  And yet, somehow, I'd totally missed the part about Pajama Day being next week rather than yesterday.

I posted an update on Facebook about my mistake, and to my amazing friends' (and mother's) credit, rather than being scolded or laughed at (as I'd thought would be completely appropriate), they were both incredibly sympathetic and wonderfully optimistic.  E would be a trendsetter!  Now she'd get to wear her pjs twice!  She's the coolest kid in school!

And?  They were right, of course.  E didn't even think twice about wearing her pajamas on a non-pajama day, and she's doubly psyched to do it again.  (I also tried to remind myself that being the only kid IN pajamas is pretty awesome when you're four, but to have been the only child NOT in pajamas would have been devastating).  All was just fine, despite my error.

But incidents like these make me pause every time, because I know -- I dread -- that someday, it will matter, and the resolution will not be nearly so easy.  Someday, my ADHD forgetfulness and impulsivity and lack of attention to detail will cause one or both of my kids to get screwed over.  They'll be late to their best friend's birthday party, or they'll be the only one wearing a grass skirt (for Luau Day!) on the day that is actually Western Day, when the rest of the class is in ten-gallon hats and chaps.  They'll be embarrassed for themselves and, I'm sure, of me.  

Or it could be so much worse.  I could forget a passport and one of the girls might miss out on the class trip to France.  Maybe I'll neglect to update them on their immunizations, and someone will get horribly ill.  I constantly fear that, somehow, my forgetfulness will cause them physical harm, and all I'll be able to do is stand there open-mouthed saying, "But I really thought it was today, not next week."

Now, I know that these incidents can - and do - happen to everyone.  And I certainly know that never in the entire history of the world has a child made it to adulthood without feeling embarrassed by his or her parents.  So I realize that part of this is just what comes along with, you know, life.

But having ADHD means that these little missteps will happen far more frequently for me than they will for non-ADHD folks.  As difficult as it can be for me to learn to live and work with my ADHD, it breaks my heart to know that my daughters will suffer because of it, too.  Little things like Pajama Day, however benign, reinforce that for me every time.  

As a mother, ADHD moments like these are particularly fun because I get to feel like such a failure, like such a freak.  Shouldn't I be able to get it right?  Shouldn't my girls be able to rely on Mommy to remember these sorts of things?  Isn't that part of the job description: Able to Correctly Read Class Calendar and Dress Child in Pajama-Wear on Appropriate Date...? 

I also worry about what the other moms will think of me, that I'm becoming That Mom -- you know, the one everyone smiles at but secretly snickers over the instant she drops out of view (or drops her kid's art project on the floor).  While I don't really care for myself what the other moms think of me, I do care for my kids what they think of me.  Childhood is hard enough without my girls being potentially blacklisted because their Mommy is... Unreliable.  Forgetful.  Strange.

As of today, thankfully, I don't seem to have been entirely written off.  The kids have playdates and friends, even though I leave their coats behind and have to rummage through my purse for 27 seconds just to locate my wallet.

And the Non-Pajama Pajama Day didn't turn out as bad as I thought it would.  In fact, E didn't think I was the worst mom in the class.  

She thought I was one of the best.

Sometimes?  ADHD isn't all bad.

(Side note: when I picked E up yesterday, I quickly noticed that at least 4 other children also had on their pajamas.  Her teacher reminded me that pajama day was next week [I told her that we were so excited, we wanted to do it twice!]... but then she also apologized for giving everyone the wrong date last week.

NOT ENTIRELY MY FAULT AFTER ALL.  

I knew it all along. ;o) )

The Whole ADHD Thing

Whenever I first discuss with someone that I have ADHD, the response is almost always one of the following:

* Some sort of eye rolling/sighing, because "everyone" has ADHD these days.

* General dismissal, because ADHD doesn't register or isn't "real"; if I tried harder, I wouldn't do the things I do.

* An enthusiastic, "Ohmygod, I leave my refrigerator open/forget the dry cleaning/am chronically late, too!"

It's incredibly difficult trying to explain what having ADD is like to anyone who doesn't have it themselves (or doesn't live with someone who does).  AD/HD is on the news so much, it's - ironically - becoming forgettable.  Kids are both over-diagnosed and improperly treated, and many people don't realize that the symptoms and traits of ADHD often last into adulthood.  

Forgetting things... Leaving food to spoil on the counter... Being late for an important meeting... Losing a treasured item... Being easily distracted... Making a rash or snap decision... Clutter around the house...  Nearly every single human being in existence has struggled with one or more of these at some time or another, and many, many non-ADD people have "ADD moments" frequently.

Because of that, there's a tendency for folks to jump in and (try to) identify with me ("I'm JUST like that!") or to completely dismiss it ("Come on, everyone does that.  It doesn't make you have ADD.")

Well, actually, it does.  I do have ADHD.  In fact, I am the poster child for ADHD.  And no, everyone does not do that.  

Trust me when I say that you are NOT just like me... unless you have ADHD, too.

ADHD manifests itself in my life in countless ways.  Yes, it means doing all of the "things" that ADHD people do: leaving the milk on the counter overnight so that it spoils; compulsively jiggling my knee while sitting; flitting from one activity to another without even knowing I'm doing it; having piles of "stuff" in every room of the house; chronically being just-barely-on-time (if not outright late); totally overestimating how much I am able to accomplish in a given time period; forgetting to bring my bathing suit when we go to the Y to swim; missing the meet-the-teacher day at my daughter's preschool; spilling coffee on my husband's Blackberry; showing up in dog hair-covered, wrinkled pants; losing cell phones and jewelry and even a check for $2000.

Many, many aspects of my personality are also infused with traits that are usually attributed to having ADHD.  I'm disorganized.  I'm messy.  I'm forgetful.  Impulsive.  Easily distracted.  Constantly driven.  Unable to sit still.  Forgetful.  Careless.  Creative.  Active.  Passionate.  Enthusiastic.  Flexible.

What I didn't plan on is the way having ADHD causes me to think and feel about myself, both in what I'm doing and who I am.  Sometimes, I feel pretty good about how ADHD affects me.  I'm thrilled to be on the go.  I live in the moment and love making crafts with my girls or suddenly deciding to run out for ice cream.  I even admire myself for taking advantage of the 3 minutes I had waiting in line at the bank by completing my grocery list (because doing nothing is never an option).

But most times, my ADHD traits just plain piss me off.  At best, they're small annoyances.  At worst, I feel like I'm a complete failure and utter disappointment who will never pull her life together.  Losing my wallet is a pain in the ass, to be sure.  But when I do it (again), it also reminds me that I can't keep track of anything, no matter how hard I try.  And, oh man, do I ever try.  Forgetting my daughter's sippy cup when I drop her off at preschool is hardly the end of the world - last week (the 3rd time this year I've forgotten her cup), I simply asked them to pour her juice into a Dixie cup (she thought she was such hot shit!).  Each time I do it, however, I am reminded that, someday, I may be forgetting something far more important than a sippy cup.  How much will my having ADHD screw up and disappoint my kids?

In short, ADHD is an integral and enormous part of my life.  I honestly don't know where The Real Em begins and where ADHD ends; can they be separated?  Would I even want to?  No, the answers aren't going to be discovered through blogging.  But it's a start.

Why Blog?

The decision to begin blogging has been long in coming, and I'm still not entirely on board with the idea.  For one, I don't know that I have anything particularly interesting to say.  I have no desire to keep a public online journal, nor am I looking for a place to publish funny stories about my kids' antics.

That said, I do have a tendency to be rather, um, chatty.  I can count on one hand the number of times I've been at a lack of words, and at least two of them have to do with my daughters' potty training experiences.  I also have always loved to write.  Because I speak very quickly (much more quickly than I can filter my thoughts), my spoken conversations tend to leave me feeling like I could have done better.  When I write, I have enough time to actually think through what I'm saying (not that it means that I'm a fab writer by any means; I just enjoy it ;o) ).  I also find it incredibly cathartic, and in times when I'm particularly frustrated or hurt or confused or troubled, I turn to writing to work out what's going on.  (I also turn to speaking aloud to myself, but that often leads to me feeling more crazy, rather than more clear-headed.)

While I don't believe that my experiences as a mother, wife, woman, friend, daughter, or human being are so unique as to warrant anyone else putting stock in what I say, I have discovered - over time - that having ADHD filters my life experiences in really interesting ways.  (Ok, sometimes "interesting" doesn't exactly describe them... but go with me, here.)  Every single day, I have at least 5 of what I call "ADHD moments" where my ADHD directly affects a given situation -- both for good and for not-so-good.  I've also discovered that these "moments" are somewhat... unique.  Although pretty much everyone I've ever talked with can relate to individual ADHD tales, they are completely taken aback by the sheer number of stories I tell.  Although I've always approached life just a wee bit differently than most other people, it's only recently that I'm realizing exactly how and why.

For the past few months, I've had an idea percolating in the back of my head to start chronicling what life is like with adult ADHD, especially life as a mother, wife, and woman.  There are scads of websites out there dedicated to ADHD, all bursting with checklists and support groups and forums for and against medication.  But, despite my avid internet searches, I have yet to discover many resources that really discuss what having ADHD as an adult is actually like.   

Let's be clear: having adult ADHD can be awesome.  

It is also the single most difficult thing I've ever had to deal with.

And it's not something I'm going to be "cured of" or "get over" any time soon. 

With that in mind, I've decided to blog about what it's like to be a woman, wife, and mother with ADHD.  Some of it will, hopefully, be funny.  Much of it will, I'm sure, be cringe-worthy.  And some of it may be tear-inducing.  But it will be real, and it will be me, and that's the best that I can do.

I'm not out to win awards or get recognized, and I'm certainly not "looking" for an audience.  I'm most definitely not trying to be an "expert" on adult ADHD, nor am I trying - in any way - to provide anyone with a definitive guide to what living with ADHD is like.  I'm simply journaling my own experiences.

I'll inevitably send this blog link onto family and friends, and if you're reading (hi, everyone!), I hope that you can at least get a chuckle out of walking in my shoes for a moment.  Maybe you'll even come to understand why I didn't phone you back, or why I'm always losing my wallet when it seems like it would be so simple to hold onto it (side note: I'm not hoping that you'll be okay with my ADHD-ness... but maybe the reasons behind my "quirks" will be a bit more clear).  

If anyone beyond family and friends winds up finding this blog - perhaps through doing adult ADHD searches on Google as I did - and it can provide them with even the slightest notion that someone struggling with adult ADHD is not alone, that will be amazing.

But, really, I'm doing this for myself.  Maybe, years from now, I'll look back on all this and say, "Hey - remember when I used to leave the car doors wide open in the parking lot!  Those were crazy days!"  Much more likely, the doors will still be wide open (although, one hopes, with less frequency)... but I hope to have a better understanding of why, and how to work with it.  

Living with ADHD is definitely different and definitely difficult... but it's not necessarily bad.  It's also full of adventure and humor and surprises and a helluva lot of fun.

Buckle in for the ride.  :)