It shouldn't surprise me that G has one method of resolving conflict with his brother and occasionally other kids. It usually involves some form of hands-on activity, aimed at submission. We have worked so hard on this, but there's not a lot of methods for parents to approach the problem with. They are all along these lines, always presented after the tussle:
"Use your words. Talk to the person who is bothering you, then go tell an adult if the problem is still happening."
Once G has his hands on his brother, there's no stopping him to talk. You have to physically separate him from J, with squalling from the both of them. J will be crying in a whiny voice about whatever horrible thing his brother is doing to him, while G is screaming about whatever J did that set him off.
(The thing that always gets me is that J is in the wrong 99% of the time. He will go into his brother's room, hit his brother, wreck some Legos, and refuse to leave when G asks him to. If G would come to me, I'd definitely rule in his favor. But G gets fed up and goes for the throat.)
I send the boys each to their rooms to calm down. We talk- J gets told that he's got to stop being obnoxious. G gets told that there's a series of steps he has to go through. Words to J. Words to a parent. He'll win: J alone will get in trouble.
But that impulse control just can't wait for words to impact his little brother. He can't wait for an adult to come and help get J out of his way. G's feelings flare so quickly and intensely that there is no stopping the reaction.
It has gotten a bit better over the last year or so. We haven't had many issues at school, and certainly none as horrible as the day he pushed a classmate's head into the asphalt. (Thank goodness she was okay; I think this was the worst I felt as a parent. I'm okay when my kids skin a knee, but I hate to see an innocent party injured.) There have been minor scuffles, but the other kids haven't been entirely innocent this year. How long until he outgrows it? Not too long, I hope. Little steps. We'll get there.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Try It. You Might Like It.
For months now, my husband has been trying to convince me to go with him and the boys to the local Indian buffet after church. I'm not a huge fan of Indian food from restaurants. I've had several homemade Indian meals, and they were delicious. I just have difficulty finding meals from restaurants that I like. Today, though, I let him choose. I explained to the boys, over the sounds of whining, that we should take turns choosing where to eat.
The boys were far from thrilled. Now I know that most kids have picky phases. Kids with ADHD don't have a corner on that market. There are a couple of aspects of ADHD that make the situation pretty rotten, though.
First of all, G has no filter. This is true of a lot of kids with ADHD. It doesn't matter that the proprietor of the restaurant is by our table filling our glasses with water. G will state his disgust at what we have tried to serve him. I was quite thankful that he chose to simply say he didn't like the food. He didn't use too many horrible adjectives to describe the various dishes we presented in small piles on the plate.
Secondly, G views situations like this as fairly traumatic. The fussing and whining as we asked him to take a little bite, was about the intensity as his reaction to shots, early bedtimes, and losing his screen time for three days. I think the booth behind us was imagining me pinching him under the table to elicit the crying. G views all sorts of situations as traumatic. Even the Indian buffet.
To G's credit, his plate was filled by his father, who really doesn't have a good judgement of "spicy" for our children. The only things that weren't spicy were the naan and the rice. Poor kid- the fried ball of dough and the chicken dishes that Daddy swore were fine were actually quite painful, even for me.
So the lesson we learned today? Take the little brother to the Indian buffet. Leave G and Mommy at home. Everyone wins.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
ADHD Does Not Exist
http://time.com/25370/doctor-adhd-does-not-exist/?hpt=hp_t3
Well. I've read it twice now. And I'm kind of angry about it. I think part of what I'm angry about is the definitive way he states his case, as though he's the end-all-be-all on the topic. No room for other ideas or theories.
I think the other reason I'm bothered is that I think he's wrong. Don't get me wrong, now. I do think that ADHD may be over-diagnosed, and perhaps even over-medicated. But I've seen enough kids (and been the kid) with ADHD to know that there's something there. And who's to say that ADHD is the made-up disorder and not the anxiety/bipolar/etc options? (Don't get upset with me, internet. I think ALL of the disorders are real.)
I do know that a vast majority of children and adults wouldn't need medication if our society were different. The agrarian society of 200 years ago would've suited my son and I just fine. My house wouldn't be all that clean, but I'd have been able to survive. My son would spend his days collecting firewood, planting and weeding the garden, herding livestock, and all those other farmy sorts of activities.
But I was expected to sit through hours of classes each day, listening and taking notes and retaining information and inferencing. And my son is required to do the same, on an even stricter level since the introduction of No Child Left Behind and high-stakes testing. Doctors want to point a finger somewhere? I think current educational practices are a large part of the problem. All kids, especially high-energy children with the symptoms seen with ADHD, need to play. Hours of play.
I'd like to see what other people think. What does big wide world think of this?
Well. I've read it twice now. And I'm kind of angry about it. I think part of what I'm angry about is the definitive way he states his case, as though he's the end-all-be-all on the topic. No room for other ideas or theories.
I think the other reason I'm bothered is that I think he's wrong. Don't get me wrong, now. I do think that ADHD may be over-diagnosed, and perhaps even over-medicated. But I've seen enough kids (and been the kid) with ADHD to know that there's something there. And who's to say that ADHD is the made-up disorder and not the anxiety/bipolar/etc options? (Don't get upset with me, internet. I think ALL of the disorders are real.)
I do know that a vast majority of children and adults wouldn't need medication if our society were different. The agrarian society of 200 years ago would've suited my son and I just fine. My house wouldn't be all that clean, but I'd have been able to survive. My son would spend his days collecting firewood, planting and weeding the garden, herding livestock, and all those other farmy sorts of activities.
But I was expected to sit through hours of classes each day, listening and taking notes and retaining information and inferencing. And my son is required to do the same, on an even stricter level since the introduction of No Child Left Behind and high-stakes testing. Doctors want to point a finger somewhere? I think current educational practices are a large part of the problem. All kids, especially high-energy children with the symptoms seen with ADHD, need to play. Hours of play.
I'd like to see what other people think. What does big wide world think of this?
Church Today
Thank goodness for a church full of people with a sense of humor, and full of other quirky kids. Without them, I think I would've lost my mind this morning without them.
Our church always starts the service with greetings, opening announcements, and a song. Then the director of religious education calls the kids up, does a presentation, and they all troop up to the RE rooms. Usually its a short little story and off they go.
This morning, the story was about the shamrock and a gnome named Jasper and the three forms of the goddess. It was a cute story, but about five minutes too long- it was a six or seven minute story. The kids were definitely ready to go before the director was. They got squirrelly. Of course, it was the boys that were the problem (not just mine for once- all of them).
F was pretending he was choking himself then playing a seat-stealing game with a toddler. Another little boy kept stage whispering bad ideas to the others behind a hand that didn't help keep his mother from noticing he was talking. The toddler from above started running up and down the aisle with bookmarks from the pews.
And G? He spent the entire time looking at his reflection in the side of a baby grand piano, thrilled that the curved wood warped his reflection. Face after face after face. Funny. Scary. Coy. Sad. All for the whole congregation to see.
A different version of myself would've been mortified. In a different place, with a different audience, I would've hauled him out and given him an earful. But in the safety of MY church, I laughed with the others. No one told me that G was a bad kid and that I was a bad mom. None of the parents, or grandparents, or non-parents, did anything but smile or laugh.
I'm so glad that I found a place where my kids are accepted and treasured, even when they aren't sitting quietly and respectfully. Mommy shaming? Mommy judging? Not here!
Our church always starts the service with greetings, opening announcements, and a song. Then the director of religious education calls the kids up, does a presentation, and they all troop up to the RE rooms. Usually its a short little story and off they go.
This morning, the story was about the shamrock and a gnome named Jasper and the three forms of the goddess. It was a cute story, but about five minutes too long- it was a six or seven minute story. The kids were definitely ready to go before the director was. They got squirrelly. Of course, it was the boys that were the problem (not just mine for once- all of them).
F was pretending he was choking himself then playing a seat-stealing game with a toddler. Another little boy kept stage whispering bad ideas to the others behind a hand that didn't help keep his mother from noticing he was talking. The toddler from above started running up and down the aisle with bookmarks from the pews.
And G? He spent the entire time looking at his reflection in the side of a baby grand piano, thrilled that the curved wood warped his reflection. Face after face after face. Funny. Scary. Coy. Sad. All for the whole congregation to see.
A different version of myself would've been mortified. In a different place, with a different audience, I would've hauled him out and given him an earful. But in the safety of MY church, I laughed with the others. No one told me that G was a bad kid and that I was a bad mom. None of the parents, or grandparents, or non-parents, did anything but smile or laugh.
I'm so glad that I found a place where my kids are accepted and treasured, even when they aren't sitting quietly and respectfully. Mommy shaming? Mommy judging? Not here!
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Temper Tantrums
Without ADHD.
I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY. NOW. I WANT THAT NOW.
J, I said no.
Cue ten minutes of high-pitched screaming.
Kicking of walls, punching of any animate or inanimate item within a ten foot radius.
More screaming, this time enough to make you afraid that the neighbors are going to call 9-1-1.
Red face, blood vessels bursting in the eyes.
Tears, coughing, and nearly puking.
Small person yelling, "I don't like you, Mommy. You're mean. You're not my mommy anymore."
Then a ten minute time out, only to discuss the incident and find out that said small person either isn't actually sorry or says that they can't remember why they were sent to time out. Loads of drama.
With ADHD.
I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY. NOW. I WANT THAT NOW.
G, I said no.
Cue thirty seconds of screaming, to be followed by,
"Mommy, do owls eat birds?"
Every once in awhile, I can come up with the silver lining for ADHD. And the inability to pay attention long enough to have a proper tantrum is one of those times.
I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY. NOW. I WANT THAT NOW.
J, I said no.
Cue ten minutes of high-pitched screaming.
Kicking of walls, punching of any animate or inanimate item within a ten foot radius.
More screaming, this time enough to make you afraid that the neighbors are going to call 9-1-1.
Red face, blood vessels bursting in the eyes.
Tears, coughing, and nearly puking.
Small person yelling, "I don't like you, Mommy. You're mean. You're not my mommy anymore."
Then a ten minute time out, only to discuss the incident and find out that said small person either isn't actually sorry or says that they can't remember why they were sent to time out. Loads of drama.
With ADHD.
I WANT THAT!
No, Dear.
YES MOMMY. NOW. I WANT THAT NOW.
G, I said no.
Cue thirty seconds of screaming, to be followed by,
"Mommy, do owls eat birds?"
Every once in awhile, I can come up with the silver lining for ADHD. And the inability to pay attention long enough to have a proper tantrum is one of those times.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Writing
G has always had some problems with writing. It started with a lack of desire to scribble or color. I know, as a teacher, that these basic skills lay the foundation for writing. I get it. But G had a horrible reaction to being forced to color when he was younger. So I didn't force it. It was an activity at daycare/school that he would participate in, albeit without much effort, and I turned a blind eye. I get reluctant writers to work all day long. I deal with crying, whining, and gnashing of teeth for hours a day. Do I really have to do it at home, too?
So now we are in first grade, and writing is not coming along nicely. For one, he forms his letters incorrectly. They are legible, but he uses a poor method to form them. The OT (gosh, it helps to be a special education teacher) says its not that big of a deal. It slows him down, but it doesn't impact grades.
Secondly, it takes forever to write sentences. I think part of it is this little streak of perfectionism. He doesn't know how to spell all the words he wants to spell, and he doesn't like to guess. Another part is a bit of laziness. He'd rather have someone else write for him (we DO NOT give in to it). I'm not sure that's all the parts, but I have to have a game plan.
We are going to practice writing more with him on the weekends when his meds are fresh and we might have some patience. I've also been working some with him on using a computer to type some work. His teacher is going to give me some ideas as well.
I just worry that we are headed down a path toward academic difficulties and frustration much sooner than I'd anticipated. I kind of thought we'd make it to middle school fairly easily, as long Husband and I kept him on a short leash. And even as a special education teacher, I'm not sure of all the best ways to help G. We aren't at our best in the evenings, G and I.
I'll just keep reminding myself, "This too shall pass."
So now we are in first grade, and writing is not coming along nicely. For one, he forms his letters incorrectly. They are legible, but he uses a poor method to form them. The OT (gosh, it helps to be a special education teacher) says its not that big of a deal. It slows him down, but it doesn't impact grades.
Secondly, it takes forever to write sentences. I think part of it is this little streak of perfectionism. He doesn't know how to spell all the words he wants to spell, and he doesn't like to guess. Another part is a bit of laziness. He'd rather have someone else write for him (we DO NOT give in to it). I'm not sure that's all the parts, but I have to have a game plan.
We are going to practice writing more with him on the weekends when his meds are fresh and we might have some patience. I've also been working some with him on using a computer to type some work. His teacher is going to give me some ideas as well.
I just worry that we are headed down a path toward academic difficulties and frustration much sooner than I'd anticipated. I kind of thought we'd make it to middle school fairly easily, as long Husband and I kept him on a short leash. And even as a special education teacher, I'm not sure of all the best ways to help G. We aren't at our best in the evenings, G and I.
I'll just keep reminding myself, "This too shall pass."
Monday, March 3, 2014
Snow Days
This winter hasn't seemed particularly long for me, as it has for so many others. I realize that I have a completely different view on things, since I'm a teacher. Snow has a whole other meaning for me: extra time in my pajamas, cuddling up on the couch, watching cartoons, knitting. No one asks me to leave the house or do anything all that complicated; I just have to keep the kids alive.
Today was a totally different type of snow day. Both kids were home and my husband was working from home. It was not that much fun for me.
Hubby working from home means lots of phone calls. The kids can't stay quiet unless there's duct tape involved. I've seen how that has worked out for other parents. I don't want jail time, thank you very much. He was downstairs in the library/office, which is right near the kitchen and living room. Finally I sent him up to our room so that there was at least a door between his phone and the herd of elephants/pack of hyenas.
G, in all his ADHD glory, can be very quiet and industrious with his medicine. Add J? There's arguing, yelling, stomping, whining, crying, hitting, etc. This made today an unusual snow day since J usually still goes to daycare when the weather is bad. Hubby takes him on-time or late, so G and I can have some peace and quiet. No one has left the house today to go any farther than the mailbox.
On the upside, I have discovered that G can enjoy card and board games. J isn't very good at it, but G is in his prime. I love Uno, so that's awesome. I'm not such a fan of Chutes and Ladders, but I was a good sport and played nicely. Rummikub Junior? It was painful to try and play with the boys. No one under the age of ten in this house understands the concept of keeping your pieces a secret! J yelled out everything he got and kept tipping his tile-holder over. G wasn't paying attention, so J kept looking at his pieces. Oh well. There's time.
One day, I'll write about my game playing issues. I'm just glad I didn't pass them on to my kids.
Today was a totally different type of snow day. Both kids were home and my husband was working from home. It was not that much fun for me.
Hubby working from home means lots of phone calls. The kids can't stay quiet unless there's duct tape involved. I've seen how that has worked out for other parents. I don't want jail time, thank you very much. He was downstairs in the library/office, which is right near the kitchen and living room. Finally I sent him up to our room so that there was at least a door between his phone and the herd of elephants/pack of hyenas.
G, in all his ADHD glory, can be very quiet and industrious with his medicine. Add J? There's arguing, yelling, stomping, whining, crying, hitting, etc. This made today an unusual snow day since J usually still goes to daycare when the weather is bad. Hubby takes him on-time or late, so G and I can have some peace and quiet. No one has left the house today to go any farther than the mailbox.
On the upside, I have discovered that G can enjoy card and board games. J isn't very good at it, but G is in his prime. I love Uno, so that's awesome. I'm not such a fan of Chutes and Ladders, but I was a good sport and played nicely. Rummikub Junior? It was painful to try and play with the boys. No one under the age of ten in this house understands the concept of keeping your pieces a secret! J yelled out everything he got and kept tipping his tile-holder over. G wasn't paying attention, so J kept looking at his pieces. Oh well. There's time.
One day, I'll write about my game playing issues. I'm just glad I didn't pass them on to my kids.
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