If you give a mom an Autism Speaks gift card...

It's no secret that a large majority of my followers are following because they saw one of my posts on the Autism Speaks site. So I do not have to explain to you readers who they are and what they do. 

Autism Speaks has been really good to me and to Tate. Most recently, a representative of the online shop (http://bit.ly/2dOLZAy) sent us some merchandise to review. Knowing Tate as they do, there was a hoodie in the box. If you have followed us long at all you will know Tate puts a hoodie on in September and doesn't take it off until the end of May. He is a connoisseur of hoodies. He loved the Autism Speaks hoodie. It just so happened it came the evening before his birthday and he wore it on his birthday, proudly. 

I was asked to choose some things to review or blog about and was excited. I was excited, but it still took me two or three days to look at everything the shop had to offer. It was because I kept getting called away. The kids needed me. The phone rang. I had appointments. And one thing kept leading to another. 

And because of my love of the picture book series by Laura Numeroff, I was reminded of the mouse who is so distracted by everything around him, as I was trying to place that order! I decided to cartoon what it is like for a busy mom to shop online sometimes. 

Use this link to go to the Autism Speaks shop. If you place an order or buy a loved one a gift card, let them know that Lisa and Tate from Quirks and Chaos sent you.  http://bit.ly/2dOLZAy

And I'd love to hear what you liked best in the shop!

What Does ADHD Mean?

What does ADHD mean?

If you Google ADHD, you will learn that the acronym stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and you will read about distractibility, hyperactivity, and impulsivity.

If you go to a medical professional for answers, chances are you will be given pamphlets, and told of medications that might help.

Educators and friends might tell you that ADHD is way over-diagnosed, and often a parent’s made-up excuse for a child who is undisciplined at home.

The best place to go for a true understanding of ADHD is into the home of a family who lives with it. My twelve-year-old daughter has ADHD. I’d like to tell you what ADHD is like for us.

For my daughter, ADHD means waking up in the morning with no desire to linger in bed or stretch and rub her eyes. ADHD means waking up in the morning and jumping out of bed, eyes wide open, and ready to run a race. ADHD means she believes everyone in the house should also be up and ready to run beside her. ADHD does not believe in sleeping in.

ADHD means she might forget to take her pajamas off before she pulls her clothes on. Or she might remember to pull the pajamas off and forget to put the clothes on.

ADHD means not being able to sit still long enough to eat a bowl of cereal, tie her shoes, or even go to the bathroom.

ADHD means she strives to fill every moment with noise and movement. If she runs out of things to say, then she will sing, bark, moo, or even cluck like a chicken. There is no room for calm or silence.

ADHD means playing too rough, spilling things, breaking things, knocking things over, and constant apologies. But then repeating what she just apologized for.

ADHD means never knowing what page the teacher is on, and wondering how the other kids always seem to know.

ADHD means she asks half a dozen questions in rapid succession but never waits for an answer, because she cannot stop her mind from wandering from one topic to the next.

ADHD means she forgets to bring her homework home every single night.

ADHD means she is often distracted from the task at hand by things the rest of us do not even notice: a squeaky chair, a dripping faucet, the flicker of a light, a voice in the hall, a movement across the room, or a dog barking outside.

ADHD means that other kids avoid her because she is a lot of work to be around.

For me, ADHD has meant constant interruptions, visual schedules and reminders, going over the rules repeatedly, hoping this time she will remember, while knowing she probably will not. 

ADHD has meant I have to model a quiet voice and talk often about volume. ADHD does not believe in whispering.

ADHD has meant pulling the car over to put my child back into her seatbelt, holding on tight to her hand when we go out in public, and constant reminders about safety.

ADHD has meant awkward explanations to family, friends, and acquaintances for my daughter’s behavior.

ADHD has meant medications that were hard to afford, but even harder NOT to afford. And getting those meds into her mouth as soon as possible in the morning.

ADHD has meant dreading the first hour of the day and watching the clock, waiting for the meds to kick in. Then, indescribable relief when they do, because my daughter is going to be able to organize her thoughts, have real conversations, follow multistep instructions, and learn for the next few hours. And there will be bouts of quiet. Oh how I used to take quiet for granted. 

ADHD has meant meetings with teachers and requests for help and understanding. And apologies.

ADHD has meant losing my patience over and over again, and having tremendous feelings of guilt for not being more understanding. 

ADHD has meant lots of giggles, silly misunderstandings, fun games, made up words, a huge imagination that never stops, hugs and back rubs.

ADHD has meant learning to parent differently, realizing that no amount of discipline can fix ADHD. ADHD has helped me to find buckets and buckets of perseverance and compassion I had no idea I had. ADHD means I work harder and longer, knowing that she is worth it all. 

                                (By the way, Riley is a doll.)

If you liked this post, you might also like to read what it is like to go shopping with my little girl. The Air Freshener Incident

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The Air Freshener Incident

I normally go into Walmart on my own, solo, unaccompanied, without kids, unattached, unaided and alone (but not lonely), intentionally unassisted, in order to do my shopping without incident. “What kind of incident?” you ask. That’s right. Not all of you have spent time with my Sydney.

Sydney is truly a unique young lady who marches to the beat of her own drum. Sydney has no filter. If she thinks it, she says it. If she sees it, she touches it. If she likes it, she needs to own it. In a nutshell, there is rarely a dull moment when Sydney is around. She keeps things interesting. 

Sometimes when I take Sydney places, “things” happen. Things happen that should only happen in sitcoms to fictional families, or in silly children’s books, never in reality. The author Barbara Parks wrote a series of books about a little girl named Junie B Jones that my older kids and I enjoyed very much. Sometimes I wonder if Junie B came to life, and is living in my home. Only I call her Sydney P.  

My kids were out of school today for a teacher workday. And I needed a few things from Walmart. Against my better judgment, and because my list was very short, I took Sydney with me into Walmart. Milk is one of those things that cannot wait and we were out. So I threw caution to the wind, and drove to Walmart. I rationalized that Sydney and I could get in and out of the store quickly and I gave her a pep talk in the car before we entered the store. I was determined there would be no drama, and I would not give Sydney the opportunity to disrupt my mission.

Three minutes in, as we turned down an aisle to grab a cleaning product on my list, Sydney caught sight of the air fresheners. She became hyper-focused on those and stopped to look at them, hands on hips.

Knowing that she had to talk fast, because I was not slowing down, she loudly told me that we had an urgent need in our home for an air freshener. I looked back over my shoulder and told her to catch up, and that air fresheners were not on my list today.

Now, Sydney does not speak quietly, nor does she understand the concept of being discrete. We were not alone in the aisle, and Sydney’s claim that our home was in need of an air freshener drew the attention of at least four people. In order to make her case, and guarantee that an air freshener make it into our cart, Sydney began to describe the smell that she was sure enveloped our home. The people in the aisle all looked at me. They were not even pretending to look at anything on the shelves.

I asked Sydney again to move away from the air fresheners, assuring her (mostly for the benefit of the people listening) that we do not have the unseemly odors in our home that she was describing. But Sydney did not take a step. Instead she bent down to examine the different fragrances more closely. I walked back toward her and quietly told her that we needed to move on.

“Mom. Why are you whispering?” she said. “We need to talk about the smell I keep smelling in my room! Last night I couldn’t even sleep. It was so awful. I’m pretty sure an air freshener would really help.”

It just so happens that I go into Sydney’s room several times each day. I had been in her room that very morning to put away laundry. There was no odor. There is no odor. And I told her as much while she was bent down inspecting all the Glade, Renuzit, and Febreeze containers. She wasn’t listening, but I could see out of my peripheral vision that everyone else in the aisle was leaning in and had heard it all. And the crowd had grown slightly. I briefly wondered if one of those folks might even offer to buy an air freshener for the poor little girl whose mom had her living in a room with a stench.

“Mom. Do you know how these things work? I don’t even see how you open them. Do you have to take all the paper off to smell them?”

I tried again. “Sydney. There is NO smell in your room. We don’t need an air freshener.”

So, she changed tactics. “Mom. You know that smell when we make a fire outside to roast hotdogs and the wood is burning? I smell THAT smell in my room sometimes too.”

And as one more person walked into the congested aisle, I reached down and picked up an air freshener, tossed it into the cart, and hurried away, chin held high.

That air freshener is on Sydney’s dresser this evening and she comes into the living room every few minutes to tell me how wonderful her room smells.

If only those folks at Walmart could hear THAT.

If only I had waited and gone to Walmart tomorrow. We could have lived without milk for twenty-four hours. 

If this story made you giggle and you want more be sure and find us on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. 

The above is just one of hundreds of stories I could tell. Here are two I have illustrated:

   

If you liked this post, you might like to read another. Saturday morning with Sydney

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