I know I hadn’t mentioned on here before that my son was diagnosed with ADHD-Inattentive Type. I was keeping it under my hat for several reasons.

First, I don’t “get” how you can have the H for Hyperactive when the Inattentive Type usually means lethargic, daydreamy and very UNhyperactive. When I said “oh, isn’t that just ADD then?” The fancy-shmancy psychiatrist shot me down with a “ADD is an outdated term”. Really? Cause people still use it. Doctor people still use the term. Book authors with many letters after their name still use it.

Second, I wasn’t sure I agreed with the psychiatrist. There were some comments in the report (that I paid $1800 for) that were just flat out wrong. Like, I’d been there and they hadn’t happened, wrong. Not just “I disagree with your interpretation” wrong.

Third, the only time my son manifests these sort of daydreamy, lack-of-focus behaviours is at school. The rest of the time I see him as a bright, imaginative, creative individual that requires a little extra support in the praise and reminders department.

But recent events (the suicide of a colleague) had me questioning my ability to be objective. What if the young-psychiatrist-without-children is right and my son is at risk for depression, drug use, poor school performance and suicide? What if this medication they talk about  really is the wonder-drug they say it is?

So we tried it. Last week we got the prescreption and on Sunday morning he managed to swallow the pill.

And pretty much all hell broke loose.

Depressive state. Facial tic. Stomach aches. Crying jags. Zombie-behaviour. Grumpiness.

And the, at the wonderful hour of 8pm . . . totally awake child who talked to me from 9 pm to 11 pm.

Still, I thought maybe we need to keep going. Even though every little cell in my body was saying “no! stop! no more!” I thought, he needs to have some for Monday so that the teacher can see … or maybe it works better when he’s engaged all day at school.

But my son had other plans. He refused to take the pill. He tried. He gagged. He choked. He cried. Then he said “I don’t want to take it mommy, I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

Enough said.

I know that we could play with the dosage. But this matters not when he won’t swallow the pill. Heck, I couldn’t swallow a pill until I was in my teens!

And you know what? I don’t care to put him on this medication. I don’t care to put him on any medication. In the last two months I’ve learned two very painful lessons about listening to my intuition. Two times when I ignored that small, still voice and did something I didn’t want to do. Or didn’t do something I should have.

Right now, every mother bone in my body is saying no to medicating him. (Note: I’m in no way saying that medication is wrong or doesn’t work, I’ve heard some great stories about how much difference certain medications have made.)

In fact, I’m going to get all Jesus Freak on you and tell you that I distinctly felt God saying “this is the child I gave you, you are the perfect parent for this child, I gave him to you with this special gift”. I laughed a bit, thinking “gift? which gift?”

Then today a friend sent me this article.

Did swimmer Michael Phelps succeed at the Olympics in spite of having attention deficit hyperactivity disorder — or partly because of it?

Olympic champion Michael Phelps. (Doug Mills/The New York Times)

That question is at the center of a debate among doctors, parents and educators in the A.D.H.D. community. Mr. Phelps obviously has physical talents that propelled him to become a world-class athlete. But A.D.H.D. success stories like Mr. Phelps are behind a push for a new view of A.D.H.D. that focuses not just on the limits of the disorder, but its potential.

And my entire body resonated with that message.Yes, said my mother bones. This is not a curse, it’s a gift. Our family doctor said it’s entirely possibly that I have this as well, especially after I read my son’s report and said “this? this is me.” And I happen to like how I am. I see my daydreaming “lack of focus” to be the way that my mind organizes itself. It needs downtime. Like a screen saver for my brain. Lalala… just thinking for a minute here, chillin’, breathing. But my mind is reorganizing, replaying, reshaping, reforming.

I mutter to myself a lot. I find just thinking about emotions immediately causes a body reaction and many times I can’t control it. I lose things. I am oblivious to other people even when they stand next to me and talk (hey, it’s how I write with kids at home!) and I am inherently lazy. (Really.)

But I’m also very ambitious and driven and can focus on something that offers a great reward. That’s key to the ADHD-I, they focus when there’s a big personal pay-off.

We’re still going to look at some homeopathy and possibly visit a naturopath. I’m not denying that he needs extra help focusing in school. His teacher has been wonderful by helping him learn organizational skills. She’s awesome. When I told her that the trial was abruptly stopped before it really began, she was more concerned about his well-being than how he might be “managed” in the classroom.

In the grand scheme of things, with all that is going on in the world, there is little need for more drama. As I write this there are stories playing out on TV of horrible things that have happened: floods, deaths, war, loss. But please bear with me for a moment while I tell you a little story about buying a house.

Do you remember the last post? About buying a house?

Well. We KNEW it would inspect well. We KNEW it. And sure enough, the inspector kept saying “wow” and “they wrote the book on pride of ownership” and “this is a GOOD house”. He was happy to be teaching me these little tidbits about a good house with a good example in front of him. Normally he’d be showing someone a problem and saying “now it should look like . . . ”

Now, we’d been pre-approved for about $40K more than the accepted offer, so we figured we were golden, right?

Um, wrong. See, we were doing the “zero down” thing that they are taking away as of October 15th. We were fitting in under the wire. Except that last week was probably the worst week in the last five years to try and get a mortgage.  The US was imploding; stock markets were roller coasters; companies were being bailed out by governments. We could NOT have timed it worse.

The lender decided that they wanted an appraisal done to make sure that what we were paying for the house was what the house was worth. That way if we default on the mortgage the day after we sign, they can turn around and sell it. This makes NO sense to me because it’s the buyer and the buying market that determines the worth and value of a house. The answer to “what’s it worth” is always “what someone will pay”. The bank doesn’t factor in “one block from Army Boy’s school” or “across the street from where soccer is held each spring”. No, they look at theoretically more concrete things. (What they are, I don’t know..)

It wasn’t enough that the city’s tax assessment put the house’s value at almost $100K more than what we paid (I’m going to have a chat with the city tax department about this one, let me tell you) because that has more to do with what it will cost the city to maintain your street/community/alley etc…

There were miscommunications with the appraisers, they had to come back to appraise it (I think they only did a ‘drive by’ the first time) and they promised a 24 hour turnaround on the report when it took much longer than that… I feel bad that the realtors and the mortgage broker had to do so much work - whatever kind of commission they get, they earned every single penny just having to deal with me. I’m not patient. Factor in that I was sick (fever, ear infection, headache…) and you have a very cranky client.

We were told that yes, we’d been approved for the dollars, just not necessarily on THAT HOUSE. Because the appraisal came by under the purchase price, suddenly the bank didn’t want to insure that mortgage. Or, um, the insurer didn’t want to insure it and so the bank wouldn’t lend it. Something like that. We were qualified to buy, just not any house. The bank wanted their say. In other words, pre-approval means sweet tweet.

The mortgage broker (who I’m sure had better things to do on a Friday night) spent hours on the phone with managers from BC to ON trying to find out how much the silly property had appraised at. Were we talking a difference of $500, $5000 or what?

Finally we heard that it appraised at $5K under the purchase price. Ah, for the wont of $5000. We found the extra $5000 and I signed the paper at 7:55 pm. Just an hour and five minutes before the 9 pm deadline. And about three hours after I’d lost my mind. I was literally sitting in a chair, staring at the roof and almost not caring which direction this deal would go as long as it would be over soon. Actually, now that I think about it, that reminds me a lot of childbirth. “I can’t do this any more, make it stop, make it go away, get it out.”

If you are in Calgary and need a home buying team, please let me recommend Kari & Mark Ashlee as well as Debbie Weiss with ProLink Mortgage.  Bar none, the best team you ever want to have.

My mother emailed me yesterday to say that she’d bought a trampoline for the kids (and for her to exercise on) and asked if I’d have a talk with Army Boy about trampoline safety before they visited (which is today).

I had a minor freak out.

Now some might suggest that you can’t bubblewrap your kids. To you I say: yeah, you’re right. It’s totally too hot and they complain. A lot.

But trampoline injuries can be serious. More serious than regular sports. Mom’s backyard is all cement. The trampoline is apparently full-sized and comes with a net, so hopefully no one will crack their noggin. But it’s not so much my son I’m worried about. It’s the baby. She’s 23 months and doesn’t have that fear gene.

(Nevermind that children under six are not even supposed to be on trampolines. Not “with supervision”, just “not on” them. http://www.consumeraffairs.com/news04/2006/05/trampoline.html, http://www.tortslaw.com/html/trampoline.html)

So is life just supposed to suck now when she goes to Grandma’s? Is she just not allowed on that big toy out in the backyard? It’s stupid, stupid, stupid to tease a kid with a big toy. They go to Grandma’s quite regularly and I can guarantee you that she will want on it every day. Army boy is almost seven, he can understand basic safety instructions. The toddler … not so much. And not for a few years either.

What bothered me most was that no one thought to mention this to me before it was all purchased and was being set up. Yes, I know it’s not at my house so I have no say over its purchase. But if you’ve bought something that is for my kids that is potentially dangerous I want to know first. By not doing so, they undermine my authority by making a large purchase for my kids without any consultation at all. It sends completely mixed messages to the kids. Kind of like the time I didn’t want video games introduced to my son at all since I knew he’d LOVE them and want to play them all the time. He was three. Grandma introduced them. What part of “I don’t want him to play video games” was unclear. Or when they bought the loft bed that was six feet off the hardwood floor for a kid that wasn’t yet five. Then there are unknowns at work, family members I don’t trust who may be asked to watch the kids “for just a minute” while they are on the trampoline.

I don’t know if I’m coming or going right now, I have a large deadline looming and some work to do. One child has slept in and one doesn’t want to go to soccer camp because “it’s booooring”. (I’ll tell you what boring is… spending the day in your room while mommy works.)

But seriously, what would you do?

Just the other day I heard about the third or fourth person putting their life up for sale on ebay. I think if I put my life up there, I’d have to pay
someone to take it way to recycling. I’m being overdramatic. I know. It’s not all that bad.

Allergies (hay fever) are kicking my butt right now. Never in my life have they been so bad. We had two weeks of rain, and now two weeks of hot sunny conditions. I think the plants and their evil pollinators of pain are in overdrive. I’m taking Allegra 24 hour each morning and following up with a decongestant each night and I still wake up simultaneously wanting to scratch behind my eyeballs and eat a box of crackers without chewing so I can scratch the back of my throat. And the sneezing? Did you know you can sneeze in your sleep? Well, you’re asleep until the actual sneeze, which wakes you up. kind of like being dead asleep and having your toddler kick you in the side of the head. Fun!

The book is due in ten days. I just now found the perfect expert on the planet. The one who SHOULD be writing this book but is so happy to see ME writing it. she’s offered to review it before publication. And she may consider it as part of a certification course on the topic we’re both
involved in. Woot woot!

Dad is in town. He hasn’t seen us in over two years. But he’s finally met his granddaughter. she’s not sure what to think of him just yet. Dad is
staying at Mom’s house . they’ve been divorced for about 25 years. mom’s husband doesn’t mind, which is very good of him. Dad’s trying to help out around the house, doing some yard work and what not. But his Fibromyalgia flares up a bit here and there. He was poisoned with a chemical at a place he worked at five years ago and has been fighting “the system” every since. We may find out good news for him in September regarding his case. Send prayers please. His doctors have told him that because of the poisoning they suspect he’ll have dementia, Parkinson’s or Huntington’s within seven years. Dad wants to get his claim payout, buy a boat and go sail around the world. Then if he does get any of the above he’ll die at sea. What? Yeah, I don’t know even what to think about that.

We had a few beers over at mom’s last night and it was like a trip down memory lane. everyone talking about past events, you know how those family gatherings can be. Parts were very funny, parts were treading dangerously close to the Cliff of Calamity, knowing that just a misspoke word could break up the serenity. Parents are weird, I’m sure I’m weird as a parent too. or at least I will be when my kids are more aware of our weirdness. But I think MY parents are weird. I can almost predict their actions. Nothing is a surprise any more. Dad sits back and chuckles and doesn’t say much until there’s a topic he can sink his teeth into and shake it to death with his opinions. Mom is all laughs and jokes until someone offends her by laughing AT her and then she stomps off for quiet time, returning later but never in the jovial mood she started with.
 

The funny/not-funny moment happened when we started talking about my brother’s cat that died 20+ years ago. Mom started telling the story and said “I went to let him out and I shoed him out and pushed the door closed really hard. but he turned to come back in and.” at this point my dad and I both burst in saying “you told us it was the WIND that slammed the door on the cat and killed him!” Not a particularly pleasant topic and poor kitty and all. but we found it hilarious that mom had hidden what really happened for 20 years and then accidentally let it slip. I can understand why she lied to me, I was a kid, dad didn’t understand why she lied to him (newsflash dad, it was because you were kind of a jerkface back then) and we laughed because the story has been re-told a hundred times about that poor fated kitty and I’ve worried about doors and wind and little animals for years because of it. And what else was I going to do? Get mad at her accidental felinicide? It was an accident, sheesh. She got mad and stomped away. (Uh, mom, if you are reading this… I recognize the behaviour because I’ve done it myself many times. And no one was mad about the cat anyway.)

All night I was struck by the incredible genetic mutation that it took to create me. On one hand you can see where I get my personality traits from. Mom and Dad often pointed out “see, that’s you” or “see where she gets it!” but then my opinions are so very different. But mash the personality traits from the two of them together, stick it in a blender and you will get me.

Something that looks so totally different but bears the same properties.

Hubby held his own, a little too well sometimes, making me grit my teeth and mentally hang on when he started grappling with my dad over a specific topic. Hubby knows what I’m like because our opinions are very similar on many political topics and a few social ones. But I’m tired after 30+ years and don’t feel the need to argue with the parental units about many topics. There are very few things we can agree on.

We agree that my brother’s dog was horrible and mean and needed to be put down; we agree that it’s better for a mom to stay home; we agree that drugs are much worse today (in terms of their chemical composition) than the stuff my parents did; we agree that if God wanted us to worry about homosexuality he would have listed it in the top ten; we agree that my kids are awesome.
 

I could write a book about what we don’t agree on. But there is no point.

I am happy that my kids get to see my dad. I wish he were closer, but he chooses to live where he lives and will probably stay there until the court case is settled. Then he might move to one of the islands off the coast of BC. Back to Pender Island I think. If he gets enough money from the settlement (assuming he wins) then he’ll buy a sailboat. We can probably visit then. Right now he lives somewhere very kid-un-friendly with no room for guests.

Anyway, I needed to get some of these things off my chest. thanks for listening.