Parenting Causes Adult-Onset ADHD

I used to be able to focus on things for more than a few minutes at a time.  I could work on a task for hours and have my mind completely engaged in that task the entire time, until it was all finished.  Now, I find myself getting antsy for a change after 10 minutes.  That means I can get through about four pages of a book, a tv show until the first commercial, a dishwasher load of dishes, or using two candy crushing lives.  Anything that takes longer than that ten minutes has very little chance of getting done in one sitting.  I find myself even having a difficult time completing a thought or long sentence.

So, what happened to my attention span?  Where did it go??  I'll tell you where it went...it was flat out stolen from me and here are the thieves:

 

Cute, aren't they?  Who would've thought they would be able to perpetrate such a crime against someone who has devoted her life to keeping them alive?  I'm pretty sure they took my attention span and sold it for candy money.

Ok, to be fair, there are a few positives to having a short attention span.  I've become a pro at breaking tasks up into small chunks and dividing my attention between multiple and completely unrelated things.  I can bathe a child, jammie them, brush their teeth, and have them kissed and in bed in 15 minutes flat. I can play...uh, lose...a game of Candyland faster than most people take to do a long division problem.  I can cook four different dinners in 20 minutes.  I can have meaningful conversations with three people at the same time.  I can stop in the middle of a sentence, fill a sippy cup with chocolate milk, and finish the sentence and still make sense to the person I'm talking to.  I can identify with a toddler with a naturally short attention span on a whole new level.  I can listen to my husband vent about work while writing a blog post.

Also, to be fair...I'm pretty sure that my kids didn't really steal my attention span...I kinda just gave it to them...freely...along with my heart.

Positive Thoughts and Introspection

For as long as I have had conscious thoughts about how I think and function as a human being, I've believed with all my heart that if I can just learn something from a bad experience I can get through it and be ok.  I've also always told myself that, even if I'm not ok right this second, there will come a time when I will be.  While I wouldn't call my life anymore difficult or fraught with disaster than anyone else's life, life has been varying degrees of difficult, especially during the last 10 years. I've found myself having an increasingly difficult time maintaining my personal philosophies that keep me focused on the positive. I'm pretty certain that even the most positive people go through this and I know, without a doubt, that so many people are struggling much more than I am on any given day. Life has a way of beating the positive right out of you, leaving you clinging with your fingernails to what you know and what brings you comfort.  I thought I should take some time to share what I know and what brings me comfort...maybe it will help someone...I know it will refocus my thoughts in a more positive direction.

I need people.

I need to have a relationship with God and have faith in the Savior.

I have to hope and have faith.

I've had more good things happen in my life than bad things.

I am loved...adored.

I am capable of living.

My kids give me reason to function.

I need beauty in my life.

Beauty can be found anywhere.

Music makes me happy.

I need to cry.

I need to laugh.

I have choices.

If I fill my life with more and more positives, there won't be as much room for negatives.

It's good to just breathe and be still.

I've had ample evidence that all of these things are true for me. Sometimes I have to take a beat and remind myself of all that evidence but I really don't need to search too deeply to find it.  Life is simple, people are complicated...and I'm no exception. I could fill my days with complaining, resenting, apathy and all kinds of negative thoughts processes...and if I'm going to be truthful, I have to admit to filling more than one day this way. It doesn't accomplish a darn thing, though. Focusing on what I can do, in this one little moment, to make my life brighter accomplishes truckloads more than all those negatives. Why it seems easier to focus on negatives than it is on positives is one of life's great mysteries that I hope to figure out some day. Until then, join me in trying to focus on all the amazing things going on in this beautiful life we share.

A Boy and His Butter

I took 4 year-old Bennet to Walmart with  me today. Before we left the house, he asked me if he could take Butter with him.  Let me explain "who" Butter is: Butter is a pink stuffed leopard with sparkly eyelids and a pink t-shirt sprinkled with multi-colored rhinestones. He named her Butter because "she's smooth." He adores Butter, and if a stuffed animal has feelings, then surely Butter adores Bennet. He used to tell us that Butter was his girlfriend, but now he tells us that she is his daughter. They do everything together, he talks to her - telling Butter all of his happy thoughts and sad thoughts. She is fond of gymnastics and is a great dancer...according to Bennet. Recently, it was discovered that Butter has lasers in her eyes so that she can take care of any nasty bad guys that might be lurking in dark corners. In a nutshell...Butter is the most awesome stuffed animal to ever have existed!

Back to our trip to Walmart: I told Bennet that Butter was very welcome to join us on our trip to the store as long as she didn't wander off and get lost. He assured me that Butter would be on her best behavior, and off we went.  When we got to the store, we chose our cart and Bennet decided to ride while holding Butter tightly on his lap. He was all smiles and so happy with his little friend close by.

I was finally able to tear my eyes away from my precious son and take a look around me.  What I saw made me feel a little angry - an old woman giving me and my son a look of pure disgust.  And she wasn't the only one to give us that look as we made our way through the store.  The offenders seemed to all be of the older persuasion and I returned each and every look with my biggest and proudest momma smile.

I've gone through times when I was less than tolerant of other human beings, for a whole big variety of reasons. But as I make my way through this life, I'm learning a few things. First of all, I've learned that I usually NEVER have the entire story and that to make any kind of judgement without knowing someone's entire story, is wrong.  Secondly, life's too short to worry about what other people think.  I don't want to decide not to do something that I really want to do because I'm afraid other people might not approve and I don't want my kids to live that way either.  Living honestly and authentically is becoming more and more important to me as time goes by.  I want my kids to feel free to be who they are...because, in my opinion...they (and their stuffed animals) are amazing!

To Complain or Not To Complain...That is the Question

Let me begin with my parents.  My dad was the very definition of stoicism.  Every day, he felt tremendous pain from arthritis and severe discomfort from psoriasis that covered most of his body. The medication he took to help with those made him horribly tired and nauseous. Because of the psoriasis, he also wore long sleeve shirts as he worked long hours as an industrial electrician in the desert heat. Aside from the occasional grimace when he stood up from his recliner or a deep sigh when he thought no one was listening, he never complained.  I only remember him taking a sick day once. Instead of complaining, he was more apt to make jokes about his crooked fingers, such as being able to point around corners with his right index finger which was permanently bent at a 90 degree angle by arthritis.  If ever there was a person who had the right to vent his frustration regarding the disappointment his body was to him, it was my dad...but he never did.  To me, he was the supreme example of pushing through and getting it done.

My mom also had her share of health problems - severely broken bones, head injuries, gall bladder surgery, and cancer - most of it before I was even born (with the exception of the cancer which happened a short year after I was born.)  I never heard any complaints from her regarding those health related issues, instead she spoke of them as things she overcame...and was proud of overcoming.  She also had a rough up-bringing that left it's lingering presence on her soul throughout her life.  Mom was quite a bit more transparent with her emotions and it was clear to everyone around her what she was feeling at any given time. Negative comments would pass her lips, usually directed at herself and her feelings were easily injured. Even though she didn't have an abundance of positive feelings about herself, she was somehow able to make me believe that I was a spectacular person with no equal.

Mom and Dad were different creatures when it came to expressing their emotions.  You might think that two such different approaches to emotions wouldn't be able to exist harmoniously, but in the case of my parents, not only was it harmonious, it was how they both survived.  They successfully faced down any problems that came at them only because they had each other.

Growing up, I wanted to have the best qualities that both of my parents had. I wanted to be brave and stoic, like my dad, and I wanted to be able to make my own kids feel loved beyond comprehension, like they could accomplish anything they wanted to.  As an adult, I find my self with many of the same health problems that my dad had, although, thankfully, not as severe. Am I stoic about them? Maybe to some people, but I don't really see myself being all that stoic when I have thoughts of resentment about having to take medication so that I can lift my 4 year old onto my lap or carry him upstairs to bed when he's fallen asleep in my arms. I'm still haunted by memories of almost dying in the hospital after giving birth to him.  I complained mightily about the endless parade of difficulties we encountered as we dealt with infertility and the challenges of adoption.  After we were finally able to have the children we so desperately wanted, I found myself having thoughts such as "What was I thinking?" and desperately looking forward to solo trips to the grocery store. My emotions are completely transparent, just like Mom's...to the point that I frequently hear my children asking me if I'm ok. The other day, my oldest child asked me if I hate homeschooling...what the heck am I doing that would make him ask that??  These days, I don't usually see myself as the spectacular person my mom told me I was.  In fact, I occasionally see myself as a spectacular failure.  It's so much easier to see the things that I could be doing better with than it is to give myself credit for the good things I'm doing.

I wanted so desperately to be the best of my parents, and in some respects, I guess I am.  However, I think the life lesson here is...I am unique, I am not my parents, I succeed and fail at things every day...just like every other person on the planet.  Despite my failings, my husband and children adore me and the children will probably not turn out to be serial killers.  I am me...some days I'm a train wreck...but some days I really am spectacular!

Job Well Done (mostly)

My kids are definitely doers - they're always doing things. Most times, those things aren't directed toward any particular purpose, but at times, the tasks they choose actually contribute to the overall functioning of our home. I've been reading a book (an amazing feat in and of itself!) entitled Cleaning House: A Mom's Twelve Month Experiment to Rid Her Home of Youth Entitlement and it's really got me thinking about how to make sure I'm raising my children so that they are able, at some point in the future, to take care of themselves.  I've realized that I'm guilty of stepping and taking over their tasks for them if I think it's not going quite like it should or if it's just taking longer than I have patience for. The problem is, this isn't helpful to them, in the long run. However, the other thing I've realized while reading this book, is that my kids really do know how to pull at least part of their weight when it comes to household chores. For example, my son, Hayden, is my go-to guy. I can ask him to do pretty much anything around the house and he's up for it, whether it's making a sandwich for a sibling, sweeping the floor, or fixing my internet connection. He's always been very proud of his accomplishments in this arena...

At age 5, Hayden decided it was time to learn how to do laundry, so he gathered up the dirty clothes...

and made his way carefully downstairs.

He sorted...

and lifted...

and stuffed the washing machine.

Putting soap in required a bit of a climb.

Oops! Forgot something in the bottom of the hamper!

He followed my instructions for turning the washing machine on.

The best part...he really knew that he had accomplished something phenomenal!

This little laundry experiment set the bar pretty darn high for Hayden and for his younger siblings. They can all clean floors, empty the dishwasher, wash, fold and put laundry away, clean bathrooms (and clean them well), and do most any household task I set them to...including windows! My kids may not grow up to be brain surgeons or rocket scientists, but they will most definitely be able to stay clean and take care of their homes!

The Power of Causing a Pause

                 

So, I've started something new at our house called "Cause a Pause." Let me give you a little background about why we needed it and then I'll explain what it is. When you homeschool three kids and have a toddler (the baby in this picture) there are 5 people occupying your home pretty much 24/7 and it takes it's toll on said home. I found myself trying my hardest to be teacher, mom, chef, and the maid and it just wasn't working. Since I can't relinquish my jobs as teacher, mom, or chef (although I'm working on that,) I decided that since the little people in my home are making the majority of the mess, they needed to contribute significantly to cleaning up those messes. After all, it's their home too and they should feel some sense of stewardship over it.  Over the years, I've taught them how to complete many different household tasks and they've been pretty good about getting them done, but usually not without a certain amount of grumbling or whining. What to do, what to do?

Then, I got the idea one day to have the kids stop what they were doing and have them help clean up. Usually when I do that, I get complaining, whining, and "just a minute, Mom." This time, I announced loudly that I was "causing a pause!" Then I told them the rules: 1)Cause a Pause only lasts for 30 minutes, not one second longer. After that no one is allowed to continue cleaning. 2)There are no specific jobs assigned and the entire house is included in the effort. If you see something out of place, pick it up and put it away, even if it doesn't belong to you. If you see garbage, throw it away. If you see dirt, clean it. If it needs to be vacuumed, vacuum it. If it needs to be swept, sweep it. 3)No talking (i.e., arguing, debating, bossing around, etc.) during Cause a Pause, it wastes time and we only have 30 minutes! 4)Bennet is exempt from participation unless he chooses to because we'd waste the entire 30 minutes trying to convince a three-year old to help. 

So far, we've tried this a couple of times and I've been really amazed at the results! I usually tackle the kitchen while the kids go to it and I'll cheer them on from there, shouting words of encouragement, telling them to "hurry, hurry, hurry! We only have 10 minutes left!" I let them know when the 30 minutes is up and give them all high-fives. The house looks fantastic and everyone, though a little tired and sweaty, has a smile on their face and a feeling of accomplishment. 

The "Cause a Pause" doesn't replace everyone's regular chores. Ellie and Madsen still have to put the clean dishes away, empty the garbage, and clean the downstairs bathroom. Hayden still has to scoop the catbox, mow the lawn, and help with the kitchen. Bennet still has to put a detergent packet in the dishwasher and start it. And I still have a bunch of chores too. However, I think this will put a big dent our constant state of clutter without all the whining and complaining.

I Have to Keep Telling Myself it's Worth It

I usually begin my days with a somewhat enthusiastic attitude toward the lessons I'll be trying to teach my children during our school day.  I go over the schedule for each child, I pull all the materials each one will need to complete their lessons, I take a little "me time" to focus my thoughts in a positive direction and say a little prayer, I make sure everyone is fed and clean, and I take a deeeeeeep breath.  Then, I call the children into our schoolroom and that is the point at which all good plans seem to slowly (or sometimes, not so slowly) begin to fall apart. That's not to say that we never stay on schedule or that we rarely accomplish all of that days scholastic tasks - that happens frequently enough for the children to have established an expected routine to their school day.  Sometimes, we have a bad mood to cope with, especially when one of the children has neglected to eat breakfast (after repeated reminders from me.)  Sometimes, it's a busy three year-old brother that has his own plans, frequently including a great deal of various noises, verbal and non-verbal.  Other times, we have anxieties to address - trying to help my kids realize that they really do know the answers they're being asked to find and they don't need me standing over their shoulder verifying each correct answer as they go.  Most of the time, it's a flat out refusal by one certain child to engage in anything remotely resembling something educational...especially reading and writing.  We've been at this homeschool thing for a while now - we are beginning our 7th school year in a couple of weeks.  And yet, I'm always amazed at the creative ways my kids have come up with to derail themselves on any given school day.

I frequently question my methods, my abilities, and my decision to take on this huge undertaking in the first place.  I think I've felt probably every negative emotion a parent and teacher can feel.  I've even gone so far as to price private schools.  And yet, there are those rare moments when I'm given a gift from my children...catching them reading a book for fun, looking up interesting facts about science on the internet, one sibling helping another figure out the instructions for a game, writing down a shopping list for Grandma, typing up some favorite recipes to give to a friend...the list could go on and on.  We have our share of "a-ha" moments and it's very exciting to see that light go on behind their eyes when a foggy concept crystallizes.  Those are wonderful moments in the classroom.  It's wonderful to be able to see measured progress.  But it's at those times when I see them doing real-life things that require applied use of knowledge they've gained in our little homeschool classroom that remind me that all the struggle, for all of us, is completely and utterly worth it.