ADHD Moms of ADHD Kids--Giving Yourself a Break

Do you have ADHD? Are you a mom? Does one or more of your children have ADHD? I just want to give you a hug and say, "You poor thing. I know exactly how you feel." I know about the teachers sending notes home that your ADHD child didn't return a paper because you forgot to sign it. I know about missing important deadlines, like signing your ADHD child up for the Gifted and Talented program, because you forgot to check his backpack. I know about the non-ADHD child saying, "Mom, you forgot to pack our lunches--AGAIN."

I know. I know what it's like to be an ADHD mom of an ADHD child. I know. And I'm sorry you have to go through it.

But I'm glad for your child, because he or she has the best possible combination of parenting traits--someone who loves him because he is, and someone who knows exactly what it's like to be an ADHD kid.

As someone who knows what it's like to raise an ADHD child while trying to remember to tie my own shoes before I walk out the door in the morning (or even to put them on--I once drove to the bus stop barefoot!), I can tell you, you're doing a good job.

How do I know? Two reasons. First, you're reading an article about ADHD instead of the latest fashion trends. You're trying. Second, I know that people with ADHD are incredibly hard-working, bright and creative, not necessarily in that order. I know that we make excellent parents because we're able to see what's really going on. And I know you're a great mom because of your ADHD and not in spite of it.

I want to tell you a story. It's short, and it has everything to do with being an ADHD mom of an ADHD child, in my case a son.

When Jack was about six, I took him to a counselor. She was chatting with him and he mentioned a movie he'd just seen, Rug Rats All Growed Up. Samara asked my brilliant ADHD son "How did the characters change when they were grown up?" Jack proceeded to tell her exactly how they went forward in time by turning a tape player into a time machine. Samara looked confused, but with my own ADHD, I followed every twist and turn of logic. I said, "You wanted to know how they were different. What you asked was how they changed, and that's what he's telling you." And of course it was. My ADHD brain understood his ADHD brain, where the counselor, though well-trained and very good at her job, just couldn't keep up with us.

That night in my bathtub I realized my role in life. As an ADHD mom of an ADHD son, my job is to serve as his liaison to the world, until he's learned enough about living with ADHD to be his own liaison. And the way he'll learn about the world through ADHD-tinted glasses is by my tutelage.

So give yourself a break. No, he may not return his report card the next day, because you put it in the refrigerator instead of his backpack. She may have to borrow lunch money from the office--every other day. But you're the mom, and you're doing a great job. Pat yourself on the back if they have on two of their own shoes that match. ADHD is no picnic, for parents or kids. You've got a double headache. I won't tell you to make lemons out of lemonade, but I will tell you, it's okay. It will all be okay.