The ADD Kid

Our oldest, Rebecca, is 10. She is an amazing kid: wonderfully kind, funny, smart, a sucker for animals. She has her own pet-sitting business. She's in the talented and gifted program at school. She also has ADD.

Some people don't understand this. There was the neighbor, for instance, who scoffed when I told her that Rebecca had seen the neighbor's cat in our yard, right before we had to take our cat to the vet due to a bite. "This is the kid who lost my house key," the neighbor said. "Well, you believe her if you want to." And the fact is that, yes, Rebecca did lose this lady's house key when she was pet-sitting for them; she went to a movie and put it in her jeans pocket, refusing to leave it at home because the key was "my responsibility, Mom." So of course she misplaced it, and she was embarrassed, and she cried, but the damage was done. Rebecca was right about the neighbor's cat, by the way--I've seen it half a dozen times in our yard since myself--but that doesn't matter. "I am well aware of Rebecca's issues," the neighbor said icily when I tried to explain to her that ADD has nothing to do with character or trustworthiness. A kid who can lose a house key is...well, what else need be said? Whether Rebecca was just born defective, or whether her defects are the result of our lousy parenting I don't know, though I'm sure my neighbor has it all figured out. When she sees me now, she gives me a big fake smile. My children are quiet and well-behaved! her smile says. Yours are unruly and loud. That makes me a good mom, and you a bad mom. Isn't it obvious?

Kids with ADD can be brilliant or average; ADD is not a mark of intelligence. ADD is like having a musical group which lacks a conductor. The group may be a garage band; it may be the London Philharmonic--but whatever it is, it has trouble getting its act together. When something is out of Rebecca's sight, it's gone--pffft! She has trouble writing things down (and her handwriting is awful anyway)--but she's a whiz at the computer. She knows how to program the remote way better than I do. Her mind works on large concepts--she's the kid who asked me recently, "Mom, what is a liberal?"--but ask her what her math assignment is and you'll draw a blank stare. It's frustrating as hell to live with. To be the person experiencing it must be frustrating as hell to the 10th power--and this probably explains why ADD kids are prone to tantrums. Rebecca's tantrums are legendary. The first one she ever threw, at 18 months, got the two of us kicked out of public building in downtown Washington D.C. As she got older, she managed to keep herself more or less together at school. Home was where she let the fury out, and the person who got the full force of it was usually me. That's a whole book, right there.

ADD causes social problems. Kids with ADD tend to interrupt a lot; they have no brake between brain and mouth. To other people, this probably seems rude. Sometimes Rebecca conveys the impression of being completely tuned out of what's being said to her. I know that she's probably heard it, but other people think she is zoned out or just showing how bored she is with them. She also has trouble reading social cues: if someone brushes up against her in the hall, she's unable to tell whether it was purely accidental or some kind of harassment--and the default option, for her, is to get mad. "Maybe she didn't mean to, honey." "Yes she DID, I hate her and I'll never speak to her again!"  And I wasn't there. How do I know?

Rebecca has two or three good friends, girls I cherish because they are capable of seeing past her quirks and able to appreciate who she is--but they have other friends, too, and schedules of their own. Most kids just give her a wide berth. There are two moms of my acquaintance--the cat lady is one--who do not allow their children to play with her. Or maybe it's me they object to; since I've obviously screwed up Rebecca, they may be afraid my bad parenting will taint their own children. Whatever the reasons, the consequence is that Rebecca spends a lot of time by herself. Two days ago, I was telling her a funny story about a trip to Paris I made with my friend Ann 20 years ago, and the misadventures we had there. The stories had Rebecca laughing, a sound I love to hear, and so I didn't think too much about it when she said, "I wish I had a friend like that." But later, it dawned on me what she meant: she wanted a friend she could be wholly herself with, a friend for whom she was not "my friend with ADD"  or "my friend with the problems" and not a friend who, she secretly suspects, has to "put up" with her at times. Maybe she already does, and she just doesn't give those friends enough credit. I don't know. All I know is that she is lonely. She rarely complains. But I know.

If you are a parent and you have a kid with ADD, you have a new part-time job. It's called "writing memos to teachers." Also chauffeuring: there's a formidable array of doctor and therapist appointments that go along with this, not to mention social skills groups--if you're lucky enough to find one near you. You also get to experience grammar school and middle school (and high school, too, I'm sure) all over again. When your kid has homework, you have homework. This weekend was science fair weekend. I loathe science fair--to me, it teaches kids to hate science--but there it is, it has to be done, and around here it meant last night about a three-hour siege of screaming and tears and threats to leave home and wails of  "I HATE THIS!!" When it was all over, my hands were shaking and my husband was tight-lipped and furious. It's like that a lot around here. Other families have regular old weekends going to the mall or to soccer games or just hanging out at home. At our house, it's a terrific weekend if we get through it without a meltdown.

At a party a week ago, I sat beside a woman whose son is now in his mid 30s. The son had ADD, or some kind of learning disability, but when he was in grammar school people didn't know as much about ADD and so he was never diagnosed. He was hard to handle--rebellious, refused to do his homework, an academic underachiever despite his obvious intelligence. His parents were at a loss. "Did you ever feel like other parents blamed you?" I asked her. "Of course," she answered quietly. "All the time." Her son is doing okay these days; he has a job and a stable relationship after many years of turmoil. She told me that he'd called her one day, out of the blue, to say, "Thanks, Mom, for being such a great mom."

She was thunderstruck. "Honey, what did I ever do right?" she asked.

"You never gave up on me," he said, and as she told me this story, tears ran down her face.

This morning, I was in my office Googling "ADD" and "private schools" when Rebecca crept into the room behind me. "I'm sorry, Mom," she said quietly. I turned and put my arms around her, my head against her chest, and I could hear her heart beating. She knows I love her; I didn't have to say it. And she knows this, too: I will never give up on her.

Comments

[Amy]

I'm with Virginia; you're allowed to secretly wish that neighbor mom gets humbled a bit.

Thanks for the reminder (via the mom of the adult child with ADD) that the work we're doing right now, when the kids are small, does matter.

[Sandy D.]

Oh man, your post rang so many bells. My son is often lonely, or afraid he's a "freak", and our next door neighbors, while not so blatant as your queen bitch next door, are definitely very cautious about letting their kids play with my son.

Right now I'm experiencing the joys of 5th grade math. I'm as happy as he is on the nights that there's no homework.

[Amy]

YOu're a great mom, and that brought tears to my eyes.

[Virginia]

I will come kick your neighbor's ass if you want me to. Women like that infuriate me, and one day I bet her kids come home as strung out, pregnant high school dropouts.

But seriously - it sounds to me like you are doing a great job, as hard as it is, with Rebecca. And she knows you love her - which is the most important thing of all.

[Abigail]

Your blog continually inspires me. My son has not been diagnosed with ADD/ADHD but he is definitely spirited and a challenging child to raise. I was have been feeling judgment from other parents recently and this sentence really resonated with me:

My children are quiet and well-behaved! her smile says. Yours are unruly and loud. That makes me a good mom, and you a bad mom. Isn't it obvious?

Those people need to take a step back and realize that it isn't always the parenting that is causing the behavior, good or bad.

Your daughter is lucky to have you for her mom.

[rebel]

I would tell you that my wonderful 10 year old ADD girl is making great strides just in the last 2 months both with anger outbursts and with organization. But I'm afraid to mention it in case that jinxes things for us.

Your daughter has a great mom.

[madmommy]

Does your daughter have a para with her at school? That's what I do, at the high school level although I've also done middle school. It would really help her with keeping track of things. She sounds like a great kid. Part of why I do what I do is to give these kids someone to cheer them on, when they sometimes feel no one is listening or caring. Give her a big hug for me; she is going to go places, and I truly believe she'll find that true friend.

[jenn]

Also, I think you are a great mom. And your neighbor sounds like a complete bitch on wheels. As you travel down life's highway, sometimes we all encounter assholes like that... maybe best that all kids learn that early! :-)

[jenn]

Thanks so much for this... my son is only 3, but he's already been diagnosed with ADHD. (Yeah, I know that's young, but we're pretty sure.) I think it's good for me to be gearing up for what's ahead!

[Patricia]

Oh how the memories flood in reading your post. And to this day I still wish I had a friend like she wants I think my Mom is as close as it will ever get.