First Post -- Why this? Why now?

Well, here I am blogging. I have so many other things to do, but right now, this is what I choose. I don't know if anyone will want to read what I write, but I am guessing that, if you live the life I do, you might. I have two wonderful, lovely, delightful children. One is a "perfect child" -- she puts things away without asking, offers to help, tries to work out fights between her friends, gets great grades without obvious effort, and last night, she Googled "books for advanced second grade readers". No joke. Then, her face lit up when she got a four page long list ("FOUR pages, Mama!! How will I ever read them all?!?") If I walk down the second grade hallway at school, I am immediately lept upon by staff members telling me how positively delightful she is. Naturally, I love her to bits.

I also have a boy who has been diagnosed with ADHD and an anxiety disorder. If anyone with an ADHD child is reading this, you know what I mean when I say he is also perfect, and it goes without saying that I love him to bits as well. But the walk down the fourth grade hallway at school is very different. The teachers and staff that I like give me a knowing, humor-filled smile (they have found his magic, and that's why I like them); the others often simply choose to act like my boy doesn't exist. I, in turn, have chosen to act like they don't exist. It keeps the anger away. Anyway, are there any Simpsons fans out there? He is my Bart. And like Bart, he makes me laugh.

That, right there, is why I am writing this. He makes me laugh like nobody else does. And during the times when he has made my cry or made my hair turn gray like nobody else does, I have wanted somewhere to go to remember the funny things. Or at least I have wanted to remember that we are not the only ones dealing with these things, funny or not. So when something happens and I just know that that something does not happen in the organized houses with the well-behaved children and the wonderfully nice (but inwardly smug) parents, I will write it here. Hopefully, we can all have a chuckle!

For the sake of privacy, I will refer to my boy as C and my girl as M. Confusing? Impersonal? Yes and yes, but I didn't get their permission to write about them, and if ever I make money off of this, it is mine (hear that, C??). So, I will start with a short intro to my wonderful boy by telling a story from just last week.

My dear husband recently ventured out onto the basketball court for the first time in about 10 years, where he lasted for, perhaps 30 minutes before rupturing his achilles tendon. Go team!

So here we were, a week and a half and one surgery later, with my husband in a cast. As anyone who has had a cast knows, the shower requires a very high-tech preparatory process involving a large, plastic trash bag and a roll of duct tape, which we keep in the bathroom (it does wonders for the decor -- it adds that je ne sais quois that the dead plants just can't achieve alone). This particular morning, the hubby calls out to me and asks what I did with the duct tape. While it is certainly possible that I wandered past the bathroom, spotted the duct tape and started feverishly ripping and taping, I really didn't think that had happened recently. Then we both look at each other, smile and start speculating on the duct tape creation we would undoubtedly find soon, in C's room if we were lucky, in the living room if we were less so. I get a spare roll of duct tape -- we have lots -- and move on.

One hour later, while putting everything together for school, I notice that C's backpack was zipped. Hmmm. That never happens. I never knew until that moment that C even knew how to operate a zipper. I do, however, and I operate that zipper to see what was inside. Ta da! The duct tape. So I pull it out and hold it aloft for my darling boy to see and, hopefully, explain. He stops shoveling cereal into his mouth like it's the last time he'll ever see cereal and looks up. After a beat, his face lights up with that special, whole-head grin that he never gets while he's on his meds. No words are necessary, until he throws this little gem at my back as I leave to return the duct tape to its proper place: "I bet you're thinking that I was going to take that to school and tape someone's mouth closed." Grin.

If any other parents of ADHD-ers are out there, I would bet that you have experienced many of these moments. You stand there, and all sorts of dissonant thoughts and feelings bombard you from all directions. The news report on your son's school exploits, complete with the Superintendent's statement, flashes through. The quick weighing of the pros and cons of duct-taping the child to his chair until he wises up zips by (this idea was rejected...again). Then there is a glance at the clock to see if it is socially appropriate to have a glass of wine (no, 7:45 am is pushing it in most countries). Then, there is the picture of the whole-head grin and the simultaneous smashing together of love, humor and the most poignant fear that he will some day impulse himself right into some real trouble.

So, I turn around, walk over to him, look him straight in the eyes, hoping that this will focus his attention, and tell him that he is never, NEVER to tape a child's mouth closed. I go through the consequences (feeling it necessary to explain that, if the story did make the news, his name would not be mentioned, so he would not get famous). And I hope he has heard me. He says he has, and I will have to go with that.

So that is the idea. So much of what happens here is humorous, sometimes only because no harm came of it. Sometimes it is not so humorous, but that's life. This is an experience I never thought I would have, and it is an experience that many people don't even know exists. I wouldn't trade it for the world.