Label him! He needs it!

Orangeboy and his two antagonists are three competitive siblings. They are close in age and each is smart and unique; so maybe this competitive, jealous edge to their every interaction is probably inevitable, but many days I do so wish I knew the magic recipe for creating siblings who are close, loving and supportive with one another - preferrably the less-than-five-ingredients, crockpot version.
During the course of this weekend, Dear Husband and I were both getting fed up with their competitive jealousy. We were particularly irate about a chronic habit possessed by all three children; but the tendency seems particularly strong in the younger two - Orangeboy and Sister. When one of these children is asked to help out with a task or instructed to complete a chore, he or she will immediately ask "What about (the other two)?"
We, their parents, have repeatedly expressed our disdain for this question. We try to make it clear by repeating emphatic slogans, such as:

"It doesn't matter what THEY are doing! I told you to do THIS!"
"You do what you are asked to do and don't worry about what THEY are doing!"
"Do you think you are being treated unfairly?! Too BAD!"

But they are not motivated or intimidated by these slogan campaigns. They want to be good communists who keep tabs on their siblings and make sure others are being responsible citizens, before they exert too much foolish effort of their own. They don't seem to believe that doing their best and setting one's own standard for excellence will get them ahead in life.

But this is not what this posting is about. All that is just to say that the situation can be frustrating and creates some irritation for us parents. And when you add in Orangeboy's ADHD to the situation, he can be the straw that breaks the camels back. And he almost got his own backside broken this morning. After getting very little help from the children all weekend and continually hearing, "What about them? What about them?", their father gave another big motivational speech about independence and personal responsibility which ended by his saying, "When I tell you to do something I don't want to hear you asking what someone else is doing EVER AGAIN!"

This speech occur just yesterday evening. Orangeboy woke up this morning in a typical unbridled ADHD-kinda mood. As he was jumping around and spinning and babbling, I asked him to go ahead and take his medication and vitamins. He began to sing in a mocking, parrot-like voice,
"What about the other two? What about the other two? What about the other two?"

I was pretty incensed, but wow, he is so fortunate that his father had already left the house! See, he needs that ADHD "label". Having that "label" probably saved his scrawny neck this morning.

The birthday boy

It's my turn to be confused. Orangeboy was all excited. He was counting down the days. His anticipation was growing. Finally, I had to ask!
"What are so excited about? What is it you expect to happen on your birthday? Is there something special you want to do.... because you had better clue us in if there is something you are expecting. The magic birthday fairy won't just grant all your wishes you know."


I wasn't trying to burst his birthday anticipation bubble. It's just that, in our family, birthday celebrations are usually fairly low-key. A few presents, a special meal, maybe a cake if the person isn't one of the family members who is allergic... that's about it. I've planned and thrown parties for the kids in past years, but it's not something I do every year. I just couldn't understand why Orangeboy seemed to be greatly anticipating the day. He hadn't asked for anything special or even expressed any hopes for an event.


As usual, when asked a question that might require introspection, Orangeboy ducked his head and mumbled, "Oh."
He couldn't verbalize a reason for his excitement, so I asked if he was merely excited to become officially 10 years old. He agreed with a nod. I could see this as a possibility because, in his mind, he could now play E-10 rated video games. But I wasn't entirely convinced, so I asked if he was expecting presents. He again agreed that (nod) "maybe" he was.


"Well, you are easy to please. We just acknowledge that you're ten and give you a couple of gifts and you will be happy? That's all it takes to get you so excited?"


Nod - slight grin.

And so, it was. On birthday morn he burst from his room early and stampeded downstairs like he was expecting a pile of gifts, a pony, and a new motorcycle to be waiting for him. But his joy wasn't diminished when he poured himself a bowl of cereal all alone in the empty kitchen. He was munching contentedly when I came down and told him that I had expected to make a special breakfast of pancakes and turkey bacon for him. His head drooped in momentary disappointment; but when I offered to go ahead and cook the bacon, he was all upturned face and slight grin again.


Later, at lunch, we all sat in a booth at the restaurant he had picked and waited for him to finish eating. He wasn't the only one eating lunch, but the rest of us finished our meals long before he did - as usual. Plus he ordered a steak for his birthday lunch and that took all that extra cutting and chewing time. The good news is that now he is TEN and can cut up his own meat! Another sign of Orangeboy's improved maturity happened when he first looked at the kids menu and saw that they had taken the kid steak off. He just said, "Oh well, I can order something else."
There was an incident not too many years ago, in that same restaurant when he wanted a corn dog. Told they didn't have any, he burst into tears and refused to talk to anyone about other possibilities. He is definitely older and wiser. He also graciously agreed to my suggestion that he order the petite sirloin from the regular (adult) menu. He wasn't even bothered by the fact that he was given a kids menu by the server and he is still not an adult and shouldn't be ordering from the "adult" menu. He is actually getting more flexible in his old age and not worrying about breaking rules as much!

He opened a present from his two sibling antagonists and was very excited to receive the exact Bionicle character that his brother wanted! For his gift from his parents, I had decided to take him to the store after lunch and let him pick out whatever he wanted - up to the value of a certain fairly small amount of money. And this wasn't because I was too disorganized or lazy to get something ahead of time (not entirely). It's just that Orangeboy never seems to be able to come up with an object of his desire out of his head. He has to see it to know he might want it - and even then he's not so sure. But as his ten year old self, he picked out a great gift within a few minutes! It was amazing! He was so mature and decisive!

That's what turning ten will do for you folks. He was right to be so excited.

Spectrum of peace and quiet

Sleeping late does not work for Orangeboy. Or it doesn't work for the rest of us. He, of course, LOVES to sleep late. And he likes to stay up later if it means getting in some extra computer time, but an inconsistent schedule for Orangeboy isn't favorable to a peaceful home.
I really should keep him on pretty much the same schedule year round, or just make a slight adjustment during summer vacation - the challenge being that I also like to stay up late and sleep late whenever possible. I wonder if being a better parent sometimes means being a grumpy parent. Things would probably go smoother if I kept MYSELF on a consistent schedule and then I could keep Orangeboy on one.

This is the way he rolls -
If I have to get him up in the morning, he is typically curled up in his bed with the covers tightly over his head. I often have to tug and pull to get the covers back. He is like a little stone or statue in the bed. He isn't relaxed and limp if I shake him or try to roll him over. His whole body is tightly locked into position. So after uncovering his face and trying to turn him onto his back against locked limbs; I open the room-darkening curtains to let in some daylight - which I hope will wake him.
Then I give him about five minutes and check back. He is sometimes sitting up or appears to have changed position, but is usually still not moving. If sitting, his head is hanging forward or he is slumped forward with his head on the bed.
At this point, I can sometimes get him moving with some verbal commands; like,
"Get moving! You need to get dressed!"
If not, I have to lift him off the bed and try to get him standing in order to further wake him up. Then I have to keep checking back to make sure he is still moving.

By contrast, if Orangeboy gets to sleep as long as he wishes and gets up on his own, he starts his day like an explosion. I usually hear a series of loud thumps on the floor as he jumps off his bed and hops around the room. He gets dressed quickly and then bursts from the room, thundering down the stairs. He spins, hops, and even somersaults around the house until he finally manages to make his way into the kitchen to look for breakfast. He grins and chatters about... who knows what.... I usually can't understand a word. He pirouettes on one foot and asks what time it is. I usually answer, "Why? You have a special appointment this morning?"

So what's so bad about letting him sleep late? Well, this hyper, cheerful Orangeboy may sound pleasant to you in theory. He may sound like a little ray of sunshine, but when you just want to get up on a peaceful Saturday morning and take your time getting into a relaxed day, and this kind of stuff goes on for a couple of hours, it's not so charming. And when you have a moody daughter who finds her brother's behavior even more annoying than you, and who, sooner than later, will start screaming at him - not so fun.
When he gets less breakfast in his mouth than on the counter, chair, floor, or his pants - harder to chuckle.
When you hear the scraping and bumping of his chair on the hardwood floor as he wiggles, rocks, and kicks and you just know he is ruining both the chair and the floor - not so cute. And then when he suddenly falls off a chair or barstool and hits the floor like an uncoordinated bag of potatoes and starts to cry and has bent his glasses - again. Well, maybe you're getting it.
But if you still don't get the picture - he'll snap right out of a full-on bawl fest and start leaping around and chattering about the amount of zinc in his cereal because he was reading the nutrition label while wiggling, talking, and spilling food just minutes before.
"Okay, okay. I know there is zinc in the cereal. I'm glad you're excited about that, but you can move on to something else now."

My preference is to have to wake up the statue in his bed than to have to put up with over-rested, loose cannon, HAP-PY boy! And I especially love it when I can sleep in and then get up to find that ORANGEBOY ISN'T UP YET! I get to wake him up! He'll be slow and low key.
I admit it - I'm a bad mom and a terrible person, but I actually prefer his spectrum-like behaviors to his ADHD symptoms. When Orangeboy is on a regular schedule and takes his ADHD medication at the same time each morning; and then retires to his room for reclusive, perseveration time - doing math and such - all is quiet on the home front. It's nice. And the furniture and his glasses are safe.

Mr. Hyde the Orangeboy

It's the inconsistency that really throws me. I'm trying to figure him out. Is he sweet and misunderstood or is he sneaky and moody? Is he a negative complainy pain or just struggling with insecurity? Sometimes he acts like a jerk and then the next minute he seems to go out of his way to be good.

This past week Orangeboy went to an art day camp. He seemed to enjoy it pretty well, but he was under-enthusiastic with his endorsement as usual. If he says something was "Well... okay" I take that as a positive. But on the last day of the camp, when I pick up Orangeboy and his sibling antagonists, I hear that he did not choose to make the project for that day. When I asked why, he said that he didn't want to and "she said it was okay."
So I informed him that it wasn't "okay" with me and that he could either pay me back for that day of camp or he could sit down and make the project - and do a good job. He said,
"Ummm, I guess I'd rather do the project."
I was hoping for that. I knew he would be loath to forfeit any of his stash of cash. He decided a couple of years ago that he should save all the money he came into for his college education.

I still don't know why he decided that he just didn't want to participate on that last day. He had this sort of cocky, silly demeanor going on when he told me that he hadn't wanted to do it. If it had been just about any other 9 year old, I would have thought he was being a little brat; but with Orangeboy, I'm just not sure. He may have truly thought it was fine to opt out for the day.
When I got him to sit down and do the art project, he worked diligently and did a great job. Go figure.

Another inconsistency happened a few days ago when he suddenly started complaining about one of our little dogs. He doesn't interact with the pets very much. He lets them be and they let him be. Our latest canine addition to the family is a three year old female rat terrier that came with a few behavioral problems and needs a bit of rehabilitation and training. This affects me the most, as it is my job to do the training. But almost out of the blue, Orangeboy starts complaining about what a bad dog she is and says, "I think we should just dump her off at the pound."
I said, "What!?"
I have NEVER dumped a dog off at the pound or even threatened to do it! Where did he come up with that idea? I thought it was an awful thing to say and totally unfounded. This was a case of Orangeboy acting like a jerk again. Then later the same day, he came upstairs to seek me out and thank me for the good supper I made. He seemed very good and sweet then. I was just as surprised by the supper compliment as I was by the awful dump-the-dog comment.

Likewise, he was excited about getting out of school for summer break, but has been very moody and hyper most days since. He jumps around giggling and jabbering to himself and scribbling pages full of numbers and codes, or he bursts into tears at the slightest provocation and sits and sobs like a baby. He's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - or Mr. Orangeboy and Dr. Mad Scientist Monkey-man. The question is... which side will win? And which side am I rooting for?

Dealing with loss and death

My last living grandparent has been moved to a hospice. My grandfather is better today than he has been the last few days; but he has a kidney infection and pneumonia and he is 93 years old. So we made the time for the hour and half drive to go and see him today at the hospice.

I had explained to the children that their great-grandfather is very sick and probably going to die soon. I see no point in sugar-coating the situation. They know he is very old and they were also fortunate enough to know my maternal grandmother and therefore have experienced the loss of a great-grandparent before. Orangeboy did not seem very interested in the situation. He was reluctant to go up to Granddaddy's bedside and speak to him. He soon found a crossword book to busy himself with during our visit. I think he may actually be disinterested, but it is possible that what looks like disinterest may actually be anxiety.

Orangeboy was very close to my maternal grandmother. She had a special affinity for little children and she could charm and entertain children like no one else. I have many favorite memories of times spent with her at my mother's parents' house. And it never hurt that they had a backyard pool and that my grandmother always seemed to have ice cream, cake, and watermelon on hand. She thought Orangeboy was very special and was very patient with him. She won him by understanding his favorite treats and what interested him. She taught him how to play solitaire and patiently played "go fish" with him. He showed adoration of her like for no one else.

Two and half years ago, she had a heart attack in her bed at her home with no one with her but her little dog. She called the ambulance herself, but by the time they arrived her heart had stopped. When I told the kids that she had died, Orangeboy looked a little stunned. He didn't have much immediate reaction, but for him that is par for the course. I noticed some anxious behaviors over the next couple of days though. He broke out in a bit of a rash and he was engaging in some of his habitual stimming-type behaviors more.

After the funeral, we brought home my grandmother's little dog, Uno. Orangeboy had never shown much interest in animals or pets, but he was very interested in Uno. He even tried to play ball with Uno. I was very surprised. He seemed to be trying to take care of Uno for his great-grandmother's sake. Orangeboy also asked over and over how old "Mema" had been and how old was I and his Dad and his grandparents, etc. I decided he was both worrying and grieving and he needed a way to assuage his worries about death. I wrote down his great-Grandmother's (Mema's) age, his Grandparents ages, mine and his Dad's age. I then wrote out some subtraction problem's for him, subtracting his age from each of the others. He worked out the math and I pointed out how many years older everyone was than him. He pointed out that his great-grandmother was the oldest and that she was more than 20 years older than his grandparents. He nodded and smiled about this. I told him that most people live to be quite old and that it would probably be many years before his grandparents passed away and even longer for everyone else. This seemed to help him and alleviate his anxiety. He held on to the paper with all the ages and subtractions for days and I saw him looking over it many times.

So with his great-grandfather's illness, Orangeboy may just be thinking,
"Been here, done this. He's old. It's to be expected."
But he could also be remembering and worrying about death again. It's something that will probably reveal itself over the next few days or weeks.

A tag and a good stiff cry in the morning

Quirky Mom tagged me to name "Six Unimportant Things That Make Me Happy".

1) 2:00 pm
2) A kitchen counter and bar with no crumbs or sticky places on it. (Even though it never lasts)
3) A fresh, new paperback book
4) Seeing a new comment on my blog (Not to say that your comments aren't important - it's just that in the overall scheme of life, blog comments don't often change the world but they make me happy.)
5) Three freshly bathed little doggies
6) Getting the junk drawer organized

And now...
Another Orangeboy quirk.

I think I may have mentioned this before, but there are some issues that bug me and just won't go away - like what happened this morning. It is a school day after a long weekend and there are only four more days of school. I woke Orangeboy with difficulty this morning, but that is not unusual. It only three trips into his room to get him going. On the initial trip I opened the curtains, turned on a dim lamp and shook him gently. On the second trip I turned his keyboard on and pushed the demo button. It started up its repertoire of tunes and I shook Orangeboy gently again and told him to start moving. He was still curled up in a tight little ball.
On the third trip, he was still curled up in bed so I pulled him up into sitting position and made sure he was going to keep moving.

A few minutes later he finally came downstairs all dressed and looking pretty normal. I told him he needed to hurry up and eat breakfast because it was getting late. He stood there and started to bawl. And when I say bawl - I mean bawl with huge tears, vocalizations, and snot. He just stood there bawling his face off. Nothing had happened to him and I was pretty certain he wasn't sick. He hadn't even looked upset when he first came down. I didn't yell at him when I told him to hurry - I swear! He just started this hard crying for no reason.

He's done this before. That's why I was unable to be very sympathetic. He uses a big crying jag to wake himself up sometimes. He starts off having a little trouble getting going in the morning (like many of us) and then the next thing we know-he's bawling. He won't talk to us and he keeps slowly moving through his morning routine, but the sqalling noise and the fluids pouring down his face sort of get on our nerves a bit. After a few minutes (usually in the car partway to school) he stops. Just like that, he stops crying and he's totally fine. He can even stop bawling one second, take a breath, and start up a typical conversation in the next breath.

I think this jives with the whole ADHD thing more than with spectrum stuff or sensory stuff. For most people a good cry has a calming effect. It is cathartic and one feels relaxed and relieved afterward. I think a good cry actually re-focuses the brain and puts it back into a more rational, thinking state. (Just my opinion based on observation and a little experience.) This is what I think crying does for Orangeboy when he wakes up with brain chaos in the morning.

I just wish he would take up coffee or morning jumping jacks instead. Sending him to school with a puffy, snotty face reflects badly on me.

Ready for Summer sleeping and pancakes

Orangeboy is all ready for summer break. This morning when I woke him up, he asked what day it was. When told him "Friday" he said he was hoping it was Saturday. He says he's ready for school to be out so he can sleep late. I hated to remind him that every day of summer break isn't like a Saturday. I still have to go to work, and he and the other two will be going to a couple of "summer fun opportunities". Also with relatives coming to visit in two weeks, he'll have to get up and make himself reasonably presentable on those days. You would really think a kid with ADHD wouldn't like to sleep so much, but it seems that once he finally gets to sleep he is loathe to give up that state of unconscious stillness.

Things are coming together for him here toward the end of May and is he much more cheerful - and that usually means louder, more talkative, and more squirmy, too. He has fairly successfully dispensed with Field Day, received his standardized testing scores, been on a tour of his new school building, and is counting down the days to the end of third grade on one hand. But I can just see his disappointed face now - on the first day of summer break. He'll roll out of bed (literally) around 9 am, come downstairs and demand pancakes and eggs. (He still thinks he's being polite when he yells with a smile, "I feel like having pancakes and eggs for breakfast!" and then plunks his skinny bottom on a chair and waits for Mom to hop-to-it.)

I'll say, "Go get dressed, I have to get to the office." and hand him a Poptart with his meds.
Poor guy. He'll be so confused as to why his plans didn't work out. But I don't want to warn him, because he's so chipper! I'll just cross that sulk when I come to it.