Category — adhd

Click to read: ADHD and holiday medication

I know that most women feel at some point in their lives, after the kidlets have grown up and moved on, that they have no purpose and their lives have no direction. The whole “Empty Nest Syndrome” thing. Its very real, and I do believe it exists… but I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to feel it.

Right now, I wish with all my heart that my knucklehead could get his license, get a job, and get a place of his own- in that order. I want him to have the stress and the freedom that comes with a salary. I want him to have the worry and the pride that comes with earning your own money. I want him to have the freedom and the excitement that comes with going gallivanting and locking your own front door- and not having to tell your mom where you’re going first.

The other day I came home from work to an empty house. He was still at the shelter. The TV was off. The cats were asleep. And there was not a sound except the ones I made. It felt so surreal… yet blissful.

I found myself wishing I could come home to that every day…

… and then hating myself for wishing it.

Make no mistake. When my darling Damien eventually does move out, I am going to miss him like crazy. I love him too much not to. Today, we chilled on the couch and watched “Star Trek” while we shared a huge bowl of popcorn. We love each other and laugh at each other and we get each other… But right now- as selfish as this sounds- this is time I want for me. I want to devote my time to my interests and put me first. I want to put my Glugster and our relationship first. I have plans for me and for my future, and I shelved them when he was a baby. It was a decision I made consciously and without malice. And it worked for us. He needed all the attention I could spare when he was growing up, and I gave him that, with all my heart. I don’t want him throwing a mini-tantrum when he can’t have cigarette money. I get annoyed when he sends me a text asking me to pick up some Coke on the way home. He is contributing in that I make him cook supper several times a week. Packing and unpacking the dishwasher is his responsibility. The cats’ litter boxes, the dustbins and his bedrooom are his responsibility. He has to work at the animal shelter several times a week. He also takes care of several cupcake collections for me, and he gets a tiny bit of cash for these chores… but he has DSTV, internet access, swimming pool, pool table, his own bathroom, a maid, everything he could want or need to eat… and because he’s unemployed he can’t pay board and lodging.

Make no mistake, he knows he’s supposed to be paying rent. We’ve discussed it many times over the years so its no suprise to him.

I knew, when he was growing up, that he wouldn’t be up and out of the house as soon as he turned 18. I knew that. I wasn’t expecting him to move out as soon as he turned 18 years old. But he’s quite happy to coast. His lack of motivation breaks my heart because I don’t know how to inspire him.

And I so badly want him to move forward.

I’m going to speak at the ADHASA Parent’s Seminar again!!

Anyone remember last year, when I nagged and nagged and they eventually gave me a 15 minute slot in the afternoon?

Well, this year, I was INVITED to speak- and I have the 10h30 am slot with 30 minutes speaking time!! How fabulous is that?!

I completed my presentation today, in hospital, and sent it off to them for inclusion in the notes for the attendees. A few of the parents I speak to via email, and at the primary school that hosts support meetings once a week are going to be attending too, as well as my Glugster and my mother-in-law to be!! I am so super stoked that they liked me so much last year! This is exactly the way I want my ADHD support provision to go!

And today I got a call asking if I would like to speak at the Adult ADHD Seminar on May 22nd, but I have my wedding hair and make-up trials set for that day, so I can’t take them up on their offer.

And after the wedding in July, when things calm down a bit, I may affiliate myself with ADHASA formally!

Are you singing the Queen song now? I always do when I hear this phrase… and in this case it may even be apt…

I’m going slightly mad. It finally happened. I’m knitting with only one needle…

I have so much to blog about, oh ever loyal bunnies of mine!

I haven’t even told you about the Feather Awards- which I didn’t win, as I’m sure you may have guessed.

I’ve been given an award by no less than 5 extraordinary bloggers.

I’m going to be speaking at the ADHASA Vaal Seminar for parents again- which I am so stoked about.

I’m baking up a storm.

AnGlug wedding plans are going swimmingly, and I still have some invitations to mail.

I haven’t had a chance to read and comment on blogs like I usually do, which I am very sad about. Please don’t think I’m lurking- especially if you’re used to me commenting on everything… I haven’t even been able to read at all, and I’m feeling very “out of the loop”. But I am determined to get back to reading and commenting the way I love to do. Thank goodness I can stay “connected” via Twitter.

But first I have to get these spinning, deafening thoughts out of my head.

Tonight, at 6:45PM, Damien finally asked.

Tonight, we decided to do a bit of a family outing since we’d had such an uber relaxing, chilled day. Chinese for supper at Zen Garden- and the irony of the name is not lost on me- and the Clash Of the Titans in 3D.

We were about to have dessert at Zen Garden after a divine supper of duck and veggies and pancakes and soup and noodles and rice, and kidding around with each other like we do. Damien said something silly and I asked my Glugster if I could head-butt Damien, who giggled maniacally and said I’d be sorry since he had such a hard head. I said I had one too, and he asked if he got his from me or from his father. I said it was entirely probable he had his father’s hard head, and a split second later he said “Speaking of my father, I think I’d like to meet him.”

He went on to say something about how its been a year since he turned 18, and I believe I answered him and said it was okay and that I’ll look for him, but I was kind of on auto pilot. I think I even asked him questions about whether he’d thought about where or how he wanted to do it. And I said he must remember that his father may not want to speak to him, especially if he hasn’t told his wife…

I’ve been trying to prepare myself for this moment for years, but my head was full of this rushing noise like I was in a decompressing airplane and all I could think was fuck no. No. I’m not ready. Please no. Fuck. Not yet. I’ve got too much to do.

I reckon I deserve an Oscar for my performance tonight bunnies. I betrayed none of my panic and fear and sadness as I spoke to my son. Not a bit. We didn’t even talk about it very long, and then we headed out to see the movie, laughing about our stack of leftovers in take away boxes.

I haven’t stopped thinking about it of course.

Now I have to find the man. I know his sister is on Facebook. And I admit was momentarily tempted to send him a message via his wife on Facebook… but I resisted. I know where his parents live, if they’re still there, so I can leave a letter for him in their mailbox…

For so long I hoped that I would be enough. That Damien’s extended family would be enough. That with everything I and we have done and tried and loved that he wouldn’t ever feel the need to look for this man. Sometimes I wish I’d told him nothing, or told him he was dead. But only sometimes, and not for a long time. I was almost starting to think it wouldn’t happen.

And I always dreamed that if he ever met his paternal family he would be dux scholar and head boy and an A student and at varsity. I hoped for a long time that if they met I could half rub their noses in his success, in what they missed out on…

I have a lot to process. I’ll try to keep you all up to date.

I was at work, not exactly round the corner from home, when I got a phone call. This was round lunch time.

It was one of the phone calls I’ve had very many of in my life as my knucklehead’s mom, and they always leave me feeling powerless and angry.

The complex we live in is not huge; I think there are 27 units or so? There are a lot of families with kids ranging in age from toddler to a little younger than the knucklehead.

Damien hangs out occasionally with a few of the kids, mostly because some of them skate and he’ll join them sometimes. And a few times a couple of the boys have come over to play PS2 and such.

I never thought twice about it.

Then, I get a call. The display says “Front Gate”, which would imply that someone is trying to visit me, right? That’s how I always understood it… except that the one security guard at our complex has gotten overly familiar, despite my not actually encouraging him.

What do I mean?

Well, he’ll “call” my phone using the intercom call box at the gate, at 9PM at night, to ask if I have tippex (whiteout) to loan him!!! He is always asking Damien to put his colddrink or food in our fridge, or to please freeze his water bottle, or things like that.

I know it sounds like I’m being petty- but I truly do not believe in being friendly with people who are supposed to provide me with a service. When I use a particular garage or grocery shop, and they start asking personal questions like “Where’s your mother today?” or “How’s your son?” I get more than a little creeped out that they should know so much about me, and I will start going somewhere else.

I loathe the fact that I cannot smile and return a greeting without people inferring that we are then friends.

Anyhoodle, so I answer the call. The security guard starts telling me Damien has a girl in the house and that he’s denying it and the kids are shouting and and and… needless to say his English is not the best, and I was battling to understand him over the intercom, so I hung up and called the knucklehead.

He tells me there was a girl visiting, who lives in the complex. They played a little guitar and watched some TV and then she left. I spoke to the maid, who said she was doing the ironing and they were watching some TV and then the girl left.

Nothing funny. Nothing hinky. And she’s 17 BTW, the girl is not a child.

I call my Glugster to ask if he can call someone and do something about the security guard. I don’t have any contact details for the trustees or anything like that, and quite frankly, I want the dude reassigned.

Glugs sets off for home to take care of it for me.

Always my hero.

It turns out that parents in the complex have been using the security guard as a kind of babysitter! Phoning him on his cellphone and telling him to send the children home, or make sure they don’t leave the complex! This is not his job FCOL!! And you can rest assured I will be taking it further, but this was not the main issue yesterday.

Then I called Damien again to let him know Glugs is on his way and to sit tight. Of course- when we spoke the first time he was ready to set off and defend his own honour with anyone and everyone, so I had to make doubly sure he kept his head and stayed home!

The knucklehead then tells me that some of the parents in the complex are under the impression he’s some kind of junkie drug dealer, and they don’t want their kids associating with him… and even though I know he is prone to exaggeration, I suddenly realised that he’s far from childlike in other people’s eyes!

You know those moments when, as a parent, you look at your baby and realise he or she isn’t a baby anymore, but a young child? Or the moment when you look at him walking into the school gate and he’s suddenly so tall?

I had one of those moments.

I suddenly saw my almost 19 year old son through my neighbour’s eyes. He’s not a little kid anymore- and I’ve known this for a long time… but I’d never seen my son “from the outside” so to speak.

My knucklehead has now decided he is indeed a Goth so he’s now all out for all black… but even before that he wore almost exclusively black clothing. He wears several big silver skull-type rings, several spiked leather armbands, his hair is long, his nails are black, and he smokes. He loves his metal and death metal, and he plays it, loudly.

While he has no problem playing LEGO with the ADHDer children who visit when we have support group meetings, he also has friends his own age and they like to party together. He plays cars in the dirt with his cousins. He plays on the slip and slide with his cousins at his granny’s annual Christmas party… But our neighbours don’t know him, or see that. Quite frankly I can understand their being freaked out about their kids spending time with this “man”… but it made me more than a little sad.

I could have gone to my neighbours and tried to explain that he’s harmless; and that being an ADHDer he’s actually very immature and really is just having some fun… but there comes a time when you can’t organise “play dates” and smooth over relationships with other kids for your ADHDer child anymore.

So I had to tell him yesterday that maybe having the kids over for some PS2 is not a good idea anymore… I had to explain to him that even though I know he’s harmless, hanging out with the neighbourhood kids may not be advisable anymore.

He’s sad about it because he battles to understand that others can’t see he has no ulterior motive, but he’ll be okay. He’ll be spending even more time at the shelter now rather than being home alone, and now we’re really working on finding him a job…

But yesterday’s incident made me sad.