One Giant Leap for Izzy

I can’t afford to not write about this. It’s a positive, a success, a giant leap for Izzy. And it might be short lived, so I better get it down while the glow of success is still warming our lives.

Here it is. Izzy liked dance class! And then she liked it the next week. And now she has liked it three weeks in a row. She even said, “Mom, do you want to see part of my jazz routine?” I tried not to gush too much and freak her out and scare her off, but I think I nearly sang out, “Yes, of course.” She promptly did a little dance in the family room, which didn’t look like the jazz dances I have otherwise watched, but was definitely a dance with moves all over the room. My husband and I looked at each other astounded and shared a secret smile and raised eyebrows. “That was great,” I told her and gave her a little hug. In my head I was saying, “That was amazing, astonishing, brilliant, triumphant.”

What was so great about it? Well, for starters, she asked me if she could do dance this year. I put her in dance two years ago, but she didn’t like it. She spent most of the class looking in the mirror, chewing her hair, or meandering along when she was supposed to be hopping or chassé-ing. So we did not go back for more last year. When she asked me to do dance this year, I was surprised. I said, “Let’s try one class and see how you like it.”

So we went to the first class, and I prepared myself mentally to not be embarrassed or phased by her strange or unruly behaviors or comments such as “That was boring,” which I knew might possibly be voiced in front of dance teachers, students, parents, and the rest of our little dance universe. I hadn’t prepared myself to watch my daughter enjoy herself, follow a good deal of the instructions, try dance positions and leaps, and talk with other girls. Wow! What was happening? It was a Vyvanse, growing up, choosing-what-to-do-for-herself miracle.

There were definitely classic Izzy moments that made me laugh: During free dance, she chose to climb the doorway with her feet on either side of the door jam, while the other little girls were doing pirouettes and plies. And she had a few moments when the teacher had to remind her to join the class or when she was mixing it up with other kids. But overall, she seemed like a pretty regular kid having fun at dance class. I was as surprised and delighted as if someone had just left a warm, caramel bread pudding on my doorstep.

After class, I asked how it was. “Good,” she said. Amazed. No “Boring,” “Dumb,” or “I want to go home”? We drove home and brought my friend’s daughter with us. (Of course my friend could just send her daughter solo to her first class and have her be brought home with someone else.) Izzy even said a few words to the neighbor girl. I couldn’t hear them, but wow, she was starting a conversation with another child. Unprecedented.

By the next week, my glee had been replaced with a good dose of reality. Sure she liked it last week, but when I told her to get ready this week, I would probably meet a wall of resistance. Surprise again. I asked her to get her dance clothes on and she complied (not without a reminder or two, but without a struggle). She carpooled with my friend and came home happy as a clam for the second time. As she changed out of her dance clothes, she asked me when her new ballet slippers would arrive. And then talking more to herself, she said, “Why am I jealous because those other girls have dance bags? I have this one still.” And she put her dance stuff in her old bag with a big smile. Wow again.

Okay, week three, surely she would be bored with dance by now. No she loved it, and as mentioned above, came home and performed in the family room. What thing or combination of things brought about this miracle? I will never know exactly, but it’s a direction I like.

A Little Escape

If you ever need a fanciful flight from my or your ADHD-riddled life, you might like to visit my cousin Kirsten’s blog. Here you will see three darling girls with braids, bows, or buns in their hair; green cardigans, polka-dot skirts, bejeweled necklaces; glasses that are not bent nor crooked nor splotched with dry liquid ovals. The girls play the cello, the piano, the violin. And they love it. They draw and color their own paper dolls. They stroll along country roads. They cozy up next to their mother and cross stitch—probably for hours, all the while humming a happy tune. Nary a laceless, holey shoe will you find in this dwelling. Not a guacamole-encrusted light saber. Not a three-day old peanut butter sandwich stuck to the wall. In short, it is not my house-- just the one I imagined before I had children.

Her blog is a little escape from my galaxy of chaos into an enchanted fairy world. To be fair, her kids are older, they are all girls, and I have one more than her. You will not hate her and covet her neuro-typical life. You will enjoy her perspective. She is honest and funny—a great writer. She, like any mother, has her moments: her ups, downs, in-betweens, and scorpion catching exploits. And I LOVE her photos. She shares all the beautiful things she finds and creates. She has a little Etsy shop with some darling prints if you are so inclined.



I say all this about escape from my world because I do need to escape from it sometimes, but never would I escape for—well, probably more than three days. In fact, I was away last weekend, and I missed my crazy family with a longing that normal people probably feel. (I was away two weekends ago also, and I felt guilty for not really missing them. I needed a chance to breath. So I felt happy that I missed them last weekend. I am not a cruel, self-absorbed, unloving person. Yeah!)

Taking the Bait

High energy kiddos.

We had a little chit chat with the psychiatrist the other day about how things are going. My husband talked about how the kids have been rather sassy lately, and by the time he is done with them, they have lost their Wii privileges for the rest of their lives, are grounded forever, and can’t watch tv for three years. (Then he’s off to work, and I get to deal with the repercussions.) He knows this is too much, but also knows he doesn’t want disrespectful children.

So our dr. told us that we need to have a clean punishment slate every day or else the kids will feel hopeless about ever having a moment of fun again. My hubby said okay, and we were kind of done with the discussion. But then I told on him! I had to. He’s not really changing his ways in the discipline department, despite the new techniques the psychologist is teaching us. Even though he is a very intelligent, kind, reasonable man, sometimes he doesn’t listen to me. Many things could prompt this. Let’s just say he has ADHD, too, and sometimes I am the great reminder of everything he ought to be doing—thus, he has developed a turn-off-the-wife response. Sometimes when he is disciplining the kids, I come and raise my eyebrows and make faces in an attempt to remind him that he is not using the right technique. This is my way of trying to get his attention without coming out and saying, “Honey, have you not remembered one thing the psychiatrist told us about discipline?” which would very likely undercut his authority in front of the kids.

So, I told the dr. that my husband sometimes cannot resist the temptation to lecture and respond to everything my kids say. I have reminded him (see above) that they don’t listen to lectures and that they need short explanations and quick consequences. And often, when they are trying to push his buttons, he allows his buttons to be pushed and just gets more and more angry. (Right here, I will just say that of course, I am not a perfect disciplinarian either.)

The doctor told him that kids can get stuck in a rut of negative feedback. They want action, they want excitement, and an easy way to get that is to rile up your parents. Even though it’s negative feedback, at least it’s exciting. It is as though they are addicted to pushing your buttons even though they will suffer negative consequences. It's a little dopamine rush. So he challenged my husband not to take the bait. He warned us that the kids would be very angry when we stopped taking the bait, but that after a couple of weeks, they would be used to it and would settle down. Quick consequences and then ignore the sassiness. Stick them in their room if needed. Here goes our fishing experiment. I'll let you know if we can be smarter than the average tuna.