Hey there! How’s life treating you?
I’ve had a bit of an itch to write here again, so let’s get to it.
I’m in my comfy bed after a beautiful evening at the Savannah Bananas baseball game with Piers and Wallace.
First of all, if you like baseball, or even if you don’t but enjoy the idea of baseball and what it might have been way back in the day, and if you find yourself in Savannah, GA during the season, you must go to a Savannah Banana game.
Seriously. It is such a good time. Music, side games, happy fans and players, decent food, dance routines by the Savannah Nanas – as in dancing grandmas who throw down in the best way, on and on and on. The peeps running that organization think of everything, and it is a full-on blast. You’ll love it. Your kids will love it. Just go. You won’t regret it. Promise.
Now, while I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the game, AND I’m actually really enjoying summer with my children, tonight led me to a realization that I’ve been aware of for some time:
Piers and Wallace need some medication.
Hear me out.
Honestly, part of me is writing here because if I take my strife to my online mom’s group, I’m pretty certain I’ll be met with a slew of alternative treatments, which is all fine and dandy coming from people who don’t live with my children.
I am ALL about some natural treatment for spirited boys who get into everything and have the attention span of a sand gnat (keeping with the Savannah theme here – ha ha), but y’all, it’s time.
I’m as crunchy as they come, and I research the beejezus out of anything I’m considering for my kids.
I’ve altered their diets. They get adequate sleep and plenty of exercise. This summer they’ve had little to no technology time, and when I have allowed it, we’re talking 30 minutes to an hour of Minecraft a couple of times a week, or a movie here and there.
They take vitamins. They’ve done chiro adjustments. I soak them in epson salts. We diffuse essential oils.
Even as I type this, I know there are other avenues I haven’t taken and probably should, but frankly, at this point, we all need some relief, and I need to see where we sit if we find a medication that allows them to sustain focus.
I know that ADHD is overdiagnosed in little boys. I have seen firsthand the casualness used by doctors as they hand over a prescription. I’ve been that parent in the parent/teacher conference who’s been told over and over, “We’re not supposed to say this, but his focus is bad… I’m not telling you to medicate him, but teacher so-and-so down the hall put her kid on ADHD meds and it was life-changing.”
Y’all, I go through this every year at every parent-teacher conference. I’ve put it off because both of my boys also have varying degrees of dyslexia, and I have felt that medicating the ADHD might be a band-aid and prevent them from getting the actual support they truly need for their language-based challenges.
But I’m here to tell you, I am tapped out. We have to try something different because so much is NOT working, and I am bone tired.
Which brings me to my headache. I think I’m clenching my jaw, and the TMJ I developed in middle school seems to be flaring. Piers is 11, a few months shy of 12. Wallace is 10. These kids I tell ya – they’re amazing, but we all need some help and if tossing a little stimulant in their mouths every day will help, you better believe I’m ready to give it a go.
I never would have made it through college without medicine. I still take my meds on an as-needed basis. Heck, I’ve kept myself medicated with the hope that that would be all our family needed… but I’m feeling tapped out and at times I worry my adrenals are shot. The disorganization and lack of time-sense alone in our household is enough to push an already fragile mother right over the edge.
They just never stop, and they live in this universe that is truly creative and fun and lovely in so many ways, but they never freaking sit still.
Tonight, Piers, who is going on like week twelve in a soft cast after breaking his wrist in two places Supermanning off a slide or something of the sort, nearly took out an entire family as we were searching for just the right seat, because Heaven forbid we take any old basic seat and call it a day.
Oh no, it had to be a certain seat. His intensity at times can not be tamed.
We were on the concrete steps, midway up, and he spotted THE seats he was determined to make ours. This would have been fine except there was not a direct path TO said seats.
So, rather than turning to me and sharing that ‘oh, see that row way over there, Mom?’ (with a proper finger point and all), he spotted the seat he wanted and did this full-body turn and lurch on this relatively high-up stadium staircase.
Well, the poor woman standing behind us nearly lost her nachos and popcorn as she dodged his lurch/turn. Then HER kids, who looked like the calm sort of children that I have zero first-hand experience with, exchanged alarmed glances when they realized a skinny preteen was barreling towards them and might knock everyone in their vicinity to the ground.
They did that shift and tuck to the side move like hanging on to their side of the aisle for dear life while making way for rogue Piers who has eyed HIS seat and is going after it letting nothing stand in his way.
Well, Wallace and I are now also trying to come down the aisle, and I’m doing that thing that moms do when their kids are stomping strangers’ toes and as people love to say here in the south ‘not minding their manners.’ Can you feel me rolling me rebel southern eyes? I’m all for manners, but the niceties and expectations are next-level in Savannah. The mom thing is apologizing and being overly polite because her child is not even on the everloving good-manners chart today. He’s the poster child for inconsiderate.
Here’s me, “Oh, excuse us… I’m so sorry… Did he get your toe? Are you okay?” Smile, smile, and because we’re all up in each others’ grills already, I even offered a shoulder pat to the mom and one of her calm daughters.
They’re doing that closed-mouth smile with a little side-eye that means ‘I’m being appropriate, but bitch, handle your child.’
I was starving and thinking to myself that I’d be handling all of this better if I could take a bite of this cheeseburger I’ve been carting around for what feels like three days along with a dropper of CBD oil for my nerves.
I take off behind Piers so I can plop down and get this dinner going, but Piers is on the ground. (He’s fine.) Apparently, he tripped and did some sort of tuck and roll – a move I’ve seen more times than I care to count since birthing him nearly twelve years ago. But now several Banana Ushers are rushing over to check him out, which of course is not going well because he STILL is trying to get to the seat he’s determined to have.
I glance behind me and Wallace has ripped open no less than three ketsup packs and is getting his burger all condimented up right in the middle of blessed aisle, and you can imagine how well this is going over with the proper family that’s still trying to go up the aisle and get away from ALL the crazy that is my two children and me.
I finally caught up with Piers who also has a side of anxiety to go with his ADHD and is freaking out that he fell in public, so he’s having a mini panic attack, like for real, right there near the field, and we still haven’t gotten to our damn seats yet. I had to do that whisper thing in his ear to calm him down while simultaneously calming my own self down hoping Wallace is behind me, but not too close behind because I really do not want ketsup all over my back.
I look up from Piers and we are almost to our seats, but who do I see? Oh, about 3/4s of Gil’s work people. All the people he still hasn’t managed to tell that we are separated and will be officially divorced by the end of the year. Please, mercy, let it be so. Can we say AWKWARD altogether now?
So we had a cordial chat that lasted entirely too long and oh ha ha ha Gil bailed on ya tonight? Child, Gil bailed on way more than this f’n baseball game, but don’t get me started cause I need to find a seat.
For. The. Love.
Finally, we made it to our seats. Piers was fine. No bruises and the angst was short-lived. Wallace is actually quite adept at fixing his burger while walking, so yay, no stains.
As I said, we had a lovely time, but honestly, I had a tension headache the entire time, and hours later I don’t see it going anywhere unless I break out an Advil, which is happening the minute I sign off this computer.
It’s summer. There’s a breeze in the air. Overall life is good and I am so thankful for my two greatest blessings. These two boys keep me hopping in plenty of good ways, and I just want to do what’s best for them, and I never want them to think they’re broken.
I joke a lot about how exposed I often feel out in public, but dang if it doesn’t take a toll on a mother’s sanity. I know people with children who fit the more traditional mold don’t get it, and we all know everybody has stuff they’re carrying that we know nothing about, but I’m doing my best and I could do without the snotty, sanctimonious looks. Enough with the pearl clutching, people! Newsflash, my kids aren’t perfect. Bite me.
This has been a thing with me lately. I have great kids who are good to the core. They’re genuinely kind and caring people who are learning but still stumble a bit with the unspoken, often arbitrary rules.
We’re working on it. Promise.
They’re just not quite civilized yet, at least to the standards of some, but I’m not content to lock them in a cage until they figure it out.
So in the meantime, if you happen to see us or another family of our variety out and about, be kind, and maybe just move to your left. We rarely meander, so we’ll be out of your way in a flash.
Happy summer! What’s new in your world?