Being Thorough

One of the things I have noticed about the boys on our journey to discover the ins-and-outs of ADHD is that they are, at times, completely absent-minded. It is a function of the disorder, I know -- they don't call it Attention Deficit for nothing -- and I expect a little mind-wandering during lessons, but sometimes I am amazed at the utter shutdown of the brain. Sometimes it can be funny (Um, Sean, are you going to go out without pants?) and other times it can be frustrating, especially when they forget very simple things like the piano bag full of their music when we're out the door to piano. Yes, they have clothes on (whew) and yes, they went to the bathroom (good), but they also took time to get a book for the car or their DS, which has NOTHING to do with where they are going or what activity they are about to undertake. When you remind them about it, they say in a rather surprised voice, "Oh yeah. Okay. Sorry." They truly do not mean to be forgetful; they just seem to always have their minds elsewhere and not on the tasks at hand.

This absent-mindedness or sometimes complete lack of vision about their life and activities worries me. Yes, I realize they are only nine, but some kids just seem to have a sense of time and space and a more complete understanding of elapsed time and what needs to be done and how much time that will take. My boys exist very much in the present, working from a schedule that involves maybe an hour ahead, maybe two. This is so ironic considering they both love schedules and do very well when they know what lies ahead. So I guess my worry exists in the form of "Will they ever get it?" or do I need to have Grant start digging the basement now?

Rather than wring my hands and moan, I decided to employ a new tactic. I call it Being Thorough. I was inspired by reading a devotional by Pastor Swindoll, the former pastor of EV Free Church in Fullerton which was my home church until age 24. This is a great man who is very wise, and he discussed the idea of being thorough in every aspect of your life. He was meaning this for adults, but he also brought it down to the day to day things in our lives, saying, "Wouldn't it be nice to completely finish a project? Put away the tools you used? Wipe down your workspace and then throw away the trash?" I'm paraphrasing the great man here, but his point is that often we get almost done with something and then stop. Don't dry the last three dishes, don't clear the table all the way, don't cover the barbecue, don't put the gardening tools back in the cupboard. The main project is done and done well, but something interrupts us -- something greater in our minds and we let the last few steps of a project lapse. When we do this, there are consequences -- rust, decay, dirt -- physical reminders that we left something undone.

I was struck by this lesson and not just how it could apply to the boys. I was struck by how often I am the guilty one, not completing a task I have set for myself, and I'm not just talking about my not writing blog posts (whimper) and not writing my great American novel (hanging my head in sorrow). I'm talking about the general chores and tasks I've set for myself. I need to be better at the follow-through, to be more thorough in all that I do. Otherwise, there will be physical reminders -- a dirty house, a legacy of unfinished projects and "almosts," not to mention replacing things that have become dirty or damaged because I just didn't take one more minute to be thorough. Being thorough applies to all stages of the process, from the planning to the follow through, and it needs to be a way of life, a way of thinking that becomes reflexive.

So I decided to employ a new phrase for the family and am thinking of having it painted on the back of the door leading to the garage. I want it to say, "Be Thorough" and be a visual reminder to think deeply about all we do. I have started asking the boys, "Have you been thorough?" or working with them and saying, "Okay, let's be thorough in our planning" whenever we are going to go somewhere or whenever they are in the middle of a project. I want to get them thinking about the steps it takes to get something done. When we went to both Disneyland and Legoland recently (totally awesome), we spent 10 minutes each of those mornings going over what we needed to bring to each place. The boys were very good about listing what they thought was important: sunscreen, jacket, close-toed shoes, kleenex, snacks, entertainment for the car ride. They then ran around getting their items and packing them. Then we went over the schedule before leaving -- use the restroom, make sure you've packed all your stuff, turn off lights, etc. Next in the process is teaching them what to do at the end -- dumping the dirty clothes in the proper place, unpacking their backpacks or goodie bags, cleaning out the car and the like. Most of the time they are too exhausted at the end of an event, and that's okay. Learning to be thorough is going to be a life-long process.

I am hoping that this ritual will lead them to think more thoroughly about what's necessary and required before undertaking a project or before taking a trip, starting a new class, etc. I'm hoping to get them planning for things and realizing that while starting something is great, thoroughly finishing it is even greater.

A Life of Precision

As we age, we come to understand certain truths: "I'll be done in a minute" means that you have about a five to ten-minute window; "I've got to get a few things from the store" means that you will be in there for at least a half an hour; When someone asks for the time, you don't say, "It's 1:27"; you say, "It's almost 1:30." Most people who ask for the time understand that you are rounding up because it's easier. They are not looking for the exact time down to the second; they want to know if it's in the middle of the hour or towards the end of the hour so they can make plans or adhere to them. As adults, we understand. It makes sense for our adult brains to allow this leeway. In fact, we encourage it. We roll with it.

My boys do not roll with imprecision. Call it part of their quirkiness, an aspect of their ADHD, whatever -- but they have never been okay with calling a spade a shovel. My boys lead a life where everything has a proper name and a proper time, amount of money, description, you name it. It's a bit irritating sometimes when adult understanding and child understanding meet head on, but I've been trying to get a handle on why being precise is so critical to both boys and what I can do to ease them into the imprecise world of adulthood. Here are my findings:

1. Children are always corrected. My mother-in-law pointed this out to me, and I was so glad she did. All their lives, the boys have heard themselves corrected by adults. They have had their grammar checked ("I caught the ball" not "I catched the ball."), their explanations reviewed (No, rain is not God crying; it's actually the water cycle -- here, let me explain . . . ), their questions answered even if they weren't asked (Did you know . . . ), and so forth. Not a day goes by that some adult is not imparting knowledge to these children. That is not a bad thing. What it means, though, is that the boys (and all children for that matter) are exposed to this type of learning/teaching style -- the lecture -- an awful lot. In their minds, when you know something, you share it for the benefit of the other party. It's the "learning is communal" way of life.

So why do they get reprimanded when they point out when an adult has made a mistake? They are simply extending the same courtesy given to them 200 times a day. My boys haven't clued in that no matter how wrong an adult is, it's usually not a good idea to correct his or her mistake. Don't tell an adult that it really is 1:27 when she has said it's 1:30. She knows the time but has rounded up for convenience sake. When the adult uses grammar that is incorrect, it's best to ignore it (although it is so, so hard to do so -- I'm with you, boys, on that one) and hope he or she figures it out later. Sometimes you have to infer what the adult is saying, as in: "Put that on the table," but she's pointing at the counter. Do you: a) put the item on the table in the other room or b) put the item on the counter that she's pointing to? This is a difficult choice for my boys who would rather believe the words than the body language or tone.

2. They are highly verbal. Both boys have high verbal IQs. They comprehend the world through the use of words, so for them, a gesture does not carry as much meaning as the word behind it. Sentiment is good, but words are better. So if the words are imprecise, they get confused. They put tremendous value on words, so these guys are going to be heartbroken when promises aren't kept or lies are told (I dread the dating years, middle school -- you get the idea). To them, words are like currency, the way in which they understand and navigate the world. So if something is off, they feel the need to address it.

3. My boys want to do it right, always. Part of the anxiety component of their ADHD stems from their wanting to be correct all the time. It's the perfectionist quality of their personalities that they inherited (so sorry) and that leads to insecurity. They want to be right in order to feel good about themselves, yet here is an authority figure who is telling them something different than what they know. Aaahhh! What to do? Does this mean that their understanding of that part of their world is off? This imprecision leads to confusion and anxiety on their part even if we're only talking about rounding up time or money or exaggerating something to make a point. To make sure they have it "right," they will question that point.

Bottom line is that I AGAIN need to find a source of patience for when these moments come up. Instead of getting irritated at their not understanding and attempting to correct my imprecision, I need to either explain the vagaries of the adult mind -- yes, we round up, we guesstimate how long it will actually take in the store, no I misspoke when I said "elevator" instead of "escalator," etc. -- or adhere to more precision in my own life. Precision isn't bad; it just takes more thought. It takes more time, which is what we adults don't have, which leads us to be imprecise in the first place. Ugh. What a never-ending cycle of woe.

My goal as always is to steer these boys into a deeper understanding of themselves and the world around them without sacrificing all that makes them who they are. So what to do with precision? Do I try and loosen them up or be more precise in my words? Maybe the answer lies somewhere in the middle -- or is that too vague?

Digging Deeper Into the Burrow

It occurred to me lately after speaking with the hub and a very good friend that I have strayed away from the purpose of this blog. I started Tales from the Burrow with the idea that I would share all the craziness, the fun and the pressure or stress or complications that come from staying home and teaching your kids, especially when your kids are quirky and have ADHD. Instead of keeping to this agenda, though, I began to write about other stuff -- chronicling other happenings or riffing on random thoughts, which would have been okay if I had just done that once in a while. Instead, I began to get worried when I didn't have a new topic to discuss or funny thing to report. I lost my focus, and therefore my blog lost its focus. I know better! Know Your Audience! Write With Purpose! I could just kick myself.

So one of my New Year's Resolutions (in addition to exercise more, eat right, blah blah blah) is to recommit to my blog and write about what I wanted to in the beginning: the boys and the challenges and rewards of homeschooling. I know that I will occasionally detour and write about random things that happen and that's okay, but I will try and stay committed to my purpose (oh, and I have to write about the lovely and patient older daughter too. She's pretty nifty).

So, I'm hoping to set up some new categories for my postings to keep me focused, such as (names to be decided on later):

1. They Said . . . What?

2. Fun with ADHD

3. Cool Lessons and Those that Weren't

4. Today We Struck Up a Conversation With . . . .

5. The Pajama Game -- Which "Loungewear" Will I Be Wearing Today?

I hope you will come back and visit.

The Unforseen Conclusion, Part II

Picture by Grace Mosher

Well, so much has transpired since summer, when our fact-finding mission about the boys heated up and then came to a graceful end. It was one of those life experiences where you are terrified going in -- scared to hear the diagnosis, trembling at the thought that so many mean-spirited, horrible people could have been correct in their assumptions about my children. Was there something terribly wrong with them that made them unable to keep quiet in the classroom, ask questions non-stop, be obsessed with Pokemon and other video games, prefer adults to children, get really, really upset when they lost a game or did poorly on a test, or refuse to participate in activities that they knew they wouldn't be good at? What did all these behaviors add up to? Only God knew, and once again, He provided an answer that surprised me -- a second, unforseen conclusion.

In May, on the advice of our pediatrician, we took the boys to see a neurologist in Long Beach. I was so worried that these boys had autism or another spectrum disorder since that is what certain teachers and others kept intimating. I didn't want that diagnosis -- no parent does -- but I was finally prepared for it. I needed to find out what was going on in their heads. What made these boys tick? If they needed help, I was going to have to ignore my pride and get it for them, so we began the journey with a trip to Dr. Lake.

The boys were their usual talkative selves, asking the doctor questions and providing running commentary. She asked me questions and then listened while I gave her our whole story, stopping to acknowledge the boys and their interruptions whenever they occurred (something I really liked about her). She then paused and said, "I don't really know why you think they have a spectrum disorder. I'm not really seeing that." My heart leaped. "For one thing," she continued, "they both immediately engaged me the second I walked in the door." (we know that is their way -- talk to EVERYONE, ALL THE TIME.) "Children who are affected by spectrum disorders do not willingly engage anyone, even those children who have been in therapy and understand social protocols. They usually have to be approached first. I'm really not seeing this, but I will refer you to a specialist if you are interested, though I'm not sensing you are." (She was quite astute.) However, I am seeing something." I drew in a breath and held it. "I think they have ADHD."

I was shocked. I had never in my life considered ADHD since both boys can sit for a really long time completely and totally engaged. And they love learning about anything, so they don't jump up and run around and miss key points of a lesson. What I didn't understand about ADHD is that it affects children differently and there are host of symptoms and behaviors that accompany the diagnosis.

I left there amazed and relieved. While we would have to learn more about ADHD and the symptoms, overall the boys would be okay. I was relieved to learn that there was something concrete that was driving some of their behaviors. I was amazed that the same condition that affects millions of children also affects my own. But most of all, I was encouraged and humbled that my God had been watching over these boys and us all the time, steering us toward this eventual path. Along the way He knew I'd hear some devastating words from people, so He made sure I had wonderful friends and confidantes there to shore up my defenses and keep me sane. He also showed me some teachers who are amazing and love all children, so I wouldn't be so disgusted with education as a whole. He knew that I would eventually get to a place where I needed to know the truth, and He was there to surprise me with some unexpected news. I am grateful for such a creative God, who delights in surprises, rescuing His followers from seemingly impossible situations and providing unforseen conclusions that cause us to behold Him in awe.