Join Kate, a real ADHD mom, as she addresses the principals . . .
Dear All Principals of All the Schools My Children Have Ever Attended,
Let me introduce myself. I am the parent that consistently brings their child in late. I'm the one running through the door after first bell - my child trailing behind me dragging their half opened backpack eating breakfast on the go. I'm the one you give the 'stink-eye' to when you see me in the hallway. I'm the one whose child gets sympathetic glances from you that seem to say, "Poor you....your mom doesn't care enough about you to get you here on time. Tsk,tsk...what a pity." I'm the one you write the attendance warning letter to every spring. Anyway, Hi! Nice to meet you. I'm Kate.
Can I tell you that any day I even get all three of my children to school is a win for me? If I get at least two out of three there on time, it's a bonus win. All THREE to school ON TIME? Well, then I consider myself a gold medal finalist.
Now, I love my kids. They're delicious to me and I enjoy every minute with them, but to get them all out of bed, help find their clothes for the day, pack lunches, find shoes, let me repeat, find shoes, and get them all to their respective buses on time? Well...to ADHD me, it's like climbing Mt. Everest every morning (without a Sherpa).
You see, first I have to remember every day what time each one has to get out of bed, which is like...impossible. Then I have to remind myself not to get sidetracked by the stories they tell over their bowls of cereal. Then, I have to remember not to get sidetracked by the stories I tell them over my bowl of cereal. And so on..and so on...By the time we get to looking for that one shoe that is MIA, we hear the bus rumble by. "The Twinkie, mom! The Twinkie!" my son will yell. (Get it? Big and yellow and shaped like a...yup, Twinkie...Are my kids the only ones who even know what a Twinkie is anymore?) Anyway, we'll all run to the door to see the bus driver give us a sad little wave as he drives the Twinkie by our house yet again.
So, dear principal, unless I receive a Sherpa for Easter, our relationship will most likely remain the same - you'll give me the 'stink-eye,' and I'll be pumping my fist that I got at least some of my kids to school today.
Nice to meet you. See you tomorrow. (After first bell, of course)