No! Not the Roof!

For those of you who haven’t a clue what it’s like to raise a child with ADD/ADHD read this.

It was two or three o’clock in the morning. The house was quiet and serene or so I thought.

[Now bear with me, I’ll soon get to the title of this piece.]

At age eight, Drew’s bedtime was nine o’clock. [With children like Drew, consistency is a must, as a matter of fact it’s vital for a parent’s sanity.] I’d set his bedtime at nine when in reality, I started the process at seven-thirty.

See, this is how the process went; at seven-thirty, I’d say James (Drew) it’s time to start getting ready for bed. He’d look at me and grin then, head out the back door towards the swing set or head up to the neighbor’s house. Mind you, kids like him are in full throttle, they’re speedsters and hard to catch.

Toddler Years

Sometimes I just want out!

I can’t really pinpoint when I started suspecting that something wasn’t quite right with my boy. As all parents know, toddlers are active , learning about themselves and the world around them.

Yes, Drew, my son was very, very active. I thought this was a normal state of being with a son. I was young myself and my mother wasn’t much help in guiding me. I have a brother who’s as laid back as a cat sunning itself at a window, so, Mom, couldn’t or wouldn’t relate to what I was going through with my Tasmanian devil.

When was to late, too late

To bad I didn’t start this diary when my son was four or five. Now, I’ve got to reach back into memory’s closet to write everything down.

I guess I should start by saying that this is a blog about me and my son. I was a single mother raising a child who was diagnosed with ADHD [attention deficit hyperactive disorder] at an early age.

This diagnosis was made twenty-three years ago when the medical community and the public made light of this condition.

I remember being made to feel like I was a bad mother. I had to work, I refused to be a welfare statistic. So, I landed a job with the U.S. Postal Service.