What the "H" in ADHD really Means | Raising the Boys

This is my eldest.

He has ADHD.

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

Crazy right? He doesn't look like he has a "disorder" here. 

Or in general.

But none-the-less, he is considered "special" in school. He misbehaves. He talks out of turn. He can't sit still. His brain runs one hundred miles per hour ... every. single. day.

He fixates on a topic and learns everything about that topic and makes sure everyone knows about that one topic. He rolls his eyes if you don't know. And his tone is sharp when correcting you.

To an outsider he looks like a spoiled little brat who consciously acts out in public when he doesn't get his way or if his little brother takes something of his.

He gets labeled the problem child and he sees the school counselor every week and is over-emotional at the slightest of disturbances. 

He'll cry over spilled milk.

He'll smack the shit out of you if you do him wrong.

He'll growl at you when he has to do something he doesn't want to do.

He'll throw stuff across the room when angry.

I have physically restrained him. And I've been to the brink of tears over one of his public melt downs in Walmart.

We go to countless doctor appointments from therapists to psychiatrists to nutritionists and child psychologists. 

He was suspended in kindergarten 
  TWICE.

But because he looks normal, he and our family look chaotic in a not so chaotic society.

Here's the thing folks, my son frustrates the hell out of me. He's messy, disorganized, forgetful, and

HYPER. 

"Oh he's just being a boy." I would hear all the time.

"Medication will zombie him out." They would say.

"Can't you just control him?" Others would glare.

Until they saw him in action.

Why does he HIT out of anger?
He's HYSTERICAL, can't you calm him?
Why does he HOARD all the toys?
What a HORRID way to act in public.
What a HELLISH boy.

I was HURT.
I felt HELPLESS.
It's a HEAVY burden to carry.
How could people be so HEARTLESS to this boy.
It was completely HORRIFYING.

Yes, lots of "H" words could describe what he was going through, what I was going through, what others thought of us. But HYPER never was one that people understood.

Because face it, all children are hyper. And all children are to act a certain way. And that way is to be normal.

But what is NORMAL?

The normal now-a-days isn't what it used to be. ADD and ADHD have become more talked about and more recognized than ever. Some still believe it's a made up disorder. A way of medicating children to be zombies or because parents can't handle their spoiled brats anymore. Parent's don't know how to say no. Parent's are too easy on their children. Parents are weak now.

Blah, Blah, Blah.

Well, wake up. ADD/ADHD is real. It's a chemical imbalance that is a chronic condition marked by persistent inattention, hyperactivity, and sometimes impulsivity. 

ADHD is a common behavioral disorder that affects about 10% of school-age children. Boys are about three times more likely than girls to be diagnosed with it, though it's not yet understood why.

Kids with ADHD act without thinking, are hyperactive, and have trouble focusing. They may understand what's expected of them but have trouble following through because they can't sit still, pay attention, or focus on details.

http://kidshealth.org/en/parents/adhd.html 


So get your head out of your ass and see my son as he is:

Happy
Handsome
Healthy
Humorous
Hopeful
And did I mention Happy?

He's a happy little boy who is struggling to find his place in the world. He's constantly fighting spontaneous behaviors and deciding which one is the proper way to act and which ones aren't. 

But he's my boy and I'm hopeful that he will someday understand that his happiness doesn't come from what others think of him. He is a unique superhero who's constantly fighting the "bad guys" and honestly, he's my hero.

That's what the "H" really stands for.

Do it, Distractions and all | 'WerkIt' Out Wednesday

Alright folks. I dragged my ass out into the garage to work out today.

I didn't wanna do it.

Nope. 

It was 11am and I had been sitting on the couch, watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood ... or some shit like that and I just didn't wanna move.

But guess what?

I jammed my boobs into a sports bra. Squeezed my butt into workout capris and walked my dragging ass out to the garage. Toddle in stow.

And I worked out.

But I did have a midget Darth Vader interrupt me multiple times. 

Yep. 

But I did it. 

How was your workout?

PCS? What the WHAT?! Part 3 | Moving Day | My Hot Mess

Part 3 Y'all

So let me irritate that the movers came to my house the day before I was to return home from my annual training with the Army Reserve. Well, I fixed that because I was pretty pissed about this training and me not being able to make it up at another date. So, I switched my flight to come in earlier, the day OF the mover's packing day. 

I got off the plane to come home to this. My house basically already packed up. But let me back up a few ... 

Before I headed out on my training trip, I made three check lists for my husband and mother-in-law to use as reference to keep hidden from the packers before they snatched it up and put it in some random box. These checklists included clothes, shoes, and toys for the boys. My own clothes, along with my husbands. Folding chairs, a small table, sheets, hygiene stuff, ect. Basically stuff that we would still need once the movers took everything else. I mean, come on, we were going to be away from our shit for 4 weeks! 

The above picture is the result of those checklists. My husband piled everything we didn't want the packers to pack on our bed and told them. DON'T TOUCH!

In theory, this should have worked. Except my husband didn't expect the packers to move so fast. He forgot to grab the baby's shoes ... he forgot to grab the boy's socks, underwear and a backpack for travel. He forgot to grab the paper plates, napkins, plastic spoons and cups that I had bought especially for our week in the house without shit. The packers took our scissors and our tape. 

Guys, hide your scissors. You never know how much you need those until they're gone.

I'm serious.

The packers did however forget to pack my table place mats and EMPTY trash can. But packed our tools and FULL garbage can....

Luckily, we did swipe one screw driver from them before they threw into a box. 

Screwdriver is a must people. I'm telling ya!

Fun times making forts from all our boxes and playing pretend. What nerds. My Nerds. But Nerds none-the-less.

In a blink of an eye, our shit was all in boxes and we were forced to spend money (that we shouldn't have) on essentials again. Paper plates and all that shit. Tape, socks, underwear, diapers, wipes, ect. I mean, I DID write a list of stuff to hide, but I'll let it slide to my husband. There was a lot on his plate. And things slipped by. (But I did actually enjoy the  "told you so.")

See, I've done this before. Not really ... but I have. I'm a military brat. I've watched my parents do these moves multiple times and overseas. I didn't have to stress about anything and I'm not going to lie, there's a shit ton of stress when you're actually the one in charge. And even more stress when you're just along for the ride.

The fact that is was my husband PCSing and not me, meant that I couldn't attend certain briefs and everything was under his name and he was responsible for getting the information and I was left twiddling my thumbs waiting for the next glitter of information to float down my way.

Super stressful. Again, this was our first time ever doing this. We'd lived in our house for 12 years. I thought we got rid of a lot of shit with our yard sale and decluttering while trying to sell the house. But nope ... there was still a ton of crap I kept asking myself why we kept it.

But alas, the packers packed it and it would soon become a Texas problem rather than a North Carolina problem.

After two days of packing ... the moving truck came. This shit was getting real. We were moving. We really were moving. It all felt like a dream. Like, someone was going to pinch me and say, "Surprise! Just Kidding!"

But nope. It was real. And in four hours, the movers had our shit packed and all we had left was large, echoing rooms and bare walls to stare at.

 We did keep our computer and apple TV so that we wouldn't be too bored. I mean, what would the boys do for FOUR days without TV?! ;)

I guess the better question was, what would mom and dad do with the boys for those four days?! haha! They were heading to gramma's house while we moved to Texas and set up the new house but because of the dates the movers came, it was cheaper to wait to purchase airfare in the middle of the week. So, they waited for the fun four extra days. Plus, we had to get out of the house before the 29th, since the new owners were going to be moving in!

Tips I SHOULD have done:

1) Not had army training. Apparently I pride myself in being stubborn and hard headed, but when it comes to taking orders from my command, I take them and go. I mean, you have to. It's the Army. But I guess if I had pushed the hardship issue, I could have rescheduled my training.
2) Made my family put everything we wanted to keep into the storage unit. Yes, it would have been a pain in the ass. But it would've been helpful and then I wouldn't have been running all over the place snatching shit outta the packers hands. Which brings me to the next tip...
3)  Paid more attention to the movers. I figured they knew what they were doing. And in reality they did. Nothing went missing and nothing really truly got broken, but (now I'm talking about future here) I would have followed them from room to room and made them pack the rooms individually. When I began unpacking in the new house, kitchen shit was with bathroom shit and room shit was with garage shit. It was a mess. So I would've told them to pack by room and when the room was done just close the box and not put anything else in it.
4) Have the kids be OUT of the house. I read about this, but it just didn't seem feasible. But really, I could've just had my mother-in-law take them to the park or mall or something.
5) Labeled the boxes better. We had a lot of stuff in storage in the garage to have the house "clutter free" to sell. So a lot of stuff was just thrown into boxes with no rhythm or rhyme. Again, this plays into following the packers around. I felt very strange not doing anything while they were there and didn't want to impede their job, but you ultimately will be the one unpacking so you want the packing to be as organized as possible.
6) I gave water to the movers. But should have listened to the other bloggers and bought pizza or something for them. They took an extremely long lunch (in my opinion) and seemed they could've been done in one day rather than a day and a quarter.
7) Figure out meals for after the packers pack. We ate out a lot and honestly, that's all you really can do. But we did keep out pots and pans to cook with. This also cut back some of the food the packers wouldn't pack. (they don't do liquids or food). But since we were exhausted and hadn't planned out meals, we just didn't cook.
8) Take Xanax.  I'm kidding ... or am I?

Lemme tell ya, it was an empty feeling when we sat in our home as a family for the last time. It's truly very sad. But more on that next time!

Till then, happy packing!

PCS?! What the What?! Part 2 | PCS Binder | My Hot Mess

This is Part 2 of my PCS adventures ... y'all ... there's going to be a lot of parts because I've never done this shit and lemme tell ya ...

This.

Shit.

Is.

Bannas.

First things first. Let me put this whole mess into perspective. 

My husband is away for recruiting school. I mean, that's the reason why we are leaving in the first place.

I'm home with my mother-in-law who was able to come out and help for a month. Guys, I'm super lucky for that. Yes it's another body in the house to add to the chaos, but not many military spouses get the luxury of help from family!

Also, I'm preparing to leave for my annual training with the Army Reserve. Oh by the way, the movers come the day BEFORE I head home. So, I'm a panic mess. 

Rule number one, don't tell a stressing military spouse/boss/soldier/momma that "don't worry, everything will work out." 

NOPE.

I repeat. 

NOPE. not the best thing to say. Also don't tell her/him that she's freaking out. That spouse has every right to freak out, y'all. THIS. SHIT. IS. STRESSFUL.

Any way, trying to relieve the stress, I searched the inter webs for anything that would be useful. I came across. Military Printables, an Etsy shop with many printable things to help ease life. Low and behold, I found a printable for PCSing. What the what?! For $15, I bought that shit and printed it out.

 Next came the laboring task of putting everything in a binder and then started to collect all the important documents that didn't need to be packed by the movers. Things like, car paperwork, shot records, passports, tax returns, veterinarian paperwork, birth & marriage certificates, and any other important thing I could think of.

Now the owner of Military Printables is a genius. "JD" as she's known on her Etsy shop is described as

"A lover of paper, design, and all things printable. I love art and getting organized (on a budget, of course!). Living day by day on the roller coaster of military life."

And I love her.

No, seriously.

I carried that binder everywhere and it was easy to tell the movers, "NO! DON'T TOUCH THAT!" LOL

She has packing checklists in there, PCS per diem info, budget tasks, charts, and graphs, and shit. Everything.

Granted, I didn't use everything I printed out, but at least she gave me some sort of starting point. Face it, I'm never going to be super organized.

Nope.

When I was made, "organization" was thrown in last minute and that's basically my life today.

No Joke.

But hopefully this helps y'all out like it helped me!

God Speed!

Do you even redeye bro?! | My Hot Mess

I headed to Wyoming a few days ago to watch my eldest niece graduate and meet my youngest niece. I didn't think I was able to get to them in time before I headed on a two week annual training mission with the Army and then eventually being busy with PCSing, but I did. I literally left on a Thursday, came back on a Sunday night/Monday morning and then headed to training on a Tuesday. But that meant sacrificing some stuff ... meaning I had to take a redeye.

Redeyes, my dear friends, usually aren't a bad deal. You pay for uncomfortable chairs to sleep the entire ride. Not too shabby ... except for this instance.

And

Here

Goes.

So I'm not even going to harp on the incredibly hard Frontier seats or the fact that they don't even lean back the two inches most airlines give you.

OR

the fact that if I wanted have the extra space for my short legs, I needed to pay for my bag to go in the overhead space bins.

But how the crew chit-chatted at a louder than normal volume in the back of the plane or the incredibly odd little boy I saw staring at me next to his even odder guardian.

Or how I shivered the whole time despite wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

Not to mention the strangley tall man behind me who would stretch his freakishly long legs under my seat so that his toes - yes HIS TOES, would touch the back of my calves ...

Ga-ROSS!

Basically I can honestly say this was the worst red eye I have ever taken, especially since it was a three hour flight, but with the time change, it ended up being five hours.

Do you people even know how to redeye now-a-days?! 

Playground Workout | 'Werkit' out Wednesday

Today's 'Werkit' Out Wednesday is all about multi-tasking. 

Because 

FACE IT

That's what us moms do when we need to get shit done.

So next time you head to the playground, don't just sit on your butt playing Candy Crush.

What?

Don't look at me like that. I know you do it.

Oh, my bad, your browsing Facebook or Pinterest trying to figure out how to be a better momma.

Well STOP!

You are the best momma out there and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Dress in workout clothes, and 'werkit' while your children play!

This is the best, you can keep an eye out on your children, work out, and kick out that frustration all at the same time. And you didn't "waste" an hour at the playground.

This is where I put my disclaimer .... yada yada yada. I'm not a doctor. I'm not a trainer. Make sure your kids are safe. blah blah blah. You know the drill. You know your body. If it hurts, stop. If your kids cries, help him. If it's windy, too hot, lightening ... I mean, you're adult. Do what you gotta do.

Werkit LADIES!!!

PCS?! What the What?! | My Hot Mess

Okay, so lemme let you in on a little secret... So ... I've been in the military for 12 years, so has my husband. We have been a dual military couple for the past 12 years -- and you know where we've lived?

North Carolina.

Yep. Fort Bragg.

That's it.

I swear ... I'm seriously am telling the truth.

We bought a house our second year of marriage and have lived in the same house for 11 years.

Our two children have been born at Womack Army Medical Center. And both have returned to our first, and only, home here in Fayetteville, NC.

We've replaced windows, an AC unit ... painted, fixed the siding and put a new door on our house. We put gardens in the front yard. I single handedly remodeled our outdated kitchen and have remodeled my boys' rooms at least twice each.

We've endured 6, count them - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 of my husband's DEPLOYMENTS here at Fort Bragg. And each time, we've picked him up at Green Ramp, his post unit, or the Fayetteville Regional Airport and have come back to our small and cozy home.

Photo by Junebug Photography

So let me tell ya, we were pretty excited when my husband finally came down on orders to say that we would actually would get to live somewhere else for three years. Moving to El Paso, at first seemed like a dream come true.

That is, until ...

We realized we had to SELL THE HOUSE!

What the what?!

This is OUR HOUSE. 

We put so much love into it. It's the only house our boys know. It's our home. It's our dogs' home. Our cat roams the neighborhood. He basically owns the neighborhood. Our dogs know our neighbors ... but still barks at them. Our boys' finally have friends their age in the neighborhood.

We are going to have to sell the house! As exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time it was to do, we put that "for sale" sign out in the yard and wished for the best.


We got the word we'd be moving end of 2015. We put the house on the market in February 2016. We got a low bid in March. We countered, and we lost the bid. We got another bid in April, we countered, and we agreed on a price. Things were finally getting real.

Then we got the news ... the house's roof is 20+ years old.

Well, yeah, we knew that. We were hoping to get out of here before we had to replace it.

No. Such. Luck. Chuck.

The buyers couldn't find an insurance company to insure the house because of the aged roof. So ... here we sit. Waiting on contractor after contractor to climb my roof, inspect and tell me the damage.

The cost, I'm talking. Who would've thought I'd be having to dish out money for a new roof I wouldn't even be able to enjoy?! Blah. But alas, the house needs to be sold and I want the stress of leaving this house to another young military couple a small as possible.

So here we sit. Dreading the check that will need to be written.

But hey, our PCS mantra?

"This shit will buff out."