tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16196216626666750962024-03-19T09:03:11.698-04:00Life with Hassaan - An ADHD/ODD JourneyOur journey with Hassaan, who has been diagnosed with moderate-severe ADHD with ODD and severe anxiety issues. It's always an adventure, with a bit of a challenge thrown in!alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-42846270607978718212012-03-03T10:21:00.000-05:002012-03-03T10:21:05.542-05:00Just for fun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I got this "game" from an old entry on a friend's blog. She and I have been friend's for many years, and I was going back to about the time both of our children turn one. <br />
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What you have to do is go to the Google search page. Type in your name and the word "is" after it (so it says "(your name) is") and hit enter. Just make sure with the new search "help" (or should I say, less than help) you don't add any of those words. <br />
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So I typed in "Alice is..." and these are some of the (clean) things I got:<br />
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<b>Alice is...dead</b> (nope, still here.)<br />
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<b>Alice is...a very annoying, odd little girl</b> (courtesy of Tim Burton) (I'm sure many people over the years would agree with this sentiment.)<br />
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<b>Alice is...wonderful</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>(hey, I agree with this one! LOL)<br />
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<b>Alice is...at it again</b> (I wonder what "it" is?)<br />
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<b>Alice is...not in wonderland. She's just stoned</b> (I'm going to say I'm personally not either!)<br />
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<b>Alice is...the future</b> (yes!!!)<br />
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<b>Alice is...a thing of wonder</b> (I'll go with that. And I'm sure at least my brothers will define it in a wonderful way.)<br />
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<b>Alice is...watching you</b> (okay now, that's just creepy.)<br />
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<b>Alice is...eighteen</b>. (Nope. But I was. A looooong time ago.)<br />
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<b>Alice is...drawing</b> (seriously, no one wants to see that. It never ends well.)<br />
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I didn't come up with nearly the amount my friend did, nor some that are nearly as interesting. Maybe it's the newer search method since 2005 that Google is using. Maybe my name just isn't as interesting. But this was my fun on a Saturday morning. I know. Alice's life is sad.<br />
<br /></div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-29613396664310914432012-02-04T18:16:00.001-05:002012-02-04T18:16:26.202-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes it is possible to be too smart for your own good, and as Hassaan has gotten older so has the knowledge within him that he's a pretty smart little guy. He's picking up on the French in school faster than many of the other kids - including his second grade brother. He got a reward note from his teacher the other day for being caught speaking en francais to his friends, rather than in English as is what usually happens in first grade. And he's managed to figure out how to manipulate his older brother into saying words that he shouldn't be, therefore getting his brother into trouble while thinking he's remained an innocent party. The problem with that is that his grandparents and his mother have caught on. <div>
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Hassaan is now half finished grade one. Grade one has actually been, shockingly, successful. He is in a split senior kindergarten/grade one class that has given him the ability to be the big kid. While most of his friends are the kindergartners, he is making friends with the first graders. And with a change in medication this past December things are very calm both at home and school. </div>
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</div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-92191986425310216982011-06-19T12:50:00.000-04:002011-06-19T12:50:32.623-04:00AnotherThe trouble with labels is that when they're given, they're there. And when they're needed, they're still there, but the stigma attached is often such that people don't truly believe they're needed. And then, to top it off, when the label is legitimately given and the child is treated accordingly and this treatment includes meds, then the parent of the child is looked down upon as not parenting, but medicating their child so they don't have to. But yet, if this is legitimately the case, the parent <i>is </i>parenting. Now, I will admit that there are bad parents who, combined with bad doctors, medicate their children so they don't have to deal with the realities of being a parent. But for many of us, this is not the case. But the stigma attached to the labels of ADHD, ADD, ODD and others has been given because of those bad parents and bad doctors.<br />
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This little rant has been brought about because at Hassaan's last doctor's appointment the anxiety issue was discussed. It is readily apparent to those of us that have to transition him out of our house. Every day, every time, the words "it's time to go" bring about a meltdown. Once he gets to where he's going, one of two things happens. If it's somewhere where he knows everyone or is one on one with a grown up, he's FINE. Like it never happened. However, if he's going into a situation where there is not a lot of people and he's in them and doesn't know a lot of them, he shuts down. It's like he's the only one in the room. He won't talk to me, his father or his brother. Acknowledgement is nil. <br />
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Because of the extreme reactions to having to leave the house, his doctor wants him in counselling. And I completely agree. I do not want him on more meds. That is the last thing I want and he needs. But have you tried finding counseling here? It's next to impossible unless you have either really good benefits or are rich. But the doctor is concerned that if it is not taken care of and treated, Hassaan will end up to some degree of agoraphobia. <br />
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And I can see what he's saying, since even getting the child to go outside and play is nearly impossibly some days.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-65164711718628961442011-06-06T20:50:00.000-04:002011-06-06T20:50:55.208-04:00Medicine. Or lack thereof.Tomorrow we go to see Hassaan's paediatrician again. Not entirely sure what's going to be going on, as the last time around I was unable to go as I was having minor surgery so my parents took him. Now, here's the thing. I love my dad, I really do. And I am very grateful that he's been able to help with the boys when we need it. And when Hassaan first went on meds, he was one of the many that agreed we'd seen such a positive change. Now that we've seen that change consistently, he's gone onto the other side, where my middle brother is, in the 'he doesn't need medication' bandwagon. So on days like today, when I've given him the pills to give to Hassaan because he's not had breakfast yet, and then he doesn't give them (because they went out and he forgot to take the pills with them, which I totally get because I've done it) and then says later "well he's just fine, see?" It's just so frustrating. As I said tonight, the problem is not necessarily immediate, but later - when bedtime becomes a bigger fight than normal, when he starts to get a headache because it's coming out of his system and not going back in, he needs to have his meds. And that's where I left it.<br />
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So the lesson is to me - make sure Hassaan has his meds before he leaves the house because the chances of him getting them there are, well, slim. I know that if he's having a sleepover and my mom is there that he will get them. And then my next issue is that he's spending a week with my mother in law, who my husband hasn't (to the best of my knowledge) yet told about the diagnosis and meds. In fact, the one night that he and the boys stayed over (right after my surgery, as I kicked the three of them out for some peace and quiet) and the next day I asked him if he'd given Hassaan his meds (because sometimes he forgets, just as I do) and he had. So I asked him what his (ever critical) mother had said. His reply was that he hadn't told her. I asked if she'd seen it. He said nope, he'd put it in the oatmeal when she wasn't looking. So.... now to get my father to understand that he's gotta give the meds if asked, and Steve to talk to his mother and make sure she gets it as well. If not, I'm not going to be able to trust him to be anywhere where he needs his meds. <br />
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Basically, the question is this - why would you not give a child on meds for ADHD, but you'd give a diabetic child their meds? It's the same basic concept - better quality of life.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-21872932088789183972011-06-05T22:16:00.000-04:002011-06-05T22:16:12.587-04:00A bad sensory dayEvery once in awhile, fortunately less now than before, we have what can only be called a bad sensory day. <br />
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Hassaan, along with everything else, is also hypersensitive. This he also comes by honestly - it's something that I have always dealt with too, however Hassaan seems to have it to a greater degree than I do. Today he couldn't handle the clothes I picked out for him, so had a tantrum. Then he had a tantrum because I'd let his clothes touch the floor. Then, after finally getting him dressed and going into town to go to the 2011 Walk for Autism fundraiser for a local family we know (the walk is actually in a few weeks in Toronto, they raise money for their son's "team" every year), he refused to speak to anyone but me, refused to put his hat on because it had a double shoe-string type strap on it (which he's worn for two summers without a problem now) and spent a good deal of time taking his shoes off to clean in between his toes because things were touching his toes. In his sneakers. <br />
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These are the days when it's incredibly frustrating for both him and I. Usually it's frustrating to me because I do not understand why he's doing what he's doing. But on days like this, it's frustrating because I understand all too well and hate that he's going through that much like I have done and - to some degree - continue to do. And on days like this, I ask one question - between the ADHD, ODD, anxiety and hypersensitivity....<br />
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Why has God made life so difficult for Hassaan?alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-76679620134603775862011-05-28T23:59:00.000-04:002011-05-28T23:59:33.128-04:00Anxiety aboundsNow that Hassaan's meds have allowed him to have the self control to keep his behaviour in check with a little reminder here and there, an issue that was already there has come to the forefront tenfold. Anxiety.<br />
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Anxiety in a nearly six year old isn't fun. I will say right now - I will <i>not</i> be putting him on medication for this. I do not want him on more meds than he is already on. But when we go to the doctor again early in June I will be asking for a referral to a therapist.<br />
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Hassaan's anxiety issues are, to say the least, challenging. Just stating that we will be leaving the house is enough to set him off, even if he's given half an hour warning. Too much warning and it creates chaos. Too little warning and you end up having to carry him from the house. But even with what should be enough warning and reminders that he'll be leaving it still can end up with him having to be carried out of the house. Unfortunately, there are still times that he still needs to be carried out kicking and screaming. <br />
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He and I (alone) went to the area's multicultural festival the other night. Hammad had the privilege of going taken away after kicking his brother in the stomach. So as he and I were stuck in traffic (the irony of being stuck in traffic in the middle of nowhere was not - and is not - lost on me. Construction on a two lane highway that has not been expanded to create a third lane meant that it took half an hour to make a drive that normally takes me ten minutes). Anyway, as he and I were stuck in traffic, I asked him "why do you get so upset whenever we have to leave the house?" And he point blank answered me - "because I'm scared because I don't know what is going to happen when I leave the house, so I don't want to leave the house because I don't feel safe." <br />
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Hassaan has always had an above average vocabulary and way of speaking. He never did the one or two word sentences, but full sentences. And though for awhile his words didn't make sense, it was his diction, not his use of them. As the speech therapist said - his speech patterns (use of "th" or "s" or "r" mostly) were completely age appropriate. His vocabulary, however, was about four years about him and to some degree still is. So when he says things like this, he truly means it and he knows what he's saying. On one hand, I'm grateful that, many times, he can express himself enough that I have some idea of what is going on. On the other, there are days that I wonder "why did I want him to start talking? Please child, a few moments of silence!"<br />
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I wish that Hassaan's life wasn't so difficult. This is, for all intents and purposes, his own person jihad, and I will do whatever it is that I can to help him overcome it. But it is going to be a very long (and difficult) road. I look at Hammad and see how easy he's got it and how easy everything comes to him and I wish that there was just a little of that for Hassaan. But I love my boys and nothing will ever change that. Anxiety and all.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-47840992535716685892011-05-23T21:14:00.000-04:002011-05-23T21:14:40.915-04:00Uncertainty and stressAnother school year is almost at an end. Here, we don't finish until the very end of June, so we have about five and a half weeks left. And while many parents dread the end of a school year due to summer childcare issues when you have kids young enough to need that, others, like myself, dread the end of the school year for an entirely different reason. <br />
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The end of the school year is hard because, if you've had a good teacher that year, you've gotten into a routine where you trust the teacher and the teacher trusts that you're going to let them know if your child is having a bad day before they even get to school so that they can do what they can to head them off at the pass to keep from making an already bad day disastrous. The child trusts the teacher and might have actually had an enjoyable year - not something that a special needs kid always has. <br />
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And so now we're at the end of the year. This year has been an interesting one. The teacher that Hassaan originally had ended up having to go off on leave in March. He had a succession of other teachers which is always hard on the kids, but to the kids that don't function when there is no set routine it creates an entirely different set of problems. When you don't know who's going to be your teacher that day, just getting the child on the bus can be problematic. Finally, Hassaan's teacher was replaced with a long term supply teacher through the end of the year. We were incredibly fortunate that the teacher is, in many respects, much like his original teacher. Firm, routine and structure oriented, and very patient. So all in all, the year has gone fairly well. But it's not the end of the current year that is the problem. The problem is when you look at next year.<br />
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It is always frustrating and stressful that you can't and won't know who your child has until the first day of school. I know that it's pretty much down between two teachers for next year. One I know very little about, though I do know a couple of people had issues - though they were more with comparisons with the other teacher than anything else. The other teacher Hammad has this year. She was also my teacher way back when. I really like her. However, while she is structured, I don't believe that she has the patience needed to work with Hassaan. Maybe she does and I just haven't seen it with Hammad. But Hammad did need what his teacher gave him - a really firm push with consequences for his actions. Or rather, consequences for his lack of actions. <br />
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So now I, like many other parents, will spend the summer fretting and stressing about the next school year, about the entire month of September - if not longer - that it takes to transition back into school, and even then, if the child and teacher and compatible, an eternally long year.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-20223008108927047252011-05-15T01:33:00.001-04:002011-05-15T01:35:56.983-04:00What happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="messageBody" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Our house is so small that when it's humid and the dryer is on, the bathroom mirror steams up. One evening, I walked into the bathroom to find Hassaan drawing his name on the mirror. He then starts to draw a picture. When I ask what he's drawing, Hammad apparently knows because he starts giggling hysterically. Hassaan, it turns out, is drawing a picture of his butt in the steam on the wall to wall mirror. </span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="messageBody" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="messageBody" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I called to Abdullah and told him to get his child off the counter and get his teeth brushed. So what did Abdullah do? Abdullah taught him (and his brother) how to turn around and actually press his butt on the mirror instead of just drawing it. *sigh*</span></span></h6><div><span class="messageBody" style="color: #f1c232; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="messageBody" style="color: #f1c232; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 14px;">There is waaaaaaaaaay too much testosterone in this house some days.</span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-46955596342902754052011-05-15T01:27:00.001-04:002011-05-15T01:30:17.684-04:00My son the drama queen<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Hassaan (having temper tantrum): "I HAVE TO GO PEE!!!! I'm gonna pee my pants!!!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me (calmly, trying not to roll my eyes): "You're in the bathroom."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Hassaan: "I HAVE TO PEE!!!" (now has no pants on) "I can't hold it and I'll pee on the floor!!!!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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Me: "You're in. the. bathroom."<br />
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Hassaan (crying & screaming): "I HAVE TO PEE!!!!"<br />
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Me: "Turn around Hassaan. You're standing in front of the toilet."<br />
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Hassaan (calmly): "Oh."</span></span></span>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-68452227169652424052011-05-15T00:48:00.000-04:002011-05-15T00:48:44.160-04:00Battleship!So Hassaan and Hammad gave Abdullah the game "Battleship" for his birthday earlier this week. Because the boys are still a bit young to do it on their own, we play in teams. Today was Abdullah and Hammad versus Hassaan and myself. Part of this is because, after a certain point, sometimes Hassaan is just done playing, so he'll just get up and leave. Not too helpful in a two player game. Well, he did this during this afternoon's game. <br />
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A few minutes after deciding he was done playing Hassaan decided he was no longer done playing and came back over and sat down next to me. He then pointed to the board. And so began what turned into the funniest thing all day.<br />
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Hassaan: "You have to do this one and this one" (pointing to two squares on the board)<br />
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Me: "why?"<br />
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Hassaan: "well, when I was walking past, i saw their boats there and there."<br />
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Me: starts laughing so hard I end up crying during this, Abdullah is trying to explain to Hassaan how this is cheating. Hassaan just keeps saying "well, I just <i>walked by</i>. I didn't really <i>look</i>. I was walking by and saw it out of the corner of my eyes, because I had to walk past your side to get back over here. And I couldn't stop laughing. <br />
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Let's just say the next game of Battleship will have Hassaan sitting on that side of the table in case he decides to quit and come back again!alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-11633450551463836742011-05-15T00:37:00.001-04:002011-05-15T01:24:13.589-04:00Letting the cat outSo now that all the paperwork is in and done, I can say what's been going on for the past few months. <br />
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In March, after much thought, we started Hassaan on the most minimal dose of Adderall that he can be on. The changes, as the teacher that filled out his secondary Connor's Scale report stated, are amazing. Because his normal classroom teacher has been on sick leave for the last two months, his Junior Kindergarten teacher, who got Hassaan at his most challenging last year, we in for a few weeks as the supply teacher. She filled out the new, post-meds, Connor's Scale and Hassaan's scores went from 3s and 4s to 0s and 1s. Alhamdulillah that it's working and Hassaan's now able to be a full, co-operative, participant in his classroom. His supply teachers have told other teachers (including my mother) that he's been so <i>good</i> and <i>co-operative</i>. Two words never applied to Hassaan in the last year and a half. I'm not a pusher of medication. In fact, it took a lot of thought and prayer before Abdullah and I agreed on medication. And I do believe in working together with the paediatrician and psychologist. However, unfortunately, until my workplace contract is settled and my benefits are actually in stone (or as stone as they are going to be) to cover the rather expensive psychologist. <br />
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Rage episodes in the evenings have all but stopped. His teachers say that the other kids are now choosing to play with Hassaan rather than ignoring him altogether. Hassaan, however, still pretty much ignores them, but his behaviour no longer pushes them away. <br />
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As his mom, I'm not entirely thrilled he's on medication. But I am happy that, for at least the time being, Hassaan's life has gotten just a bit easier and the real Hassaan has the chance to shine through :)alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-57610551884785727372011-04-06T22:39:00.000-04:002011-04-06T22:39:10.035-04:00And now the other kidFor months - since our first parent teacher interview back in November - Hammad's teacher has been at me to get him tested for ADD. Not ADHD like Hassaan has, but ADD. I kept saying that no, there's not a problem, he's just a little spacey and doesn't like to do things that don't interest him, as well as this darned perfectionist streak that he's got. But then today Abdullah and I got to sit in on his class to watch him do his speech (on his visite de conservatoire de papillon). Hammad was third up. So we got to observe him as well. The wonderful thing about being six is that you don't always realize when people are watching you just to watch you. And what I saw has me stepping back and changing my tune.<br />
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"Space cadet" does not even cover it. Hammad is a very smart, very creative little boy who is becoming more and more obviously off in his own planet, to the point that his teacher doesn't have anything to evaluate for report cards. So now, we contact the doctor and get him evaluated as well. If (big IF) he is on the ADD scale, it would be closer to the type that I have been diagnosed with - inattentive ADD.<br />
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On one hand, if he does have it, we can do something about him and give him the skills to succeed, the skills that I didn't have because I was repeatedly told I wasn't trying hard enough. On the other, I really hope he doesn't have it, because two kids on the ADD/ADHD scale isn't my idea of a good time.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-87325379239663297142011-03-20T23:50:00.001-04:002011-03-20T23:52:55.754-04:00This is the face of ADHD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q41nX95N2uiVjL-8e4_CcLGpaIkEuyhPzGXMqh2PZAKbuekiPY6Q_Vyk9DEyE9D_1hDRL6W42SJJfk_hnwLRmIqJs8vUurLMI1mPwr_c7s6PxjdjRa01kfm7zMinp8btZ2YTkZKb88cM/s1600/March+2011+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q41nX95N2uiVjL-8e4_CcLGpaIkEuyhPzGXMqh2PZAKbuekiPY6Q_Vyk9DEyE9D_1hDRL6W42SJJfk_hnwLRmIqJs8vUurLMI1mPwr_c7s6PxjdjRa01kfm7zMinp8btZ2YTkZKb88cM/s320/March+2011+056.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of ADHD.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Hassaan.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He is five and a half years old.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He is a smart, vibrant, loving little boy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of ADHD.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When he's in a good mood, he's all cuddles and giggles.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When he's in a bad mood, it's like a monster inside has taken over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's when you have to remember that smart, loving little boy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of ADHD.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The is the face of a child who says he's dumb, stupid and an idiot because he knows he's not like other kids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of a child who says there are bees buzzing in his head and he can't stop them or himself sometimes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of a little boy who's not dumb, but so smart he gave up adding numbers and started adding letters.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of ADHD.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Hassaan.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He is my son, my baby, and my heart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He is what brings me the greatest joy and the greatest pain.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He is what I fight for when the world tells me that he's just being a brat or refuses the support I know he needs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the face of ADHD.</div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-80356877948018250292011-03-07T23:16:00.000-05:002011-03-07T23:16:32.017-05:00What I want to be when I grow up.Hassaan's school had a spirit day a couple of weeks ago. It was "What I want to be when I group up Day". Hassaan wants to be a veterinarian/worker man. I told him to be the worker man to pay for vet school. I borrowed a safety shirt from a friend at work, used literally about 30 safety pins to make it easier for him to wear (the sleeves alone are doubled up twice). Used my old safety hard hat from work (when we were allowed to decorate them) and took his brother's old ankle boots and put duct tape (we're Canadian! Duct tape is for EVERYTHING - so says Red Green!) on the toes to make them look like steel toed boots, borrowed a safety vest from my boss, and sent him off to school looking like this -<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah1DYcyZTqVIBTa7aiYw4C_ppO27kCfsX5Vbik4Zz89PtxWG27WMDPyWBY1zwocaoTBSS3k79dM2mjkn13RD7U9OfqCx2ojKISt_vH5qZLVcRRI5tHv2kZm0SHy1OYjtNn4_b_OxvH5En/s1600/declan+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah1DYcyZTqVIBTa7aiYw4C_ppO27kCfsX5Vbik4Zz89PtxWG27WMDPyWBY1zwocaoTBSS3k79dM2mjkn13RD7U9OfqCx2ojKISt_vH5qZLVcRRI5tHv2kZm0SHy1OYjtNn4_b_OxvH5En/s320/declan+cropped.jpg" width="155" /></a></div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-63898296344585404892011-03-07T23:11:00.000-05:002011-03-07T23:11:37.852-05:00Tough DecisionsThe hardest thing about Hassaan's diagnosis is what to do to help him. Sometimes there's just nothing you can do except be there. Other times you're called upon to advocate for your child, because if you don't, you know that no one else will. Then there are the times where you come off looking, quite honestly and bluntly, like a bitch (or insane) because while your child looks normal you know he's not and the people that you're dealing with refuse to acknowledge that there's a problem or put the support in place necessary for him to succeed. Fortunately for me, we live in a small enough community where this hasn't really been an issue. And then there's the biggest part - what can I do to help my child like himself? To help him succeed? To help him be able to function in life in a positive manner where his behaviour doesn't immediately turn those around him against him? <div><br />
</div><div>The first thing I've done to help him is be his advocate. To put in place whatever it is that I can do to help him. This includes working with his day camp co-ordinators to make sure that he had a buddy if necessary on his bad days last summer. All I had to say to the co-ordinator was "Hassaan's having a bad day and needs someone with him" and it was done. It also meant getting to know his group leaders well so that we could communicate with each other as to how the day had gone or how the morning before drop off had gone so they knew what they were in for, or so that they could pass on the message to whomever was picking up the boys at the end of the day so they knew what they were in for before I picked them up (usually my parents). This communication can be invaluable on a bad day. That way, you're prepared for whatever might be coming your way. When you're not prepared and it has the appearance of coming out of left field, Hassaan's behaviour can lead you to have a negative reaction, which doesn't help the situation.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have become an advocate for my son with the school system. He has an awesome teacher this year who's very regimented in her routine, which for an ADHD child is wonderful. She also takes care of any issues herself, within the classroom, so Hassaan has only spent one time in the office this year instead of the many he did last year. I advocated for him to have this teacher this year (she was Hammad's teacher the last two years) and will advocate for whichever of the first grade teachers she also recommends for next year.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Harder, though, was trying to figure out the rest. Finally, after much thought and prayer, last Wednesday we started Hassaan on drug therapy as well. I've cried now because I wish we'd gone this route before. My little boy is finally shining through the disorder. Our house is not a war zone. He no longer spends multiple moments a day calling himself dumb, stupid and idiot. You can have a conversation with him and he can now pay attention. Bedtime is no longer the major battle within the war. He takes initiative now to do things like go and clean up the playroom. The house is not in chaos. Hassaan is now truly fun to be around.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This is not to say that there are still not bad days. Or horrendous days. Yesterday would qualify as the latter. It was a bad day from start until nearly finish, though the last two hours of the day weren't so bad. I had things thrown at me, scratched, kicked, hit, bit. I had to do a modified bear hug on him to keep him from hurting me. I was told I was stupid and an idiot. I was also told "I hate you more than God! I love God! But I hate you more than God!" Which went round and round until I finally stepped in and said "do you mean you hate me more than you love God?" To which he screamed "YEAH! THAT!!" It took all I had not to laugh. He was so far gone at that point there was just no quick solution. Things started to be thrown when I placed him against the door and told him he couldn't move his bum from the door. He slid to the floor and started pulling things out from under my dresser and throwing them at me. Nothing actually hit me. They just landed on the bed where I was folding socks. The bright side to this is that the dresser that I really didn't fancy getting down on my hands and knees to clean out under was now clean underneath. (You have to find a bright side somewhere!) Later on, once he was calm, he was embarrassed. But when he's that far gone, he can't stop himself and no one else can stop him either. He remembers what he's done later, but during the rage, he's just not there. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But you know what? Those bad days are so much easier to handle now that they're not EVERY day. The sweet little boy is able to completely shine through now - not just be a little glimpse of sunshine behind the clouds.</div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-84555520192086914932011-02-28T22:27:00.000-05:002011-02-28T22:27:49.464-05:00I am so confusedTypical school day conversation, all said by Hassaan (my response to all of them are generally "I don't care, you're going to school."):<br />
<br />
- I hate school<br />
- I'm not going to school<br />
- I'm stupid<br />
- I'm dumb<br />
- I hate school.<br />
- You can't make me go to school<br />
- I hate school work<br />
- School is bad<br />
- School is mean<br />
- I won't go to school.<br />
- I hate school<br />
- School is stupid<br />
- I don't want to do work<br />
<br />
So then, twice now, the second time being today, this has taken place either on the weekend or after school -<br />
<br />
- I want homework<br />
- If Hammad has homework I want homework.<br />
- Where's my homework?<br />
- I like school work!<br />
<br />
The first time had actually had a massive temper tantrum when I told him that I was sorry, I did not have homework for him. He sobbed, yelled that he hated me and then ran up to his room and cried for half an hour. His teacher sent home photocopies of an old grade one math book for him to work on. Happy little clam.<br />
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Today....today his brother finished the 10 sentence "speech" he has to give in a couple of weeks at school. Hammad is writing it about our trip to the butterfly conservatory outside Niagara Falls, ON, last summer. So Hassaan decided that HE was going to write a speech too. He did a sentence and a half today and says he'll finish it tomorrow. <br />
<br />
So far, it says: <br />
<br />
J'aime des cheins. Mon chein prefere est le dalmation parc qu'il a de....<br />
<br />
Oh, and did I mention these speeches have to be in French? Seeing as they're in French immersion? So yes, my five year old "I hate school" son has decided that he must write a speech for school.<br />
<br />
I am so confused.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-24116672122082973312011-02-23T21:18:00.000-05:002011-02-23T21:18:25.770-05:00New diagnosisI came home today to a message my husband took that Hassaan's doctor had called. After going through the tests so far he's now decided to relabel Hassaan from "severe ADHD with ODD" to "borderline ADHD with ODD." Um...okay?? I really don't like this without discussion, but that will have to wait until our next appointment - March 10. <br />
<br />
And so, we wait. With a change in diagnosis. But for now, I'm not changing my blog name. Because for all I know, he'll change it again in March. Frustrated much?alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-72811621562521662372011-02-21T02:51:00.001-05:002011-03-07T23:49:12.077-05:00The ObsessionSo you may have noticed a few new additions over there at the side of my blog. You might have noticed one in particular, up towards the top. You know the one I'm talking about. Even if you don't want to admit you know, you know. I'm sure you do.<br />
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I'm not sure when it started. I'm not even sure how it started. All I know is that Hassaan has an obsession. This obsession, as well as other tendencies, has led his teacher, myself, and others to think that Hassaan might have Aspergers as well. His obsession carries through everything in life, right down to his pillow. Hassaan's obsession?<br />
<br />
Dogs. Hassaan LOVES dogs. His pillow is a giant stuffed dog that is bigger than he is. The dog's name is Rainbow. The irony of the dog being named Rainbow? Rainbow is a very plain, beige, dog with a black nose. Not a rainbow on him. Don't ask me why his name is Rainbow. Don't even ask Hassaan, because every time he's asked the story is different. Okay, ask him. And then ask him again in an hour. It might give you a small bit of entertainment on a rainy afternoon.<br />
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Within our family, we also have Baby Fetch, Baby Bury, Daddy Dog, Bingo, Spot, Big Ears, Floppy, Icy, and literally about twenty five others whose names escape me because, quite frankly, I just don't care that much to know the names of about 30 stuffed dogs. I love my son. But I don't love him to the point of joining in his obsession.<br />
<br />
Fourteen months ago, I caved in and - in a moment of a total, complete, and embarrassing loss of common sense - got the boys a puppy. He was a rambunctious puppy - half pug, half Boston terrier. I'm pretty sure there was a bit of kangaroo in there too. The boys named him Fetch. I had absolutely nothing - let me repeat: ab.so.frickin.lutely nothing - to do with naming this dog. Why do I make this clear? Well, picture this. Close your eyes. No! Wait! Don't! Because then you can't read this. So figuratively close your eyes. You're standing in the driveway. You're calling an absent minded puppy to come back. You're chasing him through the back yard. And what are you yelling this whole time? "Fetch! Come! Fetch! Sit! FETCH! STAY!" I sounded like a moron. But the boys loved Fetch. And note that I have referred to Fetch totally in the past tense.<br />
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Nine months and three days after Fetch arrived at our home and just made the boys' hearts swell with pride, Fetch decided that chasing my father's car was a good thing to do. He ran out into the road and was hit by a car coming up behind my father. A neighbour a few doors down told me later that he knew it was bad by the type of scream coming from both Hassaan and Hammad. I was at work. I came home to a note on the door left by my husband (who was home for only the weekend) that just said "Fetch hit by car. Call cell." The next day, we had to put Fetch to sleep. He had a spinal cord injury that left him unable to move one back leg and all and the other hind leg sometimes worked but mostly didn't. We took the boys' to the vet's to say goodbye to him, and the poor puppy sat in my lap shaking, knowing something was desperately wrong, and there I was, two boys who were barely holding it together and all I wanted to do was fix it for them and I couldn't. <br />
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It's been just shy of five months since Fetch died, and every day Hassaan still talks about him. For quite a long time Hassaan declared that he wanted to be dead because then he could be with Fetch. The paediatrician told me that, at five years old, he wasn't concerned that Hassaan was actually suicidal because at that age they don't have the concept of the finality of death. But it was still scary to hear your son talking like that. And someone the absolutely ridiculous comes out of his mouth. Like the night that he was fighting going to bed (again) and said he "couldn't wear pants because wearing pants reminded him of Fetch!" It took every ounce of self control to wait til he'd gone up the stairs before I lost it laughing. <br />
<br />
But dogs are Hassaan's obsession. We have stuffed dogs, hard plastic model-type dogs, books on dogs, movies on dogs, clothes with pictures of dogs (that was just coincidence, not something I went looking for). Heck, I even have a ringtone of dog barks on my phone just for Hassaan. <br />
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I'm pretty sure that if Hassaan could trade me in for a dog, he would. And if he could trade in his brother for a dog, he'd be all over that deal!alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-28683514885242101072011-02-21T00:23:00.001-05:002011-02-21T01:50:47.989-05:00The good daysSome days, we have entirely awesome days. And some days these days start out horribly. Or, at least, part of the good part starts out horribly.<br />
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Yesterday, Hassaan and I went to London to sign some paperwork for a new vehicle that I am getting. The reason we are going two hours away for it is mostly because Abdullah has already dealt with them with good results. <br />
<br />
Anyway, Hassaan hadn't left the house since he got home from school on Wednessday, so I decided that Hassaan was coming with me. Hassaan, on the other hand, didn't think this was such a great idea. Me, though, thought that 72 hours not leaving the house was a bit much. Granted, it wasn't Hassaan's fault - Abdullah has had the chicken pox and couldn't go anywhere but the front yard, so he did have Hassaan and Hammad outside in the yard after school. But Hassaan hadn't gone past the end of the driveway. So off to London Hassaan was going to go. Whether he liked it or not. <br />
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The first issues was getting Hassaan dressed. That was easier than normal. He was, at this point, in a good mod, even being rather tired for staying up goofing off the night before. And then...and then he said "are we going somewhere?"<br />
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Upon being told that yes, he and I are going somewhere, he ran upstairs and yelled "I'm not coming down until you leave!" Once again he appears to have forgotten that he is the child and I am the mommy. Oh such fun we had getting him into the car. Sobbing, crying, yelling he wasn't going even after getting his seatbelt on, telling me he hated me, telling me he wasn't going even after we'd left and were headed towards town. Finally he stopped crying. But he was grumpy and as we were taking the "squiggly" way into town before continuing to London, he started singing this song that just goes "the squiggly way drives me nuts" over and over again. So I started to sing with him. And he yelled that he hated me again.<br />
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So we get to town, I stop at Tim Horton's to get myself an iced cappuccino and him a hot chocolate and a cookie for the drive and within a mile I get "Mommy, I love you." Dude - you have faster mood swings that a woman with PMS. The kid talked about World of Warcraft from town through to a town an hour and a bit away. And then he fell asleep through the next two towns, for about 45 minutes. And when he woke up he was in a very good mood.<br />
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Hassaan was sooooo good all afternoon. Through the two hours we spent at the car dealership. Though he was a bit spinny through the grocery store, but as we went to an Asian grocery store, it was also a wonderful learning experience. Had Hassaan been doing the grocery shopping, we would have come home with a cows tongue, cows lung, cows stomach, cows heart, mutton leg and a pigs snout. Though he did say "we wouldn't eat the pigs' snout cuz we don't eat pig - bit it looks funny."<br />
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Hassaan was also so very, very good when we went to visit my brother in the hospital. My brother has been there for nearly two weeks and is very sick, but the doctors cannot figure out what is going on. It is to the point they had to give him a blood transfusion today, which he had an allergic reaction to. But I took Hassaan up to see him and my sister in law yesterday evening and Hassaan was so good. In fact, he was so good he let his stuffed dog Bingo there to keep his Uncle I company to "help him with his bravery when he is all alone at night." Though he was specific in the fact that when Uncle I gets out of the hospital, Grammy has to bring Bingo home. <br />
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I love days that he's so sweet that I have people tell me he's adorable. I just wish we had them more often.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-64918671689298839342011-02-17T01:52:00.001-05:002011-02-21T01:50:09.225-05:00My other blogJust for those that may happen to be following, I have a second blog. This blog, Life with Hassaan, is dedicated to our ADHD/ODD journey that Hassaan is taking us on. It is HIS journey. We are just his followers for some parts, guiders for others. But I have another journal that I have dedicated to life in general, and anything - random or otherwise - that might be going through my head.<br />
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It is - <a href="http://www.thevillagemuslimah.blogspot.com/">The Village Muslimah</a>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-34282777797824883792011-02-16T23:03:00.001-05:002011-02-17T01:50:01.247-05:00To help or to hurtEvery once in awhile, I come across a situation that just gets me irritated and angry to the point that, well, smacking someone actually seems like a reasonable option. Even though I know it's not. Really. I do.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>One such situation is when a parent cannot accept that their child has legitimate difficulties and either ignores it to the point that it has long term implications on whether or not their child fails or succeeds, or, more often, blames it on the other parent. This is incredibly frustrating from the perspective of a parent who is accepting of what is going on, and is willing to move hell and high water to give her child the skills to help himself, to have a good, positive, life, being able to do whatever it is that his heart desires. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My situation is not like this. My husband knows - admits - that Hassaan has these issues and this is what is going on. With the ADHD, it is strongly suspected that my husband has it as well. In helping Hassaan, we are attempting to help him make better choices than his father has. Much as I love my husband and my children love their father, he has made some decisions that have affected not only him but the entire family negatively. So anything I can can do to help my son not make those decisions, I will do - be it behavioural therapy, drug therapy or a combination of both.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I have talked to other parents, mothers mostly, who's husbands refuse to acknowledge that their child (usually son) has issues that he needs help with. Maybe the father is feeling failure that his son isn't "perfect." Who knows. But whatever it is, it's doing not but harming the child. But how do you get it through someone's head that to admit that there's a problem, to accept help, isn't to admit failure or defeat, but simply to admit a challenge?</div>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-43847259512006179922011-02-13T10:14:00.000-05:002011-02-13T10:14:52.723-05:00"You're Killing Me!!""You're killing me! Get it off! You're killlllllllllllling me! Let me go! YOU'RE KILLING ME! It's on my tongue! You're kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilling me! You're killing me! YOU'RE! KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLINNNNNNNNNNG ME!!!!!"<br />
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Any guesses on what was going on? I bet you're thinking that I've done something totally horrible to my child and you should call CAS. Or the police. But that I've been totally horrible to Hassaan. <br />
<br />
Hardly.<br />
<br />
Know what I did? Cut his hair. Yup. I gave the child a haircut. Took twice as long as it should have because of all the screaming going on. In the summer I will often cut his hair in the driveway because otherwise the windows are all open and all the neighbours sitting outside on their deck can hear is Hassaan screaming about how much I'm hurting him. At least if I'm doing it in the driveway they can see for themselves exactly what I'm doing. Which is giving the child a darned haircut! <br />
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Every once in awhile, it's exactly the opposite. It's "ahhhh! That feels niiiiiiiiice. Oh Mommy, what a nice massage that is!" But normally, I get accused of killing him. Hurting him. Just downright making his life miserable. All in the pursuit of a decent haircut, especially like now when he had a most definite Eddie Munster thing going down the centre of his forehead. <br />
<br />
So if you ever are walking past my house on a nice day when the windows are open and you keep hearing "You're killing me!" screamed over and over again - don't worry, I'm just giving the child a haircut.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-10874540791594927932011-02-12T20:41:00.000-05:002011-02-12T20:41:55.094-05:00So you know other kids. And?"Well I know lots of other kids who have ADHD or Autism and they don't act like that." <br />
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That is one of the most hurtful statements that someone can say to someone like me, who deals with a severely ADHD child or friends of mine who deal with children on varying levels of the Autism scale. So you know other kids. And? Your point is? Our point is, you do not know OUR kids. You do not know MY child. And I don't know a single other ADHD/ODD/Autism parent whose child hasn't had a public meltdown, so you obviously haven't followed every single one of these children around 24/7.<br />
<br />
Hassaan can be the perfect child out in public. Sweet, engaging, funny. And that is most of the time. But then there are those days when it's like he's possessed. When he screams through the grocery store. When he has to be removed from a restaurant. When he thinks it's a good idea to keep hitting and/or biting my hands and arms. And the strangers that see this, some look at me with pity, some look at me with disgust, some look away, and some ignorant people like to make comments. To them I say two things. First, you don't know me, you don't know my child, you don't know our situation, so do you really have enough information to be passing judgement on us? And secondly, do you really think you're special enough for me to care what you think I should do to/with my child? Seriously? The only thing hearing strangers go on about my situation in that moment makes me want to do is, well, it would get me arrested, so instead, I ignore. <br />
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Yes, the above statement was sent in my direction yet again today. I just wish people would realize that just because they claim to know "lots" of people with whatever, it doesn't mean that you know ALL of them throughout the world. And no two cases are these same.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-53911579293861904482011-02-12T20:19:00.000-05:002011-02-12T20:19:27.026-05:00Oppositional Defiant Disorder links<a href="http://aacap.org/page.ww?name=Children+with+Oppositional+Defiant+Disorder&section=Facts+for+Families">American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002504">American National Institute of Health - ODD</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/oppositional-defiant-disorder/DS00630">Mayo Clinic - ODD</a><br />
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Unfortunately, there is not nearly as much information on Oppositional Defiant Disorder as there is on ADD/ADHD.alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619621662666675096.post-88788977878142589462011-02-12T20:13:00.000-05:002011-02-12T20:13:31.693-05:00Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder links<a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002518">American National Institute of Health ADHD description</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/attention-deficit-hyperactivity-disorder/complete-index.shtml">American National Institute of Mental Health - ADHD</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.adhdcanada.com/">ADHD Canada</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.caddra.ca/cms4/">The Canadian Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder Resource Centre</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.chaddcanada.org/">Ch. A.D.D. Canada</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.caddac.ca/cms/page.php?2">Centre for ADD/ADHD Advocacy, Canada</a><br />
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<a href="http://totallyadd.com/">Totally ADD (interactive site)</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.sickkids.ca/HealthInFocus/ADHD/index.html">Sick Kids (Toronto) Health In Focus - ADHD</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.cmha.ca/bins/content_page.asp?cid=3-99">Canadian Mental Health Association - ADD</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.additudemag.com/">ADDitude Magazine</a>alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841190608133322421noreply@blogger.com0