Magnificent Creative Life Force

"I'm going to give you a set of instructions," Mollie announced to the workshop attendees, and she said, "Go to your room and get your shoes from the closet. Go to your dresser and get a shirt and a pair of pants. Then I want you to get dressed. And when you're done getting dressed, go eat your breakfast."

Mollie asked one workshop attendee to repeat the drill, and that attendee was able to successfully parrot the instructions.

She turned to her assistant and said, "Okay, Sandra, hit the lightswitch."

Sandra toggled the lights off and on repeatedly while Mollie wandered the room, reciting the instructions, then turned the radio on and doodled with the stations, straightened a picture on the wall, flipped the blinds open, then shut them, turned the radio off, shuffled some papers, and so on.

"And that," Mollie concluded, "is what a child with ADD experiences when you are giving him instructions."

I was dumbfounded.

It was my first time in this ADD/ADHD workshop at my sons' elementary school. Out of curiosity, I attended the workshop on my lunch hour to see what it had to offer.

Mollie, the parent liaison who was also a parent of a child with ADHD, brimmed with enthusiasm. She had started off the workshop by pointing to the white board and asking, "See all these negative statistics about people with ADD and ADHD?"

She erased the board and remarked, "From now on, we're going to focus on the positive aspects."

Each of us introduced ourselves and related briefly our "situations." When it was my turn, I said, "I have two sons with ADHD. My husband was for a very long time an undiagnosed adult with ADHD. I do want to add that my husband hates that acronym because it contains negative vibes. Disorder. Disabled. Dysfunctional. He keeps saying he's not a deficit! So he prefers to be known as someone who is a 'Magnificent Creative Life Force.'"

Everyone hooted over that one and clapped. "Yeah!" shouted one woman. "That's exactly what it is!"

Many times my son, Ethan, would explode into a fit, triggered by a very minor event, and then he blurts out a laundry list of all frustrations he's harbored in the past week. I always shake my head in bewilderment, watching the transformation in my nine-year-old. His face turns deep red, his body trembles with fury-packed emotion, and his big blue eyes overflow with tears. It appeared that he had inherited his daddy's tendency for "throwing tantrums."

Ethan's teacher maintains a behavioral chart to track his frustrations. To prevent singling him out, she has an award system for all the children in her class who are able to work through their frustrations of classwork problems in a constructive manner.

At the workshop this past week, I was again struck by an exercise that Mollie demonstrated. It helped give me a visual perspective of Ethan's and my husband's angry outbursts.

On one of the tables sat a clear rectangular plastic tub filled with water. One volunteer dipped her hands in the water while Mollie dropped one ping-pong ball after another into the tub.

"I'm frustrated about those timed tests," Mollie said as she dropped the ball into the water. The volunteer had to hold that ball under water and subsequent ones as well.

"I'm worried about the upcoming TAKS test."

"I had a hard time reading that chapter book yesterday."

"Last week my sister was such a pest when I was trying to work on that project."

"I can't remember what I'm supposed to do next!"

"I'm stupid."

The inevitable happened. The volunteer could not possibly hold all the ping-pong balls under water. We watched them pop up to the surface. Mollie wasn't even half-way through her bag of ping-pong balls.

"All of these issues," Mollie said, "are crowding your child's brain. He's juggling these random thoughts that stream through his mind like an endless movie until he can't take it anymore. When he can't hold these thoughts down any longer, he blows his stack and can't even begin to pinpoint any one reason why he's upset."

I was stunned.

I dearly love and embrace the Magnificent Creative Life Forces in my life. With the support of this workshop and networking with other parents (some of whom were diagnosed with ADD/ADHD themselves), I feel better equipped to handle my family's unique challenges.

Last night I came home to find Ethan dizzy with excitement. "Guess what, Mom!" he blurted out. "I wasn't frustrated today at all, and I got this prize from the treasure box for not being frustrated. This was the best day ever of my whole entire life!"

Have you hugged your Magnificent Creative Life Force lately?

* ADD/ADHD = Attention-Deficit Disorder/Attention-Deficit Hyperactive Disorder