Tuesday, November 6, 2007


EDIT: This post seems to get the most traffic ... hello, new visitors! If you want to see some much-better stuff of mine, please visit more recent stuff like this post from when I was covered in black widow spiders, or this series of posts featuring photos of Arizona animals. I promise they're better than this!

I was talking with my husband the other day about parents medicating kids, and the pros and cons therein.

I mentioned that my parents struggled while making the decision to not medicate me for ADD, and that I was happy with it, even though I have a pretty non-small case of it, which has carried on into adulthood.

"You have ADD?" my husband asks.

Now, it didn't occur to me to think of stigmas associated with conditions, or anything like that. I was flabbergasted because, if you spend two nanoseconds with me, this news will probably come as no surprise. It was like him asking "You're a writer? Really? And a mom?" I don't revel in it, but like it or not, it's a big part of who I am day to day.

To wit:

You know that dream where you realize you're at school with no pants on? It really happened to me. I once forgot to put on my pants after P.E., and walked out.

I can hold my own against PhD physicists in logical debates, but my 5-year-old can now give me a run for my money at Blue's Clues Memory.

I interrupt my while talking to myself.

I plan the rest of my life, every Sunday evening.

In the shower, I often shave one leg but somehow forget the other.

I have written reminder notes on my hand, figuring it's the one thing I won't lose, only to take a shower and realize the reminder note has washed off.

I routinely begin to make an impassioned point, and between my rampant verbosity and my ADD, by the time I reach the all-important pivotal zinger, I've totally forgotten what it was. This is also why I don't tell jokes more than two sentences long.

I constantly forget why I went into a room once I get there. Worse, I forget which room I'm going to in mid-stride. Or, I have to stop and really think to figure out whether I was going into or out of the room.

My mom felt the need to hold my hand until I was 12 when crossing the street. Oh, that's right. Cars drive through there.

I'll go to put something away and on the way I see something else out of place so I stop to do that, but before I can do that I see something else that needs doing and the first thing never gets done. And I wonder why I can't get things done.

My cell phone has far more calls from my husband than anyone else, but not because he calls me -- it's because I have to call my phone from his to find it every single time.

I buy identical, cheap pens in bulk and scatter them on every level surface in my home so I can find something to write with when I need it. This leads to writing notes and messages on every paper or paper-like substance around (receipts, old pizza boxes, napkins, unopened mail, old newspapers, a big something-with-a-face that my son drew, magazine subscription cards.) These items now contain vital information and can never be thrown away. The can also never be found again.

I have a particular spot where I put the items I need to take with me each morning. I know that if I put one of the items ANYWHERE but the Magic Spot, I will absolutely and without fail leave without it in the morning.

Someone (I won't say who) pointed out to me recently (well, semi-recently) that I constantly use parentheses when writing articles, stories or letter (or just about anything). And I suddenly realized with a (and it's about time!) that not only do I interrupt other people, but I also constantly interrupt myself.

It's 2 a.m., I have to be up at 5 a.m., but if I go to bed now that would be ridiculous, because I might miss finding something on the Internet or hey, what was that book I was trying to find and wait, this show clip here looks really interesting, and then OH MY GOD is it really 4 a.m.? Okay, if I go to bed now, I can still get one hour of sleep, right after I read this blog.

When I'm baking I usually have to measure and remeasure before adding each ingredient, because I keep losing track of how many cups/teaspoons/etc. I've added.

I decided to finally clean my car the other day, because it looks like I've moved there. After bagging up several bags of either trash or take-in-the-house stuff, I panicked when I couldn't find my keys. After untying and rooting through most of the bags, I realized the keys were in the ignition because I had been listening to music.

And, I started this post a while ago, and abruptly abandoned/forgot it.


Anonymous said... Best Blogger Tips

Hmm, describing that, it also includes most of my menopausal friends... the forgetfulness, the lack of sleep, etc.

Time to really get a handle on ADD, never know it may not actually be the hormones...

heather said... Best Blogger Tips

Yikes! A lot of that sounds like me too. I joke to people that I have ADD because I am in my third career...not job, but career. Every 7 years like calendar-work. My new job as Teaching Asst. is perfect, because I'm in a different classroom every 30 - 45 minutes, so I don't get bored. When I talk about Tom not being a good listener, well, hey, it's my weakest way of learning too.

Poor Tom, he's even more forgetful than me, although just after I'll roll my eyes because he forgets his coat at school, I'll misplace mine too. Or take my and Mike's car keys to work with me. (WHich means a return trip home to give them back). (I use parentheses all the time too.) (I think maybe this is genetic)!