We are not ok.

T has a test today in her Honors World History class. Her class starts at 7:25. At 7:20 she greets me with a hug and says she needs help with the study guide. Note the time. This might have been a better question to ask me yesterday. Meanwhile, as a mom, I’m thinking about how I was raised and how my parents rarely knew when I had a test. They knew how I was doing by report card time. There was none of this helicopter parenting in the 70s. I go back and forth on how that helped and hurt me. I absolutely became extremely independent because I had to be responsible for my own stuff. This includes getting up and ready and feeding myself in the mornings (with my 2 older sisters) and getting my behind out of the door and to school on time. Both of my parents are retired but there were times when they were both at work well before we had to leave for school. Now…I have a real live diagnosis of ADHD. I’ve known that I’ve had this since I first heard the term in the early 90s. By then I had graduated college and was working. I did not get a “true diagnosis” from a Dr. until a few years ago when I read an article online about how meds for ADHD help with weight loss. Y’all…I didn’t care if it helped with ADHD. I thought, oh this might help me lose weight. I take Vyvanse. It does not help ME with weight loss. Once you get to be my age, not being hungry doesn’t mean I’m not going to eat a cookie. It does, however, put me in a GREAT mood about an hour after taking it. It IS a stimulant so that’s not surprising. I wonder if these treatments would’ve helped me as a kid. With T, I kind of feel bad I didn’t stay on top of her to recognize that she had a test today. She’s anxious, which makes ME anxious. I sit and listen as the teacher gives instructions. I can’t help it…I tell T to ask her how her IEP accommodation of extra time on tests factors in after she tells the students that they have an hour. The teacher tells her she built the extra time in already. Then…I text the teacher…look, I’m a work in progress with this helicopter parenting. The teachers have an app called Remind which is like texting. I just want to know if the test is open notes or not. It is…which if you have ever been a student, is scary. For T, it means that there’s more to the test than just answering facts. There is actual THINKING involved. Writing of real words. Interpretations and Analysis. These things can be hard for her. But I tell her to take her time, skip the questions she doesn’t know, use her notes and go back to the ones she doesn’t know and ask the teacher for clarification. Is that called letting go? Cause I could’ve sat next to her and watched her take the test. But I have 2 kids and the other one needed to get ready for her school day.

S is still in bed by 7:35. This is my kid who does NOT get up easily. My routine is to “drop in” using the Alexa app on my phone and announce that it’s time to get up, then play 3 songs increasing in volume. By the end of the last song, I’ll drop in again to announce to her Echo that she should be up. Today I’m proud to say is the first day that she actually got up in time to eat breakfast downstairs! Small steps people. And since she’s in 2nd grade, my helicopter for her is still flying. When we get upstairs to get ready for class, she actually gets irritated that I’m in there. My anxiety is already through the roof. My anxiety doesn’t typically show up as being scared…it shows up as me snapping and being mad. She asked me to leave!  Fine!  I decide to go check on T since I can hear that she’s online with her 2nd period class. I asked her if she finished her 1st period test and she said no. Dear…the extra time doesn’t mean that you have all day. You need to exit out of 2nd period and finish your test. At this time, S comes down to tell me that her chrome book died. Why? Because it wasn’t plugged in. Where’s the plug? She doesn’t know. My dad used to say “If I find it, I’m whooping your butt”. He meant it. I said it too. In my head…because I didn’t mean it and I won’t actually whoop her butt. BUT, I look in the most obvious place…and it’s there! Under the bed – EXHIBIT A: 

Of note…those shoes are T’s and they no longer fit. That book reminds me that we have an overdue library book around here somewhere…it’s not that one. Anyway, S thinks that getting kicked off the class means she is done for the day. It is disappointing for her to realize that she actually has to get back in…but she’s happy again when the internet is down…and disappointed when I pull her up on the iPad. I can’t fault her. This is not easy. She’s super distracted. ADHD does that. She gets whiny about it (not necessarily a part of ADHD but definitely a part of her personality). And then there’s our internet. 4 people in our house online at the same time…issues arise.

A kid in one of S’s classes had on no shirt on screen. The way her classes work, you can only see about 8 kids at a time on the side of the screen. The bigger part of the screen is the teacher or the screen that she’s sharing with the work that needs to be done. Shirtless kid goes away. I think the kids we can see are rotated based on noise? But they’re mostly muted. Anyway, shirtless kid is back and he’s standing and it appears that he has just finished pulling up his pants. I am wondering exactly what we would’ve seen had his pic showed up 5 seconds earlier. Might need to send a note to the teacher. I study Shirtless. He too is restless. He stands, sits…stands again. He picks up what looks like spaghetti with his fingers (it could’ve been a piece of lunchmeat, these little video boxes of each kid are hard to see) tilts his head back and drops it in his mouth. Then he takes off his head phones and starts dancing. Aren’t you supposed to have headphones ON to dance? Shirtless is cracking me up. S doesn’t seem to notice. He’s gone again…replaced with a kid in a mask. That kid must be at the Y or some other day care type place set up for kids whose parents are at work. Hmm. Oh and remember kid who answers all the questions? I forget the fake name I made for him…Samuel maybe? His birthday is coming up. He makes sure we all know. One kid also makes sure that we know that he’s going to Samuel’s birthday party. The rest of the kids all get off of mute to ask if they can come. Samuel’s mom probably labored heavily over whether or not to even HAVE a party this year, on top of who to invite. I’m guessing Samuel is probably only having that one kid and maybe another. We moms go to great lengths to be discreet about this only to find out that our kids and the guests are BLASTING it out to all the other kids who didn’t get invited. Such is life.

Send Starbucks. Chocolate. Wine.  We are not OK.