My ADHD Child:
He’s bouncin’ off the wall, a superball gone insane,
He runs through your world like an off-rail freight train.
Interruptions are constant, tantrums galore,
When it’s time to do homework, he’s gone, out the door.
The drama is constant, oh his foot fell asleep,
He moans and he wails, the theatrics run deep.
School is a nightmare, the teachers are lost,
If they could only see, he is worth the cost.
He is brighter than most, as most these kids are,
And with patience and love, I know he’ll go far.
But the crap I must take from “well meaning friends”
“Don’t let him do that.” “Oh the rules that he bends.”
“You’re not a good parent.” “Your child’s really rude.”
“His temper’s outrageous.” “He has his hands in his food.”
He hears this and wonders, just what’s wrong with me?
I tell him “You’re special, you have A.D.H.D.”
“Now A.D.H.D. is a gift from above.”
“It teaches us grown ups to strengthen our love.”
“It helps teach your teachers, no two kids are the same.”
“You have awesome energy that could bring you great fame.”
“You don’t need much sleep, you never wear down.”
“You’re silly and funny, when you act like a clown.”
“You’ve felt lots of pain from what people have said,
But you pray for these people when you go to bed.”
“So you try every day to make a fresh start.”
“For God gifted you with an extra big heart.”
As I look at my child, he sees through my soul,
My heart feels like bursting, as I realize my goal.
I know this young boy like no one else could,
He’s a blessing to me, he’s strong and he’s good.
So I’ll love him and guide him through the worst of the worst,
And he’ll make a great man (if I don’t kill him first).
I’m kidding of course ’cause I know what’s to be,
When I look in his eyes, I see a reflection of me.
~Tracy Nicolaus
A.D.H.D 
💕
Take my hand and come with me,
I want to teach you about ADHD.
I need you to know, I want to explain,
I have a very different brain.
Sights, sounds, and thoughts collide.
What to do first? I can’t decide.
Please understand I’m not to blame,
I just can’t process things the same.
Take my hand and walk with me,
Let me show you about ADHD.
I try to behave, I want to be good,
But I sometimes forget to do as I should.
Walk with me and wear my shoes,
You’ll see its not the way I’d choose.
I do know what I’m supposed to do,
But my brain is slow getting the message through.
Take my hand and talk with me,
I want to tell you about ADHD.
I rarely think before I talk,
I often run when I should walk.
It’s hard to get my school work done,
My thoughts are outside having fun.
I never know just where to start,
I think with my feelings and see with my heart.
Take my hand and stand by me,
I need you to know about ADHD.
It’s hard to explain but I want you to know,
I can’t help letting my feelings show.
Sometimes I’m angry, jealous, or sad.
I feel overwhelmed, frustrated, and mad.
I can’t concentrate and I lose all my stuff.
I try really hard but it’s never enough.
Take my hand and learn with me,
We need to know more about ADHD.
I worry a lot about getting things wrong,
Everything I do takes twice as long.
Everyday is exhausting for me…
Looking through the fog of ADHD.
I’m often so misunderstood,
I would change in a heartbeat if I could.
Take my hand and listen to me,
I want to share a secret about ADHD.
I want you to know there is more to me.
I’m not defined by it, you see.
I’m sensitive, kind and lots of fun.
I’m blamed for things I haven’t done.
I’m the loyalist friend you’ll ever know,
I just need a chance to let it show.
Take my hand and look at me,
Just forget about the ADHD.
I have real feelings just like you.
The love in my heart is just as true.
I may have a brain that can never rest,
But please understand I’m trying my best.
I want you to know, I need you to see,
I’m more than the label, I am still me!!!!
~The author is Andrea Chesterman-Smith. From Hertfordshire in the UK
Once there was a woman who found a child who needed a mother and it just so happened that this woman’s heart was open to loving a child. Thus, she quickly let her heart fall in love with this one. The woman was already a mother to other children, but could sense in her heart that this child was different. Despite her young age, this child had seen terrible things and had been frightened by monsters that most adults in the world know nothing of.
By all accounts, this child perhaps should not have made it out of such a dark and scary world, but the moon had also fallen in love with this child. One lonely and cloudless night, as the moon found itself gazing on the child’s troubled and sleeping face, it placed a piece of itself inside the child’s heart so that it’s light would continue to shine in whatever darkness the child might find herself in. And that is how the girl became a child of the moon.
But moon magic is confusing to the heart of a child, and while it certainly helped protect and guide the child through her darkest nights, now that the child had found herself resting safely in a new bed, protected not only by the moon, but the love of a different mother, the moon’s magic tossed around the child’s heart like waves with the mood-led tide.
The mother had heard of children with moon magic, but she had never loved one. And truthfully, all the experience of a mother’s love cannot prepare her heart for what it is like to love the moon. The mother quickly saw how the heart of her daughter seemed to shift and ebb. The girl’s feelings would rise and fall; her light shine and darken. Even the girl’s love would vary from fullness to but a sliver. At times, all light appeared to completely disappear.
For quite a time, the mother, unused to loving the moon, would despair. She assumed she was doing something wrong or that she was missing something. One night, when her child’s love appeared gone but for the tiniest glimmer, the woman went outside and let herself fall into heavy sobs of grief. Her cries were heard and soon she found herself in the presence of others who had recognized in her tears the type of despair that can only be understood by others who have also loved children of the moon.
These women surrounded her in an embrace, like stars across her dark sky, and together and individually, they held her sorrow. When the mother had finally cried the last of her tears, she asked fearfully, not sure she wanted to hear the answer, “Is there hope for my child?” She looked into faces who smiled gently. They nodded with encouragement that there was, but the mother also saw the sadness in their eyes. These women knew that while hope was never lost, that the journey may still be hard.
The women listened to the mother, allowing her to open her heart and be understood by those who had also loved such children. The woman continued to share, as is common when one’s soul finally finds a place to be heard and seen. When the mother’s soul had at last been completely bared and held, she breathed in deeply, wiped her tears, and looked up with expectation. “Now what?” she asked.
One of the women stepped forward. The mother could not quite guess the woman’s age. She seemed younger than her eyes showed, yet somehow carried herself as if she had seen many battles over her short years. The woman simply asked her, “What do you know of the moon?”
“Of the moon? That it’s here every night and lights the dark,” the mother answered with confidence.
“You are used to loving children of the sun,” the woman gently said. “The sun comes every day, unwaveringly, to light the sky. Only the weather around it changes it’s light. The sun does not change. It’s light and it’s love are stable.” She paused to let the mother learn, then carefully reminded her, “You are asking us how to love a child of the moon. And that is a different thing altogether.
“The moon changes each night. It’s color, it’s place in the sky, it fullness…they all change. Sometimes the light of the moon is full and bright white and you feel hope. Sometimes it rages red and you may even cower. Sometimes it is but a sliver and you mourn. Sometimes it cannot be seen at all and you despair. The moon needs no movement of the weather to change. The moon itself does the changing. And the world can feel these changes in the tides and in our hearts.
“When our children faced darkness alone, the moon made them its own. It’s way of love protected them. It taught them how to run away and hide, rage to protect, disappear or loom large, be vulnerable or defensive. Moon magic watched over our children.
“Now, you look at your child and see chaos. But step back and look and you will see the patterns in her love and fears. You must learn to see a child of the moon as the full of their story, and not as the moment in front of you. In a difficult time, it may feel helpless and dark. But if you step back, you will see that with time, her darkness doesn’t come as often or stay as long.”
The constellation of women were still, giving space the mother needed to understand. They waited, perhaps each thinking on her own need to have first learned this lesson.
“My moonbeam,” the mother finally said in loving wonder, more to herself than anything. She marveled in the stillness at her daughter’s strength and found herself thankful, perhaps for the first time, for the moon magic that had protected her child.
In time she looked around into the faces of those who still surrounded her. So many questions and thoughts came to her mind then. Could she do this? She was so tired. What if she forgot how to see her child? What if she became angry? What if she couldn’t make others understand? What if she herself became lost in the darkness?
But in their eyes she saw the answer she needed that night. They would be there when she needed them. This constellation of mothers would be constant even when her moon was not.
They let her rest with them as long as she needed, and when she was ready, they sent her back, more in love with her child than she had been before.
Nothing particularly changed that night for the daughter, but nothing was ever the same for the mother. Because she had learned two lessons that night:
That in the darkness, she could look to the stars
And how to love a child of the moon.
Author Unknown