Category Archives: parenting

Finally Emptying the Dishwasher

When I was 31 years old, I was diagnosed with ADHD. The realization of my neurodivergence was overwhelming and bittersweet. All these doors in my brain flew open at once. It was a flood of realizations about my behavior—past and present—mixed with new strategies to try, mixed with regrets about how I’d lived my life up until the point of my diagnosis.

The first time I emptied the dishwasher after I started ADHD medication, I burst out crying. All my life, emptying the dishwasher had been a daunting task. When I was younger, I had to be forced to do it by my mother, who was desperately trying to teach me responsibility. Each time, after a lot of dragging my heels and griping and crying, I discovered (or rediscovered) that the task was easy. Simple. Quick.

Why had I gotten so distraught? Surely, I could remember how easy this task was the next time I had to do it.

Nope.

Years and years passed with me facing down a full dishwasher like I had been asked to clean all the public bathrooms at UCLA with a single toothbrush.

As an adult, with no mommy to force me to do chores, I ended up using the dishwasher like a catch-all dish cabinet. By the time I emptied it, it had been clean for three days and was already mostly empty from me picking clean dishes out of it on an as-needed basis.

Then I had to face the equally daunting task of *gasp* filling the dishwasher!

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

(So to speak)

Then medication happened. I saw the full dishwasher. My brain went, “Oh. I should empty that.” And I did.

Why did I cry?

Like I said: Bittersweet. On the one hand, I finally had the answers to a lot of questions. I could look at myself in the mirror and know I wasn’t stupid or lazy. Or broken. “Broken” was a word that haunted me for most of my adolescence and young adulthood.

On the other hand, I could have avoided so much tension and stress and pain and self-recrimination if I’d known earlier.

But what’s the point of steeping myself in regrets on what could have been? The only reality I have to live in is the one in which it could not have been. While I’m not a believer in fate, per se, I do believe that all the past events of my life were, in a very literal way, meant to be. I am who I am because of all the pluses and minuses, the mistakes, the joys, the triumphs. All learning experiences in their own way.

I focus now on the future, on taking my newfound self-awareness and using it to better understand myself and create coping mechanisms that work for me.

I can even tell now why emptying the dishwasher filled me with dread: It’s because my brain could not see a task and break it down into component parts or steps. I saw a full dishwasher and my brain said, “Make this empty.” Step 1: Full. Step 2: Empty.

With medication, I saw a full dishwasher and my brain, for the first time ever, went, Step 1: Take out a plate. Step 2: Take out another plate. Etcetera.

Imagine seeing a jigsaw puzzle and thinking, “I have to make these pieces into a single image in one step,” while simultaneously knowing that’s impossible, and being aware that assembling a puzzle requires moving through it piece by piece, but also not knowing where to start and being paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the task. It’s like that… for everything. Doing the laundry. Organizing the pantry. Picking up after the kids.

Now I am struggling with a new obstacle. I can empty the dishwasher, in theory, but I am also a stay-at-home-mom to two neurodivergent children. My new process for emptying the dishwasher goes something like…

Step 1: Take out a plate and put it in the cabinet

Step 2: Answer the insistent repetition of “MOMMY” from the other room

Step 3: Get older son a snack

Step 4: Take another plate out of the dishwasher and put it away

Step 5: Investigate the crash you just heard from the other room

Step 6: Try to impress upon your non-verbal younger son that he cannot throw canned goods around the living room

Step 7: Remove another plate from the dishwasher

Step 8: Notice that younger son is covered head to toe in melted chocolate

Step 9: Clean chocolate off of bath-hating younger son

Step 10: Clean up the canned goods that he definitely continued to throw around the room

Step 11: Watch him remove the canned goods from the cabinet again

Step 12: MOMMMMMMMYYYYYY

Step 13: “Ah! Stop! You can’t climb that! Get down!”

Step 14: Give up

It’s frustrating. Not gonna lie. I finally have all the answers to my problems, but I can’t implement the solutions as well as I’d like. Fortunately, I have my husband to help pick up the slack. But I wanted to impress upon you, dear reader, the uphill battle that is coping with newly discovered neurodivergence as an adult.

This all came about because I started reading How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis, a book I highly recommend. It is extremely helpful to realize you’re not alone, which is another reason for this post. For me, reading things like the aforementioned book, and web comics like ADHDinos, and social media posts from other Millennials who were diagnosed with ADHD later in their lives, provides regular, much-needed doses of not-aloneness. It’s a revelation, truly, to understand how not-alone I am. How (ironically) typical my experience is. The Internet has done some good things for humanity. One of those things is connecting people who are going through similar struggles. Sometimes it’s enough just to know you’re heard and seen.

So, for the record: You are heard. You are seen. You are not stupid. You are not lazy. You are not broken.

Love,
Bex

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Filed under Humor, marriage, parenting, psychology, reading

5 Things My Mother Taught Me

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, ever since my mom told me she’d once written a similar article about things she’d learned from her own mother. I don’t normally “observe” Mother’s Day. You know all the things that everyone in the world has already said criticizing “commercial holidays” and/or “Hallmark holidays”? Yeah? Well, pretend I just typed all that out. Because I believe all that stuff.

That being said, it seemed unbelievably petty and unnecessarily contrarian to avoid posting this on Mother’s Day just because I think one should attempt to make their loved ones feel appreciated all the time, even if their calendar doesn’t tell them to.

It’s Mother’s Day. I have a post I’ve been meaning to write about my mother. Let’s do this.

In true Listicle fashion, I’m going to start from number 5 and move to number 1. This doesn’t matter in the slightest. I’m not ranking the useful things I’ve learned from my mom. This isn’t Buzzfeed.

5. Organize the Cart and the Conveyor

When in the grocery store, organize items as you put them in your cart; don’t just dump them in. Be neither willy nor nilly with your additions. Then, when you have reached the checkout, place the items on the conveyor belt in an organized fashion. Boxed items go together. As do refrigerated items, frozen items, etc. Put produce on last (or second-to-last if you are purchasing eggs) because these things often require inputting a code and/or weight. Instead of having to stop at random to do this, the checkout clerk will do them all at once at the end. Eggs go on last because that makes them easier to keep track of, and the bagger can make the best choice about where to put them to avoid breakage.

At this point, you are probably wondering if you should call some sort of hotline to report my mother and me for being worryingly anal-retentive. First of all, there is no such hotline. Second, if there were such a hotline, we’d definitely already have been reported, so you wouldn’t have to do it anyway.

And third…

Have you considered that no one wants to be in the supermarket longer than they have to?

Yes, organizing the cart and conveyor makes the checkout person’s life easier. You should endeavor to make this person’s life easier whenever possible because other people endeavor to make their lives harder on a regular basis.

Setting that aside, organizing your cart from the very beginning means you spend less time unloading. Organizing as you go on the conveyor belt means all your items will be bagged quickly and according to your preferences. Efficient scanning and bagging means a quicker exit from the store for you. Then, when you get home, putting groceries away will go more smoothly as well. So… are my mom and I nit-picky and obsessive? Yes. But we never forget where our eggs are, and that’s important.

Also, one time, a checkout person thanked me for my careful conveyor choreography.

Worth it.

4. Threading a Needle

I can thread a needle. You might be wondering why, in this age of apps and electric cars and motion-activated landscape lights and watches that track your heart rate, I would need to use a needle and thread for anything. I must admit, it has come in handy on more than one occasion in recent memory. Knowing how to do the most rudimentary form of sewing has converted old t-shirts into pillows, repaired toys and clothes, and converted two old blankets into a large beanbag chair/winter clothes storage system.

Geordi loves it

I can also knit. Different needles. Yarn instead of thread. Same concept. I like knitting. It relaxes me. I’ve also never had to buy a winter scarf. And sometimes you can knit pillows if old t-shirts aren’t your style.

3. Frosting a Cake

It’s hard to frost a cake. Sure, you can buy them pre-frosted from the grocery store, but then you might get the wrong cake-to-frosting ratio. Or worse… whipped cream frosting. The horror!

I know how to make buttercream frosting (the only frosting worth eating). I know how to bake a nice yellow cake, how to prep it for frosting, how to fill a frosting bag. I’m never going to be called upon to prepare someone’s wedding cake, but I can make little florets and patterns. I know that I should pre-write words on the cake using a toothpick so I can be sure everything will fit correctly and be spaced well. My frosting writing is still only so-so, but that might have something to do with the fact that all my other writing is also so-so.

2. People Have Seven Heads

My mom is a good artist. She taught me to value creativity, and has helped me along the way to… wait… hold on…

2B. Value Creativity

Creative pursuits are valuable. My mother can draw and paint and make a cake that looks like a hamburger. She taught me to hone my own creative brain, and I attribute a lot of my success in writing to her encouragement and guidance.

2C. People Have Seven Heads (Continued)

When sketching a (standing) person, consider that the average person is about seven or eight “heads” tall. Meaning, if you draw a basic head shape at the top, you should be able to draw that about six or seven more times all the way down to the figure’s feet. If you can do that, then you know you’re on your way to having a well-proportioned sketch.

1. There is Always a Solution

I know I said I wasn’t going to rank this list, but it occurs to me that this item does belong at the number 1 spot. This is a truly valuable life lesson that I have taken with me from childhood on into adulthood. When you encounter a problem, never let yourself think, “I can’t fix this.”

There is always a solution.

Sometimes there are multiple solutions.

The creative brain is not just good for making scarves or sketching a well-proportioned person; it can also lead you to address a problem in ways that aren’t immediately apparent at first.

I happen to have an example. My house is lovely, but a bit short on storage space. One of the things I really wanted for my kitchen was one of those utensil hanger things. It would save drawer space and make it easier to grab a ladle or spatula when needed. Emptying the dishwasher would go quicker, too.

The problem: Utensil hangers cost money and often require drilling into a wall or the ceiling.

The solution: I bought a couple packs of those little command strip hooks and put them on the side of my pantry. Then I hung my utensils from them. Saved money. No drilling. Got exactly what I wanted without having to wait until I could budget for it.

My younger son, Ari, loves his kiddie pool. He would live in that pool if he could. With the turn of the weather, we were able to bring it back out for him. Unfortunately, his parents are so white that they are practically translucent. His dad is a redhead, for Gibraltar’s sake! Doubly unfortunately, he does not like it when I put sunscreen on him. I can’t blame him. I don’t like the sensation either. We still put it on him, but I wanted to avoid having to reapply as much.

Once again, the problem had to do with budget. Sure, I could buy some sort of awning or canopy, but they are quite costly. Plus, as mentioned above, we don’t have a lot of spare storage space.

So I built a little canopy for him using a spare sheet, some chip clips, and whatever outdoor furniture I had on hand to prop it up. Did it look pretty? No. Do I care? Also no. My son was able to splash to his heart’s content in the semi-shade of his new kiddie canopy. (Do these things count as life hacks? I couldn’t say. That term has lost all meaning to me.)

That’s it.

Well… no, that’s not it. Like… my mom did teach me other stuff. I remember her teaching me how to read, for example. Honestly, I might make a follow-up to this one day when I remember the other important things I wanted to list.

For now, I’ll just say: I love you, Mom.

and happy mother’s day or whatever

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Filed under Humor, parenting