the lies i tell myself, part 2

the lies i tell myself, part 2

“Hey mama, do you think if you won a national handwriting contest you’d be on the news?”

“Uh, what?”

(Sigh) “MAMA. Let’s say you enter a handwriting contest and you win. Would your picture be on the news? I’m doing a handwriting contest at school, and I’m worried if I win, my picture will be on the news. If a bad guy with a gun saw my picture, he could try and shoot me for my prize money!”

I wish I could write here that I just made this little exchange up. But I didn’t. This was what Boone asked me before going to bed one night, and it caught me totally and completely off guard. I stumbled through platitudes like “we live in a really safe place,” and “no one at school wants to put you in any danger.” He was tired, thankfully, and decided it was OK to participate in the handwriting contest after all.

(I didn’t point out that the winner of a national handwriting contest probably has more thoughtful penmanship than my son, who occasionally forgets the”e” at the end of his name.)

(In his defense, this is some pretty solid cursive.)

Now is where I sadly point out that this conversation about school and guns happened prior to the recent school shooting in Florida.

And so, knowing that my sensitive, anxious child would possibly hear about this tragedy within his own school, it got me thinking. I had just told him no one at school wants to put him in danger. We just said we live in a safe place. How many parents of students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School had had similar conversations? I had no idea what I’d say to Boone. I had no idea what we would talk about. I didn’t know how to alleviate fears while answering questions, to simultaneously prepare him for and shield him from the world. And it led me to the the next lie I tell myself:

As a parent, I need to have all of the answers.

Growing up, I was privileged to have not only great parents, but also a rich community of caring, invested, intelligent adults. As far as I was concerned, these people did have all of the answers. Logic would only follow that when I was an adult, I’d have all of the answers too. Even as a child, I loved answers. I craved knowledge. I couldn’t wait to have everything figured out.

Hi, I’m Jennie, I’m 33, and I have very little figured out.

So when I sat down with Boone to talk to him about the shooting in Parkland, I glossed a bit over the gory details and reminded him about what to do if he ever sees a gun (go away from it and find a grown up you trust) and if he ever encounters a stranger acting suspicious (again, grown up you trust). I also winced a bit as I talked about what he’d do if he were ever in a scary situation like that at school: listen to your teacher. Don’t tell jokes. Stay quiet and do exactly what the grownups say. He accepted all of this much easier than I thought he would. I felt pretty great about all of my answers. And then…

“Mom, what if I die?”

Oh, blow to my chest.

I said, “Everyone dies sometime. You’ll probably be very, very old. You’ll have lived a full and awesome life. You’ll be ready. And then you’ll go to Heaven! Which is the best place ever!”

“OK, cool. Well, what’s Heaven like?”

Guys, I don’t know what Heaven is like. I’ve never been there. And I could have quoted some scripture about pearly gates and streets of gold, but this is not what Boone was after. I know this because of his follow-up questions:

“And what will I do there? Will I ever come back to earth? Do you think once everybody dies, God will just start the earth over again? Will there be dinosaurs again? Can I see them from Heaven, do you think?”

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know

A small part of me wanted to give him something concrete. I wanted to give an answer for every question, but I didn’t have an answer for every question. So I used an old teacher trick to buy some time: “what do YOU think?” Then I realized I needed to teach my son something. Something that isn’t related to the violence or the afterlife or dinosaurs.

“Hey bud… there are some things we can know the answers to. 2+2 is always 4. Our dog is a mammal. These are facts we know. And then there are other things… things nobody really knows. You can think about those things as you grow up. I don’t know what Heaven is like, exactly. But I do know that I will go there when I die, and it will be better than anything I could ever imagine. And I do know that I will always do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

And we hugged, and we moved on, and I felt halfway decent until I realized tomorrow will likely bring another crisis I don’t have answers for. And when he’s a teen, getting his heart broken? Forget about it. I don’t know anything.

And I think that’s OK. I never want to communicate to my children that we can’t know everything so we shouldn’t try. I want them to know they can be 33 and still asking questions without answers. Learning doesn’t stop when we graduate from school. And I need them to know that not knowing something? It’s never a flaw. It’s an opportunity.

Thanks for checking out this week’s lie, and aren’t you pleased to know I tell myself so many there’s another new lie for you next week?! If this resonated with you, please feel free to like, comment, or share.


the lies i tell myself, part 1

My son, Boone, is seven. He’s incredibly bright, he loves potty words, he is, at times, extremely inattentive, and he’s an overall cool kid. For the first three years of his life, he was an only child. I was home with him full time, and we filled our days with play groups, story times, and any other kid-friendly thing that got us out of the house. And while we played, I helicoptered hard.

(Look at that toddler Boone baby. He can make no mistakes.)

I know we’re all familiar with the hovering, overprotective helicopter parent. And I think many seasoned (read: tired) parents agree that our kids can really benefit from some distance. And even as a new parent, I was aware of this. Which is why I helicoptered discreetly. I might have looked calm and nonchalant, but in reality I was side-eying everything Boone did. If he took a toy, I was quick to remind him to give it back. If he started to wander off while a librarian read a book, I would pop up to collect him and bring him back. I made quiet toy bags if we went out to restaurants so he wouldn’t bother other customers. I didn’t do this for him. I did it because I believed a cruel and unfair lie:

The lie that my child’s mistakes were my mistakes.

I just really believed that if I was parenting correctly, my son wouldn’t be rude to other kids. He wouldn’t talk back to other adults. He would be, even at three years old (or younger!) a little model citizen in public.

So I was obviously quite delusional.

Time, experience, and Boone’s little brother all worked to cool me off a little bit. I began to allow Boone to play without my reality-tv level of surveillance. I’d cringe when a situation arose, sure. I’d bite my tongue after asking him “what happened?” when we were still in public and launch into an intense line of questioning when we were in the car.

But you know what really perpetuated this lie? The fact that Boone was – is – a pretty good kid. It’s always been easy to look at the good parts of his behavior and think “yeah, I did that.” And that’s why, when Boone got his first referral at school, I screamed “WHAT THE HELL?!” and cried for an hour.

Yes. That’s really how I reacted.

Yes, really.

A note for those who don’t know: at my son’s school, a referral is a piece of paper that goes home to be signed by the parents. It explains the problem the child had, how it was handled, and if anything else needs to be done. OK, so now you’re probably thinking ok, if she screamed and cried this must have been really bad, right? Did he punch a teacher? Steal donation money? Burn down a classroom?

Umm… uh… OK. Well… ah, he was at recess, you see, and a recess monitor told him and another boy to not climb a hill. He did climb the hill. He spent the rest of recess on a bench. There was nothing further.



Hindsight, yeah? In the moment, here was the perfect little newborn that I raised who was TOTALLY RUINED because I somehow couldn’t get him to listen to authority figures. How could I have led him down such an unholy path? I was clearly an unfit mother. There go the Ivy Leagues. “We’re sorry, Boone; we can’t accept you into Harvard because of your first grade referral. Pity.”

This is so insane I’m almost embarrassed to share it with you all. But I do so because every single day I watch moms and dads beat themselves up over the choices they’ve made for their kids. Public schools or private or homeschooling? Screen time or no? Local, organic veggies only or food rewards? Music lessons? Sports? Are we doing enough? Are we doing it right? Are we ruining everything?!?!

First of all: if you’re questioning and doubting and overthinking? You’re good. Please, believe me; you’re good.

Secondly – and this one may come as a surprise – your child is actually a completely different person than you. I know. I know. Let that one sink in. You could do everything correctly (oh, you won’t – this is a hypothetical; anyway) and your child will do whatever he wants because that’s how he’ll learn. And it’s frustrating and infuriating and also real life. And hey, maybe if your child doesn’t test authorities in first grade, he’ll try it when he’s much older and the stakes are much higher. Some lessons are better learned early on.

So don’t believe this lie. You will make mistakes, surely. But they’ll be your mistakes, and you’ll learn from them. Just like our children, if we let them.

Come back next week for the second lie I (used to) tell myself… and, until then, try not to tell yourself too many.

what we give to God

what we give to God

Friends! It feels truly wonderful to once again be writing for you. It’s possible I’ll throw you a what-I’ve-been-up-to post in a bit here, but know this: life has been rich, full, hard, easy, stressful, fun, and lovely since I posted last. And now it’s a brand new year, and I’d like to back into some regularly scheduled Premeditated Mama. So here we go!

I’m starting today with a confession, and I’ll close with a story from this past summer. I hope it brings some value to you.

I love Christmas. This should come as no surprise to anyone who, you know, is nearby. I’m seriously considering making tattoo #3 Christmas-themed. YES, it’d be permanent all year long. YES, that’s what I want. Anyway, Christmas and me are like peas and carrots. I start listening to Christmas music in – OK I don’t ever really stop, but I really ramp it up around September. I own no less than three Advent Calendars (or four? Five?) and don’t even get me started on my Christmas Board on Pinterest. It’s a doozy.

Also this is a sweater I willingly and gleefully purchased for myself:

But I have depression. I do. And anxiety. And after weeks (months) of Christmas excitement, I get bogged down. My brain fills up, my heart runs out a little, and I falter. The wrapping paper is too much. The cookies are too much. The laundry, which so rudely doesn’t think to at least take a rest during this busy season, is way too much. And before I know it, I’m fighting every voice in my head that says to cancel every plan. To binge-watch every show. To just, kind of… stop. And this year? Things seemed especially hard. Every day the news carries some horrible story. Every day the government seems to fall apart a little bit more. Every day the world hurts.

That was my confession. Now for a story.

This past summer was the first one that Boone could really ride a bike on his own. Near the end of the summer, he was feeling so confident (and I so optimistic, I guess) that I suggested we ride our bikes to the local ice cream place, Captain Sundae. It was a little over two miles from our house, but Boone knew there was a giant ice cream cone to be had at the end of the journey, so he agreed. We started out with stars in our eyes (that’s actually a quote from Dear Evan Hansen, which if you haven’t listened to, DO IT), and everything was great. Until we came upon a decent sized hill right outside our neighborhood, and as Boone took on speed, he lost his balance and tumbled forward. We’re a helmet-loving family, so thankfully there was no real harm done. He got a scraped up knee, but it wasn’t too bad. I asked him if he wanted to go home. “No,” he said, through tears, “I want to get ice cream.”

And so we carried on. I was, of course, asking too many questions as we rode. “Are you OK?” “How’s your knee?” “What are you thinking about?” And finally, Boone said, “Mom, can you not talk right now?” I was taken slightly aback, sure, but I figured he was concentrating on balance; then he continued, “I’m just praying a lot.” I did have one more question: “what are you praying about?” “Mom, I’m just praying that God will keep me safe on big hills.”

Because that’s all he was worried about. He wasn’t worried about bees or other cyclists or sprinklers or stop lights. He was worried about hills. He needed to give his hills to God. (And yes, Boone got his ice cream and made it back home, completely owning every hill he encountered.)

I remembered this story as I felt the heaviness of the Christmas season weigh down on me. And please remember that I find medications and therapy to be life-changing and vitally necessary to those who suffer from depression and anxiety. But I learned something about letting go from my seven year old son on that summer night, and it’s to know when to say God, I just don’t have this. And I didn’t have it as I drove to a Christmas party this past December. I felt down, though I had been taking my Prozac and crying to a therapist. So as I drove, I prayed, God, please help me to feel lighter.

And. I. Did.

I know my meds are important, and I feel like God gave them an extra boost when I asked for it. Prayer is hard for me, and it’s something I wrestle with, but this prayer was immediately felt and answered.

When Boone was on that bike on that summer evening, not falling was the most important thing. When I felt weighed down on the way to that party, feeling lighter was the most important thing. Yes, the world is so broken and sad. Yes, the news is exhausting and terrifying. But I realized that these things aren’t more important to God. They are important, yes – but there isn’t a hierarchy with your little problems on the bottom. This has been the realization that has carried me through Christmas and into the new year. I know it isn’t groundbreaking or revolutionary. But the fact that my problems – minuscule in the grand scheme – are so important and so known? It’s what I needed to learn. And maybe you needed the reminder too.

Happy to journey through 2018 with you all. Thanks for reading!

5 steps to fabulous (school lunches)

5 steps to fabulous (school lunches)

Everybody has their “thing.” I didn’t know my thing was going to be creating fun school lunches day after day, but here I am, killing it. And you can too!

I’ve written about some of my favorite lunch-packing hacks before, and you can find them here and here. Today’s post is meant for the parent who wants to quickly throw together something that looks as good as it tastes. I assure you, I don’t spend hours on lunches. I don’t shape cooked rice into tiny teddy bears with black sesame seed eyes. I don’t buy a lot of extra ingredients. This is easy, achievable, and (just trust me here) fun.

STEP 1 — K.I.S.S.

In the immortal words of Dwight Schrute from The Office (US):


“Michael always says, ‘keep it simple, stupid.’ Great advice. Hurts my feelings every time.”

I know this post is about taking your three second lunches and turning them into *maybe* five minute lunches but y’all, you have to keep it simple. (Stupid.) (Sorry.)

Come up with some easy things that 1) your kids like and WILL EAT (this is important) and 2) you can quickly make. For me, it’s quesadillas, sandwiches, “lunchables” (crackers, meat, and cheese) and DIY pizzas. I usually have this stuff on hand and it’s really easy to throw together. I will also sometimes do hot dishes like mac and cheese or soup in this cheap Target thermos. It’s worked really well for us for over two years. I try to add a fruit and vegetable each day, as well as a small dessert item or yogurt. The drink is always water in a refillable thermos.


Quesadilla + pumpkin shaped cookie cutter = perfection.

Anyone can cut a quesadilla into quarters, but use a cookie cutter instead and hey! It’s fun. A cookie cutter can also add fun to sandwiches, pita bread, and pancakes (if you’re packing a brunch).

If fairs have taught us anything, it’s that people love food on sticks. Your school-aged child is no exception here. I’ll use Wilton brand “Treat Sticks” (found near specialty baking items) and use them for fruit kabobs, deconstructed sandwiches (a small square of bread, cheese, meat, more bread, etc.), or anything, really. I’ll put cooked chicken nuggets on the stick just for the fun.


really thank a teacher lunch (other is taco)
The above picture is a Planetbox, and this one is a Bentgo Kids.

Or brown bag it. You gotta do you. If you are going to purchase a reusable container, there are so many options available out there. You can really use anything from reusable snack and sandwich bags to small Tupperware containers to one of a variety of bento boxes. I like the bento box variety because it helps with portion control and it’s fun to look it (see Step 2).

My favorite bento boxes are from Bentgo Kids (specifically for kids in Pre-K – 2nd Grade) and Planetbox (for older, hungrier kids). PRO TIP: Buy two of whatever lunch receptacle you purchase. That way you can pack one while one’s at school – OR – have a backup in case your little angel absentmindedly forgets to bring one home.

NOTE: The boxes I suggested may seem a little pricey. I can assure you, from a quality standpoint, these hold up. However, as I said, there are so many options available out there — please don’t think these are the only ways to go!



I am a huge fan of Lunchbox Love cards. They are sweet little cards with notes of encouragement on the front (or they are blank so you an write your own message) and jokes or trivia on the back. My now-second grader has loved these in lunches ever since he started eating lunch at school.

Of course, you can simply write your own little note on a piece of paper or napkin and throw it in. Add some jokes or trivia from good old google and you are set!


And then one more time! Then one more time! Then-

As mentioned in Step 1 — find your simple staples, make them fun, pack them well, add some love, and then DO IT AGAIN. Every single day doesn’t have to be a brand new lunch. Lunch repeats are the best, especially when you can make them quickly and your kids like ‘em. If I try out a new design or a new food and it comes back home, barely touched, I’m not sending that again anytime soon. Kids don’t have forever to eat lunch at school. If they don’t like what they have, chances are, they won’t eat. And that leads to hungry and cranky students for the rest of the day. Believe me when I say no one wants that.

I hope this has helped inspire lunchtime creations of your own! If you’re looking for more inspiration, look for my lunch pics on instagram @jennievanderlugt or Facebook at Premeditated Mama. Happy lunching!


if the news of the world is too much to bear

if the news of the world is too much to bear

If the news of the world is too much to bear,
turn it down, turn it off, take a break.
Get all of your news from the anchors at home,
Soak it up, breathe it in, come awake.

This just in: puppies still really cute.
Little kids still angelic in sleep.
Kisses fix boo-boos, hugs say hello,
children love fast and love deep.

Take it from kids, making new friends is easy.
Simply smile at someone you don’t know.
It does not even matter if you don’t catch their name
Just say “hi!” and then go with the flow.

Live from the news desk, a strange case develops:
“The case of the lone missing sock.”
We’re following leads, but they dryer’s not talking,
We have to go, so we’re fighting the clock.

In other news, moms and dads still bicker,
kids and teens still fight and whine.
But at the end of the day (or the week or the month),
everyone’s right back to “fine.”

After this break from the outside news,
return, it’s your duty to do.
And to fight for what’s right and teach your children the same,
It won’t always be easy, that’s true.

For the real world is hard, it is cold and unfair,
We don’t always find peace as we grow
But we cannot ignore it, not totally at least
It’s our job to let pure goodness show.

So let’s teach all our children that yes, life is hard —
But we know how to lighten the load.
Knowledge is power, friendliness can bring peace,
Be kind, and you’ll reap what you’ve sowed.

I don’t always know how to raise my kids now
In a world that seems so full of hate.
But I do know that hate cannot thrive on it’s own —

So we’ll love, and we’ll love, and we’ll love, and we’ll love
And we’ll love and we’ll make our own fate.

My favorite news anchor, Jiminy Cricket.

focus tips and focus tricks

Hello! Thanks so much for joining me into this look at childhood ADHD. If you’re here for the first time, welcome! This is the final installment of a series on childhood ADHD. If you want to catch up, you can find my personal experiences mothering a child with ADHD here: focus, part 1 and focus, part 2. You can also find a post on ADHD from the perspective of a pediatrician (and a dad) here: focus, md.

Today’s post comes largely from you, dear readers. I sent out requests on social media asking any of you with experience with ADHD (either for yourself or for a loved one) to answer two questions: When did you first suspect ADHD and what made you think it was a possibility, and What did you do to manage it? The responses from all of you were fantastic, so thank you so much for sharing! I’m keeping all of the submissions anonymous, but please know that just about all of these could have come directly from me (but they didn’t!). ADHD seems big and scary, but progress can be made and success can be found — especially in community.

A recent drawing of Boone’s. Intentionally upside-down. Appropriately so, I’d say, give our topic.

Thanks for being in this community.

Without further ado:

When did you first suspect ADHD? What made you think it was a possibility?

“When my son was in kindergarten, he would get completely wrapped up in a TV show, and we would have to physically block his view or remove him to get his attention. He was very impulsive. He has NEVER been a good sleeper, it could take hours sometimes to get him to sit still and relax enough to fall asleep.”

“I could watch my child read a whole book by herself and finish worksheets in no time flat by the time she was in kindergarten, but I could never get her to remember really simple things like bringing her jacket or lunchbox home.”

“When I was younger, I was at the top of my class, but focus was always a struggle. Looking back now, I am so thankful my parents had me tested because it taught me that my mind doesn’t work the same way everyone else’s does, and that’s not a bad thing.”

“My mom suggested she noticed some attention issues with my third grader for a while now, but I brushed it off until his teacher said she was concerned because he is so far behind and he really struggles to say seated and focused.”

“We suspected it at age five. Our child couldn’t do anything that wasn’t very plainly scheduled out. Free time was a disaster.”

“I was diagnosed around age ten. My parents had to remind me to stop, wait, count to ten, and reorient myself.”

“My adult son was diagnosed in seventh grade. He was always hyper as a child, so my husband and I suspected it as early as age three.”

What did you do to manage ADHD?

**Note: I’m not including medications in this list, though several people (almost everyone) included them in some way in their management plans. Medications can and do help, as I’ve mentioned already, but that’s a conversation you’ll need to have with a medical doctor.**

“Structure, organization, verbal rewards for good choices.”

“I needed to create a quiet work space without distractions for my daughter so she could focus on her schoolwork. She also does her school work at the same time each day.”

“Routine, no red dye, cognitive behavior therapy.”

“We would do homework in small increments and pause to literally run around the house a couple times and then back to homework. Also, working toward rewards would inspire him. He would also need detailed instructions. ‘Go clean up your room’ never got him anywhere. ‘Clothes off the floor and downstairs, bed made, vacuum…’”

“I found yelling and getting worked up did NOT help. As frustrated as I would get, I needed to talk to my daughter in a really calm and clear voice, giving simple but direct instructions once she was giving me eye contact. She needed really clear guidelines and structure.”

“We use a board in the morning to help him remember what he needs to do and I’ve started writing reminders on his hand on the key things to bring home from school everyday. L for Lunchbox, C for Coat, etc. We also have a 504 plan (Individualized Education Plan) at school so his teachers are aware of his struggles.”

“I think the best thing my parents ever did was always tell me that having ADHD did not mean I couldn’t do just as much and be just as successful as everyone else; it just meant I’d sometimes have to do things in a different way.”

If you have anything you’d like to add, please do so in the comments! I’m grateful for the dialogue and awesome notes I’ve received from so many of you. This concludes the Premeditated Mama ADHD series, but I’d always love to further the discussion with you one on one! If you aren’t already a member, join the “Premeditated Mama” page on facebook and let’s continue this journey together.

focus, md

This is the third part in a series about ADHD, especially as it pertains to children in elementary school. For the first two parts, see here and here.

Today’s post comes to you from my husband, who also happens to be a pediatrician. He’ll share his thoughts with ADHD as both doctor and dad. He’s graciously making himself available for questions, so leave a comment if you have anything to ask him!


A father, a (then) three year old, a med school anatomy textbook… the usual.


And now, Dr. Jason:

First, a plug for a great resource online in case you haven’t come across this yet: This is a website with great articles about many common childhood concerns from healthy eating to mental health issues. It is run by the American Academy of Pediatrics. I agree with the AAP on 99% of issues (happy to discuss the other 1%) and would definitely recommend this resource to all parents.


So you’ve got a kid with “behavior” problems. This could be caused by a large list of issues. Poor sleep, from things like undertreated allergies, snoring, etc. can cause difficulties during the day. Learning difficulties, like dyslexia, can show up as problems in the classroom. When I was in first grade I had trouble completing my daily tasks, and was almost held back a year. Turns out that I needed glasses and couldn’t read the goals/tasks written on the chalkboard.

One thing that can cause behavior problems is Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Here I’ll attempt to give a brief overview of what this is and how to recognize it.

What is ADHD?

Different parts of our brain are responsible for different tasks. At the very front of your brain (just behind your forehead) is the prefrontal cortex. This is the part of the brain that is in charge of attention, impulse control and planning. In kids with ADHD, this part of the brain is underactive, relative to the rest of the brain.
If you are on your way to pick up the laundry and get a notification on your phone, your prefrontal cortex says “You need to go get the dirty clothes before you stop and do something else.” If you have ADHD, this doesn’t happen. You get distracted and stop to check your phone. You may end up spending 25 minutes checking Facebook, Instagram and Flappy Bird (apparently no longer supported on iOS 11, RIP little bird.)

In school, kids with ADHD have trouble controlling their impulses; they may get out of their seats at inappropriate times. They have trouble switching their focus and attention and have a hard time changing tasks. They may, like my son did, get up and wander around the room for 10-15 minutes aimlessly.

Symptoms of ADHD

Kids with ADHD can have a variety of symptoms, with some kids having more issues in some areas than others. Hallmark symptoms of ADHD include impulsivity, inattention and hyperactivity. There used to be two separate diagnoses: ADD and ADHD. Currently it is all called ADHD, and is divided into categories such as ADHD inattentive type, or ADHD hyperactive type.

We all have times when our prefrontal cortex is “underperforming.” This is like when you are useless in the morning until you’ve had your coffee or Diet Coke. The difference with ADHD is that this occurs on a very regular basis and interferes with daily functioning.

Treatment of ADHD

It’s counterintuitive, but hyperactive, distractible kids are often treated with stimulants. The idea is to increase the activity in that prefrontal cortex, giving them the ability to focus and control impulses when it’s needed.

There are other groups of medicines that can also be used depending on the type of symptoms the child is having and the response to routine medications. Understanding these meds, how they work and when they should be used goes beyond the basic scope of this discussion. Just be aware that your pediatrician may suggest things outside of Ritalin/Concerta/etc.

Aside from just treating with pills, there is a lot that parents/teachers can do to help kids with ADHD. Primarily, understanding what the problem is and keeping that in mind is a big first step. If your child has ADHD and you keep yelling instructions at them, thinking they just aren’t listening, you could be making their struggle worse. I try to educate parents on how to help a child with ADHD focus and get a task done. Getting the teacher involved is also important. Sometimes an IEP (individualized education plan) is needed to lay out specific plans/goals/consequences.

So when should you try medications? It’s different with every child, but as a pediatrician I always use meds when the potential benefit outweighs the potential risk. This is the case for all medical problems such as ear infections, asthma and ADHD. Some kids are picky eaters and on the low end of the growth chart, so I might be slower to start a stimulant with them, as they can cause decreased appetite. On the other end of things, I’ve seen kids who have seriously needed treatment for mental health issues that parents refused to act on because of the stigma, and my heart breaks for them. So my advice is to be willing to have the discussion with your doctor about what non-pharmacological things you can try, but be open to the use of medication if needed.

Prognosis of ADHD

When recognized and addressed early, kids with ADHD tend to do pretty well. There may be a “transition” period while you figure out what interventions/strategies/meds are right for you. As kids grow up, some of them may outgrow their symptoms or form their career/lifestyle in a way that meds aren’t needed. Some may continue to need some medications as adults.

“When I was your age…”

I have heard many people say they think ADHD is over diagnosed and over treated these days. I don’t have a solid answer for these people. Are there some kids who are having different issues who just get thrown on medications? Absolutely. Are there some kids who struggle longer than they need to because people tend to neglect mental health in children? Absolutely.

What it comes down to is finding a good pediatrician or family physician that you feel comfortable bringing your concerns to, and that spends the time investigating the issue and explaining to you what they are thinking and why.

My experience with ADHD

From a relatively young age, around 3, I noticed my son excelled at many things like language and learning. In terms of gross and fine motor development, he was average. One area he was behind in was attention and focus. This is hard to define explicitly in a 3 year old. As he entered Kindergarten, I mentioned this in passing to his teacher. He was not a “wild child” and didn’t have big issues with hyperactivity, so from a teacher standpoint it wasn’t a big issue. Same thing starting 1st grade, I had my concerns but it wasn’t affecting his daily functioning. My wife, the Premeditated Mama, was maybe starting to see what I was seeing. Then we got an email from the teacher. “Wandering” was the subject. Basically, she was concerned that he often would get distracted and be unproductive.


…This is what I silently said. In reality, what I said was “Oh yeah, why don’t we look into that more.”

After getting an evaluation from his actual pediatrician, we started him on a trial of the first-line meds for ADHD, a stimulant called Concerta. I will leave it to Premeditated Mama to describe our experience once we started treatment, both meds and behavioral, for ADHD.