A Penny in Your Pocket

I finally got a confession out of my daughter that she has not been sticking to her diet. A few pieces of unacceptable candy and treats now and then have revealed themselves to me, and I decided it was time to ask for the truth. It isn't her size. Her size shows that she is a healthy, well-fed girl who is on her way to being built like a fashion model. No, those forbidden treats are what's causing the running instead of walking and the temper tantrums that leave her on the floor kicking like a two-year-old. My almost ten-year-old flings herself onto furniture, grabs whatever interests her regardless of ownership and etiquette, interrupts conversations, and does the opposite of what she told and then laughs about it. She is hyperactive, impulsive, defiant, and noncompliant, and it is the additives that make certain foods forbidden that trigger this behavior. My daughter is supposed to be following the Feingold Program for those who suffer from a long list of ailments, including ADHD. She is supposed to eat only foods we provide for her at school, birthday parties, dinner parties, and some restaurants. Like any child with such severe restrictions, however, she finds temptation difficult to resist. The more she gives in, the harder it is for her to say no. What's a parent to do? Years ago, I used to keep pennies in my pocket. They went into my right pocket for bad behavior and back to my left for good behavior. In the moment, I could threaten to transfer pennies in the hope of encouraging my daughter to behave. At the end of the day, I could easily assess how well she'd done by the number of pennies in each pocket and dish out rewards and punishments accordingly. I felt it was much fairer than taking away privileges based on how frazzled I felt. I felt, in those days, that I functioned on frazzled and was more likely to remove privileges based on my level of despair and the frequency of my tears. Not a good yardstick to measure a child's behavior. I may not be able to control what my daughter eats when she is away from home, but I can usually tell when she's strayed from her diet. So, I've decided to start with the pennies again. They might be quarters that can be converted into Chuck E. Cheese tokens or they could be actual tokens. It doesn't matter. We can start out with ten pennies, and each request or command that is met with fussing, wailing, or smart-mouthed comments will result in a penny in the right-hand pocket. Likewise, any cheerful, compliant responses will lead to a penny in the left pocket. Particularly bad behavior--nasty backtalk, hitting, kicking, or screaming, can mean that the pennies stay in the right pocket. In this way, I can monitor both the behavior and the diet that triggers it. I'm hoping to show my daughter the results of her actions and help her connect the dots. I'm hoping that she will learn to make wiser choices. I'm hoping that my own life will be calmer as a result.

Taking My Own Advice

If I were giving someone advice on parenting a child with ADHD, I'd suggest keeping the family on a strict schedule. Children with ADHD can really benefit from following regular routines--the more consistency, the smoother life runs. In reality, I don't keep much of a schedule at all, and my girls always seem surprised when I announce that it's time for this activity or that task. We lead a haphazard, disorganized existence that is saved from complete chaos by the few coping mechanisms we've adopted. It's time for me to take my own advice, to set the example. I can rebel all I want to about the fact that I want to do what I want when I want, but it won't get supper on the table or tomorrow's clothes laid out tonight. Sometimes, a good, old-fashioned self-discipline is called for.

The Best Kept "Secret" in Managing ADHD

It drives me nuts that every article I read about ADHD never mentions diet and nutrition as a way to manage the disorder. I just read one of the Washington Post Magazine's features from May 1, titled "Scattered," [http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/more-women-have-adhd--or-is-it-the-stress-of-modern-life/2011/04/08/AFx1Vo8E_story.html] which highlights the plight of women with ADHD. Not to minimize the plight of these women--they remind me of my 13-year-old daughter--but none of them can match my eight-year-old.
This is the child who stripped off her shorts and underpants for a forbidden frolic in the sprinkler while yelling, "Looky meee!" (I require my girls to change into swimsuits before running through the sprinkler, an idea lost on an impulsive child.) This is the little girl who can barely read at eight, who, in fact, taught herself to vomit at will in order to get out of school during her first year of first grade.
The second year of first grade has been better, in part because my daughter does take medication. However, she is also on a strict diet prohibiting artificial colors and flavors, certain preservatives, and corn syrup. I don't know which part of this double strategy would work without the other, and at the moment, I don't want to know. All I care about right now is that it works.
The Feingold Program works for my daughter, it works for the other members of the Feingold Association, and it would work for the women in "Scattered" if they tried it. Yet doctors rarely mention it, and when patients suggest it they are either told with a dismissive shrug to feel free to try it as it can't hurt or that it doesn't work at all. The Feingold Program certainly doesn't earn millions of dollars for Big Pharma and its constituents, and its methods aren't popular among food manufacturers, either. This makes it the best kept "secret" in ADHD treatment.
In 21st century America, the Land of Processed Food, this sort of diet sounds like a nightmare. In order to help my daughter, I'm extraordinarily limited in the kinds of foods I can feed her. I shop with the Feingold Foodlist, carefully choosing the brands and flavors of everything from Trader Joe's chicken soup to Planters cashews to keep my daughter's behavior and learning resembling something close to typical. It is not easy, but compared to the alternative, it's the best option going.
So how can perennially distracted adults pull this off? Cold turkey. With a Feingold Foodlist and a trusted friend or relative, an adult struggling to focus can shop for a variety of convenience foods from breakfast cereals to frozen dinners. Combined with "acceptable" bread, peanut butter, and luncheon meat as a couple of dishes prepared from the Feingold Handbook, a person can go cold turkey in a week to see if the program makes a difference. An ample supply of "acceptable" junk food can be helpful in fighting any feelings of deprivation. Certain brands of plain potato chips and corn chips, premium chocolate bars and ice cream--these are all items that are deemed "acceptable," and therefore permissible. This is not a weight loss or general healthy eating diet, it's just a program for eliminating the foods that make you a little crazy or shroud you in an unfocused fog.
Yes, my own child takes medication to manage her severe ADHD. Still, if a person can relief from a disastrous level of disorganization by making alternative food choices, that can make a huge difference. If a lot of us made such choices, it could transform not only our lives but our society. Untreated ADHD is simply not "acceptable."

The Meaning of Success

What does success look like for parents of children with ADHD/ADD?Success looks like a typical child bathed in the glow of a miracle. I can take my daughter to Girl Scout Encampment and watch her delight in nibbling garlic-mustard leaves as though it's magic. Her fingers reach tentatively to pet a tree frog, and she shivers at the feel its skin. She is focused, engaged, and I am filled with joy. The thrill of watching an eight-year-old slowly sound out short-vowel sounds that roll off the tongues of most literate five-year-olds, that's success. Walking hand-in-hand with a child who doesn't exhaust me by jumping and pulling on my arm, that's success. Spending a day in the woods with my child actually enjoying her company rather than chasing her and watching flocks of birds fly up wherever she goes, that's success. What other parents take for granted, I have learned to appreciate.

FDA Hearings on Food Dyes: One Child at a Time

I sat in the elegant hotel meeting room sipping water and listening to Ph.Ds discuss the relevance of double blind studies of children ingesting artificial food dyes. As they debated whether the number of children affected merited bans on dyes or warning on the foods that contain them, I wondered about each child. What about the little two-year-old girl who responded so dramatically in the study? Did she ever learn to say hi to the flowers as she walked along the sidewalk or did she always yank them up and run shrieking away from her parents? Did she ever play tag on the playground with her friends or did the other girls huddle and whisper to each other whenever she walked by? Did she ever march in the color guard of her high school band or was she the girl passed out behind the bleachers?
If six to ten percent of children are affected by ADHD and by the artificial colors so abundant in our food supply, how many stories does that give us one child at a time? The third grade boy who can't read, the seventh grade girl who has no friends, the mother who feels like a failure--they aren't just statistics or points on a graph. They're real people looking for real solutions.

Chicken Soup

My younger daughter and I are at home today in varying states of illness and recovery. She is the most dreadful convalescent, refusing to rest and complaining of boredom. In the past she would amuse herself by pulling down the flimsy spring rod and curtains and swinging from the top of her bedroom door. Now I get pleas for entertainment, which I would rather ignore, feeling stuffy and achy myself. I stand firm on the ban on television. (She would be "sick" every day if I permitted that.) My only comfort is tea and chicken soup.
My favorite Campbell's chicken noodle soup is forbidden. It contains the additives that trigger unmanageable behavior. Trader Joe's has an acceptable variety, but today I am making my own.
With a box of kosher chicken broth, a container of diced carrots, celery, and onion from Trader Joe's, and a cup of rice, I can make a wicked rice pilaf. By adding some extra broth to the cooked rice, I come close to mimicking the convenience of heat-and-eat soup.
That was yesterday. Today I have a monster of a whole chicken waiting in my fridge to turn into a soup. Since I don't have to wring its neck, can I call it convenience food?

More Measuring

It's easy to lose perspective when my ideal of normal daily life has become skewed. I can give my daughter a 3.5 on a scale of 1 to 5, one being typical behavior and 5 being super wacky. I gave her half a point for turning a foul mood around, because I really wanted to give her a four for not listening and following directions, for being extra sneaky about crunching on the pistachio shells that hadn't made it to the trash, and for wetting her panting during outdoor play.
Listening and following directions is a real challenge these days. My daughter doesn't pay attention to what anyone says if she has her mind on something else. My cries of, "Stop! Turn around! Come back!" go unheeded. Her mind is too full of the destination to pay attention. If it does sink in that I am calling her back, she is irresistably pulled into disobedience. Her distress is real when she does obey, sobbing, "But I don't want to!" I feel silly praising her for good listening when she does it with such reluctance and after much delay, but I know I can do it more often.
Sneakiness and backtalk are tougher to deal with. I am hardwired to respond to backtalk (including under the breath mumbling) with severe punishment. I am constantly reminding myself about the message and the effectiveness of the discipline I dish out. The old rules don't always work.
I understand why a six year old would wet her pants, however. Like a much younger child, she gets so involved with her play that she doesn't pay attention to her body signals. I can only sigh and be grateful that she rushed inside to change.