Tag Archives: adult add

The Doctors Office and Happy Meals

I wish you could have been there.

I really wish it.

It was that turning point in my day where all my defeats of parenting became funny. Let me lead you up to that moment.

The day started with the kids waking up as happy as can be that it was a no school day and they immediately immersed themselves into a very intense rainbow loom project. Jachin and I were getting ready for the day when the bliss quickly turned to sorrow. I don’t exactly know what happened but one kid hit the other kid and the other kid hit back and hubs and I had had enough. ENOUGH. The past week there has been some exchanges of unkind words between the sisters, general intolerance to each other and so on. I realize enough should have come sooner but anyways, now was our moment. I love my kids too much to let them get away with hitting. Husband made a genius move and picked up the rainbow loom and told them that was over for the day. He started to explain the consequences for their actions. Older child wailed and wailed. Perfect. That means he was doing it right. I came out to help and noticed that younger child who had hit first, seemed unphased by the the rainbow loom punishment. So I told her that it was sin to hit and hurt her sister and that her lovie and blankie would be taken away for the day. Younger child is now wailing. Hubs and I high five secretly in the hall and go about our morning. He leaves. Oh I hate when he leaves. I know he has to. But I want him with me, laughing with me, helping with me, suffering through the parenting woes with me.

Bye husband, you’re wonderful.

The morning passes by and we need to go run errands. I ask the kids to get ready and they do. It is February 17 and they all have flip flops on. I am a no-flip-flops-in-the-winter girl based on the principle that it is technically winter. Every winter I hide the flip flops and they somehow find them. Today it was sunny and 70 so I let this technicality go because today I was focusing on heart issues, and unfortunately fashion mistakes are not a heart issue. Unfortunately. Our first stop is Target to get a new pair of glasses for Kait because hers broke in half. Actually in half:


Kind Target lady helping us orders a new pair and tells me that it will be $27.30. I say “but they are under warranty”, and kind Target lady replies, “yes, every time you get them fixed under warranty it is $27.30.” Anger and frustration start to fill my body. Because I paid for the warranty and now I am paying to use the warranty. But God reminds me that we are working on heart issues today and this is mine. So I pay up. Kind Target lady informs us it will be 7-10 days until the glasses come in and I see Kait’s eyes well up with tears.

Kait hates not having her glasses because she hates not being able to see. Makes sense. But this is deep. Something else goes on here. Every time Kait is without her glasses she falls apart, all the way apart. So here is my next moment to help her heart. We walk out of Target quietly (besides the flipping and flopping) hand in hand and get in the car. I ask her if she knows why she is so upset. “No,” she mutters. “Let me help,” I quietly said. “I think when you don’t have your glasses you feel really helpless and things feel out of control and that makes you feel really uncomfortable.” “Yes, that.” She quietly cried. I held her and prayed for her and then I told her that Jesus and I both want to comfort her during this uncomfortable feeling. “Okay.” And she pulled out her packed lunch, which you should note was a lunchable. Now on to ballet class for Sadie. Should be a simple thing. Drive to ballet.

No. Half way there an argument erupts over the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Morgan gets real mad that her version is not being heard and so she screams a very high pitched ear-piercing scream and I almost get in a wreck.

Inches people. Inches of hitting another car.

Now I stay calm, and this is no small miracle. We call this in our household PROGRESS. And we celebrate PROGRESS because sometimes it’s all we got. I calmly explain to Morgan that I am trying to drive and it is disrespectful to scream like that at any time and that her consequence for her bad choice (see, we have a theme here) was she could not talk or sing for five minutes. Kait said, “Morgan, we are on that highway,” which means 635.

I believe the devil lives on 635 and causes wrecks, and cursing, and road rage and that is why 635 is hell.

We drop off Sadie and go to the fabric store where Morgan has to use the public restroom TWICE. I die.

Back to pick up Sadie and now back on 635 (Back away from me SATAN!) to go to from Lake Highlands to Plano to take Morgan to the pediatrician. Of course at this point they are hungry. And so am I. I also know that the only food stop at the exit to the doctor’s office is McDonald’s.

So here we are, line around the building, of course, because I have to build character today too, apparently:

Drive-thru line

So picture this. We arrive at the doctor:

Frowny Face

I missed the picture I really needed. This is why I so wish you had been there. Morgan has her happy meal spread out on the kids table in the waiting room happily eating her happy meal. Layering on top of her Lunchable in her stomach. And next to us is the newborn. This is the turning point for me. I am now amused by all of it. This was not just a newborn, but it was the first time parents with their just born baby who has never had a happy meal, never hit his sister, never screamed about the words to Twinkle Twinkle, never used a public bathroom.

Never ever.

He was precious and small. So my kids began asking if they were that small. “Yes you were.” “How much did I weigh?” “7 pounds something.” “What about me?” “6 pounds something.” I am not even caring that I don’t remember. NOT EVEN CARING. New Parents look at me. I tell them their baby is precious and that they will sleep again one day. They say thank you as I wipe the crusted-on-ketchup off Sadie’s mouth. Morgan is just sitting there coughing and eating. Cough. Dip french fry in ranch and eat. Cough. And they are now witnessing the Happy-Meal-in-the-waiting-room-I-don’t-even-care situation. New parents were thankfully so enamored with their new baby they did not seem phased by this ridiculous scene. Ketchup on faces, happy meals, flip flops, mom doesn’t remember children’s birth weight, and so on.

We are called back. Morgan has Bronchitis:

Morgan in doctors office

Yippee, she might even have pneumonia so my beloved pediatrician puts her on steroids. If you have never had a four year old on steroids you should totally try it. IF YOU WANT TO LOSE YOUR MIND. Now it is time to head home and figure out dinner, and we know how that goes. AGHH DINNER!

But after a Lunchable and a Happy Meal, dinner can only be an improvement.

Tomorrow we will eat all organic fruits and vegetables all day long. Unless we have bigger issues than food.


Things that are unhealthy for me:

Things that make me anxious:

Things that make me lose my mind:
Coming up with dinner

My doctor tells me that I need to eliminate stressors in my life in order to control my lupus. “Can I eliminate dinner?” Yes, I really asked her this. My doctors don’t think I’m nearly as funny as I do. They don’t laugh. I think it has something to do with the fact that they are seriously trying to help me. I totally get that. I am seriously trying to help me too, but with a sense of humor. So in all honesty I have given up on cooking dinner as much as it is possible with a husband and three kids.

I attempted a real dinner one night and they didn’t like it. So I asked them what they wanted to eat for dinner. They really actually told me that all the wanted for dinner was tacos.

Stop. You are thinking this was just my kids response. Nooooooo. My husband said this too. For the love of tacos. Fine. Tacos it is. Two to three nights a week we have tacos. Bless whoever invented this perfect dinner creation.


But there are still the other four nights of the week. Order Pizza. Now we are down to three nights. This should be easy. It should be. I still can’t quite figure out why I can’t pull dinner together just a few nights a week.

Maybe this is why, my text to Jachin at this afternoon:


Please don’t think that we don’t have problems in our marriage. We have conquered some rough things and I’m sure there are more to come, but isn’t he precious? He gets me. He sees the defeat in my eyes when he walks in the door and I’m trying to get dinner ready. The digression in my attempts at dinner have been so severe. It’s not even worth trying anymore. I can’t even flip a pancake when I make pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner. And eggs end up on the floor and on the ceiling. And then I cry. My dinners are more and more ending like this:


I used to love to cook. That was when cooking was my only responsibility. Cooking had no competition in my life, it had my full attention and me and cooking had fun. Those were the days. Things change so fast, but we tend to accept the change so slow. I would have saved my family and I so much heartache if I had just given on up on cooking long ago. I should have accepted the reality that 5:45 is a very bad time if day for me and I cannot multi-task. So what used to be my domestic bliss of cooking and enjoying it now ends up looking like this:


Please do not be too concerned. We eat. Maybe not the way you do, but we do eat. Frozen lasagna, takeout, spaghetti, takeout, tuna fish, takeout. And a special shout out to grilled cheese. Whatever it is we are grateful to have it. My kids and husband do not seem to even care what we eat.  All along I was creating my own idea of what dinner should look like.

Life will move on and maybe one day I will cook again. And then maybe one day it will actually taste good and I won’t burn it. Maybe. Please, nobody hold your breath.


On Such A Winter’s Day

My day started out like any other typical day. No it didn’t. It started with me almost making my child go to school because I didn’t believe her that her stomach hurt. But, luckily, she starting puking right before I made her put on her uniform. That was a super close mom fail. I almost sent my very sick kid to school. Bless her heart. She continued to puke on and off through the morning then fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

While she was sleeping I decided to try and clean up my room, something someone with ADD is always trying to do but never fully accomplishing. Ever.

As I was attempting this clean up, I glanced out my window at the cold rainy day and thought about how much I dislike cold days. Oh how much I really dislike cold, rainy days. Then something strange happened next. I didn’t go into a weird depressing funk. I had one of those moments where I was so thankful that God was present in my life and showing me progress.

Instead of getting all mopey about my puking kid and the cold wet day I thought about my friend Cyndi. Cyndi loves cold days. The colder the better. I think they remind her of her home, of her childhood in Chicago. I think they take her back to a place in her heart where she had less pain. So I stood there thinking about Cyndi and I was truly happy for her to have this weather. The very weather that I hate and the very weather that actually takes my hermit prone self and catapults it into full seasonal depression makes her happy. I was glad it was a win for her.

So I had a little Mary Poppins moment and was celebrating my victory of coping well, and then this:

Then I went to get my other daughter from school and I got a flat tire.

A FLAT TIRE. The horror. Girls hate flat tires. At least this girls does. Makes me feel helpless.

This is where my attempt to remain positive would for sure have ended before. A flat tire! How could the world possibly go on while I’m stranded with a flat tire.

People, I am a horrible coper. My doctor says I’m one of the worst copers she has ever seen. When she professionally delivered this opinion to me I wanted to be defensive, like geez, I’m just sensitive, what’s so wrong with that?

Hi, my name is Mindy and I am a bad coper.

What does that mean? I fall apart easily. Like when it’s hot or when it’s cold or when the dishes don’t get done, or when my emails come in too fast. I get anxious when I have to plan a birthday party for my kids, or when I have to cook dinner (I know, so pathetic). So a cold day, puking and a flat tire could possibly be a lethal combo. I just can’t deal.

But I’m a recovering bad coper. I recently admitted that this was a problem. After several friends, family, and doctors pointed this out, I had no choice but to admit my weakness. This is how I was made, but I could change.

Sometimes it’s good to be sensitive. But sometimes you’ve got to buck up and deal with life. I need to stop being such a cry baby. I need to learn to dig a little deeper and to turn to God a lot faster and ask Him for help and perspective.

Perspective is helpful. I remembered that the events of my day are first world problems. I remembered my friends who are dealing with bigger problems, like losing loved ones. I remembered that my kids would stop puking and my car would be fixed and I would go home to my warm house where I would use my smartphone and go to my favorites contacts which holds my best friends and family’s phone numbers and the pizza place and I would speed dial Palio’s and order pizza and my husband would pick it up on the way home from buying new tires (me calmly ignoring the fact that we didn’t have the money for that).

Yep. And then I would make this video for my sister in Cali because her kids won’t stop crying. One of my newest coping mechanisms is to make videos for my sister and text them to her. I might make it a feature on my blog, I know you’re so excited.

One day I will tell you funny stories about my older sister, the over achiever coper. She copes too well. Her house could burn to the ground before her eyes and she would be like, “it’s fine” and start making her list of things she needed to do in order to rebuild her house.

We all cope differently. I hope to keep improving my coping abilities. And then I will go back to my doctor and and tell her what’s what.

I have a serious not so serious disease

written by Mindy Collins

Friends, I am troubled with my serious not so serious disease.
I don’t even know what I should name my disease. Clearly this is the not so serious part because I have to name it because I have made up a disease and self diagnosed myself with it.
I will call it the notafuctionalhumaninthemorning disease.
Now it gets serious.
People joke all the time that they “don’t do mornings” or “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”.


But then there are those morning people, who wake up all like:


For you morning people please only continue to read if you want to know what this feels like so you can be empathetic. Because while you’re over there doing yoga at 6 am and then putting dinner in the crockpot at 7 before waking your children up to feed them a hot breakfast, I’m over here like this:


My brain does not work in the morning! I can get out of bed, make lunches, do hair, and pretend to be starting my day. I can go through the motions of waking up and not actually be waking up.

And I am soooooo slow. I mean seriously slow. Painfully slow. Which makes me late. So embarrassing to be a real adult and be late. I mean really, not cool.


My amazing husband has now come to terms with my morning disease. He is so kind and does everything he can to help. He takes the kids to school, because honestly it’s not even a good idea for me to be driving before 9. He would never ask me a question in the morning (this can trigger serious flare ups in the disease) and he doesn’t even try to make eye contact with me. He scratches my back and moves to the side when I’m walking around. Coffee helps a little and by 9:30 or 10:00 I can complete a sentence. But as the teenagers would say, ” the struggle is real.” I would take a pill for this disease if it would make me fully functional before 10 am. I don’t want to rub oils on my right pinky toe or drink apple cider vinegar with cayenne pepper in it to clear my head and give me energy at 8 in the morning. This is not the time to be alternative friends. (To my alternative friends and readers, I LOVE alternative and natural and such, please calm down, this is a joke). I want a PILL people. A pill. A pill. A pill.

Oops, I got distracted thinking about what it would look like if I took a pill and was instantly a morning person. It would have bad side effects though, because it would also wake up the monkeys in my head and they would start talking and I would have to tell the monkeys:


Bless my heart, right? I do really hate being so out of it in the morning, but getting through it is worth it. I love my kiddos, I love my job, and I love the parts of my day where my brain works.

I am thankful for each day, just maybe not until around noon.


*please remember this is just for fun, I know people have real diseases, I have a serious oh so serious one that I might write about one day. But for now just don’t ask me questions in the morning.

What the What?

Some have asked me in the last few weeks, “So what is your blog going to be about?”, “Is your blog going to have a focus?”, “Is your blog going to be random?”.

RANDOM! That is the winner!

It is a blog about my daily adventure with ADD, among other problems.

Some cannot handle random. I get it. You need a focus. You need a subject; something to contemplate, dissect, and apply to your life. You are probably the type that is living within your budget and have all your socks paired together and always take both earrings off at the same time. But that is not me.

I get distracted.


So easily that I often find myself with one earring in and the other out. Like what was so important on my mind that in the middle of taking my earrings out I couldn’t finish the task? The concerning part is that this happens often. I get in bed and find that I still have one earring in. I think, “really?”; all I had to do was move my hand to the other ear and take the other earring out. What came up in that two second time period?

I bought this for my office last month:


I love it. But as you can see I havn’t framed it or hung it on the wall yet. I admire people who hang things on the wall. Such follow through required there. I won’t give up on trying to attain that. Although it does not come naturally I still want it.

Just in, my sister just sent me this pin:


Oh dear, Cyndi just sent me this one:


It’s a game we play. Sending pins back and forth. They are soooo funny!!

So back to the topic, which is to say that there is not a topic, for now anyways. But I have A LOT of voices in my head so tomorrow there might be a topic. But for now I’m hoping to merely entertain a few people with my ADD struggles. It’s funny. Life is serious, and hard; but my struggle to focus is funny.

And we all need funny. 

Seriously serious people, we need it.