the usual storm replaced by a surprising calm

"It's very calm here."

Those were the words that got me thinking the other day about the way my eldest child's brain must work, with the shadows cast by that four letter acronym that influences so many facets of our entire family life--ADHD. I remember attending a workshop at a national early childhood conference years ago given by an educator who was diagnosed with ADHD himself. As the session opened and he began speaking, a person in one corner of the room began playing some percussion instrument, followed by a few other instruments from different spots in the room being added over the next minute or so. By the end of his opening statement, there was a cacophony of sounds and it was next to impossible to make sense of anything the speaker was saying. We got the point.

I was reminded of that experience the other day as we were in the outdoor area of a local Nature Center. We were among some of the first people there that morning, and during much of the time that we spent looking at the large birds in the outdoor pens, we were the only people around. Now normally, a whole lot of noise can be made by this crew of five. But there were actual moments when the children were all engaged in some activity, be it looking at the animals or collecting teeny tiny rocks to weigh down their pockets, and our group was contributing almost nothing to the surrounding soundscape. In addition to that, we were far enough away from any major road that there were none of the usual traffic noises that we usually cannot escape from in this very highly-populated area that we call home.

So, for a brief time, we were all in a pretty quiet environment, and JAM noticed enough to comment on the calmness more than once. Man, what it must be like for him. Even when playing in our yard, there is the never ending symphony of traffic, with its crescendoing sirens accompanied by revving engines and occasional beeping horns. If he chooses to play indoors, he's confronted with a collection of sounds that could really do some damage to one of those sound-measuring machines. Between toddler toys that just have to make noises or sing songs, and the two kids playing with those toys who just have to exercise their vocal cords for at least 45 seconds for every minute that goes by, there's enough noise there to muddle a brain that's not trying to navigate the murky waters of ADHD. But add to that the even toned voices of the NPR personalities that fill my kitchen whenever I'm cooking, cleaning up, washing dishes, doing laundry (seemingly 18 hours a day), running appliances, conversations, and all the other regular sounds of a busy household.

My god. How in the world does this boy form any thoughts at all? Once again, I was reminded of the challenges that he faces on any given day, and it was a really frustrating experience as a parent. I wish-- for both him and for my own selfish reasons-- that I could switch things around in his brain and make it so that distractions and disappointments and frustrations weren't such big deals for him, so that difficulty with emotional self-control wasn't a phrase that was so present in our family vernacular, so that he felt some calm more often in his days. Perhaps it's a good idea to 'get away from it all' more frequently.

Searching for calm on these open waters,