Blogging is my new sport. Sport takes energy. Even darts takes energy. You’ve got to lift your pint to your mouth, plus you’ve got to get to the pub and stagger home from it.
I don’t have energy, I have anemia. Not the pernicious kind, which I only like the sound of because I love the word pernicious. This anemia is not life threatening, not in the traditional sense, I’m not going to die, but it is way of life threatening. I haven’t ridden my bike for two weeks, I need a nap before lunch and I haven’t touched the novel.
Tired is not one of my favourite words. Along with xenophobia (cool to say and bad to do) tiredness is a crap word. It’s boring, dull, nowhere, tired.
So blogging is a sport and sport needs vigour.
I haven’t posted for a week because my computer lives in the room at the top of the stairs and that’s a hallway too far. Me and my anemia are eating chocolate and watching ‘The Closer’.
Tiredness you can do anywhere and worry loves inertia.
So I’m not too tired to worry and at the moment I’m worrying about Karate Boy.
Suddenly Karate Boy doesn’t want to take his medication, he doesn’t want to wear his hearing aids and he says he’s going to have ADD for the rest of his life.
The kid has changed and I don’t know what to do.
Karate Boy is twelve and half. He’s going from a little boy to someone with more of his own mind. I can see it. He’s questioning things. He’s expressing himself. He’s sensitive. Hearing aids, Ritalin from the school nurse, all he wants is to be normal.
He’s too young to know nobody’s normal and that not being normal is not a bad thing.
I think he feels alone.
I’m trying to keep up with him – energy is required for keeping up – I’m trying to show him I love him and that he can tell me anything he wants to.
‘You force me to be on drugs.’
‘Matey, you need to take it. It helps you focus.’
‘I don’t want to be on drugs.’
Thank you say no to drugs.
‘It’s not drugs, it’s medication.’
This is heartbreaking.
We looked up famous people with ADD/ADHD.
Richard Branson, Justin Timberlake, Robin Williams, Jamie Oliver – that could explain the 15 minute meals and the non specific recipes – sports stars, movies stars, IT guys, industrialists.
I don’t know if it did much for Karate Boy, but, you know, it did help me. No, Karate Boy won’t get to grow out of it but it may not be all bad. That’s the angle I’m taking. What if ADD could be one of his strengths?
‘Honey, ADD might be the reason you want to know everything right now. That’s one of mummy’s favourite things about you.’
He sort of smiled.
There are a million books on parenting.
But there is no book on parenting Karate Boy. I can’t skip forward a few chapters to see how to resolve this. Karate Boy needs understanding and he needs us to stick with him. That we can do. I can love him and give him hugs and kisses, stuff that he can feel but I’m as much as a beginner as he is; I’m just older and have more money. I’ll sort this anemia, keep my plans loose and try not to walk around thinking who the hell put me in charge?