My beautiful three-year old son, Freddy: sweet smile, sparkling blue eyes, and a shock of bright blond hair ??“ on half of his head.  The other half of his head was shiny and smooth, the result of hair-pulling.  This was the first sign that there was something very different about my little boy.  When he sucked his thumb, he was in the habit of rubbing his hair with his other hand, and pulling it out by the roots.  Freddy was my first child, and I had never heard of anything like this before.

As any good parents would, we sought help.  Our family doctor recommended a child and family therapist,  who explained this condition called Trichotillomania, a form of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.  Through months of monitoring and behavior modification techniques, Freddy managed to curb his hair-pulling, and his hair grew back just fine.

It was always something with Freddy.  But somehow his odd behavior came across as endearing.  He used to tell people that his name was Raphael, and that he was a Ninja Turtle.  When he got into the X-Men craze, he changed his name to "Logan" after Wolverine??™s "real identity."  He would collect the plastic tops off of juice bottles and carry them around in a backpack. 

Freddy is a super-bright kid.  He talked non-stop about everything at an early age.  He learned his numbers and letters and was pretty much reading before Kindergarten.  But when he started school, his teacher called me in for a meeting.  It was the first of many.  Because of Freddy??™s November birthday, she felt he was just too immature to fit in with the rest of the class.  He was day-dreamy, and seemed to have his own agenda. 

Around this time, the movie "Little Man Tate" had come out, and I felt that I had a kid-genius on my hands.  I was adamant that Freddy continue in school.  I felt that Freddy was merely bored in a class where he already knew all the stuff ??“ and that he would be devastated by having to go back to pre-school for another year.  I decided to prove my point to the teacher by taking Freddy in for an IQ test. 

After a couple of sessions with Freddy, an educational psychologist was ready to give me the results.  Yes, Freddy was indeed a bright boy, no Little Man Tate, but certainly smart enough for Kindergarten.  But the doctor also told me that he seriously suspected that Freddy had ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.  Did I know what ADHD was?  Had I ever heard of it before?  No.  He patiently explained it all to me and we agreed to a more thorough evaluation.  Sure enough, that was it.  Freddy was officially diagnosed with ADHD.

Given that we already knew about Freddy??™s OCD, and conditions such as this are not uncommon with ADHD, the diagnosis made sense.  But Freddy??™s dad, my then-husband, insisted on a second opinion.  That, too, confirmed the analysis.  We went back to our family therapist for help.

This whole thing was all new to me, and I gobbled up information as fast as I could get it.  Fortunately, we have a strong ChADD (Children and Adults with Attention Deficit Disorders, a national non-profit organization) chapter in our area, and the other parents, who were going through the same things as we were, helped us to feel more "normal" and supported.  We decided to leave Freddy in Kindergarten, and to work with behavior modification at home and school.  Even though I juggled work and Freddy??™s little brother as well, Freddy was a full-time job himself.  I did everything I could to maintain his self-esteem, and to help him feel stimulated and challenged in positive ways.

In first grade, it became evident that medication would be necessary, and that was another hurdle to overcome.  It took awhile to find the right doctor, and then the right combination of medications, but when we did, the difference in Freddy??™s attitude and behavior was extraordinary.  We??™re still seeing that doctor, and she has been instrumental in all of Freddy??™s successes.

As we continued with family counseling, there was one day that brought me an

epiphany.  Freddy??™s dad and I were disagreeing, per usual, on parenting styles, and our therapist pointed out how much Freddy and I were alike.  She said that ADHD is a genetic condition, and that Freddy most likely got it from me!  Wow??¦ that would take a little getting used to for me.  But when I looked back on my own experiences in school, and my own issues both past and present, it all seemed to come together.  Maybe there was a reason for all that Freddy and I were going through.  Maybe this ADHD was all a part of our life??™s plan.

From that point on, I started seeing Freddy as my teacher.  I looked at all the things that he taught me just by coming into my life.  I certainly had learned how to be a good parent, despite challenges and obstacles.  I had learned compassion, tolerance, acceptance, and I am constantly learning patience!  I learned about psychology and psychopharmacology and alternative treatments through research and practical experience.  And most of all, I learned about myself.  I learned just how strong an advocate I can be for my children.  I learned how much I can help others.  I learned that ADHD can be a wonderful gift of creativity and fun when channeled in a positive direction.

And I am still learning, every day.  Freddy is a teenager now, and there are a lot of big new issues to deal with.  His blue eyes still sparkle behind his glasses, and his thick dirty-blonde hair is often tousled and uncombed.  When I look at this young man, and think about all we??™ve gone through together, my heart fills with love.  What Freddy has taught me, can??™t be learned in school.

Lisa Marie Coffy

BrightIdea @ aol.com

(I have a new book out "Getting There With Grace: Simple Exercises
for Experiencing Joy") www.coffeytalk.com