Driven To Distraction

Editor’s
Note: When Katherine Ellison, award-winning investigative journalist
and mom of two, was told that both she and her eldest son (nicknamed
“Buzz”) suffered from attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, she
embarked on a year-long effort to “make our home more peaceful, help my
son make the best of his particular brain, and maybe even Be the Change I
Wish To See In Buzz.” Ellison’s last-ditch effort resulted in a year’s
worth of observations and experiments, successes and failures, confusion
and insight—as well as a memoir, “Buzz: A Year of Paying Attention.”
Below is an excerpt from the book.      

A
September fog hangs over the Golden Gate Bridge as I speed southward in
our dented brown Prius. One son sits beside me, the other in the back.

Damn, damn, damn, I’m late again!

I
swerve in time to avoid missing the exit to Highway 280, and gun the
car toward Silicon Valley. The boys are out of school for yet another
“staff development day,” and I’m planning to drop them off with my
parents while I have coffee with a friend and then meet with a venture
capitalist who wants my help to write a speech. But I’ve left home so
late I’ll barely have time to give my folks a quick hello at the
drop-off—sure to evoke their rolled eyes and weary headshakes.

Yikes!
I nearly hit the car in front of me as my head turns to referee another
potentially fratricidal fight. We argue a lot in my family. Except for
Jack, my even-keeled spouse, we’re moody, high-maintenance types. Which
goes double for my eldest son, Buzz, who just turned twelve and each day
fulfills my mother’s old, cheerful curse. “One day,” she’d say when I
was growing up, “you’ll have a child just like you.”

A noodge, she meant, with a chronically urgent agenda, never able to take no for an answer.

My
mother was right about that, and more. Three years ago, Buzz—the alias
I’ve chosen for my son, for the electric-jolt way he usually affects
me—was diagnosed with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (AD/HD),
with a side order of oppositional defiant disorder (ODD). The first
diagnosis signifies a problem of distraction and poor self-control. The
second means that he is frequently a pain in the neck.

The
point is, I have a certifiable problem child, while I’m also
certifiably part of the problem. Call it diagnosis envy disorder, but
Buzz’s new status inspired me to check in with Dr. Y, the psychiatrist I
first began seeing in my twenties, to ask if he thought I might share
my son’s disabling distraction. He said he did, indeed.

This
alphabet-soupy new lens on our life helps explain our chronic chaos,
but so far has done little to reduce it. Not that I haven’t tried. Most
recently, I’ve encouraged everyone in my family, including even-keeled
Jack, to take fish oil supplements. Research suggests they’re good for
general brain health and mood.

Suddenly, Buzz squirms in his seat, tugs on the visor of his Dodgers cap, and announces: “I want coffee.”

“Oh, Buzz,” I say immediately. “You know that’s not good for you.”

“I NEED coffee.”

He never drinks coffee. Okay, I’ve let him have it maybe once or twice. But what was the final word on whether it stunts your growth?

“Either coffee or a Coke,” he growls.

Buzz
is sitting up in front to minimize the risk of bodily harm to his
nine-year-old brother, Max. Sometimes this works, but sometimes he gets
upset and throws things or jerks back his seat to ram Max’s knees. Will
now be one of those times? My heart is expanding, and not in a good way.
It seems to be pressing against my lungs.

“Neither
one is good for you, and we can’t stop now, as you know,” I say
automatically, switching lanes to overtake a slower car. My voice is
wonderfully calm. Hurray for me! “We’re on the freeway,” I add.

“COFFEE!” Buzz roars.

And, boom! My mind is off to the races.
I should never, ever have given him Coke that first time—when was that
again? And of course, I drink Diet Pepsi in front of him…What a bad mom!
But what if he needs it? I certainly need it. Could he be trying to
muster his focus? Or is he just pushing my buttons—again? Oh, man, I’m
never going to make it in time, no matter if we stop or not. Fantastic:
late for the first meeting with a new client. I can’t do anything right.
And why on earth am I meeting my friend Pete today, when I should be
using the time to squirrel myself away somewhere and finish the proposal
for that book on plastic pollution that I promised my agent I’d deliver
last month?

Buzz is still roaring: “I waaaaaant CAWFEE!”

I
love Buzz and Max with a passion that continues to surprise me. They’ve
helped me become a better person than I ever could have been without
them. What I want most of all right now is to model healthy behavior for
their sake.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I yell.

“Mom,” Max pipes from the backseat, “I don’t think the fish oil is working.”

Excerpted from “Buzz: A Year of Paying Attention,” by Katherine Ellison. Copyright 2010; published by Voice.