(mini-update):

My stint in Paris admittedly started out a little rough. I have definitely undergone a metamorphosis throughout this first week. Arriving exhausted, not-so-fresh feeling, and unable to communicate effectively can be overwhelming enough. Add to that a feeling of isolation in the chosen retreat, and it is disheartening to say the least. Succumbing to the culture shock, emotional vulnerability and lack of sleep on that first day I wondered why I had left home in the first place. During the initial two days I missed my children so terribly it physically felt as if there was a hole in my heart. I was riddled with guilt and regret. It was one of the most horrible feelings I had suffered in a long, long time.

Yet, knowing they are doing well I realized I had no choice but to make the best of this opportunity. I have been extraordinarily fortunate that Paris has boasted the best weather conditions one could ask for. I also found a new apartment in the heart of the city and, although I suffered grueling misadventures to make the move, have not regretted it for one moment.

I am learning my way around, my French is improving, and I am becoming more confident in this amazing foreign city. I have done more walking/hiking than I think I ever have. If I don’t come back one toned, buff mother I will be shocked! I have made a few English-speaking friends, one of which is an Australian girl whom I have just spent a very lovely 3 ½ days and am very sad that she is leaving tomorrow. She claims to marvel at my abilities where, as she puts it, I can navigate proficiently and have even begun making jokes with the locals in French.

Considering some of the obstacles I have overcome, I know that I will emerge from this experience a stronger person capable of nearly anything that comes my way (which is bad news for the likes of London, Amsterdam and Prague, to name a few of the other cities I someday hope to conquer).

More details to come. Here are just a few random pictures from the week so far:

Reminiscent of an eighties commercial where an old lady disappointingly looks at her hamburger and proceeds to inquire about the insubstantial beef patty, a reader of this blog recently asked, “where’s the dysfunction?” Whether you’re hungry for beef or dysfunction the phrase, “where’s the meat?” gets to the heart the matter. This inquiry has led me to one conclusion: that apparently my narrative on how I incurred grievous injury while attempting to change a diaper, or on pulling a piece of dental floss out of my child’s butt, or on sleeping with a butcher knife under my mattress on a mini-trip with my kids, doesn’t satisfy some people’s insatiable thirst for depravity.

So here’s a confession: I have a potty mouth. And at times a temper. I was not blessed with a plethora of patience and when my limit has been breached I am ashamed to report that my vocabulary tends to become rather colorful. I have gotten slightly better over the years, able to occasionally muffle an obscenity just as it is hitting the air, or sometimes tweaking a consonant just in time to ever-so-slightly distort the forthcoming expletive. At times I wonder, does it really matter if the words I spew in the heat of anger and frustration are official profanities in the English language? I rather think it’s the delivery of the message that makes the most impact; however, I certainly prefer not to curse as I don’t condone that language by my children (of course, I pull a bit of the “do as I say, not say as I say” routine and reinforce that those words are not acceptable). I absolutely do not choose to do it. In fact, I work very hard to control it.

While often swimming in a sea of chaos and resentment it is difficult to always behave in a manner that is commendable and respectable. Although I certainly have many things to be thankful for, raising children with ADHD while being afflicted myself, makes for some very harrowing, if not downright dogged moments around here. It is very unfortunate that the time of day when my two younger children (ages 9 and 5) often begin throwing ridiculous tantrums because their medication is wearing off rendering it extremely difficult to cope with situations rationally, my medication is also wearing off (and yes, this process can have the same effect on adults as it does children). Needless to say, our household can become a very undesirable scene between the hours of 3 and 5 pm.

Initially, I try to respond patiently and rationally. Unless you have raised children like this and have dealt with similar issues day in and day out, you just can not fathom the stress induced by these incessant tribulations. Once I feel my blood pressure has reached the boiling point, I know little can save me. I have incorporated breathing techniques which do help temporarily; however, if the chaos ensues this only serves to delay the gasket from blowing.

Luckily, I’ve always had a speedy recovery. Immediately as soon as the demands, screaming, or kicking the bedroom door stops, my breathing returns to normal and my sense of calm reinstates. That is, up until recently. Something is different in me now. I imagine that along with having larger issues weighing on my mind, it’s because I have finally reached a breaking point and realize that this can not continue. Instead of coping one day at a time, it is imperative to stop this cycle. Something must change. Only nothing is as simple as it should be when ADHD is involved.

The other day after coming home from school the two younger kids behaved beautifully the entire evening. They were both sweet, agreeable and cooperative. Usually they tend to take turns, like only one of them can behave at a time. When my husband came home he even jokingly asked what I had done to them. Reveling in the pleasantness of the atmosphere, I realized that this is what it’s like to have “normal” children. I know all kids sometimes misbehave and need consequences. But for children with ADHD, it is the lack of coping skills (which leads to intense overreacting) that is one of the many elements separating them from the norm. Traditional strategies can be very challenging to implement and do not always work.

In any case, there you have it. Dysfunction. I imagine it’s a little disappointing if you were chomping for something as “juicy” as the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal–I’m saving that for another story.