My 7-year-old daughter struggles to remain seated. Over the years, I’ve observed her classmates mastering the art of concentration. Initially, it was merely long enough to create drawings, then to sit at a desk and absorb lessons. I’ve seen them complete schoolwork without tearing pages or leaving the table in tears, and follow instructions thoroughly. I found myself hoping my daughter would reach that milestone too.
When she was 5, dinner time often turned into a battle of wills. I repeatedly asked her to keep her bottom in her chair, only to find her pirouetting across the kitchen, trying to feed her baby brother, or staging vegetable races on her plate.
As she entered public kindergarten, what was once a minor annoyance became glaringly evident. Getting ready for school became an exercise in patience. “Please put on your socks,” “brush your teeth,” and “eat your breakfast” became mantras recited until my husband and I were left exasperated, questioning our parenting skills. No matter how hard we tried to help her focus, she’d vanish, engrossed in a tea party or buried in books, leaving the bathroom sink smeared with toothpaste.
The daily struggles often veered towards the comedic, yet they were undeniably taxing. If wine sales have surged since 2010, I likely played a part in that trend.
The same scattered focus was apparent at school. Each morning, there were simply too many distractions for my daughter to hang up her belongings and head into class. A friend passing by, a stranger in a quirky hat, or the scent of popcorn could easily derail her. Despite our punctual arrivals, I often found myself as the last parent in the hall, gently redirecting her attention while practicing deep breathing. In preschool, her distractibility was seen as age-appropriate, but kindergarten brought a different expectation.
Soon, my frustration morphed into concern. At home, she expressed distress over being reprimanded for fidgeting or chewing her hair in class. During parent-teacher conferences, I was told my daughter wasn’t meeting the school’s standards, which felt unreasonably high for a kindergartner. It pained me to see my bright child, cherished and read to every day, struggle to keep up. On several occasions, I caught her gazing out the window while lessons unfolded, prompting me to retreat to the bathroom to dry my tears before re-entering the classroom with a brave face.
I found myself getting increasingly frustrated. Why can’t she sit still like the other kids? I questioned. Then it dawned on me—her lack of focus wasn’t something she could control. My daughter has ADHD, and sitting still long enough to enjoy a meal, tie her shoes, or color a picture remains a challenge for her. But while these struggles may complicate her experience in public school, they don’t have to define her at home.
While my daughter may lack attention in many areas, she exhibits remarkable hyperfocus when engaged in her imaginative play. At 7, she is passionate about dance. Watching her glide across the stage without a care makes me appreciate her unique qualities. She’s constantly singing, dancing, or performing, and in those moments, she seems to truly thrive. If you ask her to paint an elephant, she’ll take all day, but if you ask her to embody one, you’ll find hours of joy and entertainment.
Attention may not be my child’s strongest asset, but she possesses numerous other exceptional talents. When I stopped trying to fit her into a rigid mold and allowed her to break free, life became significantly easier. Accepting my child as she is and supporting her journey toward becoming her best self has transformed our family dynamic. We’ve chosen to celebrate her unique traits rather than criticize them.
We have consciously decided not to label her actions as wrong. After a year of homeschooling—with ample opportunities for dance and exploration—she’s set to transition to a nontraditional school next year where rigid desk time isn’t enforced, and fidgeting isn’t frowned upon. She’s relieved knowing she won’t constantly feel like she’s doing something wrong simply by being herself.
You may not be able to dictate your child’s strengths, but you can choose how you perceive them. My hope is that my energetic daughter continues to let her spirit shine and discovers her true self. Instead of battling against her nature, I’m committed to helping her embrace it. The messiness of childhood is part of the journey, and we can’t fix what isn’t broken.
For further insights on parenting and family dynamics, check out this resource from Modern Family Blog. If you’re looking for information on home insemination, you might find our guide on at-home insemination kits helpful. Additionally, the March of Dimes offers excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
In this article, a mother shares her journey with her 7-year-old daughter, who has ADHD. Instead of viewing her daughter’s struggles as burdens, she recognizes them as unique gifts, embracing her imaginative spirit and hyperfocus in creative pursuits such as dance. The mother emphasizes the importance of acceptance and understanding, advocating for a nontraditional educational environment where her daughter can thrive without the pressure to conform.