Q: How many ADHD children does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Let’s go ride bikes!

Just when I think that Isaiah is incapable of sitting still for more than a nanosecond, I catch him on the deck rail trying to get an up close view of the gold finches we feed. He was in this position for more than a half hour which means that I no longer blame his DNA for the chronic case of the wiggles.

He was rewarded for his efforts once he covered himself in a towel with just his face peeking out.

The moment I captured this image, he sprang back to life and proceeded to chase squirrels up and down trees in our woods.

The child knows how to make life fun.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

I blame testosterone for the constant tangles my five boys instigate with each other. I guess I don’t know if it’s normal in other homes for two brothers to merely pass each other in the kitchen and end up panting for breath after wrestling for 15 minutes because, and only because, they made eye contact in that passing.

I used to believe I could tame it with constant reminders to “be kind” and “act like gentlemen”. How very female of me. I went so far as to write little reminders throughout the house:

“Keep your hands to home”

“This isn’t a zoo and you are not monkeys”

I’m quite certain that not even monkeys could dream up a farting contest with the winner receiving a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

Adolescent male behavior baffles me. They speak a language that I do not understand and their code of conduct involves concepts my brain cannot comprehend. Life seems to be a non-stop competition with sibling respect at stake. Hairiest legs, best burper, biggest biceps, loudest voice, highest score…the comparisons are constant and I am often asked to be the judge.

“I know, guys. Let’s see who can be the quietest!” evokes the loudest objections. ”Let’s see who can go the longest without saying something mean” results in name-calling and more rough-housing.

While I’m comforted by the fact I can use parental authority to bring temporary law and order to a situation, the possibility for an outburst always bubbles right beneath the surface of peace.

“What! His arm touched mine while we were in the van. That’s why I pinched him.”

“He was leaning over me, breathing loud while I was playing on the computer. He deserved the wedgie.”

“He’s just blinking to annoy me so I sat on his head.”

“I only locked his iPod because he stuck his finger in my ice cream RIGHT AFTER I WATCHED HIM STICK IT IN HIS EAR AND HE KNOWS I DON’T LIKE EAR WAX IN MY ICE CREEEEAM!”

And my all time favorite:

“He hit me for no good reason!”

Like you could convince me that there is a good reason to hit.

Novelist Booth Tarkington once said “One of the hardest conditions of boyhood is the almost continuous strain put upon the powers of invention by the constant and harassing necessity for explanations of every natural act.”

I fully admit that, according to that quote, I am adding strain on their boyhood by wanting to understand a behavior so different from my own. Perhaps I should just be content that today no one ended up in the emergency room nor was there any destruction of personal property aside from the temporary tower built with a deck of cards.

What I really want is for someone to assure me that my sons will one day evolve into men who won’t tackle, sit on and pretend to spit in the face of a co-worker just because he used their stapler without asking.

Today is the last day of school for the children and in an attempt to begin summer vacation properly, I helped the boys clean their room. Upon doing so, I discovered a few unusual things:

1. As discussed previously, Logan placed a permanent lock on his dresser drawer- without permission. I discovered that his two brothers have figured out how to bypass this lock and take BB’s from Logan’s private stash. This has resulted in Logan opening a safety deposit box at the local bank. In it, he keeps BB’s and a jumbo pack of Juicy Fruit gum, half eaten.

2. While I appreciate the sentiment, writing the words “I love mom” with a ball point pen on your pine bunk bed probably isn’t the best way to show how much you care. Nathanael and I discussed several different ways to express affection in a less destructive way, like saying I love you with Murphy’s Oil Soap and elbow grease.

3.  This room actually has a wooden floor. This was a shocking discovery since it has been completely covered with Lego pieces. For years I believed the floor was green, red, blue and yellow and terribly uncomfortable to walk on.

4. Despite the impression rough-and-tumble boys give, they actually do appreciate having flowers in their bedroom. While no one admitted it, I did overhear a conversation where one son said to the other, “When this flower dies, I know where to get more.”

5. The boy who knows where more flowers grow.

6. While cleaning this window, I discovered a complete and intact butt-print on the glass.  I’m fairly certain that this artifact is exclusive to a boy’s bedroom and makes me wonder who the lucky recipient of this assertive gesture was.

Despite all the discoveries, it came as no shock that the boys now behave differently living in a perfectly clean room. Most people appreciate order in their lives but I wasn’t expecting  them to suddenly begin turning their dirty socks the right way before sending them to the laundry room. I didn’t anticipate that they would ever walk their gum wrappers to the kitchen trash can rather than deposit them on the floor under the bed. They have even been kinder to each other.

Which is why I wrote “I love Logan, Isaiah, and Nathanael” with a ballpoint pen on their pine bunk bed.

Hey. They started it.

In the comment section of the previous post, Jeff asked “Yeah, but can he clip them on his ears?”

Isaiah’s response was “Duh!”

I charged him $1 to take this photo.

I would say that I have a fairly typical family when it comes to getting children to do their chores. No one wants to help without first going through the who, what, why, where and “how long grounded if I do not comply?”  Loss of computer time generally wins out over my attempt to inspire them to domestic greatness. But it’s a whole different story if the children believe there’s a chance to increase their financial portfolio by the sweat of their brow.

This evening, Isaiah came to me and said “Do you think you would pay me $.05 a piece if I fixed all the broken clothespins?”

My jaw fell on the floor.

You see, this beautiful child could walk into the kitchen, see a pile of strawberry jam on the floor surrounded by a neat circle of ants feasting on the spill, and never once think “I should clean this up so mom doesn’t have to.” Yet he notices broken clothespins?

I agreed to his terms and quickly forgot about our arrangement until he came back 45 minutes later looking like the Maytag porcupine attacked him.

“You owe me $.85, Mom,” he said with blazing dimples.

“I’ll round it up to a whole dollar if you let me take your picture.”

“SWEET!”

As I went to grab my camera, I caught Nathanael in his room with the clothepin bucket on his bed. He was purposefully breaking the clothespins in hopes of making some big bucks and is now grounded from the computer for 24 hours.

Oh, parenthood.