“Something’s gotta give,” my exasperated husband sighs as we both gaze desparingly upon our monthly bank statement. “What? What can we give?” We look over every detailed transaction. Gasoline…300 dollars per month. Groceries…1800 dollars per month. Doctor visits and prescriptions…125 dollars per month. The list of costs associated with raising our large family, in this modern day, is seemingly endless and far too overpriced. My new struggle with trying to balance frugality, while shopping for our health, has proven to be an enormously frustrating task. The conundrum of trying to fill my children’s tummies with organic goodness and simultaneuosly avoiding a negative checking account balance is a foe that I am acquainted with, against my will. I keep hoping that my foe will grow tired of the resistance to his efforts to ruin my shaky but stubborn balance and leave me alone, but he is more persistant than I had estimated him to be.

My maternal mission to live on one income has required me to completely forget about designer jeans and MAC counter make up. I’m forced into concerning myself with only the basics, now. I don’t even dare pick up a copy of Vogue, for fear that the reminiscent yearning for the latest fashions might birth feelings of inadequacy. Who the hell needs the stress of feeling fashionably inadequate when trying to put adequate food on the table? Not me. I’m learning to be content with my Target brand jeans and generic make up. There is no room for fashion snobbery in my life anymore. I french kissed it goodbye (hey…we had a torrid love affair for a long time) and will never look back. I simply cannot allow myself the luxury of that kind of fornication with seven kids to put through college, and apparently, even struggle to feed for the next umpteen years.

We have also recently come face to face with the financial demands of raising imperfect children. As imperfect as I know we are, as parents, there are more than just two imperfect humans who live under our crimson tiled roof. One son has an ADHD disorder that we strive to try and naturally cure. This translates into forking out a lot of money on extra vitamins, health supplements, organic foods, holistic health practictioners and literature on behavioral modification approaches. Trust me, medication is the cheaper “solution,” eventhough (for us) it is not the best route to take. We have kids who need medical procedures to put tubes in ears, remove adenoids and correct a serious tongue tie problem. We have hyperactive kids who need weekly athletic involvement in order to stave off wall climbing, which costs money. We have kids who grow at incredible rates. Rates that necessitate a larger sized shoe, only six weeks after purchasing the last new pair. I’m sorry to say, that God actively ignored my prayers for perfect children. This is not what I signed up for. Somehow, I ended up in the group of people that got assigned to be a parent of imperfect humans. Did anyone else, reading this, get put into the same group? Just curious!

So there we were, sitting at the organic apple sauce encrusted kitchen table, pondering ways to increase our cash flow or decrease our expenditures. We sat, two exhausted lumps of flesh and a piece of paper that seemed to scream from the top of its lungs, “What the hell were you two thinking, having all these kids?!” We did the only thing we knew to do… shake our heads and laugh. “Hey,” my husband tried to make light of our stressful moment,” if my parents did it, we can do it.” And he’s absolutely right. If his parents raised thirteen kids up to be happy, healthy adults, then surely we can raise half that amount. We will just cinch up our Target brand belts, make a few adjustments to our habits and keep on truckin’.  I got up from the table and poured each of us a glass of wine, as part of our nightly pre bedtime ritual, when my husband had an idea. ”Maybe we should stop having our nightly glass of wine. It will save a few bucks each week.” I looked over at the man who had just suggested cutting out the one thing that we get to share every night, besides a bed and cooties, as if to say, “Are you effing serious?” He chuckled at my expression of pure disgust and retracted the ridiculous statement by picking up his glass and toasting, “Here’s to our financial struggles, our child induced stress and the wine we get to share together for the rest of our lives. May the first two never interfere with the last!” As long as we can afford our weekly bottle of wine, I consider our lack of wealth a very minor side effect of being blessed with so many imperfect, yet wonderful, children. I’ll let you know if my sentiments change should we ever have to suppress our affinity for wine, due to lack of finances.

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While many parents may scoff at the idea that 9% of children have ADHD, the effects are felt by many along with the stigma that goes along with giving these children the proper medication — which can sometimes ultimately make or break a child truly suffering with ADHD. It is now being said that the condition is actually being underdiagnosed, contrary to popular belief.

In an age where every diagnosis is the safety net for every behavior under the sun, it’s no wonder that the kids that were once simply considered “weird”, “hyper”, “naughty” or “eccentric” are now conveniently compartmentalized. Don’t get me wrong, as an adult with ADHD, I am all too aware of the ramifications of blowing off such silly attributions and quirks and suffering because of it.

Perhaps the parents of their blessed “normal” children, will refrain from judgment and ridicule when another parent says their child had ADHD. Unless you’ve been to medical school, trust me, parents don’t really don’t care about your opinion and your acting like it doesn’t exist. Parents without an ADHD kid can’t and don’t understand.

“There is a perception that ADHD is overdiagnosed and overtreated,” said lead researcher Dr. Tanya E. Froehlich, a developmental-behavioral pediatrician at Cincinnati Children’s Medical Center. “But our study shows that for those who meet the criteria for ADHD, the opposite problem — underdiagnosis and undertreatment — seems to be occurring.”

The researchers found that some 2.4 million children between the ages of 8 and 15 meet the medical definition of ADHD, but an estimated 1.2 million children haven’t been diagnosed or treated, Froehlich said, adding that “girls were more likely to be undiagnosed.”

What’s more, children from poor families, who have the highest rates of ADHD, were the least likely to have consistent treatment with medication, Froehlich noted. “In addition, children without health insurance were less likely to be diagnosed and treated,” she said.

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New research by a University of Alberta sociologist shows that kids of divorced parents are much more likely to be prescribed Ritalin:

Dr. Lisa Strohschein, in a study appearing in this week’s issue of the Canadian Medical Association Journal, found that children whose parents divorce are nearly twice as likely to be prescribed Ritalin compared to children whose parents remain together.

I ride the fence when it comes to Ritalin and the like. I believe ADHD is a real condition, and one that can be treated with proper use of medication. But I also think that, like Prozac, the drugs are prescribed way too often by general practitioners not qualified to make an assessment. My initial thought when reading the opening of the article was that maybe the kids developed behavioral problems because of the stress of the divorce, and the same stress diminished the custodial parent’s coping skills leading them to turn to pharmaceuticals for support. Turns out Dr. Strohschein agrees:

One potential explanation for the higher use of Ritalin could be that divorce is stressful and some kids develop mental health problems and are then appropriately prescribed the drug, says Strohschein.

But there is also the possibility that divorce acts a stressful life event that creates adjustment problems for children, which might increase acting out behaviour, leading to a prescription for Ritalin.

It’s this reckless use of Ritalin that creates the stigma of shame and guilt for parents whose kids can really benefit from it.

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