Homework still blows and an ADHD update.

How many is this?

Ten, twenty, thirty...

That's not a dime, it's a nickel.

Ten, twenty, thirty...

Not a dime, a nickel.  What's twenty plus five?

Twenty six?

No.

Thirty six?

No.

Fifty six?

No. {Deep breath}.  Let's try this a different way.  Count by one's, starting at twenty.

Twenty, thirty--

Ones.  What comes after twenty?

{Insert G}.  Mom, I don't understand this--I'm supposed to find the error in the subject-verb agreement, but I don't know what that is.  {Insert:  REALLY??  W.T.H.}

G, you're gonna need to wait a minute, because I have no idea.   Big J, let's get started with your homework, buddy.   L, ready, count by ones--twenty...

Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty FIVE, twenty six, twenty seven--

Okay, stop.  Now, what's twenty plus five {holding up five fingers}?

Forty seven.

{Sigh}. Try counting by fives.  Go.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five--

STOP!  What comes after twenty, when you're counting by fives?

Twenty five?

Yes!  Twenty five!  Now add ONE to twenty-five--what is that?  

Seventy five.

No.

{Insert Big J.} Forty One?

Yes. 

{Insert both twins recording the number 41 as their answer}.  L, not you, that was Big J's answer.  You're on a different problem.  What is TWENTY FIVE plus ONE?

Forty one.

No.  Count by ones, starting at twenty--

Twenty, thirty, for--

No.  Ones, not tens.  Twenty, twenty one, twenty two...

...Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six--

STOP!  What's twenty five plus ONE?

Seventy five.

{Insert me, giving up}.

The good news here is that Big J's ADHD medication seems to have kicked in, and--I'll be damned--it's working, but I wouldn't be surprised if he needs a slightly higher dose.  What I'm seeing is absolute progress and homework was less painful than slowly bleeding to death, so that is a really noticeable difference.   There was the minor (10 minute) issue of continually confusing "won't" and "want", but I blame stupid, nonsensical phonics for that--try teaching a kid with learning disabilities to read, and you will suddenly realize that the English language is jacked.  I'm not sure if I ever mentioned this, but our pediatrician did address the issue of the popular Internet diet for ADD, and in her opinion, there is nothing about it that is proven to have any kind of lasting results, other than driving parents CRAZY--which is awe-some because I really don't want to be the kind of mom that FREAKS every time my kid eats a goldfish cracker.  Let's face it, before the meds, that's generally where we were headed--because SOMETHING has to take the brunt of the frustration that comes with trying to understand an ADD brain, and it might as well be snack crackers.   Sounds about as healthy as the diet's suggestion of a coffee breakfast for my seven-year-old, which seemed to be against even my better judgment.

I feel *kind of* like we are on the upswing here, but still,  there's the constant heavy shadow of their prematurity.  At least I think it's their prematurity, and not the fact that I am dividing my attention between four children and 763 projects at the moment.  I feel like everyone is teaching their kids to play the piano or speak Spanish, or learn the basics of cage fighting--but it is PAINFULLY obvious to me that we need to be working on +1 addition facts.  We aren't even ready for counting with 5's and 10's--that sh#! is extracurricular in my opinion, like canoeing.

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As an added bonus--I am adding a "Days to Art Fest" countdown to my daily blog, along with the most ridiculous thing I have done for the day, in preparation for the blessed event.   Officially, we are NINE days away; and today, I purchased MANY permanent dye packets, because I *thought* it would be a good idea to let 125 kids experiment with tye-dying paper towels.  I probably shouldn't be smoking crack when making said decisions.