The world is abuzz with the news about Michael Phelps. He who won eight (Beijing) Olympic gold medals in swimming, surpassing and breaking the record of Mark Spitz who had 7 gold medals in the 1972 Munich Olympics. All in all, he has 14 gold medals, the most any Olympian has ever won.

Need I mention that the predicted fortune the eight gold medals will bring him would be close to $100 million due to product endorsements?

As everybody knows by now, he has ADHD or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

So what so special about having ADHD and how does it relate to him winning a lot of gold and breaking world records?

It is NOT just having the ADHD that helped him win these, as the theme of the news reports reporting on this interesting aspect about him. It was a lot more.

His mother, Debbie Phelps was a middle school principal did her best to help her son: “I believe that appropriate treatment, including behavioral therapy and medication, can benefit children and adolescents with ADHD.” Click here to read more.

She was quoted here to have describing Michael as:

“He never sat still. He never shut up; he would never stop asking questions,” his mom says. “He just wanted to go from one thing to another.”

Debbie Phelps is a big help in developing Michael and his skills. She even wrote an article with tips on how to help manage a child with ADHD: Back to School: Help Your Child with ADHD Succeed In and Out of the Classroom.

Michael was diagnosed with ADHD and was on Ritalin until he reached 11 years old. He used to be angered easily when he losses. He focused instead, on winning, on getting his hand on the wall before anybody else does. Click here to read the article.

On dry land, Michael Phelps is said to be unsure of his footing. He even injured his wrist when he had a fall. He was hyperflexible on land, characteristic of those with ADHD who manages to trip on their own feet. Click here to read about the incredible prediction of Michael Phelp’s future victories when he was just 11 years old, written in a 2004 article.

So what does this post of mine have to do with sports and having ADHD?

continue reading this entry »

Today, my eldest daughter Trixie turned 13.

This in itself, a milestone, one more step towards becoming a mature and responsible person that she can become.

There are times though that I wish that I could turn back the hands of time so that she is younger. I wish for those times when hugs and kisses were easier to get. Oh, she does still kiss my cheeks when she goes off to school and whenever she goes back.

No, we don’t have a big birthday celebration for her today nor for the weekend. She just wanted to celebrate quietly at home, eating home-cooked meals, because there is school the next day. She hinted though that she wants to go somewhere during the weekend, probably swimming, because every one’s schedule (meaning my hubby and I ) is free then. Practical kid.

I was secretly smiling the yesterday when she said her adviser texted her, that even if it’s her birthday today, they will still have their quiz.

I remember about the Parenting Seminar I attended three weeks ago. The couple who gave the seminar told us, parents from Catholic Filipino Academy, our homeschool services provider, that parenting has several steps and stages.

Looking at my three children’s ages, my husband and i play a multi-faceted parenting role because we are currently in three roles, according to their lecture.

In dealing with Trixie, we are both the COACHES.

Why coach? Because during her formative years, my husband and I tried to mold her the best we could. And now that she is an officially a teenager, we now don our coaching caps.

What do coaches do? Coaches stay on the sidelines, cheering, encouraging, urging their player to give her best shot, to do her best.

When failure happens, coaches give guidelines, advices and keep the goals in sight.

But during the game, it is still up to the player to play his own ball game.

I pray that my child would be able to do her best in whatever it is she wants to achieve. I know she can be successful. I know she can always do her best because I believe in her.

And I love her so.

Every Saturday, participants post photos based on a theme. the theme for this Saturday, August 9, 2008 is DARK.

There are many ways to interpret dark. This can be interpreted literally meaning without light. This can also be referred to as a time of day where sunlight can no longer be seen. This can also be interpreted philosophically meaning different things depending on the person interpreting the word. Click here for the different interpretations.

It is dark inside a movie house. This was at an IMAX Theater when we watched The Alps, documenting about conquering one’s fears and facing these fears. There is a correlation here to being in the dark and not facing our fears.

Have you ever experienced traveling on a long road on a very dark night with heavy rains and fogs? The sight of the lights welcoming one back to civilization is both a relief and unwelcome. A relief because the travel has almost come to an end and unwelcome especially when one has to face “reality” upon arriving at the destination.

People have many dark moments in their lives. With so many problems one has to encounter day in and day out, it is easy to give up and not do anything at all.

But let us remember that God had His dark hour too, when His Son Jesus died on the cross for the sins of the people.

That is more than enough reason to get out of the dark and see the Light.

photohunt

Article was first posted here but has been edited to suit our present situation.

I will always admire my own mother for her zest for life, her nurturing ways with her children, her gift as homemaker, her stick-to-it-iveness as a wife.

She has faith that, as the cliche goes, can move mountains. Though she is not the party-going type, she exudes a positive energy about her. She tirelessly putters around the house, straightening stuff, cleaning the cheap rugs, dusting and wiping and scrubbing. She has a small business that augmented my father’s income at the nearby US naval station and helped send me and my brother to school. As a small entrepreneur, she is good at calculated risk taking.

She stood her ground when she and my father had a marital crisis. If she wasn’t so strong and resolute, our family might have collapsed.

Inside the tough exterior is a softness. She easily cries — when she remembers the past, when she watches a teleserye*, when I confide my problems. Some of her text messages brim with sadness — sadness that’s often not really hers but my brother’s or mine. When I am sad, she is doubly sad. I didn’t like this facet of her much. “Overacting,” I used to describe it in my mind.

I also didn’t go for her mommyisms or mommy cliches. “I told you so.” “Go ask your father.” “Brush your teeth, comb your hair, shower before bed.” “Look at me when I talk to you.”

In my mind, I called that “over-fussiness.”

When I settled into a family of my own, I wanted to be like her and yet not like her — if you catch my drift.

So you might ask .. how am I doing?

Try as I might to be a good homemaker like her, I fall short of keeping a squeaky-clean polished floor (even if there are rugs that can be used to clean it or even area rugs to use for cover). The yard is full of overgrown grass instead of the flowers I like to look at. I don’t take to yard work much. My excuse: I am too busy.

As a wife, I try to be tolerant and steadfast. There are times I dwell on wrong decisions of the past which are trivial compared with what my parents went through years ago. I still don’t know if I’d be as strong as my mom when faced with a major crisis in my marriage.

My firstborn is now an adolescent a teenager (a few days from now). She is in that confused stage where she is changing fast physically and not quite able to catch up emotionally. We have clashes because we are both lost. I find myself crying shameless tears. Sometimes, when tears fall, I hear that long ago word echo: “Overacting.”

As my children grow and I try to show them right and wrong and instill in them discipline that will mold their character, I find myself chiding them. “Do your homework (or in my case, finish your homeschooling lessons). Fix your room. Do this. Don’t to that.”

The look they give me before turning their backs had “Fussy!” written all over.

The other day Last school year, I was talking to my daughter over how she was summoned by her teacher for writing vicious thoughts of a bullying classmate : “Look at me when I’m talking.” It turned out she was keeping her angst to herself and decided to fight back in writing. (I am glad that classmate has transferred school for this school year.)

That same night, I dismissed my son’s request to watch a dvd movie with a curt: “Go ask your father.”

And I find myself saying more frequently than I want to: “I told you so.”

Am I my mother’s daughter … or what?

___________________________________________________

*teleserye - drama on TV

Feng, a real-life buddy who is a mommy blogger like me gave me a bunch of tulips. Virtual tulips these may be, I am very much grateful to her for I haven’t gotten a real bunch like this yet.

This is the poem accompanying the virtual tulips. Though the words there do not exactly match how our friendship has blossomed, I am thankful for the opportunity to know these lovely ladies who also got this bunch from Feng.

It’s true I have never seen you
and we have never met,
Never shaken Hands or
even truly hugged and yet!
I know for sure you care for
me by the kindness that you give.
And our keyboards keep us
together doesn’t matter where we live.
So I give you this gift to
put a smile on your face
and to let you know in my
heart you have a special place.

To “The Eating Club” friends: Chateau, Cookie, Feng, Lady Cess, Lynn and Wenchie: Thank you for the wonderful times we have spent, for the laughters and the lessons learned Till the next fun adventure!

For those who greeted Julian and I when we celebrated our birthday, we would like to say:

Thank you for the wonderful messages. Your messages warmed our hearts. God bless you all.