That's ODD

A few weeks ago, some friends pointed out that the abbreviation for Oppositional Defiant Disorder - ODD - spells the word odd. Strangely, this had never occurred to me. So when I talk about our family living with ODD I may not be properly portraying the situation. However, it's amazing how ODD can really equal odd at times.

We have two children who have been diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder which usually goes hand in hand with a diagnosis of ADD or ADHD (Attention Deficient Disorder or Attention Deficient Hyperative Disorder). Both of our ODD kids (I can lovingly call them that because they belong to me!) have that duel diagnosis.

This is how ODD looked this morning:

Daughter 1 came downstairs at 6:30 to tattle on Daughter 2 who was pushing up on and kicking from underneath (they are in bunk beds) the mattress of Daughter 1 and not stopping after being asked. Daughter 1 went back to bed and Daughter 2 stood in the hallway until it was time to 'get up' - like they and the rest of the house weren't up already.

Daughter 2 threw her towel down the steps (it was hanging on the banister so she could take it to the shower this morning), and with ever increasing volume to match her increasing frustration, banged her body into the wall just outside the bedroom where she was told to stand. To her credit, she did not move from the spot.

Since there were problems in the girls' room this morning, Mommy got to choose the outfits (on most days when everything runs smoothly, the girls chose their own outfits.) Daughter 1 handled it in stride because she knows the rules and knew they had been broken. Daughter 2 was very unsatisfied with the outfit of my choosing (although it is an ensemble she's picked out for herself on other mornings) and so threw the clothes, slammed drawers and doors, grumbled and mumbled and then yelled about her displeasure - all while taking a veeeerrryyy loooonngg time to get dressed.

On arriving to the kitchen, Daughter 2 noticed that her book bag was not in the exact same spot in which she had left it yesterday. She began a tirade directed toward her brother whose book bag had apparently usurped the appointed spot. This brother had nothing to do with the situation and wisely walked away without a word.

While I was just around the corner in the kitchen, waiting for the challenge of finding an agreeable breakfast for my sweet girl, I somehow missed her exit. Instead of packing her book bag, as I assumed she was doing, she quietly (it's amazing how she can turn the volume up and down so quickly!) slipped back upstairs. When I met her at the bottom of the stairs I tried to ask - in the most non-threatening of ways - why she had gone upstairs. Her lowered eyebrows, hard stare, pursed and pouty lips, and tightly crossed arms gave the distinct message that she was not planning to be at all compliant.

After a bit of investigation, the lip gloss (that we ALL know is not to go to school) was found in the hiding spot of her pocket and was placed in no-man's-land on top of the refrigerator where all smuggled attempts are stored. Then she decided to break her silence! The rampage began: the lip gloss belongs to her, get it down NOW, she doesn't have to listen to us, her pants are too loose, she doesn't even WANT breakfast, and is NOT going to sit down.

I can't even tell you how it all ended because at about the point of me trying to force her into a chair at the table, and all 42 pounds of her plus her anger and energy fighting back, it was time for me to take two of the boys to the orthodontist. Stan was left with the vestiges of the morning and the task of getting this little girl (and three other kids) to the bus stop.

This evening he and I will check in with each other about the events of this morning; and I'm sure that neither one of us will think that anything about it was odd.