Thoughts from an ADHD Mom, Lately

Lately, life feels like a handful of spinning plates.

Just the other morning, I stood in my kitchen holding my Coke (don’t judge), staring at the counter, trying to remember why I walked in there. One child was asking a question, another was searching for something that was definitely right where they left it, and my brain was quietly buffering like an old computer. I laughed, took a sip, and said, “Hang on, mama’s brain needs to catch up.” We eventually found the thing, answered the question, and made it out the door—not smoothly, but successfully.

I’m trying to be a good mom. A present wife. A supportive daughter. A dependable friend. A responsible human who remembers appointments, feeds people regularly, and occasionally drinks water (don’t ask my husband about that last one).

More days than not, I’m thriving and getting it done.

Other days, I’m holding it all together with sticky notes, alarms, half-finished to-do lists, and a sense of humor that’s doing a lot of heavy lifting.

Having ADHD means my brain is always juggling—ideas, emotions, responsibilities, reminders, worries, hopes. The volume is rarely low. And motherhood adds its own soundtrack: someone always needs something, someone is always talking, someone is always asking what’s for dinner.

For a long time, I thought managing it all meant trying harder. More effort. More organization. More self-criticism when I inevitably dropped a plate.

What I’m learning lately is that managing life with ADHD isn’t about perfection. It’s about flexibility.

It’s about knowing that some days I’ll crush it as a mom but forget to text a friend back (had a friend do this recently—she had called me back but panicked when she saw a text thread and thought she left me hanging; I reassured her she hadn’t). Some days I’ll show up beautifully for my marriage but have zero energy left for small talk. Some days I’ll feel like I nailed absolutely nothing, only to realize later that I kept everyone fed, safe, and loved. And that actually counts for a lot. I used to joke when grocery shopping with all four kids under the age of four: “Four in, four out… pretty sure I grabbed the right kids on the way out ;P.” Sometimes grocery shopping and getting home safely was my goal for the day.

I’m learning to pivot instead of panic. <insert Ross’s couch pivot voice here> When a plan falls apart, I try to adjust instead of spiraling. When my energy shifts, I give myself permission to shift with it. When my brain goes sideways, I meet it with humor instead of shame.

Because laughter helps. Laughing when dinner is cereal. Laughing when I walk into a room and forget why I’m there. Laughing when my calendar reminder pops up for something I already missed. PIVOT. Not laughing at myself, but laughing with myself.

I’m also learning that I don’t have to be everything to everyone all at once. Being a good mom doesn’t mean being endlessly patient every single moment. Being a good wife doesn’t mean having infinite emotional capacity. Being a good daughter or friend doesn’t mean always showing up perfectly or on time.

It means being real. Apologizing when needed. Communicating honestly. And giving myself the same grace I so easily offer everyone else.

My ADHD diagnosis has taught me how to pivot, how to adapt, and how to find humor in the chaos. It’s taught me that flexibility isn’t failure—it’s survival. Sometimes it’s even strength. It’s allowed me to be open with myself about how my brain is functioning each day.

So these are my thoughts lately. I’m juggling. I’m adjusting. I’m laughing where I can.