This morning was one of those all-too-familiar moments. We woke up late, and I needed my son to "hurry." After ten years, you'd think I’d have learned by now: asking him to hurry triggers his anxiety, which leads to complete resistance—sometimes escalating into a shutdown. Not only did we not hurry, but we ended up being an hour late. It was frustrating and I could feel the pressure of everything that needed to be done that day building as I hurriedly cancelled my work meeting and tried to salvage the situation.
I took a moment to step back from the scene - kid melting down, morning itinerary blown, and everyone feeling big feelings. Instead of pushing my son to rush, I took a deep breath and decided we needed to reconnect and find calm before heading out the door. I wanted him to be better equipped to navigate his day, feel connected with his parent, and emotionally regulated more than I wanted him to be on time that day. I let his teacher know the situation and requested an excused absence for health reasons. Still, the familiar urge crept in—to call someone, anyone, who gets it, to ask if I should’ve just forced him into the car.
In moments like these when I'm modifying what to many would be reasonable expectations, my anxiety often kicks in. What if he’s always late now? Will he be late in high school? Get bad grades? Will this lead to poor job performance because he never learned discipline? I have to pause and remind myself that expecting my ADHD child to operate like a neurotypical one isn’t realistic—or fair. It’s not that he can’t be on time—most days, we are. We build in extra time, follow routines, and focus on positive consequences. But some days, things just don’t go as planned, and it’s not worth agonizing over it. I still do, sometimes, because it feels like lots of things, on lots of days, haven't gone as planned.
It’s taken years to understand when it’s okay to give a little. From experience, I recognized that forcing conflict around being on time this morning would only make things worse and reinforce his anxiety - the primary culprit - even more. This is in contrast to when he was younger, and we worked hard to normalize expectations—age-appropriate behavior, routines, the whole package. I worried about being too lenient, fearing it would lead to a poorly behaved or spoiled child. But that approach wasn’t right for him. When he started showing signs of depression and anxiety, we knew we had to change course.
The Tension Between What’s "Normal" and What’s Right
The tension between what’s "normal" and what’s right is something many parents of neurodiverse kids navigate daily. Society urges us to push our children to fit typical standards of success, but for kids with ADHD, this pressure can backfire. You encourage them to reach new heights, hoping it will build motivation, but when they struggle—often from a lack of skills, not a lack of effort—they can end up feeling defeated and misunderstood. They may start to believe they’re "bad kids," and as parents, we’re left with a nagging guilt for either pushing too hard or not enough. It can be challenging to find the right balance.
Ross Greene’s words remind us, "Kids do well if they can." If our children aren’t meeting expectations, it’s not because they’re unwilling or because we're failing as parents —it’s because they need support, skills, and reasonable expectations that match where they are in their neurodevelopment.
Stepping Back and Trusting the Process
It’s challenging to step back and be responsive parents. It’s even harder when the world tells you your child should be doing things a certain way. Our own anxiety and guilt around parenting often gets in the way and when you want the best for your child, going down the road less traveled often seems like a frightening option. But, in the end, recognizing and honoring their needs will serve them far better than forcing them forward through developmentally challenging situations.
It’s a journey and we're still figuring it out. So, take a breath, step away from what our kids are "supposed" to do, and ask: what would happen if we were to redefine success for ourselves as parents, and for our kids, as doing well, rather than doing more.