Our Story
For years, we felt like something was off, but we couldn’t put our finger on it. The lists of ADHD symptoms never seemed to match our child, and teachers never raised any serious concerns. Yet at home, life felt so much harder than it should. What I’ve since learned is that ADHD doesn’t always look like the textbook version.
That’s why I’m writing this blog - to share what ADHD really looks like for our family, in the hope it might help other parents recognise the signs, feel less judged, and know they’re not alone.
The Long Road to Diagnosis
After more than a decade of wondering why things just weren’t sticking with our child, we finally sought a private ADHD assessment earlier this year. With hindsight, it’s easy to wonder how we missed the signs. But unless you really dig into what ADHD looks like in everyday family life, it’s hard to connect the dots. The classic descriptions - hyperactivity, impulsivity or inattention - never seemed to fit our son neatly.
That’s part of why I wanted to share our story. ADHD doesn’t always look like the stereotypes. For us, it showed up in subtler, messier, more nuanced ways.
Our Wonderful Child
Before I share examples, I want to introduce my son, or as we often call him, Smiler. He is exuberant, full of energy, charming, and so much fun to be around. His smile lights up any room, and he’s engaging, sensitive, and kind. Because of his own struggles, he often notices and cares deeply about others. Even though friendships can sometimes be difficult for him because of communication challenges, he’s the kind of person people are drawn to.
Early Years
Looking back, Smiler was always on the move - sporty, energetic, and determined to throw himself into everything. But he wasn’t the child “driven by a motor” who couldn’t sit still in class or at the dinner table. That nuance mattered, because it made it harder to connect him with the textbook version of ADHD.
From the age of two, he woke up every morning at 5am on the dot. His high energy levels meant that he needed to start moving as soon as he was awake. We had to move him out of his cot into a toddler bed much earlier than anticipated because he would literally leap over the cot railings to come and wake us up. No amount of returning him to bed or gently trying to shush him back to sleep made any difference. It was relentless, exhausting, and it set the tone for just how energetic he would be in the years to come. Even now, as a teenager, he generally wakes at 7:30am, even on weekends. Unlike many parents who eventually enjoy the occasional lie-in, we’ve never really had that luxury!
Risk-taking was another theme - Smiler had more X-rays and broken bones than all of his friends combined. That was a missed sign - lots of children get hurt and break bones, but Smiler just seemed to really throw himself into things more than others and inevitably ended up getting more hurt in the process.
And then there was the sheer intensity. As a toddler, he couldn’t be left alone in soft play because he’d lash out at other children - not from malice, but because the chaos overwhelmed him. The same thing happened at birthday parties, where overstimulation left him wired and unpredictable. We dreaded taking him to public places in case he acted this way. At the time, we thought it was poor behaviour and felt judged by other parents. Only now do we see it as his way of saying he was out of control in an environment that was simply too much for him.
Smiler really did not understand personal space - he would go to hug his little friends and practically strangle them. I hovered constantly, not because I wanted to, but because I never knew what might happen next. With hindsight, I was becoming anxious at every interaction, and that hyper-vigilance was exhausting.
It sometimes felt like we were parenting on a completely different playing field to everyone else, and the guilt of thinking that we must be doing something wrong was constant.
One of the hardest parts was how lonely it all felt. We didn’t see our friends’ children behaving in the same way, and we kept a lot of our struggles to ourselves. With hindsight, it’s hard to understand how we didn’t join the dots sooner, but with Smiler being our eldest child, we genuinely didn’t know what was typical and what wasn’t. It often felt like we were quietly carrying a secret that no one else could see, which only added to the sense of isolation.
Family Life
Life at home was often intense. Smiler couldn’t entertain himself, always wanted to be out and about, and became restless if we stayed in.
Traditional parenting strategies didn’t work. Consequences didn’t make any difference, and mistakes were repeated over and over again. We became frustrated, sometimes despairing, and were always tired.
We began to avoid playing family board games - Smiler was an extremely bad loser. It sounds trivial, but in reality, it was heartbreaking to realise how often simple, fun, family moments became battlegrounds. The tension and unpredictability crept into so many small, everyday things, and even now, Smiler is still overwhelmed extremely easily in any type of competitive situation.
We had one memorable evening when he was around seven and flooded the bathroom by getting completely overstimulated in the bath, thrashing about like a fish, water pouring through the kitchen ceiling below. I genuinely don’t understand now why alarm bells didn’t ring sooner - I think we felt we could somehow guide and love this behaviour out of him. Now we understand it for what it was: overstimulation and emotional dysregulation.
The relationship between our children has its challenges. While Smiler is a wonderful brother in many ways, he sometimes struggles with our younger daughter’s energy. She is constantly moving - dancing, cartwheeling, singing and playing throughout the house - which can overwhelm him and trigger frustration, leading to arguments. We try to put scaffolding and support in place to help him regulate, but some situations are unavoidable. At the same time, our daughter should feel comfortable and free to be herself in her home. Finding a balance that respects both of their needs is an ongoing process!
Friendships and Social Struggles
On the surface, Smiler seemed popular. I hosted most of his playdates at our house, which meant I could keep an eye on things - but it also disguised the fact that he was rarely invited back to other children’s homes. Birthday party invitations dwindled, and some years he was the only one left out of his friendship group. It felt like people didn’t care about him. The sadness of that is hard to put into words, and even now, in high school, social exclusion remains painful.
The Missed Clues
Going back and re-reading Smiler’s school reports with fresh eyes, which was something we had to do for the ADHD assessment, shows that the clues were always there. Every single report mentioned distractibility, difficulty respecting personal space, and challenges with waiting his turn. Teachers described him as “chatty”, “bubbly” or “easily distracted” - words that, with hindsight, were red flags.
At the time, though, we assumed that if something serious was going on, teachers would tell us. We considered ADHD or autism when Smiler was as young as two, but decided to “leave it to the experts”. The experts never raised the flag, and a decade slipped by before the puzzle pieces finally came together.
I only recently came across information suggesting that ADHD children can be up to 30% developmentally delayed compared with their peers. Looking back, had we understood this earlier, it might have helped make sense of some of Smiler’s behaviours over the years - why he struggled with tasks that seemed easy for others, why routines and schoolwork were so challenging, and why he sometimes appeared socially less mature than his peers. These delays affected not just his own experience but also how others may have perceived him. Recognising this has been key for us in building patience, adjusting expectations, and helping him navigate both school and social situations more successfully.
Teenage struggles
As Smiler has grown older, we’ve noticed that his ADHD has changed. The hyperactive side of him has shifted a little: while physical activity is still so important to him, the hyperactivity now seems more confined to his mind. He has an abundance of attention, but struggles to direct it where it needs to go, such as towards schoolwork.
Some symptoms have become more pronounced with age. While he loved playing his PlayStation as a child - likely a form of hyper-focus - he now spends far less time on screens and channels most of his energy into sport. Physical movement is crucial for him to self-regulate, and he is extremely dedicated, often training for hours at a time.
In contrast, Smiler struggles to motivate himself to do tasks that don’t capture his interest. Simple routines, like getting ready for school in the morning, have become a challenge; no matter how much time there is, he is almost always late out the door.
Since his diagnosis, we’ve been able to implement new strategies to scaffold Smiler at home and school. He now has support measures in place at school, and we’ve started experimenting with incentives - for example, paying him to study - which has helped a little. We are learning how to navigate this new stage and figure out what will work best for him, especially as he prepares to sit exams for the first time. It’s a journey of trial, discovery, and growth, as we find what works for Smiler, and for us.