Why Every Mum with ADHD Needs a Crochet Hook, a Pepsi Max, and Zero Shame(...and possibly a padded cell, but let’s start with the yarn)

The Unfiltered Truth

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you’re a mum with ADHD:

You don’t get the neurotypical parenting manual. You get a cursed bingo card that reads things like:

Forgot PE kit (again)

Lost your own phone in the fridge

Emotionally spiraled because your child’s sock was inside-out and suddenly life is unbearable

We don’t get gentle mornings and tidy planners. We get chaos breakfasts and a brain that acts like 42 browser tabs are open, 17 are frozen, one’s playing music, and no one knows where it’s coming from.

And into that storm enters... crochet.

A literal thread keeping us together.

Crochet: Not a Hobby, a Lifeline

It’s not just a craft. It’s crisis management with pretty colours.

It’s the one thing stopping me from screaming into the void when three kids are arguing, my executive function has peaced out, and I’m trying to remember if I took my meds or just thought really hard about taking them.

Crochet isn’t a luxury. It’s a survival tool. One that doesn’t judge if you’re in pajamas at 2pm eating leftover chicken nuggets off a dinosaur plate.

ADHD + Motherhood = A Hellish Bingo Card

Motherhood is hard.

Motherhood with ADHD is like being handed a live grenade while blindfolded and told to homeschool it.

I’m the mum who forgets non-uniform day until we’re in the car and someone’s crying.

I’m the mum who says “I’m fine” while silently having an existential crisis over whether I traumatised my toddler by saying “just wait a second.”

I’m the mum who hyperfocuses on crocheting a dragon at 3am instead of sleeping like a responsible adult because I finally found something that makes the noise stop.

But I’m also the mum who tries. Who learns. Who shows up messy, unbrushed, and exhausted—because these kids deserve more than the shame I grew up with.

Pepsi Max and Zero Shame

People say, “don’t let them see you sweat.”

I say, “don’t let them see the 15 empty Pepsi Max cans or the nervous breakdown in aisle 6.”

But also… maybe let them. Because this is real. And no, Karen, I don’t want your parenting book recommendation—I want a nap, a fidget hook, and 30 minutes to crochet in peace without someone asking what’s for dinner.

I don’t need advice.

I need less shame.

Because shame’s what I grew up on.

Shame for being loud. For being too much. For being not enough.

And I’ll be damned if I pass that down with my dodgy genetics.

Take This With You (Before You Spiral Again)

1. You’re not failing.

You’re parenting with a glitchy brain in a world that wasn’t built for you—and doing it anyway. That’s badass.

2. Crochet counts as therapy.

If it’s soothing your brain and saving your sanity, it’s working. Don’t let anyone tell you it needs to be productive.

3. Your kids need you, not the Pinterest version of you.

They want love, not colour-coded snack drawers.

4. You’re allowed to laugh about it.

Even when it’s awful. Especially when it’s awful.

5. Take the nap. Eat the snack. Buy the damn hook.

You deserve nice things—even if your brain tries to convince you otherwise.

PS: Need a Hook That Gets It?

Want a hook that understands your fidgety, overstimulated, possibly-on-the-verge soul?

I make them. With silicone beads. With love. With late-night chaos and ADHD brain energy baked right in.

Grab yours now in my TikTok Shop—just search The ADHD Hook.

Buy one. Or ten. I won’t judge—unless you’re one of those people who thinks crochet and knitting are the same thing. Then we need a chat.