ADHD + End of Term = Absolute Carnage (And That’s on Neurospicy Life)

-

 


Let’s not sugarcoat it — the last week of term is hell if you’ve got an ADHD kid. Actually, scratch that — it’s hell for any kid hanging on by a thread, but slap some neurospice on it and it’s like throwing petrol on a bonfire made of glitter, school newsletters, and crushed dreams.

My house? A war zone. My kid? Burnt out, over it, and ready to fight anyone who breathes wrong. And honestly, same.

Why is the last week so hard? Let me explain before I lose the will.

1. They’ve Been Masking for Weeks

Imagine wearing a costume that doesn’t fit while trying to pretend you don’t need the toilet and everyone’s watching you. That’s my kid. He’s spent all term trying to sit still, follow rules, smile when he’s confused, be “good,” not interrupt, not stim, not be too much.

Now it’s the last week and he’s done pretending. The mask is off, the gloves are off, and apparently so are his shoes because he just launched one at the fridge.

2. Structure Is Gone and So Is Sanity

The “fun week” at school is a sensory horror show. Loud assemblies, random activities, sugar, no proper lessons, surprise changes every hour… You might as well set off a glitter bomb in his brain. No routine means no predictability. No predictability means chaos. And chaos means we’re all crying before 10am.

3. They’re Exhausted

Not tired. Exhausted. Burnt out from holding it together for weeks. The ADHD brain is already working overtime just to get through the day. Now chuck in the heat, excitement, and constant “ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO SUMMER?” questions and you’ve got yourself a little emotional pressure cooker about to blow over a broken pencil.

4. Big Feelings, Tiny Humans

These kids feel everything in Dolby surround sound. Anxiety about the new teacher, sadness about the routine ending, joy about summer – all at once. And they don’t know how to say that, so instead they shout, hit, cry, scream, or all of the above in a single Tesco aisle. And you get the stares.

5. They’re Not Naughty – They’re Done

If your kid’s melting down, hitting, refusing, hiding under a table, or screaming that they’re not going back to school — they’re not being a little shit. They’re cooked. Overstimulated. Done. No more spoons. No more patience. No more pretending.


What Can You Do?

Honestly? Lower the bar. And then lower it again. Cancel the craft. Stick on the iPad. Give snacks. Ignore the stares. Choose your battles. And most of all – remind yourself that this isn’t bad parenting. It’s parenting through really f*ing hard stuff.

They don’t hate you. You’re not failing. And yes, it’s okay to count down the minutes ‘til it’s over with a pint of Pepsi Max and dead eyes.

You’re nearly there. You’re doing amazing. And if no one’s told you today – this shit is hard and you’re allowed to say that.

Now go breathe, cry in the loo, and do what you need to do to get through the last few days of absolute chaos.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

15 Years of Lies, £11,000 Gone – My Story

-
 My mum stole £11,000 and left me with trauma, anxiety, and silence. Here’s how I found the truth – and why I’m done being quiet. You know what’s worse than growing up in a toxic family? Realizing, 15 years later, that your mum didn’t just mess with your head—she emptied your bank account too. And the cherry on top? A family who told me I was “over the top,” “making a fuss,” and, my personal favorite: “She’s your mum, why would you walk away?” Spoiler: because she stole £11,129.38 from me. For 15 years, I was made to believe: ✔ She was ill. ✔ It wasn’t a big deal. ✔ I was dramatic. ✔ And if I just kept quiet, everything would be fine. Meanwhile, she lived mortgage-free, with two holidays a year, a fully decorated house, and zero consequences… while I battled trauma, anxiety, and fear so heavy I still hesitate to leave my house in case I bump into any of them. The Day the Truth Slapped Me in the Face sat down to check old bank statements, thinking maybe a few hundred quid… maybe a g...
Read more

Therapy’s Too Expensive, But Watching Me Online Is Free,A daughter’s love can’t compete with cheap holidays and self-pity.

-
 There’s a kind of grief no one prepares you for — the kind that hits when your mum is still alive, still living just across the road, and still choosing everything else over you. She’s two minutes away. She could knock. She could say sorry. She could even sit in silence and just try. But instead… she stalks. She taps through stories like she’s flipping channels. Watching, always watching. Not to understand. Not to grow. Just to gather enough crumbs to feel like she’s still “involved” — in a life she won’t admit she broke parts of. Because therapy? Too expensive. Accountability? Nah, that’s not in the budget. Better save for that all-inclusive trip and the new outfit for someone else's birthday party — the one you’ll show up to smiling, pretending your daughter’s absence is her fault. Spoiler: it's not. What I needed wasn’t money. It wasn’t grand gestures or Facebook posts pretending we’re close. It was you. Present. Healing. Willing. Even just a text that said, “I’m sorry I go...
Read more

🌙 Garden Chair Chronicles Vol 3 – The Envelope That Changed Everything

-
 “ It wasn’t just a card. It was the moment I stopped making excuses for other people’s choices.” It’s June now. Easter has long since passed, the chocolate’s melted, and the kids have moved on to their next chaos cycle — but I haven’t. Not really. Because that Easter card is still lodged in my throat like a sentence I never got to finish. But to be honest, this didn’t start in April. It started back in February, on Hunter’s birthday. My nan came down — just her. My grandad doesn’t speak to me anymore, because staying quiet is apparently easier than facing the discomfort of truth. His silence is his allegiance. His daughter comes first — no matter what that’s cost me, or what it’s now costing my kids. She stayed for an hour. Long enough to drop off a pile of cards. One of them? From my mum — the same mum I’ve had to go no contact with to keep my sanity and my kids safe. And I still tried. Still let it happen. Still gave them the benefit of the doubt. Still stood there, smile nailed...
Read more