Amanda looked out the window of the car again. She was extremely antsy. She’d scrolled through all of the apps multiple times, started and stopped about ten podcast episodes, tried to have a solo in-car dance party but was embarrassed by the person who immediately pulled up and parked on her passenger’s side, where the window was down, so they definitely heard her off-key singing along to Missy Elliott. She caught the person’s eye and they smirked at her and she rolled up the window and pretended to look for something she’d dropped until the person got out of their car and walked away. She slowly raised her head back up and checked that the coast was clear. Then she turned the music back up.

She’d foolishly brought work with her but knew it wasn’t going to get done, though she’d thought of several good ideas for an upcoming project and had already written extensive notes so she wouldn’t forget them by the time she got home. She’d also already made a meal plan for the family for the next month, clipped virtual coupons on her phone, pre-ordered two books to her e-reader, and was starting to finally calm down by going deep into a Wikipedia rabbit hole that led to her reading articles on the mating habits of different mammals when she realized her daughter was trying to get into the car.

“Sorry sweetie!” she said, unlocking the door and dropping her phone into her lap. “How did it go? What did they say? Do you have a diagnosis? What do we do? How can I help?” Her daughter, Frances aka Franny, held up her hand. “Okay, first of all, you need to calm down right now.” Amanda took a deep breath and kept her thoughts about teenagers inside her own mind. After a big breath out, Amanda nodded her head. “Okay. I apologize. When you are ready, please tell me what the doctor said.” She was trying her best to remain calm but was clearly failing, at least in the eyes of her freshly eighteen-year-old daughter. 

Amanda’s doctor had recently diagnosed Amanda herself with ADHD, and recommended that all her kids get tested. Her younger two didn’t show signs, but she had been worried about Franny. They were always very similar, sharing similar things they loved to scary degrees, being easily distracted, either hyperfocusing or jumping from topic to topic, event to event, thought to thought like they were pillows on the floor and the floor was lava (a favorite game of Franny’s as a child, coincidentally). It had taken a lot of time and effort to get Franny to go to the doctor and start testing, and Amanda had made her so nervous that Franny had banned her from coming into the doctor’s office with her. Hence why she’d been sitting in the car for what had felt like years. 

“So? What did they say?” She maintained eye contact with Franny. Amanda was so nervous that this was going to shatter her daughter’s self-esteem. It had been … not surprising, exactly, when she found out about her own ADHD, but she was a grown adult. What must it be like to be diagnosed at a much younger age? Would she need medication? Would it absolutely wreck her sense of self and make her doubt her every move? She bit her bottom lip, waiting for Franny to answer. Franny shrugged and got her phone out of her bag. “Yeah, they’re pretty sure I’m also neurospicy, but it’s fine. I have to come back next week for more tests. It’s not a huge deal.” Amanda was stunned. “Wait, wait, wait, did you call yourself ‘neurospicy?’ What does that even MEAN?” She felt laughter in her chest, which she suppressed while awaiting her daughter’s response. “I thought you were a ‘cool mom,’ not a ‘regular mom,’” Franny said with a snort. “You’re on all the social media apps. You haven’t heard of neurospicy before?” Amanda giggled. “I AM a cool mom, thank you very much. And no, I hadn’t, but I like it. I’m neurospicy, too! We can be neurospicy together!”