Kids & ADHD Parenting: Raise Your Child with Confidence and Balance

As a working mom with ADHD raising a child with ADHD, you navigate a unique and vibrant dynamic that blends love, chaos, and resilience. At Balance for Busy Brains, we see your ADHD not as a hurdle but as a framework to build a parenting approach that celebrates your strengths. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for how your brain works. Set boundaries, lead with empathy, and create systems that work for you and your child. Below, we outline strategies to help you balance work, parenting, and your own well-being, tailored to your unique wiring.

Strategic Presence: Be There When It Counts

Parenting with ADHD can feel like juggling with oven mitts on. You’re doing your best, but half the time, you can’t even see what’s in the air. When your child also has ADHD — or something that looks a lot like it — the intensity doubles. The connection deepens, but so does the overwhelm.

I don’t believe in perfect parenting. What I do believe in is showing up honestly, building systems that work for you, and giving yourself the same understanding you try to give your child.
Here are three truths I’ve learned — and what’s helped me find some kind of balance in the chaos.

You won’t remember every school thing. You might forget library books or miss a PTA meeting or show up a little late to pick-up with the wrong snack in your bag. That’s fine. You are not failing.

What your child really needs is for you to show up at the right moments — the moments that feel big to them. Their play. That difficult bedtime. A quiet “just us” walk. It doesn’t have to be constant. It just has to feel safe.

I’ve learned to choose a few non-negotiables. Birthday mornings. School concerts. One slow bedtime a week with no phone in my hand. These are the moments that build trust, even when the rest of life is messy.

We use a shared calendar, and I set reminders with alarms — not to be a better planner, but to protect those moments that matter. I also block out one short “unplugged” moment each day. Some days it’s five minutes over a snack. Some days it’s longer. The length doesn’t matter. The intention does.

Owning Your Struggles: Embrace Your ADHD Journey

Some days I lose my keys, snap at someone I love, forget a deadline, and spiral into shame — all before lunch. I used to hide it. Pretend I had it together. But that didn’t make me a better parent. It just made me lonelier.

It’s okay to be open with your child about the parts of your brain that work differently. You’re not handing them your struggles. You’re showing them what it looks like to be human. You’re teaching them that ADHD doesn’t mean broken — it means you get to find your own way.

Now I choose one challenge at a time to work with. One thing. Like mornings. Or transitions. Or emotional crashes. I use small systems — checklists, visual timers, breathing space. I give myself permission to delegate, to rest, and to not do it all. And when I mess up? I repair. That’s what matters.

Let the hard moments be mirrors — not monsters

Sometimes your child explodes, or zones out, or forgets the same damn thing again. And even though your brain knows it’s “just ADHD”, something deeper in you gets set off. Strongly. Almost automatically. It's not about the moment. It’s deeper.

Because what they’re doing? You used to do that too.

And maybe no one ever stopped to ask why.
Maybe they just told you to get it together.
Maybe they punished you, or mocked you, or gave you that look that said: “What’s wrong with you?”

Now here you are — a grown-up with responsibilities and an overflowing brain — raising a child who unknowingly presses the exact same buttons. And even though you know what’s happening, you still feel it. Tight in your body. Loud in your chest. Hot behind your eyes.

Sometimes you snap. Sometimes you walk away too fast. Sometimes you say something you regret.

And the worst part isn’t even the moment itself — it’s the silence that follows.
Because you know how that felt when it happened to you.
When you messed up, and no one said anything.
When no one told you: That wasn’t okay.

It left you with the feeling that the failure wasn’t just about what you did — but about who you were.

So now, when you get it wrong — and you will — acknowledge that to your child.
Not with a performance. Just with a few honest words.

“I’m sorry. It’s not okay for me to snap at you like that.”

That’s not about taking blame for everything.
It’s about giving clarity in the one moment that mattered most — the moment where you were out of line.
Acknowledgement heals that moment.
And that’s what breaks the pattern you’ve been carrying for years.

Say this, especially when it’s hard:

“That wasn’t okay. And I’m sorry I spoke to you like that.”

It doesn’t make the pain disappear. But it does something your own childhood didn’t:
It closes the moment. It holds it.
And that’s what they’ll remember.