Everything I write comes from the same place: practices that are thousands of years old, cut down to the size of a real day. The first book is for the parent of a child with ADHD. The ones after it are for the woman standing in the kitchen.
A practical guide using mindfulness to create a focused, calm and connected family life. Written for the mom who feels invisible when nobody understands her child’s meltdowns, and for the parent who dreams of a home that feels less like a battleground and more like a safe harbor.
Both editions are on Amazon. The paperback carries the QR code to the Calm Kit inside; the Kindle edition has the tappable link. The kit is free with either, and free without them too.
| Inside the book | What it gives you |
|---|---|
| The ADHD brain, honestly | A Ferrari engine with bicycle brakes. Why sticker charts, time-outs and “just be consistent” keep failing families like ours, and what to do instead. |
| Your own mindset | Progress over perfection. Self-compassion practices for parent guilt, a self-care check-in that fits in five-minute pockets, and how to repair after a blow-up. |
| The routines | Mornings, after-school, homework, bedtime. The mindful huddle, brain breaks, mindful transitions, the evening regroup, and bedtime for a restless brain. |
| The scripts | Word for word. What to say during homework refusal, sibling fights, public meltdowns and sensory overload, and for reluctant older kids. |
| Every age | Preschool to teens. Adaptations for each stage, visual tools, a family mindfulness tracker, and what to do when mindfulness backfires or stalls. |
| Comes with | The Calm Kit. The printables, opened by the QR code inside, or right here. |
The Morning Huddle, After School & Homework, the Meltdown Map, Pause Phrases, the Repair Ritual, Breathe Together, the Bedtime Wind-Down, the Parent’s Page, the Family Check-In, and more. Built from the book’s practices, made for real kitchens.
The First 30 Days, a short daily read on being more present with an ADHD child. The Reset Card, one pocket page for the meltdown minute. And the Family Evening Ritual, a gentle seven-day script for after dinner.
Journals, workbooks and longer reads, from the same cushions, pointed at you. Nothing to buy yet. When one is ready, the list hears first, in one plain note.
For the woman who takes care of everyone else first and calls the leftovers self-care. Learning to speak to yourself the way you’d speak to a friend after her worst day.
The patterns that make you disappear inside someone else’s needs, and the slow, unglamorous work of walking out of them.
Not the version that keeps the peace. The oldest question there is, written for a Tuesday night instead of a mountaintop.
Miranda Wellscome back to yourself