There’s a lot I wanted to write about today.
I wanted to tell you about the weekend we had, devoted to nothing but hockey. How we went to games, and Ryan played in games, and in between we watched more games on television — together. And how at his games he skated hard, and was aggressive, and tried his best. How when his team lost twice, he handled it well. How he stayed for the thank-you party for his coaches even though he didn’t want to, and behaved appropriately. How his teammates accept him.
I wanted to tell you how he watched his beloved San Jose Sharks lose, again, and stopped himself before he melted down. And then did it again the next day when they dropped another heart-breaker.
I wanted to tell you about the wonderful connections I’ve made since starting this blog just a few weeks ago, about people who have reached out to tell me how their child has a similar hockey obsession and how comforting that is.
But all that will have to wait, because my household is not functioning very well today.
My child barely slept last night. Like, at all.
Sleep has always been an issue for Ryan. He typically goes to bed early, and easily, but wakes frequently during the night and is up for good well before 5 or 6 a.m. We have tried everything: blackout shades, melatonin, white noise, lullabies, weighted blankets, calming routines, earlier bedtimes, later bedtimes.
At this point, we’ve just accepted it as part of life.
What isn’t, and shouldn’t, be part of life is what we’ve been dealing with lately.
After years of resisting, we made the difficult decision to treat Ryan’s anxiety and ADHD with meds last fall. The tipping point was his increasing difficulty attending in school.
Having braced ourselves for this, we were at least hoping to see some positive results while we watched for side effects like a hawk. Instead, through several months and now three different prescriptions, we have found only frustration. Either his ADHD worsened or he became an insomniac.
Each of the meds has required a slow ramp-up and then a wind-down before switching, making the process even slower. Yesterday was the first day we increased the dosage of his latest prescription. Ryan had an up and down day, but not altogether atypical — until bedtime.
We were nervous because interrupted sleep is a listed side effect of this particular med. Still, Ryan seemed ready to go to sleep at his normal time. Wound up, sure, but he often is at bedtime and still manages to get to sleep quickly. We put him to bed, following the carefully scripted routine.
A half-hour went by — he was still mumbling to himself. We checked on him, and repeated the routine. After an hour, we let him try in our bedroom. An hour later, it was back to his room. An hour later, I got in bed next to him. An hour later, he came downstairs to try on the couch. An hour later it was back to his room. An hour later, he was still up.
It was now after 2 a.m.
He must have fallen asleep at some point. Veronica and I finally did. He was up for good shortly after 5.
So today will be a day we alter everything, remove every possible meltdown trigger, and hope for the best.
It’s not a day I feel like writing about recent triumphs.
It’s a day when a non-religious person like myself will find the serenity prayer rolling around my head. I know I need help to find some patience today.
Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe it will be a day to tell some of the stories I don’t feel like sharing today.