Miserably Monday

Today was strange.

Yes, even in our universe of diagnostic acronyms, there can be strange.

Mr. D. went to gymnastics, something he loves and is good at, and was…. lacklustre.  He was way too chatty with the instructors, ran off to get comforting hugs from me several times, and looked generally…. gee…. was it sad?  mad?  depressed?  tired?  all of the above?

This continued all day and during all activities.  This is the second day where this has been really obvious – there have been shorter episodes.

So we question:  is the Strattera kicking in?  Is the double dose in the morning too much?  When should we stop the Ritalin and / or the Clonidine?  Can’t my sweet and amazing little boy get by without all this stuff?  Can we just give him an espresso every now and then?  When can I stop playing doctor?

Days like today are probably what we are meant to be hoping for.  Mostly docile, perceived as well-behaved… yada yada.  All well and good but that’s not my kid!  I don’t want him lawless and spinning out of control but I want SPARK.  Today there was no spark.  And part of me is terrified that we will eventually – between talking about ‘grown up’ diagnostic stuff, by changing his chemistry, by changing his way of living – put out that spark forever.

You better believe I am crying while writing this.

Our child was meant for us.  None of those blank faced, well behaved, goody good kids.  We need Mr. D.’s eccentricities as much as he does, I suspect.

We don’t do normal.

I want my boy to be the best he can be.  Today he wasn’t.

A man and his tools

Tool Time!


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