Our Journey Raising Two Children with Special Needs

This blog chronicles our life raising two children, Nicholas 15, diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome and Weston 18, diagnosed with Autism/Asperger's/ADHD. It's the ups, the downs, the joys, the sorrows and most importantly, the beauty of living a life less perfect, a life more meaningful.

Friday, May 20, 2011

I'm Complicated

Children diagnosed with ADHD have trouble falling asleep. The excessive energy pulsating continuously through their bodies makes it difficult for them to lie still and quiet their bodies enough to allow them to sleep. Racing thoughts crisscross through their brains prohibiting them from clearing their minds and settling into a comfortable mode for relaxation.

My son, Weston, is no different.

His routine for bed is always the same. He springs up the stairs two at a time, leaping over an errant laundry basket and performing a perfect pirouette before he dives headfirst into his bed.

"Mom, can you tuck me in?" he shouts loudly to the walls in his bedroom.

He pulls the covers back and scissor kicks his legs while flailing his arms, like he is Michael Phelps performing the backstroke in the Olympic pool.

"What are you doing?" I ask, as I enter his bedroom.

"I'm making the bed warm," he replies with a goofy grin.

He grabs all five of his pillows and places them strategically under his entire body. As I lean down to kiss him good night, he sits up abruptly almost knocking me over,

"Sorry Mom" he says and he shifts his body into the perfect sleeping position.

I bend down to try to kiss him once again and like a jack-in-the-box springing suddenly from its hiding place, Weston pops upright in one swift movement as he sways back and forth.

"What are you doing now?" I ask impatiently.

"Oh sorry Mom," he says once again, "I need to find a cold pillow."

He presses his cheek to each pillow, before selecting the cushion that feels just right. Goldilocks would be proud of my selective young son.

"Are you ready?" I ask tentatively before kissing him hoping to avoid any major trauma to my head.

"Wait!" he shouts, "I need my extra blanket".

"Where is it?" I ask.

"On the floor"

I look on the side of his bed and see a white blanket, as I start to reach for it.....

"No, not that the one, the green one," he  says

"What's the difference?"

"The green one stays nice and cool."

"Ohhh," I say.

"Are you finally ready," I ask, this time with my hands on my hips and a stern look on my face.

"I know Mom," he says to me, "You have to remember...."

"I'm complicated."

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