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Sometimes, parenting kids in all of their typicalness confuses me. The curiosity. The independence. The ease. My first baby made me a mama 13 years ago. Then, together, we crashed into what I call the secret world of autism. I’ve never known a second of parenting without factoring in disability. The hyper vigilance. The worry. The fear. The hope. It’s just different. It’s climbing play structures and always getting into the pool and holding hands and heads during a meltdown in a busy street. It’s explaining and asking for accommodations…

Perspective Matters Why is perspective important in life Perspective Matters. It’s a matter of perspective. I’ve been up for several hours researching, and figuring out ways to do what’s best for our child as we navigate our IEP situation. I know it will all work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. I stopped for a moment to think about perspective. Seeing each situation for what it is and honoring where they as human beings are in life. Yes, on several occasions my mind wanted to go into judgment by…

My son, I had plans for us kid. Big plans. Plans that I can admit didn’t include autism. Even today, after 13 years, sometimes I still find myself wondering how my plans got so derailed. I’ll be giving you a shower, bending down and washing your feet, and I’ll look at you, eyes squeezed shut, eating bubbles, throwing your head back, smiling, squealing, and I’ll wonder how this happened. How we got here. Right here. Thirteen years in. Or, I’ll be helping you with your shoes and you’ll grab my…

When you have a child diagnosed with autism, it’s not about you as the parent. At least that’s what we are told. Your sole focus becomes helping your child. Getting them the help they need. Services. Supports. Therapies. Education. And so on. That’s the role of a parent. And that’s how it should be. But one part that is overlooked, I think, is the evolution of the parent. Their journey. And the patience that should be given to them when everything changes suddenly. It’s not easy ya know. Stepping off…

When my son was 7 and 8 and the reality of nonspeaking forever was sinking in, I used to spend a lot of time thinking about his future. What would it be like? A teenager and then a man who couldn’t speak. Would I ever know his favorite color? Or why he loved trains so much? Would I ever hear I Love You? Would people be kind to him? Would they be patient with him and treat him with the respect that he deserved? Would they know how cool he…

I come across pictures all the time. Old ones. Taken back before life got really interesting with four kids. I usually find them all crumpled up under a couch or stashed in between the pages of an old book. Sometimes a corner is ripped off. A sign that my oldest, who is autistic and adores photos of his family, has treasured it and hidden it away for another day. When I found this one I stopped picking up legos and beyblades and internally cursing my kids for being so dang…

Siblings don’t always get on. They argue, they fight, and sometimes end up in a bust-up on the floor. But normally, each gives their own, taking a swipe and returning a kick. “It builds character,” some might say. But not always. In our house, two of my children have always been separated. Play has always been supervised. They are never left in the same room together. One of them could get seriously hurt, and it would not be the other one’s fault. My son Rhys is nine. He is autistic.…

It’s been a long day. A tiresome one. But a good one. I found myself with a rare moment of quiet, two of my children at the counter, the other two playing outside. My oldest and my youngest. Cooper and Wynnie. My bookends. I found myself staring at them for a second, wondering what the future holds. The wildcard being autism. Always, autism. When Wynnie was seven days old, Cooper held her for the first time, reassuring me that this would all be okay. As he cradled her, he counted…

I had all four kids alone, from toddler to tween to an emotional 13 year with autism and it was a lot to handle. There was a lot of screaming. There was water play when there wasn’t supposed to be water play. And then wet clothes on the floor. And sand. I yelled. I don’t usually yell. But I did. There was talking back. And throwing. So much throwing. There was ‘mommy will you play with me.’ And a lot of screen time. At one point I looked around at…