Is It Neurodiversity or Childish Behavior?

Parenting always comes with its fair share of mysteries, but parenting a child on the autism spectrum often takes those mysteries to another level. Every parent at some point wonders: Is this just normal kid behavior, or is this connected to my child’s neurodiversity? The lines blur, and sometimes the distinction doesn’t really matter—what matters most is how we respond in ways that respect our child’s needs while still setting healthy boundaries.

Take, for example, a common situation many families experience: your child knows the answer is “no,” but they ask the same question repeatedly. Maybe it’s about wanting more screen time, a snack before dinner, or a new toy at the store. You’ve already explained the answer, but the question circles back again and again, almost like a song stuck on repeat. For a neurotypical child, we might chalk this up to testing boundaries or hoping persistence will wear us down. For a child on the spectrum, though, the repetition may come from something deeper—rigid thinking, difficulty moving past an idea, or anxiety about the finality of the answer.

This is where the question becomes real for many of us: Do I treat this as simple stubbornness, or do I view it through the lens of neurodiversity? And more importantly, how do I handle it in a way that helps my child learn and grow without crushing their spirit?

The Cycle of Repeated Questions

Let’s start with what’s actually happening in these moments. For children with autism, the brain sometimes “locks in” on an idea. Think of it like a record groove that keeps the needle from moving forward. Even though they know the answer, their brain gets stuck on the question itself. Repeating it becomes a form of self-regulation—it’s comforting, predictable, and familiar.

Of course, for parents, it can feel anything but comforting. The frustration builds when you hear the same request for the tenth time, and you start to wonder if your child is deliberately pushing buttons. Sometimes they are, but more often, they aren’t. Their brain is just having a hard time letting go of the thought.

Recognizing this difference is key. When we see it as neurodiversity rather than defiance, we can approach the situation with more empathy and patience.

The Dilemma: To Give In or Not?

Here’s the tricky part. Every parent knows that giving in “just this once” often leads to more of the same behavior in the future. Kids are smart—they learn quickly that persistence can pay off. But on the flip side, holding a hard line can sometimes lead to meltdowns, heightened frustration, or emotional shutdowns.

So what do we do? The answer, as with most things in parenting, isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s about balance, consistency, and finding coping mechanisms that work for both parent and child.

Coping Mechanisms That Help

1. Acknowledge Without Reinforcing

Instead of simply repeating “no” each time, try acknowledging the question in a way that shows you’ve heard them:
“I hear that you really want to play that game right now. The answer is still no, but maybe we can put it on the schedule for tomorrow.”

This validates their feelings without changing the boundary.

2. Offer Predictability

Many autistic children struggle with uncertainty. If the “no” feels like an endless unknown, they may keep asking in hopes of securing control. Visual schedules, timers, or simple “first/then” statements can help:
“First dinner, then you can have dessert.”
“Not today, but on Saturday we’ll go to the park.”

Predictability can reduce the need for repetition.

3. Redirect the Energy

Sometimes the repeated question is less about the request itself and more about anxiety or fixation. Offering an alternative focus can break the loop:
“I know you’re thinking about that, but let’s look at this puzzle together.”
Or even, “Can you help me with this?”—giving them a sense of purpose.

4. Teach Coping Phrases

Some families find success in teaching their child a “self-answering” phrase. For example:
Child: “Can I have a cookie?”
Parent: “What did I say before?”
Child: “You said no.”
Parent: “That’s right. Good remembering.”

Over time, this helps the child learn to answer their own repeated questions, reducing the cycle.

5. Stay Calm and Consistent

This is the hardest part, especially when you’re tired or stressed. But staying calm and delivering a consistent response teaches stability. If one day “no” means “no” and another day persistence leads to “yes,” the cycle gets stronger. Consistency, even when hard, lays the groundwork for long-term understanding.

6. Model Emotional Regulation

Our children are watching us closely—even when it doesn’t seem like it. Showing them how we handle frustration helps them learn. Saying something like, “I know it’s hard to hear no. It makes me frustrated when I can’t do what I want too, but I take a deep breath and move on,” gives them tools to imitate.

Reframing the Experience

One of the most freeing realizations for many parents is that not every behavior needs to be “fixed.” Sometimes, repeated questioning is simply part of how a neurodivergent child processes the world. Instead of seeing it purely as stubbornness or defiance, reframing it as communication can help. They’re not ignoring you—they’re trying to cope with a world that feels unpredictable and overwhelming.

That doesn’t mean boundaries go out the window. Our children need structure and limits to thrive. But when those limits are set with understanding rather than frustration, we help them develop resilience rather than shame.

The Big Picture

So is it neurodiversity, or is it childish behavior? The answer might be both. And that’s okay. All kids—autistic or not—test boundaries, repeat themselves, and get stuck on things they want. What matters isn’t labeling the behavior perfectly but responding in a way that teaches them how to handle life’s inevitable “no’s” without losing their sense of security.

As parents, our role isn’t to eliminate every frustration but to walk alongside our children as they navigate it. Some days, that means saying “no” for the fifteenth time with patience. Other days, it might mean offering a schedule, a redirect, or a coping phrase. And yes, some days we may give in, not because we’re weak, but because compassion sometimes matters more than the rule.

Parenting neurodiverse children is a dance between firmness and flexibility. It’s messy, imperfect, and often exhausting—but it’s also where growth happens. And in those repeated questions, those endless loops, we can remind ourselves: our children aren’t just being difficult. They’re showing us how their unique minds work—and giving us the chance to meet them there.

Posted by autism Daily Living

Finding Balance in the Overwhelm: Routines, Chaos, and the Beauty of Autism

There are days when autism feels like a tidal wave. The emotions, the sensory overload, the delicate balancing act between what’s planned and what’s unexpected—sometimes it all collides at once, leaving you feeling like you’re just barely keeping your head above water. That overwhelming sense of it all is something many families know well. But if we take a closer look, beyond the exhaustion and the unpredictability, we begin to uncover something remarkable: a different way of seeing the world.

The Overwhelm Is Real—And It’s Okay

Let’s be honest. Autism is not always easy. The unpredictability can wear you down, the meltdowns can feel unmanageable, and the constant anticipation of the next reaction can make you feel like you’re always on edge. It’s important to acknowledge this reality—because pretending it’s not overwhelming doesn’t help anyone.

But here’s the other side of that truth: overwhelm doesn’t mean hopelessness. It simply means the challenge is real, and like all real challenges, it invites us to look for new ways of approaching life.

The Grounding Power of Routine

If there is one thing that can transform daily life with autism, it is the power of simple, consistent routines.

For neurodivergent individuals, routines aren’t just about being organized—they’re about creating a safe, predictable rhythm in a world that can often feel chaotic and overwhelming. Knowing that breakfast happens at 8:00, that the favorite show comes on at 10:00, or that bedtime always follows the same set of steps can bring a sense of peace. These moments of consistency become like anchors, steadying the ship in unpredictable seas.

And here’s the beauty: when routines work for our autistic loved ones, they often work for us too. The household becomes calmer. Transitions become smoother. Anxiety levels—for everyone—decrease. That “simple” bedtime routine isn’t just an act of love for the child who needs it; it’s a gift to the whole family.

When Chaos Breaks Through

Of course, no routine is unbreakable. Life happens. The doctor runs late, the school schedule changes, or the store is out of the exact brand of cereal your child always eats. These disruptions can unleash powerful reactions—outbursts, meltdowns, withdrawal, or frustration that feels out of proportion to the situation.

For parents and caregivers, these moments can be frustrating, exhausting, even heartbreaking. But they also serve as windows into a perspective we don’t often get to see.

That outburst isn’t about being spoiled or dramatic—it’s about the very real distress of a disrupted world. Neurodivergent individuals experience the world in vivid, heightened ways, and when something shifts unexpectedly, the ground beneath them can feel like it has crumbled.

What looks like chaos to us is often a direct reflection of how deeply they experience change. And if we’re willing to step back, even in the middle of the storm, we can begin to understand how their world feels to them. Chaos, then, becomes a teacher.

Learning From Their Perspective

It takes creativity—and a lot of patience—to work through these moments. Sometimes the answer is finding gentle ways to prepare for change before it happens. Sometimes it’s creating backup plans, offering choices, or giving them a small sense of control when the bigger picture feels uncertain.

But more than anything, these moments remind us to listen. Not just to the words, but to the emotions, the body language, the small signals that say, “This doesn’t feel safe to me.”

And in listening, we grow. We begin to notice things we might otherwise miss: how much they value order, how deeply they feel shifts in the environment, how a seemingly minor change can carry the weight of the world. Their responses invite us to slow down, to see with fresh eyes, and to adapt in ways that broaden our own capacity for empathy.

The Wonder of Autism

Too often, the conversation around autism focuses only on the struggles. Yes, the struggles are real, but they are not the whole story.

Autism is also joy—pure, unfiltered joy in the small things. It is honesty that cuts through pretense. It is creativity expressed in ways we might never imagine. It is noticing patterns and connections that most of us overlook. It is laughter that bubbles up at the simplest moments and the kind of perspective that challenges us to think differently about everything.

When we learn to embrace both the routines and the chaos, we begin to see autism for what it truly is: not just a diagnosis, not just a challenge, but a different way of being in the world. And within that difference lies something wonderful.

Finding Balance Together

The overwhelm doesn’t disappear. There will always be days that test your patience, moments that stretch your creativity, and challenges that leave you exhausted. But alongside those moments are breakthroughs, shared laughter, and glimpses of the extraordinary.

Routines give us structure. Chaos gives us insight. Together, they create a balance that reminds us: autism is not something to endure—it is something to embrace.

And in learning how to navigate this balance, we don’t just help our autistic loved ones thrive—we learn something essential about ourselves. We learn adaptability. We learn resilience. We learn compassion in its truest form.

In the end, the overwhelming sense of it all isn’t just part of life with autism. It is also the doorway into a deeper understanding of how beautiful, unique, and wonderful autism really is.

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival Daily Living

The “Tommy Toggle Effect”: Life’s Small Changes and the Autistic Need for Normal

Life for autistic individuals is often a delicate balance between routine, predictability, and a world that rarely stands still. For many of us—whether we’re autistic ourselves, parents, or loved ones—the idea of “normal” doesn’t come from society’s definition but from the consistency of how things feel. When that feeling shifts, even slightly, it can send ripples through daily life.

We often talk about autism in terms of sensory differences, communication, or social challenges, but one of the less obvious—and just as powerful—traits is the need for things to remain consistent. Change, even small change, can feel monumental. This isn’t stubbornness or refusal for the sake of being difficult. It’s about anchoring oneself in a world that feels unpredictable.

The Need to Be Right

Here’s a truth many parents of autistic kids will recognize: sometimes it isn’t about winning an argument, it’s about needing reality to match the way it feels “right.” My son is a perfect example of this. He has a strong belief—no, conviction—that Nintendo Switch games should only come in cartridge form.

To him, the physical act of sliding a cartridge into the console is not just about playing a game. It’s about order, about rules that make sense. He’ll argue passionately that games should not be downloadable, because pushing a button on a screen can never replace the satisfying click of a cartridge locking into place. That small motion is his anchor. That is what feels normal.

As a parent, I can see the world shifting toward digital downloads, cloud gaming, and subscription services. But to my son, that shift feels like the ground beneath him is being pulled away. He doesn’t want to adapt to the “new normal” of gaming, because his definition of normal isn’t about technology—it’s about consistency.

The Tommy Toggle Effect

We jokingly call this the “Tommy Toggle Effect” in our house. Why? Because it’s not really about games—it’s about the toggle, the switch, the action that brings closure and certainty. There’s comfort in the tactile. There’s reassurance in the predictable sequence: insert, click, play.

The “Tommy Toggle Effect” is what happens when an autistic person’s sense of normal collides with a world that keeps innovating, updating, and reinventing. What may seem like an insignificant convenience to one person can feel like a loss of grounding to another.

Think about how often in life we encounter similar toggles: the way a light switch feels under your finger versus a smooth touchscreen control. The way a paper book smells and sounds compared to scrolling through an e-reader. To most people, these are just choices. To someone autistic, the toggle is more than a preference—it’s part of the definition of “normal.”

Why Normal Matters

For autistic individuals, “normal” doesn’t necessarily mean blending in with everyone else. It’s not about social conformity. It’s about creating a world where sensory input, expectations, and interactions don’t feel overwhelming.

Change adds noise. It adds uncertainty. It threatens the fragile balance where things finally feel manageable. That’s why the need for things to feel normal is so strong. It’s why routines, rituals, and even debates about video game cartridges become so important.

And yes, it’s why arguments happen. The need to be right isn’t about ego—it’s about protecting a reality where the rules are stable and predictable. When those rules change, being “right” is a way to hold on to what feels safe.

What We Can Learn

The “Tommy Toggle Effect” is more than just a funny family phrase. It’s a reminder that we all have our toggles—things we hold on to because they feel right, familiar, and grounding. For autistic individuals, those toggles are often non-negotiable.

Instead of fighting against them, maybe we should lean in. Instead of saying, “Just adapt, this is how things are now,” we could ask: What’s the toggle here? What’s the piece of normal they’re trying to hold on to?

For my son, it’s the cartridge. For someone else, it might be the sound of a fan running at night, the same brand of cereal every morning, or walking the same path to school. These aren’t quirks—they’re lifelines.

And if we’re willing to listen, we might just find that the world is a little richer when we make space for those lifelines instead of pulling them away.

Closing Thought

Autism shows us, in its unique and sometimes stubborn way, that normal isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s personal. It’s tactile. It’s often found in the toggles, switches, and rituals others overlook.

The “Tommy Toggle Effect” may sound small, but it represents something universal: the human need for anchors in a shifting world. For autistic individuals, those anchors aren’t optional—they’re essential. And maybe that’s something we could all stand to respect a little more.

Posted by autism Daily Living

Autism: When the Fear of Rejection Outweighs the Fear of Lying

Rejection is one of the most powerful forces a person can feel. For individuals on the autism spectrum, the fear of being excluded, dismissed, or misunderstood can sometimes overshadow everything else—even honesty.

It’s not that autistic individuals don’t value truth. In fact, many are famous for their blunt, refreshing honesty. But when the pressure of fitting in collides with the worry of not being accepted, a small untruth might slip through—not out of malice, but out of protection. It’s like a shield, a way to keep the door of connection from slamming shut.

A Story From Home: The Blue Tongue Mystery

Not long ago, my daughter walked into the room with unmistakable evidence written all over her face—or rather, her lips and tongue. They were bright blue. Obviously, she had eaten something colorful (candy being the prime suspect).

Naturally, we asked the question every parent asks:
“Did you eat something?”

She swore up and down that she hadn’t.

We tried again.
“Are you lying?”

Her response was a firm and confident, “No.”

The candy stains didn’t lie, though. Thirty minutes later, after gentle persistence, she finally admitted she had eaten candy.

At first, it might seem like a typical kid fibbing to avoid trouble. But when we dig deeper, something unique emerges: Was her fear of us saying “no” if she asked for candy in the first place stronger than her fear of getting caught in a lie afterward?

For many children with autism, the answer is yes.

The Heart of the Matter: Belonging vs. Honesty

In this moment, my daughter wasn’t trying to deceive for fun or gain. She wasn’t testing boundaries in a mischievous way. Instead, she was navigating two very real fears:

  1. The fear of rejection. Asking and being told “no” could feel like exclusion or loss. To her, that’s not just about missing out on candy—it’s about being denied something that matters, which can feel deeply personal.
  2. The fear of lying. She knows lying isn’t “good.” But compared to the sting of rejection, this fear was easier to override.

When stacked side by side, the balance tipped toward protecting herself from the potential pain of rejection. Even if it meant bending the truth.

This is a powerful insight into how autistic individuals often view the world. What might seem like a small lie to us is actually a coping mechanism, a way of preserving a fragile sense of belonging.

Why This Matters

It’s easy to label this kind of situation as “dishonesty.” But when we step back and look at it through the lens of autism, we see something more:

  • A deep longing to connect.
  • A fear of being denied or excluded.
  • A nervous system wired to protect itself from emotional discomfort.

In fact, many autistic individuals use these little “camouflage strategies” every day. A child might say they like a toy because their peers do. An adult might laugh at a joke they don’t get. These aren’t calculated lies; they are acts of self-preservation in a world that can often feel overwhelming or unwelcoming.

The Unique Beauty in This

Here’s the part I find beautiful: autism doesn’t thrive in masks—it shines in authenticity. The quirks, the preferences, the passions—all of it is part of what makes an autistic person uniquely brilliant.

When we, as parents, caregivers, or friends, create spaces of safety and acceptance, we reduce the need for these protective fibs. Over time, honesty blossoms because the fear of rejection fades.

My daughter’s blue tongue wasn’t just a sign of candy; it was a reminder of her courage. Even though she fibbed at first, she eventually admitted the truth. That’s not failure—it’s growth. It’s proof that when she feels secure enough, she chooses honesty. And that’s something worth celebrating.

What We Can Do

As parents and allies, our role is not to punish the fib but to understand the fear driving it. Here are a few things that help:

  • Normalize asking. Reinforce that it’s okay to ask for something, even if the answer might be “no.” A “no” doesn’t mean rejection—it just means not right now.
  • Separate the action from the person. Say, “Lying isn’t okay, but you are always loved.” This reminds them that rejection isn’t tied to their worth.
  • Celebrate honesty—even delayed honesty. When the truth finally comes out, highlight the courage it took to say it. That reinforces honesty as safe.
  • Model vulnerability. Share times when you’ve been afraid to tell the truth and how you overcame it. This shows them they’re not alone.

Final Thoughts

The blue tongue moment wasn’t about candy. It was about fear, trust, and belonging. For autistic individuals, the fear of rejection can sometimes outweigh the fear of lying. But with patience, empathy, and acceptance, we can help shift that balance.

Because at the end of the day, the greatest gift we can offer anyone—autistic or not—is the freedom to be exactly who they are, without fear of rejection. And in that freedom, honesty isn’t something to be feared—it becomes something to be embraced.

Posted by autism Daily Living Education/Advocacy

Embracing Uniqueness: Challenging Society’s Notion of Normality

In the tapestry of life, the concept of struggle often feels like an ever-present thread, woven into the narratives we tell ourselves. But is it genuinely a battle, or rather a construct we use to either motivate ourselves or as a shield for our inertia? These reflections echo through our societal understanding of normalcy and the expectations we place upon ourselves.

I’ve always been one to embrace honesty, perhaps to a fault, a trait that extends to my children. Recently, as we drove home from school, I overheard my second oldest and youngest sons engaged in a conversation about their day—an exchange filled with genuine support and guidance for each other. When the topic shifted to the state of our house, amidst the whirlwind of basketball practice, ABA therapy, dinners, and the myriad of responsibilities, I mentioned a need for better cleaning. Unexpectedly, my second oldest chimed in from the backseat, proclaiming, “Well, if you guys weren’t so lazy.” A moment of unfiltered truth that left my wife and me momentarily speechless. It seems my commitment to brutal honesty has made its mark on my children.

Yet, within this struggle, there is a positive aspect. Similar to stress, where there’s good stress and bad stress, the challenges we face can be reframed. Society tends to label anything deviating from the plan as bad stress or a struggle, attempting to define what is “normal.” However, the very idea of normality is a construct with no set standards. We impose this notion on ourselves in an attempt to categorize our existence. But what if, instead of striving for an elusive normal, we celebrated our differences?

The truth is, there is no universal “normal.” Embracing diversity in ideas, codes, ethics, and morals is what propels society forward. My children, who don’t fit the societal mold of normal, teach me that embracing one’s uniqueness is a strength, not a weakness. They live outside the box, offering perspectives and understanding that we, at times, underestimate.

So, when people inquire about my well-being, I respond with, “Just another day in paradise.” Why? Because, in the grand scheme, wherever life takes us next has to be better, and I’m relishing the journey.

Consider the phrase: “Reality is based on the perception of reality.” Our perception, molded by societal teachings and trends, shapes our reality. But what if we altered our viewpoint? Could our reality shift? The answer is a resounding yes. Autism, a reality often misunderstood, should not be degraded but embraced. The clarity of perspective that individuals on the spectrum offer is profound and deserves recognition.

In essence, our children, especially those on the spectrum or with special needs, are better for not conforming to society’s arbitrary norms. Their uniqueness is a gift, and we should join them in their world—an extraordinary place that offers a far richer experience than ours.

Until the journeys end, my friend!

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival

Embracing Change: Navigating the Chaos of Autism with Laughter and Understanding

This morning, as I sit down to reflect, I find myself pondering the inevitability of change in our daily lives. Attempting to anticipate the challenges ahead has become a coping mechanism, a strategy to navigate the day and alleviate stress, particularly for my children on the autism spectrum. However, managing this constant need for control has taken its toll, with conflicting advice from those who suggest letting go entirely and others who claim I’m not doing enough. Is there a happy middle ground?

The chaos that permeates our family structure, with four children on the autism spectrum, isn’t necessarily negative. Instead, it often translates into pure excitement and laughter. Take, for instance, the recent episode with my 14-year-old struggling to put on a shoe. Despite our attempts to guide him through his routine, hands flying, shoes scattered, he couldn’t discern the missed step. My wife and I suppress our laughter, not to ridicule, but to redirect his frustration and bring a moment of joy amidst the chaos. Yet, it doesn’t always work, and the misinterpreted laughter can trigger more turmoil, potentially ruining his entire day.

Similar scenarios unfold with my daughter and eldest son, each facing their unique challenges. Bedtime, a nightly source of stress, becomes a battleground where routine deviations can lead to frustration and chaos. But is this a daily occurrence? Sometimes. Is it overwhelming? Often.

How do we mitigate this? Sometimes, we must allow it all to play out, even if it means everyone is late for school. Given the unique needs of my children on the spectrum, I’m less concerned about tardiness or missed school days due to challenges like struggling with a shoe. Will they miss crucial information or fall behind in essential concepts? Unlikely, as they perceive the world through a different lens.

A recent conversation sparked the idea that perhaps children on the spectrum are ahead of the game, offering a different perspective on life’s evolution. While education remains important, missing a day because their world isn’t aligning might not be as detrimental as conventional wisdom suggests.

Reflecting on past experiences, a conversation with a principal revealed a stark focus on attendance rather than understanding the student’s feelings. Faced with meltdowns and quirks, we chose to withdraw our son from that environment and enrolled him in a charter school that embraced his condition. This change made all the difference, fostering an environment where he thrived and gained a better understanding of his emotions.

Change is a constant in life, and resisting it often leads to negative outcomes. I’ve witnessed the impact of failing to embrace change—depression, chaos, and various challenges that arise. It’s a sentiment I’ve expressed countless times: if what you’re doing isn’t improving your life, change is necessary.

For those embarking on parenthood or discovering their children are on the spectrum, I urge you to embrace change wholeheartedly. Dive into it like a pig into mud, for it might be the key to making sense of your life. Recognize that societal norms may not always work, and there are alternative ways to navigate this journey. Enjoy the process, for it might be the very thing that transforms your perspective.

Till the journeys end, my friend!

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival

Momma is my Plushie

It had been one of those challenging days from the start. The morning began around 5:30-6:00 when William, our son, informed us that he could hear a kitten meowing in the bathroom vent. This particular feline had wandered into our yard about three weeks ago, and naturally, the kids had grown attached to it, feeding it regularly. Somehow, the kitten had made its way into the crawl space under our house and found its path into the ducting. After a bit of maneuvering, we managed to free the kitten, only to be met with mixed reactions from our other resident cats.

Silver, our oldest and largest cat weighing 25 pounds, displayed immediate disdain, growling and hissing. Patches, weighing in at around 15 pounds, took on the role of caregiver to the kitten, while the youngest cat, Tiger Lily, followed Silver’s lead with hisses. After separating the cats, releasing the kitten outside, and sealing the crawl space, we proceeded with our usual morning routine.

My day at work turned out to be as disheveled as my colleague’s absence and the influx of emails and requests that awaited me. Amidst this chaos, my wife called, informing me that the car had started making unsettling rattling noises. Putting work on hold, I rushed to her location, examined the car, and found a loose spare tire and tire-changing kit in the trunk. A quick fix, and we were back on track.

Despite a fast-paced workday, I decided to take the rest of the day off to address the vent issue the kitten had exploited. Returning home, I crawled under the house, began repairs, and stumbled upon an unfortunate discovery—a deceased cat that needed proper cleanup. After wrapping up the repairs and house check, everything else seemed to fall into place.

However, the real test came during bedtime routines with the kids. William, my second son, demonstrated his black-and-white perspective, causing a humorous yet frustrating exchange about his sister’s ownership of Pokemon cards. Bedtime routines, a nightly source of stress, unfolded predictably, with each child attempting to deviate from the norm.

The night took an unexpectedly delightful turn with Benjamin, our plushie-loving son, offering me one of his beloved minions to sleep with. Politely declining and saying that I don’t need a plushie I have momma, he exclaimed Oh! momma is your plushie. His response brought a much-needed smile. Sharing the amusing exchange with my wife, she joined in the laughter, acknowledging the unique moments that arise amidst the challenges.

As a parent, especially to children with special needs, frustration often creeps in, only to be washed away by these singular and heartwarming moments. The unpredictability of parenthood, coupled with the distinctive traits of each child, truly makes for a rollercoaster of emotions—one that, despite its challenges, is undeniably rewarding.

Posted by autism Daily Living Sensory Tools

Its a Coltharp Thing, you wouldn’t understand

As I scrolled through Facebook on one of those rare moments I could steal away for social media, I came across an advertisement for a hoodie that read, “it’s a Coltharp thing, you wouldn’t understand.” It resonated with me deeply because, in many ways, that phrase has defined my entire life.

My family has never been what you would call close-knit. While we did have occasional get-togethers over the years, they were far from what you might consider traditional family gatherings. I vividly remember the last significant gathering when I was about 10 years old, Thanksgiving at my family’s house. It stands out in my memory because I got scolded by one of my uncles for playfully aiming a loaded rubber band gun at him. Those were, indeed, good times. In reality, our interactions with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents were sporadic at best.

Now, imagine someone with that family background marrying into a family that cherishes gatherings and believes in the unconditional welcome of every member, regardless of their past actions. Well, that’s where things get interesting. It can be quite challenging to adapt to such a family dynamic.

Adding to this mix, my wife and I are parents to four wonderful children, all of whom are on the autism spectrum. This dynamic often results in one parent keeping a watchful eye on the kids while the other mingles and enjoys the company of our extended family. I naturally gravitate towards the former role.

My wife and I have had many discussions about this, trying to navigate the complexities of blending two contrasting family cultures. For me, it’s a peculiar feeling to sit down with people and engage in conversations about life when I’ve been more accustomed to being the silent observer. It’s just not something that feels normal to me, and that’s why we often say, “it’s a Coltharp thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

This phrase doesn’t only apply to family gatherings; it resonates with many aspects of our lives. Most of my family members share a similar disposition: reserved, not particularly outgoing, and often preferring solitude, much like my children.

David, my eldest, is non-verbal and finds solace in front of his computer, engrossed in videos and his own world. He’s content whether you choose to enter his world or not.

William, my second eldest, has a “leave me alone, let me play my games” attitude. If he decides to include you in his activities, he will, but he prefers not to be interrupted.

Benjamin, my third son, is full of energy, easily bored, and loves to laugh, yet he tends to play only with his siblings or me.

Samantha, my daughter, is the complete opposite—a little social butterfly who engages with everyone and plays with those she accepts.

It’s amusing to see our children, who are all autistic, exhibit behaviors that sometimes mirror our own, despite our efforts to change. It’s almost as if our beliefs, personalities, and actions are somehow genetically embedded. While I’m not suggesting that’s the case, it does make you wonder.

The phrase “it’s a Coltharp thing” perfectly encapsulates our lives. We experience aspects of family life that many others may not fully understand. We navigate meltdowns, days when nothing goes right, and moments of sibling rivalry. We have days where one child must miss basketball practice because another is having a particularly challenging day. Each day is a coin toss, and routine helps us redirect meltdowns and misunderstandings back to what needs to be done, but it doesn’t always go as planned.

In the end, it truly is a “Coltharp thing,” and unless you’ve experienced it, you might not fully grasp the unique challenges, joys, and intricacies that come with it.

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival Daily Living

A Rollercoaster Fall Break: Navigating Sickness and Surprises

When I first embarked on this blogging journey, my intention was to share the unique stories of my kids, their quirks, and their incredible individuality. I pledged to keep this blog updated every other day, if not every day. Life, however, has a way of throwing curveballs our way, and the demands of reality often take precedence.

Let me set the scene. It all began with a mild sore throat. It was nothing major, just a slight discomfort, but by Friday, I found myself yearning for nothing more than sleep. My wife had been battling her own health issues, and by Saturday, it felt like a colossal anvil had fallen on us. Our household was in disarray, routines were abandoned, and the kids relished the freedom to do as they pleased.

But that was just the beginning. No, the 10-ton anvil was not the end; it was merely the prologue to the unfolding story. Our eldest, who happens to be nonverbal, has a rather unique way of signaling that he’s unwell. He doesn’t complain or make a fuss. Instead, he remains in bed, and when the inevitable happens, he calmly vomits, leaving us with the task of cleaning up and changing everything.

Most kids, when they’re sick, make their discomfort known in no uncertain terms. They’ll let you know if they have the flu or if they’re experiencing discomfort. David, however, handles it differently. Vomiting for him is a silent affair, void of complaints or inconvenience. The catch is that he’s never quite figured out how to aim for a bowl, toilet, tub, or any other container when it happens. So, picture a scenario where both parents are unwell, and the youngest son walks in at 1 AM to deliver the news, “David puked.” It leads to a groggy rock-paper-scissors match to determine who will tend to him. Both parents eventually convince each other to handle the situation: changing sheets, replacing the pillow and blanket, and cleaning him up. It was the first of many times that night. Remarkably, David does understand when something isn’t right, and he’s exceptionally cooperative during these moments. He doesn’t cry, make a fuss, or obstruct the process; he merely wants to return to bed and for the sickness to dissipate. So instead of starting laundry in the morning, we began a load at 3:30 AM, all the while praying that the vomiting wouldn’t continue.

As Sunday dawned, my wife was on her feet, giving the kids whatever they fancied for breakfast. I, on the other hand, stayed in bed. David continued to sleep, which was a blessing, and the day passed with everyone slowly recovering. Monday arrived, and since it was fall break, no one had to go to school. It was a day of reprieve, offering a glimmer of hope for better health.

I’ve often advised people to be cautious of their words, for the universe listens. It seems I should heed my own advice. On Monday, my stomach began to ache, and I found myself vomiting six times throughout the night. I estimate that I lost around 15 pounds in water weight. I couldn’t keep anything down, my body ached, I couldn’t sleep, and even sitting up proved dizzying. It was a challenging night, to say the least.

A visit to the doctor on Tuesday ruled out COVID-19 or the flu; it turned out to be a viral infection in my stomach. Not the most exciting news, but it was a relief to know the cause. That night, I slept more soundly than I had in a long time. Today, I’m on the mend, managing to keep food down and regain my strength.

As for my kids, they’ve all improved as well, except for our daughter, whose condition remains uncertain. It’s a tough call with her, as it’s often hard to tell if her ailments are genuine or a ploy to soak up attention.

In all this chaos and sickness, there’s a silver lining. I must extend my gratitude to my kids. They didn’t grumble about the disruption of their routines or the absence of quality time. They faced the upheaval with resilience, and for that, I’m immensely proud. Life’s unpredictability may throw us for a loop, but it’s also a testament to the strength of family bonds.

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival Daily Living

Autism Is Our Lives: Navigating the Extraordinary Journey

In an ever-evolving world, the prevalence of autism diagnoses continues to rise. While some may question the validity of these diagnoses, there’s no denying the unique and incredible individuals they represent. This journey, with its ups and downs, often reminds me of the opening lines of Edgar Allan Poe’s iconic poem:

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more.”

These lines resonate with me, not for their eerie ambiance but for the way they encapsulate life with my “mini-me,” my third son. One morning, he woke us up unusually early, declaring, “I think I’m sick.” As he stood by my wife’s nightstand, gulping down water, I groggily asked, “What makes you say that?” It was evident this was going to be an early morning.

Navigating the world of autistic children often means setting aside societal norms. While some may find being woken up in the middle of the night an annoyance, as parents of special needs children, we understand that our role is to be there for them. We’re here to provide guidance, support, and explanations of how life works, even if it doesn’t always align with their unique perspectives.

Consider my second son, high-functioning and outwardly appearing typical. Yet, once he speaks, his unique mannerisms and black-and-white thinking become apparent. For him, rules are absolute. He recently asked, “Dad, if you hadn’t married mom, where would I be?” I responded, “You might have been part of another family, but you wouldn’t even know about us.” His thought process led to an interesting revelation: “If I wasn’t autistic in that family, would they have made me play sports?” His dislike for sports is clear. He just doesn’t see the point in chasing a ball across a field or court, which stands in stark contrast to my childhood love of sports.

The contrast between my second and third sons is striking. While the second prefers a more controlled and structured environment, the third thrives on running around, unable to sit still. Each child’s uniqueness challenges us to adapt, understand, and accept their differences.

Our life as a family might not align with what we once envisioned. My wife humorously shares how she initially pictured herself as the PTA mom, shuttling kids to sports games, plays, recitals, and organizing bake sales and school fundraisers. “You can still do that,” I say, to which she often responds, “Yeah, when would I sleep?”

Are we disappointed with where life has taken us? No. Are we sad because it hasn’t followed the exact path we imagined? Not at all.

Many colleagues and friends have marveled at the challenges we face, often saying, “I couldn’t handle what you deal with.” To that, I reply, “Yes, you could. You adapt and realize that your stressors are not as important as what your kids are going through. It just takes some adjustments.”

This doesn’t mean that our children take precedence over everything, but it does mean we must be aware of their needs and make the necessary adjustments in our lives. Will others always understand? Not necessarily. Will your job sometimes be challenging? Most likely. Can it be mitigated? Absolutely. It requires education—educating those around you on how to handle meltdowns, outbursts, and the quirks that may come with autism. The more everyone knows about autism and how to navigate its challenges, the better off you’ll be.

This website and blog exist primarily to educate and provide resources. It’s a platform to let others know they’re not alone, that help is available, and that understanding and support can transform the autism journey into a remarkable and rewarding adventure.

Posted by autism Caregiver Survival Daily Living