Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Hi! I’m Laurie, I’m starting this blog to share my parenting journey with you: the good, the bad, the ugly, and, especially, the absurd. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 21+ years of parenting neurodivergent kids, it’s that sometimes you gotta choose to laugh.
I Didn’t Choose the Neurospicy Life
I didn’t sign up for this journey, and I’ll bet you didn’t either. The day that cherished little “plus” sign showed up on my home pregnancy test, I envisioned many things for the future of my little one, but keeping the living room curtains closed so my pre-teen can run around in the buff (because that’s the only way he feels comfy), was not among them.
Surely, I thought, there would be little league games, peaceful family bike rides, dinners around the kitchen table sharing a meal my husband and I had lovingly prepared. You know, like you see on tv where there’s a protein, a vegetable, a starch, and maybe even dessert, and everyone in the family eats the same thing. Absolutely idyllic.
Follow Me for More Useless Tips
Until life yanked me unceremoniously into the world of parenting neurodivergent kids, I was blissfully ignorant about the myriad ways a pair of socks can ruin a morning. However, there are many, many things I’ve learned through this parenting journey. I could write a book about them, but most of them aren’t really useful in life. For instance, I’ve learned:
- how to feign surprise when I get a call from the school about my child peeing in a plastic bag instead of the toilet – while they were in the bathroom and a toilet was available – because they were curious what would happen to pee if it suddenly found itself A) outside the body and B) not in a toilet.
- Little Caesars hot & ready pizzas are rarely hot or ready when your child is craving their safe food. It’s smarter to order on the app. You can even screen-shot your receipt and submit it to Upside to earn cash back. (I did learn something useful!)
- how to feign surprise when I get a call from the school saying my 2nd grader dropped the “f bomb” in class, and how to resist the urge to explain verbal stimming to the well-meaning administrator because A) it will do no good and B) it will simply prolong another conversation both of us wish we weren’t having.
- how to carefully choose my battles. The longer I do this, the more convinced I become that no hill is worth dying on. Besides, if I did die on a hill, I’d immediately regret not having chosen a different hill, and my ghost would be forced to haunt the initially chosen hill for all eternity.
- you can put an autistic child to bed, but you can’t make them sleep. Ever. They don’t sleep. And you don’t sleep. And while that may seem problematic on the whole, it’s also helpful for deterring would-be thieves late at night.
The Neurospicy Life Chose Us
Maybe you’re just beginning your journey as a neurospicy parent, or maybe you’re a seasoned (aka really spicy) veteran. Either way, I’m confident you belong here in our community, because another thing I’ve learned on this journey is that misery loves company.
(Oh, ugh, I said the quiet part out loud! My bad!)
What I mean to say is that community matters. You work hard to create safe spaces for your kids, and I want this to be a safe space for us as parents. Our work is messy and often misunderstood, which is why we need one another. We didn’t choose the neurospicy life; the neurospicy life chose us. And together, we’re going to rock this!