Uncategorized

Every parent knows the adage “Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems.” Some may agree, while others believe the saying trivializes the challenges our little ones may present. What’s clear, though, is that when our kids enter young adulthood, we cannot force them to do anything. We can suggest, advise, encourage. But we cannot require our young adult children to eat healthy foods, turn off the screens, write a thank you letter after a job interview. When our young adult children are neurodiverse, the issues families face can feel more potent. That’s why I am developing workshops to support parents whose neurodiverse young adult children are struggling.

Comedian Ray Romano has a great quote about rearing a family: "Having children is like living in a frat house — nobody sleeps, everything's broken, and there's a lot of throwing up." If that quote expresses the unpredictability, chaos, and general craziness of a house full of typical kids, raising neurodiverse kids ups the ante 10-fold. Whether our kids struggle with mental health issues, emotional challenges, or cognitive delays, learning to recognize their triggers, anticipate their demands, and advocate for their rights – all while juggling other family and work priorities, as well as our own needs – can be downright overwhelming.

Here’s a primer for what parents of neurodiverse kids should not do: • Don’t tell your kids with learning differences they’re lazy. • Don’t tell your ADHD kids to just sit still. • Don’t tell your anxious kids to suck it up. • And under no circumstances should you expect your neurodiverse kids of any kind to act like everyone else.

Raise your hand if you have struggled with self-doubt as a parent? How about as the parent of a neurodiverse child? I see you! I have been there, and I know what it feels like to wonder and worry if we are saying the right things, teaching lessons in the best way, focusing on the highest values, skills, and truths.

We are all living in a world full of challenges, chaos and conspiracy theories that can keep us teetering between laughing and crying (hello flat-earthers). That kind of heaviness might weigh us down, maybe even leave us feeling helpless. When I think about what I can do to help relieve some of this pressure, I come back to the idea that, while I may not be able to heal the whole world, I can make improvements in my own little corner. My hope is that – just as ripples on a pond move ever outward – my positivity can also extend far beyond its starting point.

Ah, Mother’s Day! Breakfast in bed, summer basil planted in the garden, peace and good will among all siblings… well, maybe. Mother’s Day invokes so many memories, sometimes I honestly get teary recounting the acts of love. And yet, motherhood for those of us raising neurodiverse children can be a different – and often difficult – path to travel. In appreciation of Sunday’s upcoming holiday, I offer these thoughts on raising our very special children.

In 1988, United Artists released the Academy Award winning movie Rain Man, introducing autism to the general public and to me. Like many other movie goers, I didn’t quite understand the condition back then – what it was and how it affected people. Rain Man was my debut, and it left me curious to know more. In fact, the movie, which received both applause for its depiction of autism as well as criticism for stereotyping, left many people interested. In response, funding for autism research increased in the 1990’s significantly. Fast forward to April 2025 and the current Secretary of Health and Human Services’ claim that by September 2025 – yes, that’s right, just five months from now – he would have the answer to what causes autism. And, he said, “we'll be able to eliminate those exposures,” assuming the science would back his claims that environmental toxins cause autism.

As we approach the end of April and Autism Awareness Month, let’s talk about autism in all its forms. And really, autism -- as it is defined today -- shows itself in many, many ways. Three of my four sons fit somewhere on the autism spectrum, from mildly to moderately affected. They are lucky in many ways, not least of which is growing up at a time when there is much more understanding and acceptance about how differently some people interact with the world around them.

I’m a patient person by nature. I don’t mind repeating myself, the incessant patter of noisy kids doesn’t bother me, and I am willing to put less-important goals on the backburner while I focus on more pressing needs. But let’s be real, sometimes our kids’ actions can test the very best of us.