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My son, Your birthday is in 8 days. You have been counting down since mid December. You love your birthday. And you love being older. So much so that you are already telling people you are 11 years old. I lovingly correct you every time, reminding you that you are still my 10 year old. For a few more days at least. I also threaten you with a potion that will keep you little forever. When you were younger you belived me that it would work. You aren’t scared anymore.…

Every morning I wake up to messages from people on social media. Most are well-meaning. Many are kind. A few are awful. Some are bizarre. And some, tell me how to raise my son. And how I’m doing it wrong. They tell me what I should be doing, how I can do it better, and what I can and cannot say about him. I’ve gathered a list of what I cannot say. I cannot say he has autism. Or is autistic. I can’t say he is nonverbal or nonspeaking. I…

Written from the perspective of my autistic son. As I enter a new room.  The sights and sounds flow easily into my body like music with long, gentle cords.  I feel at peace as though I almost cannot feel my body – it moves the way I tell it with gentle, gliding movements. The view of the room comes to me in muted, soft colors. The sights and sounds translate to my body that I am safe.  The next room I come to causes me to pause and shudder.  I…

We have a unique family. At least I think we do. We have a teen and a tween and a little and a toddler and a super social dad and a tired mom. We have four that like to go and do and one that needs a little more encouragement. We have four that are extremely social and two that prefer the comforts of home. And we have autism too. Which means some things just aren’t possible right now. Like flying in an airplane. Or long car rides. And sitting…

Did you know there are some women out their who never whine? Or complain? Or even say it’s hard. I never knew that. I really didn’t. So when I stumbled across a post on Facebook bashing women for talking, or as they said whining, about the hard parts of life, I was shocked. Apparently, these so called whiners hate their kids and husbands. It was a lot to take in I a tell ya. I realized, they are probably talking about me. I talk, whine, complain, vent all the time.…

This morning, when I came out of my bedroom, far earlier than I would have liked, I knew my son Cooper was waiting on the stairs for me. For one I could hear train whistles and happy music coming from his ipad. We often hear him before we see him. And secondly, lately, he’s been waiting for me more. Near, but far. Not close enough to touch, but easily heard and seen if I peek around a corner or under a table. He gasped as he usually does when it’s…

A few nights ago, my husband and I found ourselves driving around a picturesque town for 20 minutes or so…alone. We had no kids with us. There was no loud noise or fighting, endless questions, or voices from an iPad. It was just us, driving around looking at holiday lights, Christmas music playing softly. Eventually we found ourselves in the parking lot of what looked like a brand new apartment complex located right on the river. It was breathtaking. After looking at the sign, we saw it was for folks…