How one 9 year-old Described her Brother’s Autism in just a few pen strokes

There was nothing special about Thursday evening as I worked my way through the typical bedtime routine for my 9 year old twins. They had already had a bath, clean pyjamas on, eaten some supper and now they had moved into their separate rooms ready for stories, kisses and pre-sleep chats.

It’s hard to split yourself in two (or three, or four even if you are blessed with a quiver full) but my daughter willingly lets me see to her brother first most nights. She sacrifices so much for her autistic brother and this is just another example of how she puts his needs before her own daily. While she amused herself quietly with what I assumed was some colouring in or reading I continued on to settle her somewhat hyperactive brother next door.

I read the same story as always. He chooses the same story every night despite the fact he has a whole basket of books in his room. His autism means routines should never change and repetition is very much the name of the game. Unlike his sister he isn’t going to talk to me at bedtime about his school anxieties or fall outs with his friends. He has no friends. I have no idea what goes on at school (or anywhere he is out of my care) and at nine he has no spoken language. I hug and kiss him. I get nothing much in return. One day I might, but not tonight. I tuck him in, leave the room and turn off his light.

As I go next door to his sister her eyes light up as she clutches a little piece of paper to give to me.

“Mummy, I’ve been thinking about Isaac tonight. Can I show you something Mummy?”

And at that she handed me this:

I asked her to talk to me about it.

Mummy, these are the wires in my head. One is the talking wire, one is the brushing my own teeth wire, one is knowing my times tables in maths wire, one is knowing how to write wire, this one is playing with friends wire, this is the knowing how to read wire…”

She named all twelve straight lines she had drawn and said how for her, like most other children, she was able to do all of the things she listed. She talked about how some of her wires connect right away and others took time but they ‘knew where they were going’ and as she gets older and learns more ‘new things’ she will have ‘more wires that know where to go and connect up straight’.

I was amazed that a child could be so aware, so astute and so insightful. I let her continue on.

‘And this, I think, is my brother’s wires mum. He finds everything so hard doesn’t he? This is his talking wire mum. Look it goes to the connection for brushing teeth. No wonder he can’t talk when his brain gets confused like that! This is his writing wire…it’s supposed to be connected to the writing one at the bottom but instead it’s connected to the playing with friends wire. It’s all so hard when your brain gets confused but I know he is trying! I mean everything must be so hard when the wires are all jumbled up like this!’

I looked at her with tears behind my eyes. If anyone will advocate in life for her brother when I am gone it will be his sister. She understands him like no other.

My daughter knows I write. So I had to ask her.

“Naomi, is it ok for mummy to share this with other people? Is that ok with you?”

She smiled and in her usual determined way took the sheet back from me and pointed to her strokes again.

“Only if you make sure you tell everyone that it’s ok to have autism. Make sure people know Isaac does HAVE wires. He has a brain. He is trying. If I could make his wires straight Mummy I would, do you know that?”

I hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. She doesn’t want her brother to not have autism. I know that. She just wants to hear his voice, be able to play with him, brush her teeth beside him, write stories with him and practice her times tables with him like she does her friends from school.

She might want a brother with straight lined connections, but she could not love her autistic brother more if she tried, with crisscross jumbled wires and all the wonderful quirkiness that that brings.

Her understanding maybe over simplified in many ways but her fierce protection and love can never be denied.

I keep looking at that piece of paper.

She’s so right. My son is severely autistic with significant learning difficulties. He will need care all his life. But she’s spot on: he still has wires. He still has a brain. He can learn. He has potential. Life maybe much more confusing for him with wires that go different ways to what ours do but is that such a massive problem?

Maybe, just maybe, having straight lined connections in your brain is not for everyone. The world would be a very boring place if all our brains looked the same after all.


I Don’t Want To Be An Autism Parent Anymore

The day started far too early. There was no sweet cuddles in bed or a little voice asking for a drink; no I was woken as usual by screaming. I have had day after day, month after month, year after year of being woken by screaming and I don’t want that anymore. 

I don’t want to wake up to a smell that would make you want to vomit and bedding that is fit for the bin more than the washing machine, because yet again it is covered in something that ought not to be seen by anyone else. I am so tired of that now. 

I don’t want to sit on my couch in the middle of the night looking at my child and wondering what I did to have a child who sees no point in sleeping, who at 8 still can’t say ‘mama’ and who still thinks the world revolves around his needs only. 

I love him more than words could ever convey but I don’t want to be an autism mum anymore. 

I want to be a mum who has fun with her child rather than doing therapy with them. 

I want to walk my son to school and talk to his friends instead of sending him in a taxi to a place where I am a stranger to them. 

I want to be able to talk to my child about the fact it is his birthday soon and discuss what he would like to do to mark that day. 

I want to be someone who takes my child to bowling, teaches them to ride a bike or even goes to the movies with them. Instead the only place I ever take him to is hospitals or respite. 

I am tired of missing out on everything. I am tired of never having party invites, knowing nothing about his day at school, having to still dress him, having to take adult nappies and wipes with me wherever I go. 

I don’t want to be an autism parent anymore.  

I am tired of holding my child as he screams in public again. 

I am tired of the never ending judgement, the stares and the horrid comments.

I am am tired of carrying around my broken heart as a result of the interventions and therapies having achieved nothing. 

I simply can not bear the thought of my child as an adult knowing what society is like. 

I am tired of meetings. 

I am tired of phone calls from his school. 

I am tired of fighting for everything but then being accused as having an attitude or people thinking I act like I am entitled. 

I don’t want my child to have autism anymore. This is not a ‘different way of seeing the world’ that he has, or ‘a wonderful gift’. This is a child about to be 9 years old who can not say ‘mum’ or use a bathroom himself. This is a child almost my height who still can’t put his own clothes on, brush his own teeth or dry himself after a bath. This is a child who can never ever be left alone, who has to have everything the same all the time, who self harms and wanders. This is a child still with the mind of a toddler who will require others to look after him his entire life. 

Who would want that for their child? 

Who would want that as a parent? 

Today I don’t want to be an autism parent any more. 

The problem is I have no choice. 

So I strip that bed, bath that child, cook him that breakfast as I always do and let him sit on my knee while he rewinds the same ten seconds of video on you tube he did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. 

Nothing changes much in my house, except my feelings. 

Today I am tired. I don’t want to be an autism parent today the same way any other parent may feel about not wanting to be the mum of a toddler who tantrums daily or a baby who has reflux or the partner to someone with Alzheimer’s. We all have days when we are just down about the life we have. 

Yet we carry on. We dust ourselves down, search for some positives or listen to some music. 

Tomorrow is a new day. It will probably start off with screaming again too., but maybe tomorrow I will be stronger, more hopeful, more upbeat. 

Maybe tomorrow I will want to be the autism parent I need to be. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

The reason I don’t like to eat

Source: The reason I don’t like to eat


What it is like to parent a child who can never be left alone

Source: What it is like to parent a child who can never be left alone


I’m not perfect but I am perfect for them

I have a confession to make: I got annoyed at my children today! What? You have done that too? Seriously why are we so afraid as parents to admit we are less than perfect.

Last week I took my kids to the dentist at the wrong time. I sent my son to school the week before without any lunch. He is not able to talk so could not tell anyone. I blame sleep deprivation personally.

I do my best. It is what we all do. 

But still we never seem to feel we get it right all the time. That feeling is magnified when your children have extra support needs.

I remember eagerly buying push along toys, walkers and sit on cars for my toddlers, only to have them sit unused in a corner as my son was three before he walked, by which time they were all far too small for him. I tried to do the right thing, the ‘perfect’ thing, but for my children it was anything but perfect.

I sang nursery rhymes with my babies. I read to them, talked to them all the time and blew bubbles. Yet still my 8 year old to this day can’t say a word. I did all the right things but for him it just wasn’t to be.

I bought this wonderful potty for my kids. You know the ones that sing to them when they pee and even looks like a toilet. That was a total disaster!

I took my pre-schoolers to museums, cafes, soft plays, garden centres and farms. One of them screamed all the time and the other was terrified. What seemed the perfect thing to do was in fact anything but for my autistic children who struggled with sensory overload everywhere we went. 

imageSo I decided to stop being the perfect parent and instead become the perfect parent to THEM. That meant taking my son to see lifts. It meant taking them on train rides and joining in games of lining up toys. It meant accepting them for just who they are and allowing them to be autistic.

The best toys I ever bought them were second hand. I gave up full time work to care for them so I can attend all their meetings, keep up with all their teams of professionals and ensure they get the support they both need. It means I am there to keep the routine they need to feel secure and calm my son when he is in meltdown.

Being the perfect parent for them means sometimes making the same meal every night for a week just to see them eat. It means trailing shops to find the only juice my daughter will drink. It means cutting out labels in their clothes and ensuring the materials are soft and not too ‘busy’ so as not to upset them. img_0046It means reading the same bedtime story every night for two years in exactly the same way. It is answering the same question for the hundredth time and remaining patient.

Do I get annoyed at them? Of course I do. I am human. Do I annoy them? Absolutely! Do we love each other and hug often? Yes we do. 

I am never going to be that parent who shows off a shelf full of trophies my child won at dancing or football. I am not going to be the parent who home makes Halloween costumes or bakes the most incredible birthday cakes. My kids have way too much screen time than is recommended and my son can’t even write his own name at 8 years old!

But I know what triggers a meltdown in my son and how to avoid it. I know what makes my daughters anxiety reach sky high and can work through this with her. I know the limitations of my sons eye sight and the fact he can not see pale colours. I know exactly what reading book my daughter has this week and what characters she is into just now. I know their routines for bedtime and school days and follow them like a robot so as not to upset them.

Those things don’t make me the perfect mum, but they do make me perfect for them.

I am blessed to have them. We are blessed to have each other. None of us are perfect but together we are the perfect team.


What if his challenging behaviour is actually a cry for help?

If you were walking home in the dark one night and heard a female screaming for help would you see those screams as challenging behaviour? What if you were in a hospital and heard a child cry? Woul…

Source: What if his challenging behaviour is actually a cry for help?


Raising A Child With Autism Who Has Too Much Empathy

      There is a commonly held belief in society that people with autism lack empathy. Every time I hear this statement I wonder if they have met my daughter. I am raising a child di…

Source: Raising A Child With Autism Who Has Too Much Empathy