Food Might Be My Son’s Kryptonite
Even with sensory processing disorder, my son is mostly a typically weird and weirdly typical kid. Except for food. It might be his kryptonite.
Even with sensory processing disorder, my son is mostly a typically weird and weirdly typical kid. Except for food. It might be his kryptonite.
Forget report cards. No grade can measure who my daughter truly is. She is so far beyond “outstanding” in every way to those who know and love her.
He’s become quite the Houdini lately with taking off his diapers—despite them being duck-taped for better security. And his most recent escape was from a diaper full of poop. This is why special needs parenting is emotionally and physically exhausting.
When you have a child with significant special needs, your parenting experience is forever altered, and you are changed.
Elopement is a terrifying word for a parent of a child with autism, and even more so for parents of children who lack verbal skills.
If it’s not retarded, it might be “short bus” or even a word so seemingly benign as “special”. But make no mistake—there’s no love behind these words.
Each year when I send my daughter off to her first day of school, it hurts. Like physically, in my gut, hurts. My breathing feels shallow. My heart seems to skip beats.
I hear all the time how “normal” my son seems and looks of surprise when people meet him. I worry about him because his special needs are almost invisible.
Parenting a child with ADHD can feel a bit like you’re walking in the dark—you tiptoe around, unsure of what you will come up against. Sometimes you may say or do something to set off a mini emotional explosion.
I spent yet another day at the doctor’s office trying to convince the staff that my daughter is not invisible just because she has special needs.
Even with sensory processing disorder, my son is mostly a typically weird and weirdly typical kid. Except for food. It might be his kryptonite.
Forget report cards. No grade can measure who my daughter truly is. She is so far beyond “outstanding” in every way to those who know and love her.
He’s become quite the Houdini lately with taking off his diapers—despite them being duck-taped for better security. And his most recent escape was from a diaper full of poop. This is why special needs parenting is emotionally and physically exhausting.
When you have a child with significant special needs, your parenting experience is forever altered, and you are changed.
Elopement is a terrifying word for a parent of a child with autism, and even more so for parents of children who lack verbal skills.
If it’s not retarded, it might be “short bus” or even a word so seemingly benign as “special”. But make no mistake—there’s no love behind these words.
Each year when I send my daughter off to her first day of school, it hurts. Like physically, in my gut, hurts. My breathing feels shallow. My heart seems to skip beats.
I hear all the time how “normal” my son seems and looks of surprise when people meet him. I worry about him because his special needs are almost invisible.
Parenting a child with ADHD can feel a bit like you’re walking in the dark—you tiptoe around, unsure of what you will come up against. Sometimes you may say or do something to set off a mini emotional explosion.
I spent yet another day at the doctor’s office trying to convince the staff that my daughter is not invisible just because she has special needs.