This is FIVE


And just like that, this sweet boy is FIVE!! He loves music, dancing, running, climbing, bouncing, spinning and riding his bike.  When he’s tired, he’s hyper! Being around people fuels his soul. He has energy for days and so many of us want to bottle up just a little of his zest.

In the seldom moments of calm, he loves to cuddle or be wrapped up tight in a blanket. He recently started giving lots of wet kisses on our cheeks and it’s the sweetest.

Wilson can play games on the Ipad that sometimes I cannot even figure out.  He still loves pirates, trains, keys and monkeys. New obsessions: eggs (not for eating, just for play/pretend/inspection, which can get messy when he gets his hands on the real ones!), penguins and clocks.

Wilson still lives on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, crackers, crunchies and apples, for the most part.

This little guy works so hard to learn things that come naturally to most of us. He falls down, gets up, shakes it off and moves on- both literally and figuratively. I admire this so much about him.

He loves unconditionally, forgives, and celebrates BIG. If you pay attention, this kid will teach you a thing or two.


Diet, Methylation and Supplementation

**ALWAYS talk to your doctor before changing anything in your child’s diet**

methyl B12

Many of you have asked about the methyl-B12 injections we give to Wilson, and how/why they can be beneficial for children on the autism spectrum.

Vitamin B12 occurs in five different forms, each with their own unique metabolic role. Methyl-B12 and folate play a central role in a pathway called methylation.

Methylation is responsible for:

  • RNA and DNA (genetic material responsible for every function in the body)
  • immune system regulation
  • detoxification of heavy metals and other harmful substances
  • making glutathione (the body’s main detoxification enzyme)
  • production and function of proteins
  • regulating inflammation
  • making neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine
  • producing melatonin, CoQ10, carnitine, creatine, and choline

Wilson has a genetic mutation that prevents his body from proper methylation and detoxification. Vitamin B12 works closely with folic acid (a folic acid molecule must interact with the enzyme MTHFR to become 5-MTHF) this then can become methyl-B12. Wilson has a defect in the enzyme MTHFR.

Without proper methylation, the brain cannot be effectively fueled and toxic substances throughout the system slow development and processing. The brain is the only part of the body that depends entirely on B12 to detoxify.

“Studies have shown that 90% of ASD children have impaired methylation and 80% decreased levels of glutathione in their cells. Supporting and/or repairing the underlying impairment and deficiency translates into increased social, cognitive and language development.”

The really not-so-fun part: while methyl-B12 does come in several forms, injection is the most effective. We receive the injections in premeasured syringes and inject it just below the skin on his bottom. When injected into the fat, the methyl-B12 is slowly released and stays in his system continually at the same level. Other forms of administering the methyl-B12 cause levels to fluctuate throughout the body. Also, all vitamin B12 forms are absorbed in the small intestine, and many children with autism have an inflammatory bowel condition that affects the small intestine. This can inhibit absorption in the intestinal tract, especially at consistent levels.

So, every third night, we sneak into his room after he has been asleep for at least two hours (so he is in a deep sleep) and clean the site, inject, bandage and give him extra kisses goodnight. We used to try and do this during the day, but he could not stand it (mostly because we had to hold him down to keep him still.) Surprisingly, he rarely wakes up when we do the injection while he is asleep. The needle is very tiny; our doctor had us practice on each other so we knew what he would feel.

Some of the benefits we have seen: more spontaneous language, more complex sentences, increased vocabulary, enhanced cognition, increased awareness, more eye contact, responsiveness, and some improvements in social skills.

Wilson in car

Some of the possible side effects: hyperactivity, self-stimulating behavior, increased mouthing of objects, sleep disturbances, aggression, hitting and biting (this can be caused by frustration due to increased awareness). We have only seen a few of these side effects and they seem to come and go.

We took a break from the injections this past winter to be sure we were actually seeing a big enough difference to make it worth giving them. We had a really rough few months. I noticed decreased awareness, less language, increased irritability and less social interaction. We started the injections again in the spring and saw improvement, slowly, once again.

We began Wilson on the gluten-free/casein-free (GFCF) diet shortly before we began his methyl-B12 injections. We have stuck to it strictly and I believe this also has an impact on the improvements we have seen in him.

One theory behind the GFCF diet is that children with autism don’t process the peptides and proteins in gluten and casein very well, leading to “leaky gut” where the gut can leak into the bloodstream and, in turn, “cloud” areas of the brain. Not a ton of research has been done on this, or methyl-B12 for that matter. Studies are currently underway and we will hopefully have more information in the near future.

As we did with the methyl-B12, we will likely change his diet and add some dairy back in to see how he tolerates it now that we have a new “normal” with all his new supplements in his system for the past several months. It would be ideal for him to be able to eat a wider variety of foods, if possible.

Other supplements Wilson is on: Folate and carnitine (levels were low due to the methylation issue), iron, probiotics, vitamin D, and fish oil (Coromega makes a great one for kids that is orange flavored).

I must note that the benefits we have seen by having Wilson on these supplements and the GFCF diet are not always steady. He still has some good moments and some struggles. We’re always trying to figure out why the harder days or regressions occur. Even with supplementation and his diet, he still cannot process things like food dyes, chlorine from a swimming pool, poor air quality, toxic fumes, etc. as easily as other people do.

We’re always striving to find a balance for this sweet boy, one day at a time.


**The GFCF diet and the methyl-B12 injections do not work the same for every person. Some parents have reported autistic symptoms improving while implementing this diet and/or methyl-B12 and others don’t notice any changes. Talk to your doctor about what the best option is for your child**

Moments of Weakness

light tunnel 2

Moments of weakness will happen. This does not make you weak.

Wilson had the biggest meltdown I’ve ever dealt with today.

We had an appointment to see our Developmental Pediatrician, who happens to be located in the same hospital where Wilson had a traumatic experience getting blood drawn last month. I worried about this, but figured it would be okay because we were going to a completely different wing of the hospital. He recognized where we were as soon as we drove into the parking garage.

This is when the screaming began. He pleaded to go home, and “no doctor.” I told him we were seeing a different doctor and there would be “no ouchies” today but he could not understand.

I carried his flailing and screaming body through the parking garage, across the street and into the hospital. This is where his meltdown intensified. We would make it about five feet, me carrying him, before he would flail so hard or scream so loud we had to sit on the floor. I tried to help him take breaths like we’ve worked on before, but he was too far gone and wanted OUT.

It broke me to see him so incredibly scared. I sat down on the floor and cried with him, in the middle of the hospital lobby. I couldn’t see a way out of this situation, besides leaving.

We arrived to our doctor’s office to find a construction zone and a sign that they had moved to a different floor. SH*T. A hospital employee walking by stopped and offered to help. I told her I didn’t know how she could. She offered food or drink, but he already had his favorite snack and a juice box in his hands (I think we dropped every other object or article of clothing during this ordeal but he held on to those two things the whole time!) It was really hard to hear one another over his screaming, but we put together that she was actually from the Children’s Developmental Institute that we were trying to get to. She helped us find the elevator and took us in. We skipped check-in and the waiting room and headed right into the sensory room where we calmed down in the dark while watching lights in a sensory tunnel.

light tunnel 3

I am beyond thankful for this woman taking the time to help to us, and for persisting when I wanted to give up, go home, and never come back.

Wilson said “no ouchies” on the walk back to the car, I guess he finally believed me! He was back to his happy self and moved right on with his day.

He is the strongest kid I know. And I am going to be the strongest mama bear he will ever know.

Tomorrow, we’ll get to work on incorporating new social stories, pretend play and visuals to practice in the coming months to help prepare us for the next visit.

But tonight, mama needs a glass of wine.






The Balancing Act of this {Autism} Life


new bike pic

It’s 9 a.m. and my toddlers are eating popsicles.

They are content (even quiet?) in their car seats behind me as we drive to ABA therapy. We are going on year three of “potty training” (I could call it a lot of other things) with my son Wilson, who is almost five years old and on the autism spectrum. He really pulled one over on me this morning with the new potty sticker chart by managing to sit and pee in the toilet four times more often than he would have on a typical morning, scoring a popsicle for himself as well as his little sister.

Oh well, it’s all about balance, right?

As parents, we all strive for a sense of balance in our children’s lives. There are the usual suspects: screen time, treats, sleep. If you are a parent of a child on the spectrum, there tends to be a few more items to add to the daily juggle.

You pack his food for the day (the same food you packed the day before and the one before that). You keep his snacks on hand, knowing full-well you can’t just pop into a restaurant or convenience store and find something he will consume.

You try to get him to taste new things but you also want him to eat. He has inherited your stubbornness and those hunger strikes are brutal for everyone. He knows the difference between chicken nuggets and tenders and how dare you serve one instead of the other? If you buy another brand, size or shape of his precious food he will make certain you regret it.

You sneak eight supplements in while keeping all the gluten and dairy out.

You plan and adhere to a routine (because that’s where he thrives) but also create space for him to enjoy some toddler spontaneity. Allow him freedom, but not so much that that he’ll wander off. Let him feed his curiosity but keep this fragile and fearless little human safe.

wilson pool

You let him stim and enjoy scripting off in his own little world, but not for too long, or he won’t let you join him there.

You prepare for the battles you know are coming, like haircuts, blood draws, dental exams or finishing his food containing aforementioned supplements. You keep a reserve of patience for the obstacles you don’t foresee, like an altercation over his open urine sample (he wanted to pour it into the potty like a “big boy” and I needed to ship it off to a lab in Texas.) Or that time he flushed his soiled underwear down the toilet…

You enjoy the quiet moments and you fear them. If it’s too quiet, then someone is up to something, somewhere.

You teach him “I want” and “no” when you would rather he was saying “please” and “no, thank you”. When he requests something appropriately, you usually oblige because it took so long to get there. In the back of your mind you worry that you tend to give him anything he wants to avoid a meltdown.

You start to plan for the future, but it’s overwhelming. The unknown is terrifying, so you try to live in the present.

Wilson and mom

You let him struggle. This, this one is the toughest. To wait. While he fumbles into his clothes or attempts to put his shoes on the wrong feet, you take pause instead of jumping in to do it for him. You hold your breath when people ask him questions and he struggles to think of a response, trying to give him a chance before answering for him.

Wilson buttons

You are his advocate, not just for more, but also for knowing when he’s had enough poking, prodding, testing or hard work. The real balance is knowing you would do or try anything to help your child while having the awareness that you cannot do it all at once.

I know many of us never feel like we have found a sense of balance, but we will never stop searching for it.


Thank you, Daddy

David and Wilson

Wilson will follow you wherever you go. Around the yard for hours, mimicking you shovel dirt into the wheelbarrow or turn screws with your tools.

You encourage him to try new things and to not give up when the unknown seems too scary or difficult.

He has your tender soul.

You’re there to exchange a knowing glance with me when the kids do something new, impressive or just plain awesome.

You also know when they’ve had enough and it’s time to go.

You make sure we all have fun, especially in the times when I tend to be more concerned with handwashing and sunscreen.

You have patience when mine has run out.

You’re always up for a dance party and teaching new moves. You’ll even listen to Moana on repeat because it brightens your little girls’ eyes.

You’re proud of every new step, no matter how big or small.

You do all the heavy lifting, from the tantrums to the veterinary appointments.

You’ve had to miss out on a lot, removing Wilson during meltdowns or following him as he wanders.

Your heart is so patient.

I know you would do anything for our family.

Thank you will never be enough.

We’re so lucky to do this wild and crazy, sometimes difficult, beautiful life with you.



Finding the Courage to Try

bubbles pic

Group activities for children on the spectrum can be hard. So far, we’ve had to pull Wilson out of swim school, soccer, and community preschool. Even birthday parties can be tricky. Wilson is so excited to be there, but he wants to open the presents and blow out the candles no matter whose special day it is. He cannot understand why someone else would get to do that instead of him. This was easier to manage when he was a toddler, but he is getting bigger. And louder.  I’ve tried bringing a present and treats for him as a distraction, and even a set of candles so he could have a turn to blow them out after the birthday boy or girl.  This hasn’t done the trick. We’re on high alert for the birthday song to start so we can redirect him before he potentially ruins a three-year-old’s special day.

When we attend events as a family, we typically divide-and-attempt-to-conquer and end up separated the whole time. One of us is constantly on the move keeping a close eye on Wilson, the persistent wanderer, and the other stays with Charlie, who is usually participating with the others at the event.

Wilson’s former preschool had a Mother-Son Game Night the other night. Typically, we do not attend these kinds of events anymore. I receive invites or hear about them from friends, with my immediate reaction being “this isn’t for us.”  I feel sad for my son, that because of his autism he simply cannot participate in these fun events like the other kids his age.  I briefly feel sad for me, too, and then I move on.

Wilson LOVE shirt

This game night stayed on my radar. I received reminder emails, saw posts online, and several friends asked if I was going. My answer remained a pretty hard “No.”  I am ashamed to admit this, but I actually toyed with the idea of going without Wilson. Just so I could visit with my mom friends that I hadn’t seen in so long.  I knew Wilson would not be able to participate but I was sad that meant I couldn’t see my friends either.  These are the times our life with autism can feel isolating.  I am so thankful for my sweet friend who encouraged me to bring Wilson (and didn’t judge me for considering to leave him at home!)  She said her son would love to see him and they would have fun running around.

I knew what would really happen. I would chase him the whole time, try to contain his curious mind from getting into everything, touching anything, and taking people’s things. I would attempt to quiet his shrieks and screaming as people stare (for the record, I do not blame people for looking, his screaming is impossible to ignore but the glances inevitably fuel the feeling of inadequacy for the inability to have control of my child.)  And any hope of a smooth exit? Not a chance.  This is why this kind of event is just not worth it.

But this time, it was.

We went, armed with tools from Applied Behavioral Analysis Therapy that we had been working on for the past few days. I had a little white board, flash cards, and snacks for incentive. Wilson sat down and earned stars by answering social and basic vocabulary questions that he had been working on in therapy and at home.

star chart

flash cards

Once he got five stars, he got to do what he wanted, which was DANCE!  We did this little routine several times over. He was so proud of every star he earned and excited to go run and dance on the stage in the school’s auditorium.

Wilson Dance

We left before the real games began but we stayed much longer than I expected we would. When it was time to go, I told him he had earned his favorite snack and we would eat it in the car on our way home. I prompted him to say “goodbye” to some of his peers, he did, and we calmly walked out, hand-in-hand. I was so proud of him.

I was reminded that night that it’s easy to give up, to stay home. It takes hard work to face obstacles and learn from them.

I am not saying we’ll be going to every single event we come across. Not by a long shot. Our life is still about balance and doing what’s right for Wilson and our family. I want to find the courage to do more though, and to never underestimate my little man.

Wilson Dance 2




Sometimes when I look at my son, it’s like he is not even there. The happy, sweet boy that we are learning to connect with is missing from behind his bright blue eyes. He’s completely lost.

As a parent, trying to manage a meltdown from a child on the autism spectrum is incredibly difficult. But to actually experience that meltdown? I can’t even imagine.

Wilson’s sensory reactions and how much his developing system can handle can be so unpredictable. His ability to understand and follow instructions has improved, but when coupled with a new environment and tons of stimulation, he completely checks out.  We cannot communicate or reason with him. He throws himself to the ground, pushes, pulls, screams and attempts to run away.  He experiences fear, sadness, anger, confusion, pain and all his senses overloaded at once.  He really doesn’t know what to do, so he completely loses control.

One of the first experiences I had with this type of meltdown was before Wilson was diagnosed with autism. We were headed into Target one day and I had him and his baby sister in the double stroller. Wilson was screaming and I assumed he would get distracted when we walked in but it immediately got worse.  This wasn’t a whining toddler cry. It was blood-curdling screaming. Everyone from Customer Service to shoppers and the staff at the checkout stands was staring. We did a U-turn and walked right back out the automatic doors. I walked to the front of the stroller and leaned down close to try and reason with him. I’m not sure why, he wasn’t speaking yet and could only understand a limited amount of my words. He screamed and flailed his limbs and his foot made a perfect connection with my jaw like he was some kind of professionally trained MMA-Super-Ninja.

My two-year-old had just kicked me in the face.  We headed to the car, both of us in tears.

We’re learning ways to help avoid or work through these meltdowns. Sometimes, hard as we may try, we just can’t see them coming.

We were on vacation last weekend and wanted to take Wilson to the outdoor mall to ride the children’s train (he LOVES trains). We arrived to find a massive children’s festival. Bounce houses in every shape and size, a petting zoo, miniature golf, firetrucks, and long lines for all of the aforementioned activities, including Wilson’s beloved train.

The screaming began the moment he saw the train and couldn’t jump right on. We maneuvered him to the end of the line, hoping we could come up with some distractions while we waited. The screaming didn’t stop, and we found that we had to purchase tickets for the train at another location in the mall. Both my husband and I were panicked and fumbling.  Trying to think on the fly while your child is experiencing a (loud) meltdown is nearly impossible.  We tried to distract him by visiting the firetrucks, the one area without a line or ticket requirement. The firemen were kind and tried to help calm Wilson by showing him the truck and giving him stickers.  When Wilson realized he couldn’t get in the firetruck, it was game over.  We all left in tears (except for his little sister Charlie, she scored a popsicle out of the ordeal.)

I was so sad for my boy that he couldn’t be there. That he couldn’t understand how to be there. Or withstand the stimulation of all those fun activities happening at once.

born rad

Wilson thrives in a routine so vacations can be difficult to begin with. Every outing, home or away, takes a lot of planning and preparation to avoid incidents like this one. The big meltdowns seem to be growing fewer and farther between, but screaming is still one of Wilson’s main means of communication every day. He screams to protest, to express when he is sad, mad or scared, and to drown out another sound he cannot stand to hear.  Then there are times he does it simply for good old fashioned attention.

I will not lie, it all wears me down.

A friend of mine (and fellow autism mom) sent me this text out of the blue one day:

“Thinking about you as I listen to this (podcast) it’s so good. Hope you are doing ok… Remember you are the perfect mom for Wilson…even on your worst mom days…you two are soulmates ;)”


I come back to these words often. They have picked me up off of the kitchen floor when I couldn’t take one more of his meltdowns so I had one myself.  This little human needs me. No matter how much kicking, screaming and frustration we go through, it could never take an ounce away from the good stuff.  Every new word, achievement, thought or emotion expressed, every connection made, his sweet hugs and when he giggles as he awkwardly holds my face nose-to-nose with his. Singing new songs, hugging his sister tightly, when I see him brave and proud.

He is mine and I am his and I am so thankful for that.

Mom and kids



Siblings of people with special needs are exceptional humans who love deeply and selflessly. Charlie has had to learn about patience and sacrifice earlier than most.  She spends more time in the car helping me take Wilson to his various appointments and therapy sessions than anyone would want to, let alone a two-year-old. She does it (most of the time) with a smile on her face and a snack in her hands.

Charlie makes sure to tell me that “Wilson’s screaming” or “Wilson’s sad” (as though I didn’t already know) during his meltdowns and she attempts to give him hugs or bring him a toy or “chewy” to make him feel better. She has so much compassion wrapped up in that little body. She will not go to bed at night without hugging her brother.

Our silly girl loves babies, books and riding in grocery carts (thank goodness!) She is an in-de-pend-ent woman and likes to do things all by herself, which makes me sad, proud and nervous all at the same time. She will NOT be ignored and repeats herself, continuously louder, if you don’t respond.  This trait actually comes in handy in this family.

We ask a lot of her, often with her needs coming second to her brother’s. But don’t let her easy-going soul fool you. She is something fierce. She will not hesitate to b*tch slap a 90lb American Bulldog if she’s sniffin’ too close.

And if you want to mess with her brother, you’ll have to get through her first!


I would not change my son for the world.

advocate like a mother

“I would not change my son for the world. I would change the world for my son.” I came across this quote the other day and it reminded me: This is why I share my son’s story.  There is so much about his autism experience that is out of my control. What I can do is spread awareness and hope that it leads to a little understanding, patience and compassion.

Many people are unaware of the reasons behind some “autistic behaviors”. Autism affects communication, social development and sensory processing, with the degree to which these areas are affected being unique to each individual.  Sensory processing difficulties are really hard to understand because the triggers can be invisible to neurotypical people.  I am slowly learning more about the triggers and sensitivities in Wilson’s world.  He is very sensitive to bright lights and certain sounds. He has left the room screaming or cowered in my lap over noises that a random toy will make.  He is very particular about what clothing he will wear and what foods he will eat. He often studies toys or objects by turning his head completely sideways or upside down.  He seeks movement and pressure and likes to bump into people or be wrapped up tightly in hugs or blankets.

He is learning ways to cope with his anxiety and sensory reactions, like chewing on something or taking deep breaths. Sometimes singing a familiar song will help.  Many people with autism find comfort in routines and repetition, just like Wilson. He says things repetitively, plays with toys in the same manner or repeats little scenes over and over.  He gets irritated if we take a different route to therapy or home.  His memory is truly incredible.

When his sensory system is overloaded, he breaks down. His first reaction is to scream. His screams have reached an all-new high pitch.  He usually becomes limp, hits, or tries to run away. Sometimes he’ll hit himself in the head, slam doors or push furniture down. People stare and make snarky remarks. Luckily, this only bothers my husband and I. Wilson doesn’t read other’s emotions well or understand the comments.  Someday he will though.

So let’s talk to our kids about how all their friends are unique, and that it is a beautiful thing. How we all learn at a different pace, and speak in distinct ways, but can still have so much in common with one another.  All children could benefit from a friend to help them overcome challenges and build confidence and self-worth.  Let’s teach them acceptance and inclusion. Let’s change the world.

Wired Wonderfully


“He’s just wired differently.”

We heard this phrase often in those first months after Wilson’s autism diagnosis.  We were trying to wrap our heads around this world of autism in which our son was living.  It’s a fairly simple phrase, which was almost refreshing given the complexities of this disorder we wanted so badly to understand. We’ve since learned that for us, autism is in the moment. It’s unpredictable.  Some days it is two steps forward, and one step back. It’s phases you cannot wait to get out of, and moments you want to freeze in time.  It’s taking the long way. Routine and Repetition. Pure innocence. Unconditional love and loyalty. It’s falling down and getting back up.

Wilson is a typical toddler who loves being tickled and chased. He’s into anything that involves jumping, bouncing and spinning. The faster the better. He loves music, building, blowing out birthday candles (it doesn’t matter whose birthday it is), and dressing like his daddy.  He loves anything and everything to do with pirates, trains and keys.

What makes him so different? This is where the wonderful comes in…

He is absolutely enamored with his shadow and reflection. He prefers (aka will only eat) his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches open-faced and cut into bite-sized pieces. He has mastered running away with his pants around his ankles when you attempt to change his diaper.  Sometimes his mind and senses are so overloaded that he quite simply needs to be wrapped up tightly in a hug.

He says, “You’re welcome!” whenever someone on the television says “thank you.”

Scripting (reciting lines from movies, books, songs etc.) was Wilson’s first major vehicle for speaking. He could recite scenes from his favorite cartoon and sing songs before he could say “mama”.

Eventually, Wilson learned to use some of those phrases to communicate in his day-to-day life. When he wants you to read him a story, he’ll hand you a book and say “Once upon a time…” Every time he finishes in the bathroom he’ll say “Fantastic! All done!” with his arms in the air.

Much of his speech started as echolalia (repeating what he hears, verbatim.) When I would say, “bye, Wilson” he would reply, “bye, Wilson.” Echolalia is a common way for toddlers to learn and practice language, however, children with autism can have echolalia much further into childhood.  There were times it felt as though he would just repeat me forever.

While tucking Wilson into bed one night, I said “I love you” and he replied, “I love you, mommy.” Mommy. He added that all on his own. He wasn’t just repeating me anymore, he was beginning to express his own thoughts and responses.  That one single word fed my soul so much hope that night.  It seems so simple, but for him, it was a remarkable step.  I remember every single moment of that exchange, and it was nothing short of wonderful.