Our Tribe, I’m So Thankful for You

While motherhood has certainly been my greatest adventure, the vulnerability in becoming a mom, and an autism mom, has been a substantial challenge for me. I found myself, for the first time in a long time, in need of help. A lot of it. This has never been something I’ll easily admit, ask for, or receive.

Thankfully, I am surrounded by the most patient, kind and generous humans who constantly offer their support.

Our friends and family and friends who are family, you open your homes to our curious five-year-old to redecorate, climb on furniture, your laps and shoulders and oblige him in his relentless requests to be chased in circles.

You continually say “hi” and attempt to engage with our little man, even when you know he will likely not hear you and walk on by.

Somedays he will hear you, and see you, and you will get to see his sweet face light up like never before. You love our children like your own and you will never know what that truly means to us.

I am so thankful for you.

His teachers, behavior interventionists, doctors, therapists and caregivers, you are patient, loving and recognize the little stuff can be very big stuff for him.

I am so thankful for you.

aba cards

His BCBA, you were the first one to tell me that it was going to be OK and make me believe it. You remain so calm through the storms. You help us set goals and teach our little man how to crush them.

I am so thankful for you.

His little buddies, you have the most innocent, loving hearts. You don’t see “different”, you just see him. You may be few, but you are such an enormous light in his life.

I am so thankful for you.

wilson and buddies

The sisterhood of autism moms and special needs parents, the connection and community I have found in you is invaluable. I know my words don’t resonate with everyone but they might with you. Hearing your stories of struggle and achievements that come in every shape and size has been a constant reminder to always come back to hope.

I am so thankful for you.

All of our friends, family and friends of the family (some of whom I haven’t seen in years), who comment, message, and share our story. You encourage, support and lift us. When you share our story you are spreading autism awareness and acceptance.

I am so thankful for you.

Charlie, aka little sis, you know best how to drive your brother completely bonkers, the exact buttons to push, but you also love, include and protect him. You aren’t afraid to get right up in his face so he sees you, so he hears you, and you would never go to sleep without giving him a hug goodnight.

I am so thankful for you.


Our little one’s Daddy, you are strong when I am weak. You always support new methods, diets, and my harebrained ideas but aren’t afraid to question when something doesn’t feel right.

You keep him happy and safe, which isn’t easy but is our greatest purpose. You know him and you love him so well.

You stand with me, to advocate for him, to fight for understanding, and you remain there through our proudest moments and in our weakest.

I am so thankful for you.

Wilson and dad

My sweet boy. You adore the simple things. You smell, touch, taste and intensely examine. You’ve made me slow down and pay attention, whether I wanted to or not, you need me to. You’ve helped me find patience, and still I pray for more every single night.

You have forced me into a vulnerability like I have never known, and shown me all the amazingness that follows such a leap.

You’ve shown us how hard your world can be. Through frustration, pain, confusion and sleep deprivation you are still so happy in your soul. You’ve shown me this is not only possible, it’s just all a part of this wildly imperfect, beautiful ride.

I am so thankful for you.

Wilson LOVE


Life Changes

wilson lee farm

Have you ever had that feeling, like your world just stopped turning? Like you are standing still, but everyone around you is moving forward? So dramatic, I know, but this isn’t like in the movies when your whole life “flashes before your eyes” or when scenes from your past/present go racing by on a fast train or something.

When my son was almost two years old, the long road to his autism diagnosis began. This was also the point where my world quickly shifted to revolving solely around autism, and eventually felt as though it had stopped turning altogether.

This dramatic shift didn’t happen the first time his delays or concerns about autism were brought to my attention. When his pediatrician told me he had failed the autism screening at 18 months, I was surprised and worried, but hope and denial kept the real gut-wrenching fear at bay for a few more months. Surprisingly, my world was turning right on through the meeting with the psychiatrist where the diagnosis was officially delivered to us. By that point, we had been through months of evaluations, research and waiting and, while it still stung, we expected to hear what the psychologist had concluded.

I was scared, worried and didn’t care about anything else but getting him through this thing. Making sure that he was going to be OK. I felt helpless most of the time, as progress was happening all around us in classmates, our friend’s children, our daughter. But my sweet boy was stuck, and frustrated. Even angry a lot of the time.

wilson kindness T

Friends would ask how I was doing and I would answer with how my son was doing. I would talk about his latest accomplishments, new behaviors or set-backs he was experiencing and then likely launch into the game plan for new therapies or diet changes.

Why would anyone talk about anything other than autism? I know, I was completely obsessed. When your focus is so narrow and on something so vastly complicated and very much out of your control…cue world stops turning.

I had taken on his autism as my own. It was heavy and exhausting and suffocating at times. It’s hard to think back on this time and for who/what I just wasn’t present.

I started receiving invites to workshops like “the Misunderstood Child” and reading articles on “Autism: The Invisible Disability”.   Invisible. This was the part that was so incredibly frustrating. Autism is not invisible. How could something that consumed my every moment be considered invisible?

Here’s how: while out in public, my three-and-a-half-year-old, non-verbal son looked like a big 2-year-old who seriously needed some discipline. The reasons behind his behaviors though, those were certainly invisible to the untrained eye.

tree house

In our house, the walls are adorned with images of children sitting on the potty and poop in the potty in an effort to visually support his potty training challenges. Red STOP signs cover light switches and door knobs. We have locks on our fridges, cupboards, drawers and double locked exterior doors. Because eloping.

Sensory swings, balls and tunnels have taken over the playroom. His cute little bedroom has become increasingly stark over time as things have had to be removed for his safety. A changing table or rocking chair used as a balance beam? No more. Especially after that “Humpty Dumpty Phase” where he liked to “fall” off of anything he could: dressers, countertops, window ledges.

Autism is not invisible.

The scripting, stimming and eloping. The detoxing, night sweats, and waking in the middle of the night to him repeating things like “goldfish gone” with the same intonation and hand motions but with increasing intensity. The pain and frustration, the screaming. I see that so clearly at times I think it could break me.

The anxiety. It’s all impossible to ignore let alone invisible.

Getting past what meets the eye is where the good stuff lives. Like when his whole face and body lights up when he’s happy to see someone, something or somewhere. How sometimes he says goodbye every way he has memorized how: “Bye! Love you! See you later! Have fun! See you real soon!”

animal lineup2

How he doesn’t notice when someone’s angry or irritated. He knows happy and sad and is learning to empathize with those feelings. He tickles my feet all the time, even when I’m clearly not in the mood for it. I laugh, without fail, every single time.

How he calls hearts “surprises” and they are his all-time favorite shape. He got this from a Curious George episode about Valentine’s Day he saw years ago. He is gentle and kind all the way to his core and loves his family so much.

He sings a song to himself about 50x a day to fend off anxiety. When he is calm, this is so rare and oh, so special. When he is at rest. When he can just BE. His body is still; his breathing is steady. There are no lights or sounds chipping away at him.

That’s where we are now. Tucked into his sleep tent at 3am. I’m half-covered with his Thomas the Train blanket and waiting for him to fall back asleep so I can return to my comfortable bed and get some sleep. He has other plans though. He is excited to share this space with me. It’s quiet, peaceful and calm, so I don’t mind. I’m thankful to be let in and find myself thinking about how lucky I am, because it’s so easy to forget when the days seem hard.tent pic editI think he dozed off until he yells, “I want crackers!” Good Lord, this kid could literally start his day right now.

Our world never stopped turning. It changed. We have a new perception of hard work, perseverance and happiness. Autism has changed me. Sometimes I’m sleep-deprived, cold or short-fused, but I’m undeniably braver, stronger and better.

I’m so thankful for this little man. We are helping each other become who we are meant to be.EmmettFamily-9


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!