Parenting a Neurodiverse Child in Public Spaces

Parenting a neurodiverse child in public spaces isn’t just an outing it’s an act of preparation, intuition, and quiet bravery.

Before we even step out the door, we’re already doing the invisible work:
anticipating sensory triggers, planning exits, packing comfort items, rehearsing the environment in our minds.
Not because we’re anxious but because we’re attuned.

And when the world feels too loud or too bright, our job isn’t to force our children through it.
Our job is to anchor them.
To meet them where they are.
To protect their nervous system with the same tenderness we protect their hearts.

Neurodiverse parenting isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence.
It’s about honoring the way our children experience the world and advocating for a world that honors them back.

If you’re navigating this journey too, you’re not alone.
Your work is seen, even when others don’t understand it.
Your child’s way of being is valid, beautiful, and worthy of space.

And you’re doing better than you think.

Boston Adventure to a Broncos Game

 I am so excited to announce that I have published another eBook. It's a simple children's book but it has so much meaning. Last week my son Boston and our family accomplished something big that once felt impossible: we took a long road trip together and made it all the way to a Denver Broncos game.

For years, we’ve navigated the autism spectrum, worked patiently, consistently, sometimes tearfully on routines, regulation, communication, and trust. Every small step, every quiet victory, every hard moment we pushed through… it all led to this.

Watching Boston walk into that stadium with his buffalo in hand, headphones on, and confident felt like witnessing a new chapter open right in front of me. He handled the drive, the crowds, the noise, the excitement all of it with a strength and joy that left me in awe. This wasn’t just a football game. This was years of growth.

Years of love. I hope that this post and book will offer some hope to parents. I realize that not every child will be as high functioning Boston but wherever you are in the journey, you are doing wonderful. Keep advocating for your child. Keep pushing for them to do their best. You got this! I am happy to announce my book Boston's Adventure to the Bronco's Game. 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FSSKFGRR?&linkCode=sl1&tag=colorfulparen-20&linkId=4208a3c1eefe058be5212b8ba30fc2a2&language=en_US&ref_=as_li_ss_tl&fbclid=IwZnRzaAPPwNlleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZAo2NjI4NTY4Mzc5AAEe5XPLbIze2tuTsT0GpAS-lP4WyzVWIP2qShL7hnFDA4Dl32Nd5z-rsW2GT_o_aem_BYPZZrjnXHZNdlH74qIHxw

 

What Not to Say to Parents of an Autistic Child a Personal Reflection from Boston’s Mom

People often assume that parenting an autistic child is defined by challenges. But the truth is my days with Boston are defined by wonder the way he studies light on the wall, by the softness in his voice when he’s comfortable, by the quiet strength he carries into every room.

What makes the journey heavy isn’t him.
It’s the comments that land in the softest parts of me.

Most people don’t mean harm. They’re trying to connect, or they’re reaching for language they’ve heard before. But certain phrases said casually can feel like someone brushing past a bruise they didn’t know was there.

Here are a few things I wish people understood.

1. “He doesn’t look autistic.”

Boston’s autism isn’t something you can see it’s something you learn by knowing him.
It’s in the way he processes the world, the way he protects his energy, the way he lights up when something finally feels safe.

When someone says this, it feels like they’re erasing the very real work he does every day to navigate a world not built for him.

What I wish they’d say instead:
“I’d love to understand what helps him feel comfortable.”

2. “Are you sure? He seems normal.”

This one stings.
Not because I doubt his diagnosis, but because it suggests that autism is something to hide or question unless it fits a stereotype.

Boston is autistic. He is also joyful, curious, sensitive, and deeply himself. Those truths coexist.

A better approach:
“Thanks for sharing that with me. How can I support him?”

3. “He’ll grow out of it.”

Boston will grow beautifully, uniquely, in his own rhythm.
But autism isn’t something he needs to outgrow. It’s part of who he is, not a phase to be waited out.

A better approach:
“I love seeing who he’s becoming.”

4. “Have you tried…?”

Parents of autistic kids are often handed advice like confetti diets, supplements, miracle cures, discipline strategies, internet theories.
Most of it comes from people who haven’t spent a single day inside our reality.

A better approach:
“If you ever want to talk through ideas, I’m here.”

5. “I could never do what you do.”

I’m not a superhero. I’m a mom.
I love my child. I teach him. I advocate for him. I show up for him.
That’s not extraordinary it’s parenting.

But comments like this create distance, as if our life is something tragic or unimaginable.

A better approach:
“I see how much love you pour into him.”

6. “What caused it?”

This question carries a quiet accusation, even when it’s not intended.
Autism isn’t a fault. It’s not a mistake. It’s not something to trace back to a moment or a misstep.

Boston is exactly who he is meant to be.

A better approach:
“What does he love? I’d like to get to know him.”

7. “He just needs more discipline.”

If only people understood the difference between a meltdown and a tantrum.
Between sensory overload and misbehavior.
Between a child struggling and a child acting out.

Boston isn’t “undisciplined.” He’s navigating a world that often overwhelms him.

A better approach:
“How can I help when things feel hard for him?”

8. “I’m so sorry.”

There is nothing to be sorry for.
Boston is not a tragedy.
He is a gift complex, luminous, and deeply loved.

A better approach:
“He’s wonderful. I’d love to learn more about him.”

What Parents Like Me Do Want to Hear

• “He’s amazing.”
• “I love how unique he is.”
• “You’re doing a beautiful job.”
• “Tell me what helps him feel safe.”
• “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

The Heart of It All

I don’t need people to understand everything about autism.
I just need them to understand him to see Boston as he is, not as a stereotype or a diagnosis.

Parents like me aren’t looking for pity or perfection.
We’re looking for presence.
For people who listen.
For people who try.
For people who see our children’s strengths before their struggles.

Boston deserves that.
Every autistic child does.

Sensory Bubble Lamp

The Power of Words: A Mother's Journey with Affirmations

 

 The Power of Words: A Mother’s Journey with Affirmations

    When my son was little, mornings often began with a quiet storm. The world felt too loud, too bright, too unpredictable. Shoes didn’t fit right, the bus came too soon, and his heart carried the weight of being different.

    One morning, as tears welled in his eyes, I knelt beside him and whispered:
“You are strong. You are safe. You are loved.”

    At first, he looked at me with confusion. Words had always been tricky sometimes slippery, sometimes overwhelming. But I repeated them gently, like a song. Day after day, those words became part of our rhythm.

 How Affirmations Became Anchors

• A Safe Script: For a child with ASD, affirmations offered predictability. He knew what to expect, and that steadiness calmed him.
• A Mirror of Strength: Saying “I can try again” after a meltdown helped him see resilience reflected back at him.
• A Bridge to Connection: Affirmations weren’t just words; they were shared moments. They reminded him and me that we were in this together.

 Small Rituals, Big Impact

    We wrote affirmations on colorful cards and taped them to the fridge. He chose one each morning, sometimes giggling at the silliness of “I am a puzzle master!” Other times, he clutched “I am brave” like a shield before school.

    At bedtime, affirmations became lullabies. “I am safe. I am loved. I am enough.” The words wrapped around him like a blanket, softening the edges of the day.

 What I Learned Along the Way

    Affirmations didn’t erase challenges. They didn’t make the world quieter or easier. But they gave my son tools words he could hold onto when everything else felt uncertain.

And perhaps most importantly, they reminded me as a parent that my voice mattered. That the way I spoke to him could shape the way he spoke to himself.

 A Few Affirmations to Try

• “I am proud of who I am.”
• “I can learn new things every day.”
• “My uniqueness makes me special.”
• “I am loved exactly as I am.”

Affirmations are not magic spells they are seeds. With patience and repetition, they grow into confidence, resilience, and self-love. For children with ASD, they can be the gentle reminder that their voice, their presence, and their uniqueness are gifts to the world.

Positive Affirmation Cards

The Best Christmas Toys for Autistic Kids in 2025: Gifts That Spark Joy and Connection

🎄 The Best Christmas Toys for Autistic Kids in 2025: Gifts That Spark Joy and Connection 🎁

The holidays are a time of wonder—but for autistic children, they can also bring sensory overload and social stress. That’s why choosing the right toy matters. The best gifts aren’t just fun—they’re calming, empowering, and tailored to each child’s unique way of experiencing the world.

Whether you’re shopping for your own child or a beloved little one in your life, here are some of the most thoughtful, expert-approved toys for autistic kids this Christmas. Links are in the descriptions.

• Harkla Sensory Swing
  Best Overall
  This cozy cocoon provides deep pressure and vestibular input, helping kids self-regulate and feel safe. It’s like a hug in motion. https://amzn.to/47PwxRs
•  Fidget Sensory Stones 

Best for Anxiety Relief

These smooth, palm-sized stones are perfect for calming busy hands and minds. Great for stocking stuffers too. https://amzn.to/4oVCbrS

• Leapfrog Learning Friends 100 Words Book
  Best for Non-Verbal Communication
  This interactive book introduces vocabulary with sounds, music, and visuals ideal for language development and joint attention. https://amzn.to/49dL4sn
• Tiny Land Wooden Play Kitchen
  Best for Social Play
  With real lights and sounds, this kitchen invites pretend play and turn-taking skills that support social growth. https://amzn.to/4hTmHSX
•  Rocket Ship Tent
  Best for Sensory Retreats
  A private, imaginative space where kids can decompress and dream. https://amzn.to/4nOAVpF
• Fat Brain Toys Teeter Popper
  Best for Balance and Movement
  This wobbly board encourages gross motor play and sensory exploration plus, it’s just plain fun. https://amzn.to/49ivWtX
• Crazy Aaron’s Hide Inside Thinking Putty
  Best for Focus and Tactile Play
  Stretch it, squish it, search for hidden objects—this putty is a quiet, satisfying way to build focus and fine motor skills. https://amzn.to/49dLgYD

💡 What Makes a Toy “Autism-Friendly”?

According to experts, the best toys for autistic children often include:

• Sensory features like texture, movement, or sound
• Opportunities for solo or parallel play
• Simple, intuitive design with clear cause-and-effect
• Tools for emotional regulation like weighted plush or fidgets
• Support for communication and life skills

Every child is different, so the best toy is the one that meets their needs, sparks their joy, and honors their way of being in the world.

🎁 This Christmas, let’s give gifts that don’t just entertain but empower. Because every child deserves to feel seen, soothed, and celebrated.

 

“You Don’t Know My Story But I Do”

 

  Five years ago, I stood in front of my son, begging him to say the word “mom.” He just stared at me—blankly, silently—as if he no longer knew who I was. Just weeks earlier, Boston had been babbling like any one-year-old, joyfully saying “mom” with ease. But now, there was nothing. No words. Just that vacant gaze. Do you know what that feels like for a mother?

In that moment, I knew our lives had changed forever. It was one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my motherhood. The guilt consumed me like a tidal wave. Had I done something wrong? Why was this happening? I would give up anything just to hear the word mom again.

For the last five years, I lived the waiting rooms of speech therapy clinics, doctor’s offices, and rehabilitation centers—desperate to help Boston find his voice again. Every waking moment with every ounce of energy I had in me, I was by his side, navigating this unfamiliar world together. I never gave up, pushing to find answers.

I’ve cried oceans of tears trying to make sense of it all—trying to understand why my beautiful boy has autism. And though the grief still lingers, so does the fierce love. Boston may have lost his words, but he never lost his light. 

Every day, we live in a world shaped by autism. Boston is the light of my life, but many days are hard. The uncertainty—never knowing what each moment might bring—can be overwhelming. Still, I will always advocate for Boston with every fiber of my being. I’m not a perfect parent, but my love for him is unconditional. And despite the challenges, he is thriving in a world that doesn’t always see him.

The other day, someone I once considered family called me a terrible parent—and, in not so many words, a horrible human being. They were judging me for an incident at a family gathering where Boston became overstimulated and had a major meltdown.

At first, I was stunned. Do they not understand what I’ve been through over the past five years? The countless hours spent researching, agonizing, and working to help my son. The relentless effort to support Boston in becoming as independent as possible. And then came the heartbreak—the deep, aching sadness that follows when someone calls you a bad mom. It took me right back to that day when Boston stopped saying “mom.” The guilt and shame returned with a vengeance.

Why would another parent tear someone down—especially when they know nothing of the journey? It’s been three days since that moment, and I’m still trying to make sense of the cruelty. Maybe I never will. But I’ve come to this conclusion: nobody truly knows what you’re going through but you. It’s easy to judge from the outside, but only you know your heart, your intent, and the depth of your love.

I know Boston better than anyone. I’ve been by his side every single day for five years. Our bond is unbreakable—and no one will ever tear that apart.

To the parents who’ve been judged, misunderstood, or hurt by cruel comments—I see you. You’re not alone. There are so many of us walking this path. Don’t let the haters dim your light. Keep advocating. Keep loving. Keep showing up.

Parenting in Full Color

🌱 Parenting in Full Color: Embracing the Sensory World of a Child on the Spectrum

Some days, parenting feels like stepping into a kaleidoscope. The world is brighter, louder, sharper, and softer all at once. My child doesn’t just see the sunlight through the trees—he feels it, tracing the shifting patterns with wide-eyed wonder. A plush bison isn’t just a toy; it’s a grounding anchor, a safe place to return to when the world spins too fast. Parenting a child on the spectrum means learning to live in this full-color world, where every detail matters and every sense tells a story.

🌟 Understanding the Sensory Lens

Children on the spectrum often experience the world differently—not wrong, not broken, just different. A buzzing light might feel like a roar. A scratchy tag might feel unbearable. But a single note of music, a ripple in water, or the texture of soft grass can bring joy so pure it stops you in your tracks.

As parents, our role isn’t to dim that sensory world but to understand it. To notice what overwhelms and what delights. To honor the way our children, experience life, even when it doesn’t match our own.

🛋️ Creating Spaces of Comfort

One of the most powerful tools we have is shaping the environment.

• Quiet corners with soft textures and familiar objects can become safe havens.
• Predictable routines help reduce anxiety and give children a sense of control.
• Sensory kits—with headphones, fidgets, or weighted blankets—can transform overwhelming moments into manageable ones.

These aren’t just strategies; they’re acts of love. They say, I see you. I hear you. I want you to feel safe in your own skin.

💡 Reframing Perspective

Parenting a child on the spectrum has taught me to slow down. To notice the way wind moves through leaves, the rhythm of footsteps on gravel, the sparkle in my child’s eyes when he finds something fascinating. What once felt like a challenge now feels like an invitation—to see the world differently, to celebrate the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Neurodiversity isn’t something to “fix.” It’s something to embrace. Our children remind us that there are infinite ways to be human, infinite ways to find joy, infinite ways to belong.

🌈 Closing Reflection

Parenting in full color means walking beside your child as they navigate a world that doesn’t always understand them. It means advocating fiercely, loving deeply, and learning constantly. But it also means being gifted with a new way of seeing—one that is richer, more textured, and more alive than you ever imagined.

So, when the world feels too loud, too bright, or too much, I remember: my child is teaching me how to listen, how to notice, how to live in full color. And that is the greatest gift of all.