Parenting - Part 8

5 Benefits of a Kindness ‘Elf on the Shelf’ for a Child With Autism

December 13, 2016/by Miriam Gwynne

The latest Christmas tradition has seen elves taking over houses throughout the country. The story goes that Santa leaves one of his elves with a family to watch over the children and make sure they are behaving, with the theory that naughty children will get nothing for Christmas. The twist seems to be that the Elf himself gets up to mischief every night while the children sleep, much to the amusement of the children in the morning.

Unfortunately, there was no way my autistic children would cope with this. For one, my daughter would be traumatised by the thought of anyone watching her. Second, her non-verbal brother with severe autism is too often seen as “naughty” by others, and there was no way I wanted her thinking he would be getting nothing for Christmas. Lastly, neither of my children need any extra ideas for silly things to get up to, as they are never short of ideas themselves.

BUT my autistic daughter was so desperate to be part of this craze! I hated that she felt left out, as she experiences this exclusion often enough as it is. Therefore, I decided to use the latest trend to help her instead.

We had a visit this December from a loving and giving Elf who gives my daughter acts of kindness to do every day. She is loving it, her friends are loving it, and it has helped her so much. Here are five ways our kindness Elf on the Shelf has helped her so far:

1. Elf taught her a simple way to make a new friend.

The very first task Elf gave Naomi was to share a snack at school with someone. My daughter has huge anxiety and is selectively mute, but giving a little bar of chocolate to someone enabled her to be silently social. This helped her realise that reaching out in friendship to someone else is not as scary as she imagined it to be.

2. Elf helped her understand what other people may wish for.

My daughter, like many children (and adults) with autism, struggles to imagine what other people are thinking and what other people may enjoy. One day, our kindness Elf gifted her a small sum of money and said she could be a Secret Santa to seven people. I took her to a pound shop (same as a dollar store in the States) to buy seven items. Out of all the things the shop sold, she was most excited to find toilet cleaner! I helped explain why, although a practical item to purchase, this may not be quite what any of her chosen people would like to unwrap on Christmas morning. We had an ideal opportunity to think about what other people like, which helped her to gradually realise that we all think differently.

3. Elf got her out in the community more.

One day, Elf suggested we take food to our local food bank. This enthralled my daughter, who found it difficult to imagine someone not having food in their cupboard. As a result, she became much more socially aware. She struggles to leave the house for any activities or clubs, so Elf has helped her overcome this by giving her simple and achievable tasks to get her out in the community more. This will benefit more than just us.

4. Elf boosted her self-esteem.

One morning, Naomi woke up to find that Elf had covered a photo of her in Post-It notes! Each note was a word of affirmation and kindness about her because Elf wanted her to share words of kindness with others. She took all those notes and sat them right by her bed. I know she reads them before falling asleep. If they make a difference to her self-esteem, then I don’t care if she thinks the words came from a stuffed elf. There are days when we could all benefit from more kind words directed at us.

5. Elf helped her feel included.

Every morning at school this month, at least one child has come up to Naomi and asked her what her elf has done that day. Although she struggles to tell them, she smiles because somebody has come up and spoken to her rather than simply ignoring her. For once, she is not the “different” child, but rather “one of them,” and this is worth every effort it has taken for me to think of things for her elf to do and say.

I haven’t finished with Elf yet. I have plans for him to bring some autism awareness somehow, and more ideas that could help my daughter during a month she usually finds very stressful. Her Elf on the Shelf is bringing consistency in a month of chaos, fun in a month of stress, and love in a month so typically consumed by consumerism.

When I started the year, one of my resolutions was to help my child any way that I could. I never thought for a moment that goal would involve a cuddly elf, but it’s working out just fine.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles: Tips & Tricks for Holiday Travel

December 13, 2016/by K.M. Hodge

Tonight, as I sit here writing a plethora of lists for our family holiday travel, I posted a poll to a parenting support group on Facebook asking for tips and tricks for surviving holiday travel with special needs kids. And boy, did they ever come through.

Even with planning, travel is stressful for everyone. When you add a special needs child who is out of their element, things can get hectic really quickly. If thinking about travel sends you to the corner in the fetal position, then check out these lists. While all kids are different and need different things, there might be something golden in here for you. Safe and happy holidays to you, road-wary (and potentially road-weary) travelers!

Pre-Travel Tips:

Some kids don’t need to be prepped beforehand, while some need a step-by-step itinerary to help them prepare for an impending trip. How best to do this is really up to you. Does your child prefer a pictorial itinerary, countdown calendar, or packing list? If you’re flying for the first time, it can be super helpful to give a detailed description of what to expect on the day and maybe even act out the adventure from the ticket counter to the landing.

Traveling by Plane:

Act out the day to normalize it for your kid.
Tell the desk agent at the gate that you need to pre-board due to special needs. This will help you board the plane first.
Use a car seat if you can, as it can offer a bit of comfort and familiarity.
If you use the car seat, ask for a seat with extra space so there is enough leg room.
If you are screen-time-friendly, be sure to bring your child’s favorite device, extra chargers, batteries, power packs and noise-canceling headphones.
If your kid gets motion sickness, pack a plastic bag, wet wipes, paper towels Dramamine, and motion sickness patches or bracelets. Don’t forget a change of clothes for you and your child.
Snacks can be your friend.
Bring something to suck on or chew, like gum, to help with ears popping. Suckers are also a great way to keep hands and mouth busy.

Traveling by Train:

Budget for a little exploring time. Take your kid for a tour around the station and check out the train. If your kiddo is a train enthusiast, this could be a lot of fun.
Practice the sandwich game with your kids: If you’re traveling with another adult, have the kid(s) between you and them, and have the kids come up with fun sandwich fillings that they can pretend to be.
If you are screen-time-friendly, be sure to bring your child’s favorite device, extra chargers, batteries, power packs, and noise-canceling headphones. The headphones are great to reduce stimulation, as well as to be courteous to other travelers.
Board games, puzzles, and paper and pencil games are also good ideas if your child enjoys them.
Pack snacks and meals, especially if your kid has special dietary concerns.
If your kid gets motion sickness, pack a plastic bag, wet wipes, paper towels, Dramamine, motion sickness patches or bracelets.
If you’re traveling overnight, consider getting a sleeping compartment.
Use a map and itinerary to countdown the station stops.
Not all trains have changing tables available—especially ones for shorter trips—so bring your own changing pad and supplies. Don’t forget a change of clothes.

Traveling by Automobile:

Schedule bathroom, snack and meal breaks. Know your route and where all of the rest stops are ahead of time.
Use social stories beforehand to prepare your child for the trip.
Leave for the trip very early or drive overnight if your kid will sleep in the car.
If you are screen-time-friendly, be sure to bring your child’s favorite device, extra chargers, batteries, power packs, and noise-canceling headphones. Load up your tablets with favorite and new-to-them games and videos. If your kid loves YouTube train videos or car washes, make sure you have enough to last double the length of the trip.
Bring a camera along for your child to take their own pictures and videos.
Games and books and music are all very helpful:
1. License plate game
2. Car Bingo
3. Mad libs
4. Trivia cards
5. Joke books
6. Audio books
7. Favorite songs
If your kid gets motion sickness, pack a plastic bag, wet wipes, paper towels, Dramamine, motion sickness patches or bracelets. Don’t forget a change of clothes for you and your child.
Bring a portable potty, toilet paper and plastic waste bags.
Bring bag of “new to them” toys and activities. Our family picks up cheap thrift store toys and games and doles them out a little bit at a time.
Take regularly scheduled breaks. You can use a visual timer to let your child see the progression of time until the next break. During breaks, have your child do big movement exercises and stretches.

Do you have any tips to share?

When Your Child Won’t Eat at Christmas

December 9, 2016/by Miriam Gwynne

I could have stopped this title early and just said, “when your child won’t eat.” That is my life, but somehow at Christmas it just seems so much worse. Ask people what they associate with Christmas Day and, after presents, Santa, and perhaps family, many will answer “Christmas dinner.” Advertisers have a field day this time of year, promoting the ideal family Christmas dinner with turkey, roast potatoes, stuffing, and all sorts of vegetables and trimmings.

My daughter won’t eat any of that. She hardly eats at all.

Every day is a battle for her. Food is like some sort of enemy and, at eight, she is often still spoon fed.

She has no appetite and that does not change just because it is Christmas.

It isn’t even just Christmas dinner that food companies try and entice us with at this time of year. There is a huge market for selection boxes, boxes of chocolates, biscuits, Christmas cakes and puddings, festive drinks and even edible tree decorations. Food seems to be such an integral part of how we celebrate.

Yet none of it appeals to my child.

Selection boxes would sit untouched in a cupboard forever. She has an Easter egg unopened in the cupboard from April that I will have to throw out at some point. She isn’t ungrateful… she just can’t bring herself to eat any of it.

It is heartbreaking to watch her when we all sit down to Christmas dinner. She wants to sit with us, she wants a plate of food; yet somehow the actual putting it in her mouth is so difficult. The more we focus on it, the worse her anxiety becomes. Now and again, a little amount may pass her lips and I want to dance and cry at the achievement, but that would make things worse.

I have to stay calm. When your child won’t eat, shouting at them won’t make it better.

I could try forcing her. That would make it worse too.

I have tried begging her. That doesn’t work either.

How do you explain to people that your child won’t eat? It isn’t even just at Christmas, either. It is every single day.

We are working through this together and we have made it through another year without having to have a feeding tube. This is huge progress for us.

Not eating Christmas dinner is actually not as much of a worry than the not eating all the time. Christmas just seems to make it seem worse somehow.

So, she will be spoon fed a little yoghurt for breakfast, and she may nibble on a little cut-up banana or a chocolate mini roll later in the day if she is relaxed enough. I will spoon feed her tiny amounts of potato during dinner and a little angel delight afterwards. She will drink a little juice if we don’t dwell on it. It will be a struggle, but Christmas is no different to any other day.

My daughter has an eating disorder that will not go away just because it is Christmas.

I dream that one day she may enjoy turkey, potato, vegetables and all the sides. For now though, I continue to hope that we make it to next Christmas without needing that feeding tube. That is my Christmas wish this year and every year.

Freeing My Little Songbird

November 30, 2016/by Melissa Cote

Bright lights, loud tones or noises, sights that are too overwhelming to focus on. The room, and therefore the world, has erupted into frightening chaos. Your mind and your body react with fight or flight, and in most cases both. You want out, you need to get out, your body can’t handle this overstimulation at all.

And like a caged bird that just wants to be set free from the entrapment that you feel, you begin to thrash around in this cage. You fight so very hard to escape so that you can take flight and feel safe and at peace again. Sometimes during your thrashing and flailing around, you get hurt and destroy the inside of the cage. You don’t care—you just want to get out so that you can breathe…. You want to breathe and you want to stop feeling so suffocated and trapped.

How do I know this?

Because, my sweet little bird, I’ve watched you go through this so many times. And I’ve tried so hard to help you and free you from this torment and torture.

My little bird, my daughter Zoey. I watched you have such an experience just recently, and it wasn’t your first and I know it won’t be your last. We did our best to get through it, just like we always do and always will.

This time it was a new appointment and an evaluation with a new therapist. The door closed and the therapist locked the door and it was as if you were locked in a new unfamiliar cage, with new lights, sounds, smells and colors all around.

Fight and flight commenced immediately!

I watched as you thrashed and grabbed anything in your way and tore apart this tiny room. This little flightless bird was destroying this little cage and nothing was safe, and neither were you or anyone else who happened to be in the cage with you.

I needed to help you.

I grabbed you with my arms around yours and I began shouting, lovingly: “Zoey, you’re OK. You’re OK. It’s OK. You’re safe!”

As I held you in my arms, we fell back into two oversized “crash pads” and I could hear and feel both of our heartbeats so loudly. We got to our feet and before I could stop you, you picked up a chair and threw it at your captor.

I sprang into action once more as this bird raged on. This time you were flailing on your back on the floor, and I rushed and hovered over you. I hugged you tight as you were unable to focus and watched as you continued to scream, all while still trying to fly away.

I hugged you with my arms tightly wrapped around your body, and I began to sing.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help…”

You focused and you made direct eye contact with me. You, my little songbird, looked up at me and sang right back at me, “…falling in love with you.”

And then, at that moment, my little bird was set free. You came back to me.

This is what my daughter’s autism is like.

A Cry for Help

November 17, 2016/by Miriam Gwynne

If you were walking home in the dark one night and heard a female screaming for help, would you view those screams as challenging behaviour? What if you were in a hospital and heard a child cry? Would you see that as challenging, or would you be more sympathetic?

We all understand that the lady screaming on a dark night is desperate for help. We all understand that the child crying in the hospital is scared and does not understand what is going on around him.

So why, when my child with learning difficulties and autism screams and cries, does everyone suddenly see it differently?

Professionals have labelled my child as having “challenging behaviour.” He kicks, pulls hair, scratches, bites, screams, cries, throws himself down stairs, throws objects in temper, headbutts the floor, and attacks people. He is now almost my height and a third of my weight. He is only eight!

He can also be loving, gently, funny, happy, warm, lovely and wonderful.

He has autism and a genetic condition.

Like the lady screaming in fright on a dark night, there are times he is scared. Right now he is terrified of open doors. His anxiety soars, causing adrenaline to pump through his little body to the point where he simply has to react. His challenging behaviour is his way of communicating fear and anxiety.

Professionals tell us to restrain him, speak to him calmly and discipline him. Would we do this to the lady screaming on a dark night? Most people would, in fact, rush to help her, yet people seem to rush to get away from my son when he has the same feeling of fear and life getting out of control. Both scream… both are full of fear… Yet, we call one “challenging behaviour” and the other simply a means of communicating for help in a desperate situation. Perhaps we need to realise that both are the same?

Like the little child we hear crying in the hospital ward who is worried, in pain, and not understanding what is going on around him, so too is my son at times when we take him places he isn’t familiar with or where he doesn’t want to be. Why do we have sympathy for a little child in a hospital ward yet look in distain at my son when he cries in the supermarket aisle?

My son has no speech. His behaviour is the only way he has of getting his message across. How can he communicate that he did not want chicken nuggets for his dinner? One way is to throw them at me. Instead of punishing that behaviour or seeing it as challenging, I prefer to see it as communication and frustration at not being able to say what he wanted.

I don’t want to encourage his behavior, but until I can teach him a better way of communicating, I have to understand his method of “speech.”

When he drags me out the door and onto the street, some professionals feel I should ignore him or restrain him. How then would he be able to show me the reason for his fear?

Yes, I would love him to be calmer, happier and less physical at times. I do discipline and teach him as his difficulties allow, but I want society to stop seeing my child as simply having “challenging behaviour” and see him as a child crying for help. Just like a woman on a dark night or a little boy in a hospital ward.

Perhaps the challenge in his behaviour is actually a challenge to society in a way we never thought about before.

The Hidden Epidemic Affecting Autism Parents

November 10, 2016/by Miriam Gwynne

I had a message from a fellow autism parent this week. Two words of that message have impacted me greatly. She wrote:

“I’m struggling.”

It is so common for me to hear this. It is the centre piece of every support group, the most common theme on online autism forums, the single most heard phrase when I meet up with people.

For some of those parents, it is so bad that I encourage them to see a doctor for support.

In my years as an autism parent, I have found there is a secret epidemic affecting so many autism parents and it needs to be talked about: We need to talk about depression.

Depression in the autism mum or dad is so understandable, but too often it goes unnoticed.

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People see a mum crying and think she is having a bad day. What they don’t know about are all the other nights she cried in private and nobody knew.

My eyes are more tuned to see people struggling since I have walked that path. I know what it is like to look at my child and worry for his future. I know what it is like to feel there is no hope. I recognise that feeling of failure when you realise your child is just not developing as they should. I know the pain of taking your child to hospital when they should be outside playing with friends.

It is isolating when your child has autism or special needs, and it is OK to admit that.

Sadly, society expects us to be positive, upbeat and encouraging, and I often see parents who are so emotionally overwhelmed, so sleep deprived, so beaten down by the system, that they have little hope.

When you have a child who struggles in school every day, a child who won’t eat or has no friends, a child who is being bullied for being different, or who cannot play in a park because the equipment is unsuitable for their needs, how would you feel? If your child was denied the support they need, or could not communicate, or was living in pain every day, would you not be heartbroken?

Is it any wonder there is an epidemic of depression among parents of children with autism?

While so many are on medication, and this can be vital, we as a society also need to recognise that autism parenting is exhausting and draining. What about better support and understanding for our children, better care for those in society who are full-time carers, and better training for staff so they can better meet the needs of the most vulnerable?

What about a society that is less prone to judge and quicker to encourage?

The current epidemic of depression among autism parents is very concerning. I am even more worried that continual budget cuts and ignorance in society are breeding not only depression among the parents, but sadly also among the siblings, and even the special needs children themselves. They all struggle with the same issues.

We need to recognise this epidemic and do something about it now.

Don’t ever be afraid to tell someone you are struggling. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help. Together, we can support each other and help make a better future for the parents and our children.

A version of this first appeared on FireFly Friends.

The Many Things I Love About My Child

November 8, 2016/by Jodie Eaton

There are so many things I love about my daughter; her autism doesn’t even come close to defining her:

I love the way she smiles. When she smiles, it’s like the sun shining so bright.

I love the way she concentrates when she’s lining up cards all over my floor. They follow no line, but to her, they’re perfectly straight.

I love the way she gets excited about shaving foam in the bath; the anticipation on her face when I squirt that tin into her little pudgy hand.

I love it when peek-a-boo causes her so much excitement that she squeals with delight.

I love it when my four year-old can make her laugh so hard that her whole body seems relaxed, caught up in that moment of abandonment.

I love it when she just wakes up in the morning and lies there, so still and so silent, wondering what the world will bring for her that day.

I love it when she tells me about the wonderful things she does at school; snippets of information that I have to interpret because she can’t, but just enough information to satisfy me for a week.

I love it when she asks me a question, knowing the answer but asking it anyway just to hear mine, as if to assure herself she’s correct.

I love the way she runs home from the bus, desperate to see her brother and sister.

I love it when she notices something that is so small to any of us, yet completely stands out to her.

I love seeing her engage with people she wouldn’t normally, initiating conversations that I never thought I’d hear.

I love it when she mixes her words and laughs at herself, then repeating the words all jumbled up again and again, laughing each time.

I love it when she enjoys her favorite songs, dancing along with no care in the world, no rhythm just movements, out of tune and no right lyrics, but completely immersed in the sound.

I love it when she shows me something that she’s just achieved, so completely proud of herself.

I love her commitment to life, to succeed; her determination to stay strong.

I love her innocence, the way she makes me promise to leave Santa a note, to explain she wants her stocking left downstairs and not in her room. When she puts her tooth under my pillow instead of hers, as she doesn’t want to be disturbed by the tooth fairy.

I love it when she’s anxiety-free, her mind allowing her that tiny bit of escape to wander free.

I love her hope, and her ability to never give up, her endless tries and her devotion to achieve things she wants to achieve.

I love the way she tried for months to click her fingers, and whistle, and the joy she shared when she achieved both things.

I love my child with Autism.

I love my child.

In Search of Joy (Because Autism Isn’t Always Awesome)

November 1, 2016/by K.M. Hodge

During the month of November, we are reminded about the importance of coming together and celebrating gratitude. In a few weeks, families and friends all over the U.S. will gather around tables full of food and take turns saying what they are thankful for. For families of children with special needs, it can sometimes be difficult to find anything to be grateful about. For me this is especially true. There have been times when I have scoffed (rolled my eyes) at the “Autism Is Awesome” memes on Facebook and grumbled in jealousy over my friends’ neurotypical kids’ achievements. For years I had no joy in my heart and was probably not a joy to be around.

A few years ago, I heard a story on the radio about a woman with cancer. Her doctor gave her the news that she needed to get her affairs in order. Instead of feeling sorry for herself and wallowing in the “why me” self-talk, she prayed that God would allow her to find and share joy with others during her last days on earth. At the time my own situation, while not life-threatening, had me asking quite frequently, “Why me?” This woman’s courage and joy-filled attitude inspired me.

I went out that day and bought flowers for the teachers, support staff, and administration at my child’s school. I brought in a bag of quarters and taped it to the teachers’ soda vending machine, with the request that they “pay it forward.” I participated in and started a few pay-it-forward lines at Starbucks. I thanked the people that were always there for me. It’s hard to be negative and wallow in misery when you are focusing on the good in the world and doing your part to add to the joy. This giving of gratitude and joy turned my life around.

Choosing joy in the face of adversity is never easy, and I am still learning to do it every day. When I first got the idea for this article, I had many reasons to be joyful. Then a setback happened and I found myself starting all over again, searching for small moments of joy. Of hope. You know the kind of days when everything turns upside down and all you want to do is give up? Today, choosing joy is hard, but I still try. So here is my list of joy. Maybe we have some similar ones or maybe it will help you to think of ones for yourself.

I am grateful for:

That first teacher who looked past the diagnosis and saw the sweet, loving boy I saw. You helped me fight for the services and care that we both knew he needed. I never stop being grateful for you and wishing you all the amazing blessings that life can offer you.
The friend who brought me flowers and chocolate and hugged me while I cried in my driveway.
The friend who always helps me put everything into perspective. The one I feel safe to tell everything to; who provides a judgement-free space, filled with love and acceptance.
The women in my life who close ranks around me when everything around me is falling apart. Your support means the world to me—the offers of help, the offers to take me out, and the offers to give me a break. Seriously, I love you all.
The perfectly timed sermon in church that helped me see things from a different perspective.
The acquaintance who pulled me aside and hugged me because she knew something was wrong.
The other mothers and fathers who get it, because they are going through the same stuff. Your words of understanding, and the stories and experiences you share with me, help me feel not so alone.
My readers who send me amazing emails about their experiences with raising special needs children or caretaking for special needs adults. I cherish each one of your emails.
The teacher with a special needs child who supported and loved on my child. You will always have a place in my heart. You were, and continue to be, such a blessing in our lives.
The children who took a chance and made friends with my sweet boy. Thank you for loving him for who he is.

Please share your gratitude below, but more importantly, tell the people around you. I challenge everyone who reads this to spread joy this season by doing acts of kindness for the important people in your life. I promise you: It will change your life.

How I Deal With Halloween

October 25, 2016/by Jodie Eaton

Let’s tackle Halloween in a fun way! I cannot even begin to count how many years Halloween has ended up like a real-life fright night in my house, as I try to get the kids ready for Halloween. I’d rather end up in a pumpkin smoothie than have to go through the rigamarole of taking my kids trick or treating. But it’s not as if we have a choice, is it? So get ready, we must!

First, I need to find THE perfect costumes! But, oh no, wait! It’s the 30th of October… I still have two children’s costumes left to buy and, unless Amazon have hired some extra speedy pigeons to deliver these costumes, it means a late-night trip to one of the local supermarkets. Did I say one? Sorry–I meant ALL FOUR OF THEM because each one only has bits and pieces and that means a mix-and-match costume! Why did I leave it so late?! I told myself every week in October that this was the year I would be organized for Halloween. I would do it: My children would look perfect and feel great, and I would make all of these tasty Halloween treats and be the perfect, cool, organized mummy of the year, with fancy decorations and perfectly carved out pumpkins.

One child is so sensitive to the outfits I buy her that she doesn’t wear them. They are discarded after the first 10 minutes because she absolutely insists that she put it on way before it’s time to go out! I know that once this costume is on, it isn’t going to last half an hour, so I try and plead with her not to put it on yet–at least wait until her makeup is done. But, noooooooo! How dare I suggest something so logical; something that wasn’t her idea. How dare I make her wait before she puts on the outfit that will be discarded by the door on the way out because “It’s too scratchy, mummy” and “It’s making me uncomfortable.” Arghh!

The other child gets so overwhelmed by special occasions that nothing seems to be good enough. His costume isn’t right and he didn’t want THAT one. He wanted one practically identical to it, which was black and not brown! I really can’t win.

We have face masks, but she wants paint too. We have wigs, but he wants his hair sprayed a different color. We do it all. We do it to keep the children happy and to make sure that they experience all that they can from one day of complete and utter madness. Of course, I just want to stay home and answer the door to all the happy children and give them sweets,

It’s time to go out now and start knocking on doors, but the child who is overwhelmed and seemingly ungrateful for everything seems intent on ruining it for everyone. Running off like he just sat on an exploding rocket; knocking on doors before all of the children have reached the same destination. I’m sure he thinks that the first one to knock is going to get all of the sweets. Walking with my family on Halloween night is like experiencing an evening at a Halloween special night designed to frighten the bejesus out of you.

It’s very difficult for my girl, in particular, because she’s dairy-free and it’s very sad to have to take away her chocolates (mwahahaha). But I do replace them with tasty apples, which she loves anyway.

We do Halloween slightly differently in England than in the States: We wait until it’s dark out and go then. I think this is mainly because people are at work; therefore, we leave as late as possible so that people have time to get home. It’s quite unnerving because my children have no sense of danger, and are very, very impulsive. I am on high alert from the moment we leave the house until we get home: running after them and shouting at them to wait, like I’m herding a load of scarily dressed, face-painted elephants hyper from the 500g of sugar they’ve just practically inhaled.

I love seeing my kids all dressed up. I can normally manage to get one picture of them all before they trash their outfits. And, even though it’s a misery trying to organize it all and keep them all as happy as they can be, they enjoy it too. At least I think so. Well, they enjoy the sweets and lovely treats they accumulate over the ten or so houses we visit. I can’t manage much more screaming over who wanted to be the first to knock on the door than that. So we trudge home, to view our goodies and argue over whose is whose and why they’ve ended up in each other’s bag, with cries of “Mummy, I don’t like these lollipops, I want his ones” and “ I only have 200 of these and he has 400. Why can’t I have some of his too?!”

They’re promptly whisked to the bath to wash off their face paint. Even though they didn’t want to sit still for it when we were putting it on, now they’re screaming blue murder as we try to take it off, because they don’t like the face cloth. While all of this is going on, I’m finding a decent enough hiding place for the sweetie overload in the hope that they forget all about them in the morning…

Happy Halloween!

Turning a Simple Shed Into a Sensory Sanctuary

October 17, 2016/by Miriam Gwynne

Most parents buy their children clothes, toys and other essential items, and use their garden space for barbecues, swings and kicking a ball about. However, I am an autism parent and that makes me think quite differently at times. Both of my children have significant sensory needs. My son has other complex medical needs and his twin sister has crippling anxiety. Helping them has become a matter of priority for me.

My non-verbal son really needed a safe place to go to help calm down from all the stress of trying to communicate and coping with his need to control his environment. His sister needed a personal space where she could escape from all of the social pressure she is under every day at school, and where her anxiety could diminish.

We had no spare rooms available in the house and, as the property is rented, building an extension was not a possibility.

So I looked to the garden.

I took the twins to some sensory rooms and watched to see what things they enjoyed best. I had our occupational therapist carry out a sensory assessment on them both and then suggest some equipment that might help them.

We then set about fundraising and contacting some charities to see if anyone could help us.

We asked a local shed-building company to give us a quote. They custom-built a shed to fit neatly behind our garage and erected it all for us. Then, we had a local flooring company come and floor it for us.

We bought a basic blackout blind locally, as well as some cushions and a blanket. The most expensive piece of specialist equipment we ordered was something called a sound wall. This is a wall with coloured handprints that respond to touch with eight programmable levels for different sound effects. My non-verbal son has vision impairment, so the bright colours and instant feedback of sound were perfect for him.

We also ordered a plinth and a bubble tube and colour-changing lights that have a remote control that the children can use. Finally, we added some beanbags, cushions and blankets.

So far we have kept it simple, and it is a magical place indeed.

One simple shed has become a sensory sanctuary for both children, giving them a safe space to be alone, in control and away from the demands placed upon them every day. It is their space and, although they are supervised, it is the one place where they can be who they want to be.

What I never, ever, expected to happen though, was that the shed would connect my children in a such a beautiful way. Away from peer pressure, my daughter has been unafraid to just enjoy her severely autistic brother in the way she should. As he presses hands on his wall, she has sung along with the wall to him, danced with him and found props to help him understand the songs. She tells him the colours he is pressing and changes the sounds for him too. It has been absolutely beautiful to watch.

With no television to distract them, no pressure from anyone and no limits, they have found their own wonderful way to connect. Like the simple beauty of seeing each other through the window!

From start to finish, the sensory room cost less than £3,000 to complete. While it’s a lot of money, the result for me has been truly priceless.