The School Disco Juggle

“Disco this Friday kids!” I said cheerily from the kitchen.

“Yayyyy”, they both chorused over breakfast, I smiled, but the truth was I was nervous about it. Though I wasn’t going to let that show.

I don’t always know how to tell one story without honouring the other, especially when it comes to my children. I battle with what is OK to share, and what isn’t… but I always land somewhere that asks myself, would he be ok to read this particular piece when he is grown? Is this your story to share? Would this help another parent feel less alone? If the answers are yes, I choose to share the writing in this small corner. These pieces are for me as much as they are for you, so I thank you for reading them, and I thank you for holding space.

The truth is, raising a child who is neurodivergent and who has higher needs can be pretty tough on a child who is neurotypical, one who doesn’t ask for much, and who mostly ‘tows the line’, who helps when they need to, who gets on with it because they can see you’re stressed. Being aware of this when you’re already stretched so thin just layers on the guilt. If I’m honest, I don’t always know how to be there for each of my children in the way they need me in that moment, especially when I’m overwhelmed too and it all feels so urgent. Each series of choices can feel like they’re left to chance, did I take a breath before I reacted that way? Am I giving enough of myself to each of them? Am I being fair?

Am I parenting in the way that I want to parent? Instinctively? Or am I just a product of my own parents and what I became a sponge to and I don’t even know it? Do we all rise the way we were going to despite how we were raised? Was the recipe going to come out the same regardless of the tender moulding hands?

Truthfully, I don’t know, but I do believe it makes a difference, it has to. Even if the journey can feel utterly relentless at times, even if we make mistakes, and maybe I did on Friday night. Maybe I handled it all wrong.