Tag: family
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Handfuls of Hope
Discovering slow and steady progress amidst the chaotic urgency of parenting The beackseat of my car is a burial ground for broken toys, errant lego bits, crusty hats, food wrappers, mouldy crumbs of long forgotten, half-gnawed muesli bars, the lonely, disembodied lids of drink bottles, paper-dry husks of orange peels, crumpled receipts, and the dumped-out…
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Sure, ND kids need boundaries, but not the way you mean it.
Woe to the next person who tells me my ND kids just need boundaries. A pox on their house! Surely a pox would be more gentle than the serrated edge of my wrath. Being told “Kids need boundaries” gives me the absolute shits. Not just the shits though, perhaps the most violent diarrhea of any…
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Perfectly Good Advice Unless You’re a Neurodivergent Parent
I am desperate to be a good parent to my three neurodivergent kids. I have read so many books, I’ve done the webinars and the workshops, I know all about peaceful parenting, positive parenting, secure attachment parenting, low demand parenting, good enough parenting, meeting the most basic needs is still feels like an uphill battle…
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We need to talk about neurodivergent parents.
I’ve been struggling with parenting my own three ND kids over the school holidays. The sensory overwhelm, the meltdowns, the constant bickering and bargaining. The mess piling up at the confluence of carelessness and boredom, multiplied by every hour they’re inside. It’s hard being a parent when your kids are home all day, every day,…
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Navigating the Waste Land of Generational Trauma
A narrative review of It Didn’t Start with You by Mark Wolynn What are the roots that clutch, what branches growOut of this stony rubbish? Son of man,You cannot say, or guess, for you know onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the…
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The Gift of Words
A poem about healing through sharing grief I will tell you what I fear. What hurts. I will tell you what I value above all. I will tell you my broken edged stories of regret. These words are a gift. I will give them to you so that you know I do not hold them…
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5 reasons why I could never move back to America (and why I still want to)
America is a shitshow. There. I said it. And I get to say it, because I’ll never escape my American roots. I spent the first 26 years of my life in New England, between Connecticut and Maine. But for the last 16 years, I’ve lived first in Canada, and then Australia, which I consider my…