What Summer Taught Me

We’ve basically made it to the other side. For us in Georgia, school starts in less than 2 weeks. So yes, we’ve basically made it…

Not perfectly. Not the way I planned back in early May when I had that vision of myself — the pour-over coffee, the early mornings, the version of summer that exists mostly in Pinterest boards and the imagination of a tired mom in late spring. But we made it. And somewhere between the chaos and the coffee, summer taught me a few things I genuinely didn't see coming.

This is the part of the series where I get a little more real. Thanks for sticking around for it.

Different Isn't a Consolation Prize

If you've been here for a while, you know that our summer doesn't look like everyone else's summer. Parenting neurodiverse kids means that before we say yes to anything, there's a whole conversation happening in the background that most people never see. Can they handle this environment? How many days in a row have we pushed it? What's the recovery cost if we throw in a wild card right now?

This summer, I had to say no, or redirect, or quietly pivot, more times than I can count. An invite we genuinely wanted to accept. A plan that sounded fun on paper but would have derailed the rest of the week for our kids. A moment where I looked at my husband across a hotel lobby and we both already knew the answer without saying a word.

And here's what summer taught me about all of that: saying no to the thing isn't saying no to joy. It's protecting the space where joy actually lives for your family.

We skipped the overstimulating FIFA Fan Experience activity. We watched the World Cup game at home. We had the best dinner that night. Different wasn't the consolation prize. It was the whole point. Different wasn’t the consolation prize - it was the deciding factor in protecting our family’s peace and making more room for joy.

Progress Is Quieter Than I Expected

With one of our kids, there have been moments (sometimes very fleeting, but still there) this summer where my husband and I just looked at each other. Not in the brace yourself way. But in the are you seeing this way.

A situation that would have completely unraveled a year ago…didn't. A conversation that would have been impossible six months ago actually happened. Not perfectly, not without effort, but it happened. And I nearly cried over it in the most ordinary setting imaginable.

Progress with neurodiverse kids doesn't announce itself. It doesn't show up with a before-and-after. It shows up quietly, in a Tuesday moment, and you almost miss it if you're not paying attention.

This summer taught me to pay attention to the Tuesday moments. Those are the ones worth holding onto.

My Kids Taught Me to Slow Down (Again)

I write about this because it keeps being true, and I think it keeps being true because I keep needing the reminder.

My kids notice things I walk right past. They slow down for details that my brain, forever flitting from one project to the next, would never pause for. A bug on the sidewalk. The specific way the light looks at 7pm. The fact that the pool water makes a different sound depending on how you splash it.

Parenting kids whose brains work differently has made me a more present person…not because it's easy, but because it requires it. You cannot be off halfway around the world somewhere in your head and also be the parent your neurodiverse child needs at that moment. They will call you all the way in, every time.

I used to think of that as demanding. This summer I started thinking of it as a gift I absolutely didn't ask for but really needed. I found myself practicing being present more at work, in talking with friends, and it just slowed everything down when our world was turning upside down moving halfway across the country.

The Tribe Is Everything

I've said this before and I'll keep saying it because it keeps being true: find your people and hold onto them hard.

The ones who text and say we want the kids for a few hours, what works for you. The ones who show up with pizza on the hardest nights and don't need you to explain anything. The ones who invite themselves along to things because they know you'd never ask, and they come purely to be two extra pairs of hands.

This summer has been different because we’ve moved states and are still building our tribe in our new home. So while we’re in a season of rebuilding our tribe, what I have seen is my kids be brave. They’ve been adventurous as they work to make new friends in new environments. Any parent of neurodiverse kids knows how challenging this is and at times, my heart has wanted to break at all we have left behind in this move. AND I know that we’ll find our people. It just takes time. If you're in a season where you don't have that yet: keep going. Keep building it. It takes time and it is so, so worth it. That’s the hope I’m holding on to, anyway.

Water & Sunshine Solves Everything.

Not every lesson is a deep one. Some of them are just true.

There is something about water, sunshine, and a popsicle that resets the entire day. I cannot explain the science. I just know that when things have gone sideways and everyone is fried and the house feels like it's vibrating with tension on a random Wednesday when I walk in from work, if I can get us outside and into the water, something shifts.

The Costco blow-up pool in the backyard has saved us more times than I can count (once I found it in the maze of boxes!). No schedule. No stimulation management. No prep work required. Just kids being kids for a little while, and a mom sitting nearby with an iced coffee, watching it all and feeling genuinely, quietly grateful.

What I'm Taking Into Fall

I'm taking the Tuesday moments. The quiet pride in progress that doesn't look like anyone else's progress. The reminder that different is just different. Not less, not a consolation prize, not something to apologize for.

And I'm taking the lesson that keeps finding me every summer no matter how much I resist it: slow down. Be here. The coffee gets cold when you're not paying attention, and so does everything else worth savoring.

This summer was chaotic. It was hard in a lot of ways I didn't always blog about. It was also full of moments I didn't plan for and that turned out to be the whole point.

That's the thing summer taught me that I didn't expect: the unplanned parts were the best parts.

They always are, I’m learning.

Love you, mean it, friends.

We’re coming up fast on Back to School and I’m working on a FREE tool to help parents navigate advocating for your kiddos! Stay tuned…