Parenting is a slog, but most people I’ve spoken to about it will have a little moan, then admit in the same breath that they wouldn’t change a thing. This is exactly how I feel. Regardless of how many lessons we learn, prices we pay and sentimental heirlooms we lose, we wouldn’t change a thing about our daughter. However, to be clear, that doesn’t mean we find it so simple.
Ignoring the ASD diagnosis our daughter has attached to her, trying to keep a 6 year old happy and healthy when you’re not doing a very good job on yourself, feels like constant hypocrisy.
I’d spent the best part of 30 years believing I had no interest in having kids, but when I met my partner those closed-off thoughts started to slowly open for the first time. The problem was we hadn’t realised we were still kids ourselves. Earning little money and living in the south east meant we had little of anything to go round in the years before we had a kid. Despite being skint enough to consider beans on toast as a healthy way of living for 5 nights in a row, we thought we were smart enough to handle anything a kid could throw at us.
Why are first time parents so cocky? No one really warns you. Of course there a few obligatory comments about lost sleep and night feeds, even the odd volcanic shit insight, but after every negative those seasoned parents only offered warm thoughts about the experience. We heard a lot about the richness of life with a child included, the fulfilment of watching them grow into their own personality traits, the completion of a family and the memories you’ll create as a unit. They made it sound heavenly.
I’m not here to burst any bubbles. The completion, fulfilment and loving memories are very real and truly life-affirming, but the spaces between those moments aren’t always the same. Although it’s probably a 50/50 split, the bad bits always seem to stick easier than the pleasant bits, and life with a kid on the spectrum can be extra volatile in ways you can’t really prepare for. Pepper on top of all this my mental instability and things become even more tricky when we least expect them to.
Why does my mental illness matter? Well, just like 70 million global OCD patients, I like things to be clean and tidy. Six year olds don’t care about clean and tidy, six year olds care about chocolate spread sandwiches, going to the petting zoo and how they can get the latest ridiculously expensive toy, and they’ll do whatever it takes to achieve these things.
But by comparison, buying more toys destined for landfill is literally child’s play. Controlling how much is in our home, and chopping off the excess plastic, is much harder.
ASD is a spectrum for a reason. Every experience with it seems to vary wildly, and as parents it’s a long and winding road of discovery, especially when it finally sinks in that this isn’t something you can, or even need, to fix. I’ve found life has become a learning experience of preparation and workarounds for us, I guess everyone’s workarounds are just a bit different.
So what do we do when my tidiness and a juvenile lack of interest in cleaning collide?
First we make it fun and use it as an opportunity for a reward. Not more landfill-destined crap, more like an afternoon with a Disney film and popcorn or a crafting session to make bookmarks for friends. Simple stuff.
Second, we chart the chores that need to be done and remind her at the right moment. Afternoons are hard for her because she’s had so much to process at school, so looking for better moments is a positive workaround. Her dad will call out that dinners nearly ready, then immediately remind her to put her books away before she sits down.
Third we use praise, because knowing you’ve done a great job and it’s been noticed is very powerful and heavily underused.
Finally, and this one is only for me (the one making the rules) – I have to let some of it go. It’s incredibly hard to do, but her room (and the rest of the house) have been untidy because she’s been having fun. If I associate that fun with something negative then eventually she’ll stop enjoying her pastimes. Doesn’t seem very fair.
So while I know that ASD does complicate life, having a mental illness does too. She’s not to blame for that, and I’m not either.
In the last year or so I’ve relaxed what I deem to be tidy enough for visitors, and allow books and dress up items to stay where they are for now. Kids need boundaries, but they need fun now more than ever. Staying indoors to protect from pandemics, stranger danger and the sun already makes life at home undesirable (or BORING, as my kid would tell you). If there are things I can do to reduce her displeasure, I’ll feel more fulfilled than I ever will with a country-living-ready home.
All is good until I stand on some Lego!
Thanks for reading 💜
Creative Steph 