How Do I Human? And Other Questions I Can't Answer

Parenting is full of surprises, not least the realisation that habits you once thought of as quirks—or even flaws—can become essential tools. For me, the urge to endlessly talk through upcoming plans has long been a source of frustration for others. Whether it’s discussing kitchen layouts or dinner menus, the same topics whirl around in my brain, demanding to be voiced again and again. While this has earned me more than a few eye-rolls, it turns out this habit is an invaluable part of how I parent my two autistic boys.

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The Looping Brain: A Blessing in Disguise

As an autistic and ADHD adult, I’ve always found immense satisfaction in planning for exciting events by talking about them constantly. This isn’t just mindless chatter—it’s a way for me to process the details, prepare for uncertainties, and feel more secure about what’s coming. Positive rumination, unlike its negative counterpart, brings a genuine sense of joy and anticipation.

However, my looping thoughts haven’t always been welcome. I’ve been told my repetition makes others feel pressured or overwhelmed, leading me to feel this habit was just an annoying trait I should suppress. It wasn’t until I started applying this natural instinct to help my kids prepare for new experiences that I realised its real value.

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The First Clue: A Meltdown Over Lunch

Before I understood that my kids were autistic, I tried to parent them based on conventional advice. That included downplaying plans to avoid overwhelming them. Other parents suggested toddlers were too young to hold onto details far in advance, and spontaneity was the key to keeping things stress-free.

Then came the preschool lunchbox disaster. At a summer party where lunch was provided, Large Child was devastated to discover his beloved Paw Patrol lunchbox was missing. Despite the food being familiar and appealing, the lack of his usual lunchbox sent him into an epic meltdown. He sobbed for the rest of the event, refusing to eat.

In hindsight, it was obvious: he needed preparation. I’d skipped over the details to avoid overloading him, but this approach had backfired spectacularly.

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The Joy of Overexplaining

After that incident, I started following my instincts, sharing every detail of upcoming events with my kids. I began describing plans for holidays, school plays, and even small changes to their routines as soon as I knew about them.

Far from being overwhelmed, they were fascinated. They had questions, wanted to know more, and even asked to see YouTube videos to dive deeper into the topics we discussed. Talking about these plans became a daily ritual, and the more we repeated the details, the more confident they became about what was to come.

Preparing for New Experiences

When a school disco was on the horizon, we turned our living room into a practice dance floor, complete with flashing lights. For a school nativity, we found the songs on YouTube and sang them every morning. When a lunch event came up, I printed the menu weeks in advance and stuck it to the door so we could chat about the foods we liked the look of.

This approach didn’t just help them cope with changes; it made them excited about what was coming. They began initiating conversations about the events themselves, showing that they felt more secure and engaged.

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The Long Game: Repetition as a Tool for Growth

One of the most transformative examples of this method was preparing Small Child to extend his preschool hours to include lunch. I started mentioning this change months in advance, weaving it into our daily conversations. By the time Christmas rolled around, he was so familiar with the idea that he started asking to stay for lunch himself.

When the transition finally happened, he was ready—not because of a sudden burst of bravery, but because we’d been building towards it for so long. Repetition turned what could have been a daunting change into something he looked forward to.

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Embracing What Works

As neurodivergent parents raising neurodivergent kids, my husband and I have learned to trust our instincts, even when they don’t align with neurotypical parenting norms. Society often pressures us to conform, dismissing traits like repetition or overexplaining as flaws. But in our family, these “flaws” have become superpowers.

Repetition provides my children with the stability and predictability they need to thrive. It turns uncertainty into something manageable, allowing them to process new experiences on their terms. And for me, it’s a reminder that the habits I once viewed as burdensome are, in fact, perfectly suited to our unique family dynamic.

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Lessons for Other Parents

If you’re raising neurodivergent kids—or suspect you might be—you might find that the strategies that work best for your family are the ones that come most naturally to you.

Here are some takeaways from our experience:

1. Follow Your Instincts: If repetition or overexplaining feels right, don’t shy away from it. Trust that you know your child’s needs better than anyone else.
2. Start Early: Begin talking about events or changes as soon as you know about them. Give your child plenty of time to process and ask questions.
3. Get Creative: Use tools like YouTube, role-play, or visual aids to make the preparation process engaging and fun.
4. Celebrate Small Wins: Every time your child handles a new experience with confidence, take a moment to recognise how far you’ve come together.

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Turning “Flaws” Into Strengths

The need to conform often makes us suppress parts of ourselves that don’t fit societal norms. But as I’ve learned, the very traits I once saw as shortcomings can be sources of strength, security, and joy.

Parenting is hard enough without the added pressure of trying to fit a mould. By embracing the natural instincts that come with being neurodivergent, I’ve not only found a way to support my kids—I’ve also discovered a deeper appreciation for who I am.

If you find yourself doubting your parenting style, remember this: your instincts matter. Trust them, celebrate them, and let them guide you. You might just find that your perceived “flaws” are exactly what your family needs to thrive.