A&Me

NEW VIDEO: How I got my son to talk.

View it here:

https://youtu.be/aeQ2uXdad7c?si=EIGc8...

2 months ago | [YT] | 2

A&Me

NEW VIDEO: Autism Toys

https://youtu.be/iLgXRxJHcT4?si=lEEiS...

3 months ago | [YT] | 3

A&Me

NEW VIDEO: Autism: Traffic Light Strategy for Communication

Looking for a simple and effective way to avoid meltdowns? In my latest video, I share how I used the Traffic Light Strategy to help my son manage transitions and reduce stress. Using just three cardboard circles—green for "keep going," amber for "last go," and red for "all finished"—this visual tool made a huge difference in our daily routine.

Discover how this strategy helped us leave the house calmly and improved our communication around activities. It's an easy DIY visual support that can be a game-changer for autistic children or those who struggle with sudden changes.

✅ Great for autism, ADHD, and sensory-sensitive kids
✅ Helps with transitions and routine changes
✅ Quick and easy to make at home

💬 Let me know in the comments if you've tried something similar or if you'd like more parenting strategies like this!

Video link below

https://youtu.be/7DwIofcPISs?si=hyFP_...

#autism #meltdowns #communication

4 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 2

A&Me

I googled for hours. I watched videos. I read blogs. I saw other children my son's age doing things he couldn't. I felt left behind.

When your child cannot understand language. When he cannot sit for more than two seconds. When you have no way of engaging with him, then no matter how many books you read or strategies you see demonstrated, nothing will work.

That's what it felt like when my son was three. There was no guidance for my child. It was like he was in a bubble that I couldn't burst.

Even professionals gave up on him. I would walk into clinical rooms and they would meet me with enthusiasm and their guidebook of methods. But I saw their faces as they realised that my son was not the "normal autistic" child that they had the answers for. They made excuses like "he is not ready" or "keep trying this at home" or "well that's us done for today" and then we would be left with no where to go.

I talk a lot at the moment about the breakthroughs we have had now that Rhys is eleven. None of that has come naturally. It didn't just happen. It has been hard work, never giving up, and not accepting the requests to wait.

Every achievement we are celebrating today has been seven years in the making. For some reason it is all just coming together and showing itself at the same time.

I have never given up. The bubble my son lived inside was thick and hard to penetrate. I was absorbed into his world, not by pushing my expectations on him, but by doing the things he loved.

I sat next to him and spun the wheels of a car for hours. I lay on supermarket floors and watched the florescent lights flicker. I went to gymnastics sessions and sat next to him watching the second hand of a cheap white clock tick against a plain white wall. I pushed him on the park swing for hours. I tapped empty tin boxes. I threw him up in the air until one day he walked up to me and held his arms up for more.

I was the crazy lady in Morrisons. I was the mum who never socialised with others. I hogged the swing turning a blind eye to the queue of kids waiting. I carried things that made cool noises when tapped and I threw my son in the air and somersaulted him onto my shoulders while other parents gasped.

It built a bond and a level of trust between me and my son. Over time he would sign for more. The first method of communication. A tap on his chest.

I may have been the crazy lady who never socialised with others, but that moment my son "spoke" to me by tapping for more, was a moment I would never forget.

None of this was in the instruction manual. It was the time before we could even think of introducing schedules and routines or choice boards. We had to burst the bubble just a little bit first.

So I encourage you to become the parent people laugh at. Be the grown up lying on the supermarket floor. Hog the swing and be crazy. If you need a cheerleader I will be there for you! Our achievements have not come from waiting, they have come from those very early days.

It is hard. It is tough. But it is worth it. You can be the person your child needs. Never give up.

#autism

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

A&Me

New short uploaded. View here.
youtube.com/shorts/VqfN1xO-kZ...

Teaching my son to read needed years of work to make it happen.

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

A&Me

How would you feel if your son went into school in a crisp, white school t-shirt, and came home with a bold smear of red paint across the front?

I’ll tell you how I felt.

I was proud beyond words.

It was Rhys’ very first day of high school.
A new driver. A new route. A new teacher. A new classroom.
So many unknowns. So many places the day could have cracked apart, no matter how carefully we had stitched it together in advance.

And then ... this mark!
A splash of red against the white.

To another parent, it might look like a ruined t-shirt. To me, it looked like a flag of victory. A silent message my son couldn’t wrap in sentences, but one he could bring home on cotton.

That stain whispered, " I joined in"
It shouted, "I painted. I created. I belonged"

The canvas of his shirt had become a story of courage. A reminder that even when everything around him was new and overwhelming, he stepped into the colours of his day and made his mark.

So yes, the t-shirt was stained. But my heart was painted too. Splashed with relief, joy, and the deep, glowing pride of watching my son take his first brushstrokes in this new chapter of life.

Sometimes the messages that come home from school aren’t written in ink or typed on a report. Sometimes they arrive loud, messy, beautiful. Today, that message was the most perfect one I could have hoped for. ❤️

#autism #firstday

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

A&Me

Tomorrow, Rhys steps into a new chapter: high school!

When people ask if I’ll be taking him in for his first day, my answer is "no". Not because I don’t want to be there, I would love nothing more than to hold his hand as he crosses that threshold, to see his face as he walks into the unknown. But for my blonde haired boy who finds new things scary, routine is the anchor that keeps him steady.

For the past six years he has always gone to school by taxi, and keeping that rhythm matters. Even then, the waters are already choppy enough, with a new driver, a new route, a new destination at the end of the journey. For him, these shifts feel like tectonic plates moving—huge, unsettling, and impossible to ignore. Adding anything extra could tip the balance.

So tomorrow morning, while other parents might be capturing proud photos or waving at the gates, I’ll be at home. I’ll sit with an uneasy tummy, my heart clenched like a fist, my fingers crossed tightly. I’ll picture him on that taxi seat, carrying more courage than most people will ever know.

Our lives don’t follow the glossy scrapbook version of “first day at school.” There won’t be a perfectly posed photograph at our front door. Instead, we build our moments quietly, carefully, like laying stepping stones across a river. They may look plain, but each one matters, each one keeps him moving forward.

Tomorrow, Rhys begins high school not with fanfare, but with bravery disguised as ordinary. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Good luck to everyone returning to school this week ❤️

#autism #school

4 months ago | [YT] | 3

A&Me

It looked like a piece of popcorn.

I picked it up absentmindedly and put down my book. But the moment the sharp little edges pressed against my skin, I knew exactly what it was. A tooth.

I sat there for a second, slightly stunned. Whose tooth? When had this even happened? And why, of all places, was it under my husband's pillow?

Crawling reluctantly out from the warmth of my bed, I padded next door to Rhys’s room. He was tucked up under his duvet, wide awake as always.
“Rhys, did your tooth come out?” I asked, holding the tiny molar carefully in my hand.

“No!” he shouted, before throwing back the covers and springing to his feet. His eyes darted straight to the tooth and, with a cheeky grin, he grabbed it from me.
“Daddy’s pillow,” he declared with great certainty, before marching off down the hallway.

I followed, curious. With careful precision, he placed the tooth back under his dad’s pillow, replaced the dark grey pillow on top, and tapped it twice with his hand as though sealing the deal.

“Toothfairy,” he announced with satisfaction, before heading straight back to his own room, leaving me half bemused, half impressed.

And that was that. No explanation. No big fuss. Just Rhys’s very own logic at work.

I stood there, smiling to myself. Because of course this is how it would happen. Not the way I expected, not the way other children might do it, but in Rhys’s unique and wonderful way. He hadn’t told a soul about his tooth coming out. He’d worked it out all by himself — the hiding spot, the process, the ritual.

But honestly? Gosh, this tooth fairy business is tough. How on earth was she supposed to know to check Daddy’s pillow? She’s going to need eyes in the back of her head — and maybe a crystal ball — to keep up with Rhys.

One thing’s for sure though… he’s definitely giving her a run for her money. Quite literally.

#autism #toothfairy

4 months ago | [YT] | 3

A&Me

Five years ago, I closed the door on a black cab with my five-year-old son inside. He was strapped into the back with two complete strangers, and I was expected to just wave him off.

My gut was in my throat. My heart hammered alongside it. And as the car pulled away, I cried. Not just a tear rolling down my cheek, I cried the way only a parent does when every instinct is screaming "don’t let them go".

He was only five years old. Just a little boy.

Next week, at eleven, I’ll be doing the very same thing all over again. A new driver. A new route. A brief two-minute introduction, and I’m supposed to trust this man with something more precious than anything else I own.

It sounds dramatic. But it isn’t. It’s the truth.

Yes, the driver has been vetted. Yes, he spoke to my son first before even looking at me—which I noticed and appreciated. But none of that makes shutting that car door any easier the first time. Or the second.

From the very start of school, my son has travelled this way, a taxi to the classroom door and taxi back home. For five years we had the same driver, who greeted him every morning with a high five and never once failed to make him feel safe.

That driver carried home artwork, PE kits, school reports—and once, a pair of shoes my son had quietly slipped off for comfort on the journey. He became part of our team.

That first day, though, I was a wreck. I sat by the window until I saw the cab pull back up outside, and only when my son jumped out (smiling wide, full of excitement) did I finally breathe again.

Because not many five-year-olds travel to school with strangers. Not many parents are asked to send them off that way. And when your child finds new things terrifying, and doesn’t always understand what’s happening, the anxiety doubles.

But that driver became someone we relied on. He gave my son independence I couldn’t have taught him alone. He helped take the stress out of mornings. And he taught lessons that went beyond any classroom walls - resilience, trust, and a different kind of confidence.

His driver once said to me, "I feel honoured to drive your son, he is better behaved than the majority of adults that request a ride!"

Now we face a new chapter. High school. A new driver. A new routine. A similar black car, but a different road ahead.

My heart will race again. My stomach will twist and turn. I’ll probably cry.

But we’ve done it before. And we can do it again.

#autism #taxi #AutismTravel

4 months ago | [YT] | 2

A&Me

£50 on polo shirts… was it worth it?

I’ve just spent £50 on school polo shirts and I can’t help but wonder if I’d have been better off handing it to the local charity down the road!

Rhys hasn’t worn school uniform since his second day in primary. Very quickly, we realised it was better to actually send him to school clothed than to have him half-naked the moment we handed him over to the education authorities.

Back then we had bigger challenges, and thankfully his specialist unit teachers agreed, education first, strict uniform rules second!

So, for the uniform company, our investment was put on hold… for six years! The battle over clothes just never reached the top of our priority list.

But now here we are. A brand-new adventure as Rhys goes to high school, and I thought maybe we’d give uniform another go?

There are questions you ask schools that never show up in Ofsted reports. The questions we asked them at the end of last term at our welcome meeting:
“Is it ok that he only drinks squash, not water?”
“Can we work together on independence?”
“What’s the uniform policy?”

The answers: yes, yes, and yes.

So uniform isn’t a stressful concern. If Rhys doesn’t like it, we’ll go straight back to his comfy t-shirts. But I wanted to try.

The best part? The school’s flexibility.

“He can wear a blazer, tie and shirt if he wants.”

“Or just the polo shirt, with whatever he’s comfortable in.”

And the one that confirmed we’d chosen the right setting, “If that’s still too much, he can wear his normal clothes. What matters is him being in school, not what he wears.”

Still, I wanted to give it a shot.

So, as I stood with a bag of five sparkling white polos, proudly embroidered with the school logo, I couldn’t help but wonder… was this £50 well spent? Or should I have just popped into Aldi and stocked up on enough wine for a very good night in? 🍷

Only time will tell. Fingers crossed for next week 🤞

What's your school's uniform policy?

#autism #schooluniform

4 months ago | [YT] | 1