Twins, tides and autism vibes

Twins, tides and autism vibes Mum navigating life with twin daughters and two autistic sons. Co parenting done right!
(4)

07/08/2026

If you’re new here, welcome. ❤️

One thing I can promise is there’s going to be a whole lot of everything.

Parenting. SEN. Twins. Co-parenting. Work. Relationships. Life with Carl. The good days, the s**t days and everything in between.

I don’t really have a niche because, quite honestly, neither does my life. 😂

If you’re navigating parenting, work, relationships, SEND life, or just trying to keep your head above water while wondering what the actual f£&k you’re doing…

I’ve probably been there. Or I’m currently there. 😂

This page is just real life. My life. And if you relate to any of it. Then job done.

It’s finding the funny in the chaos, talking about the hard stuff, celebrating the tiny things that probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else and occasionally having a full blown meltdown before carrying on anyway.

So if you’re looking for polished perfection, you’re probably in the wrong place.

But if you want somewhere that finds the life in the chaos, keeps it real and reminds you that your life doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s to be bloody brilliant…

You’re in the right place. ❤️

Forget chic. It’s iconic Kinda iconic when strangers have a full blown conversation with my non-speaking sons……and get c...
04/08/2026

Forget chic. It’s iconic

Kinda iconic when strangers have a full blown conversation with my non-speaking sons…

…and get completely pied. 🥧

The silence is loud.
The confusion is louder.

What’s your iconic????

Imagine someone telling you that you’ve got it all wrong.That if only you’d tried this therapy, that programme, that met...
03/08/2026

Imagine someone telling you that you’ve got it all wrong.

That if only you’d tried this therapy, that programme, that method… they might have learned to talk.

I honestly believe that if a voice is there, it will find its way. For some children it’s at one, for others five, and for some not until their teens. If it’s there, I believe it will come.

But I also believe that for some, spoken words will never come. Not because anyone didn’t try hard enough. Not because someone failed them. Sometimes, despite every bit of love, every therapy, every opportunity and every ounce of hope, that part simply isn’t there.

That doesn’t mean we stop trying. We should always support, encourage and open every possible door. But if that voice never comes, I no longer believe it’s because we didn’t find the right key.

It took me years to accept that. Years of grieving a world that told me every child should speak.

But when I stopped waiting for them to communicate like me, and started learning their language instead, something shifted.

I stopped focusing on the words that weren’t there…

…and started noticing everything that was.

A hand reaching for mine.
Eyes that tell entire stories.
A smile that says, “I’m safe.”
A laugh that fills every space words never could.

They taught me that communication was never just about speech.

It was about connection.

And that’s something I’ve learned to live with, rather than grieve.

Because if spoken words were never meant to be part of their story, then maybe they were never something we’d lost at all.

And instead of mourning the story I thought they should have, I get to fall in love with the one they were always meant to tell.

In their own beautiful way. x

They say you only know our world if you live in it.You only know the hard days.The days where there isn’t always a reaso...
01/08/2026

They say you only know our world if you live in it.

You only know the hard days.
The days where there isn’t always a reason.
Where grief isn’t loud anymore,
it just quietly lives beside you.
Not because our children are something to grieve,
but because life changed shape,
and so did we.

They say you only know it if you live it.

You only know how dreams change.
How they become beautifully simple.
A meal.
A hug.
A first word.
A trip to the park that ends in laughter instead of survival.
Things the world calls ordinary.
To us…
they’re the highest mountains.

They say you only know it if you live it.

You only know the worry.
The kind that never leaves.
It sits beside every decision,
every birthday,
every sleepless night.
The kind that makes forever feel too short,
because the thought of them needing you…
when you’re no longer here…
is the only future your heart refuses to imagine.

They say you only know it if you live it.

You only know this kind of love.
A love that stretches beyond parenting.
A love that becomes care.
Advocate.
Nurse.
Teacher.
Interpreter.
Safe place.
Home.
A love that keeps finding more,
even when there’s nothing left to give.

They say you only know it if you live it.

You only know the nights.
Not because they’re always awake.
But because part of you always is.
Listening.
Waiting.
Checking.
A parent carer’s heart never really goes to sleep.

They say you only know it if you live it.

I think they’re wrong.

You may never live our life.

But if you stop…
if you listen…
if you choose compassion over judgement…

you might just understand enough to change ours.

Autistic reset…Jude has had a hard few days.One thing we’ve learnt over the years is that sometimes there isn’t a reason...
30/07/2026

Autistic reset…

Jude has had a hard few days.

One thing we’ve learnt over the years is that sometimes there isn’t a reason. It’s just the way his mind works.

So when he’s struggling, we reset.

We change all the plans and expectations we made when he was in a good place.

We strip everything back to the basics. No demands. No pressure.

We ask nothing from him and give him all the time and space he needs.

Everything becomes simple again. Communication. Food. Daily life.

We stay home. Going out can be hard for Jude at the best of times, but when anxiety takes over, it becomes impossible. So we don’t push it. We stay in until we feel the shift.

Resets take time. They can look like regression from the outside.

But they’re not.

They’re a pause.

And pauses can be deceptive because they look like nothing is happening, when actually some of the most important repair is happening beneath the surface.

Then, when he’s ready…

We go again.

We make beautiful plans, chase adventures, and wait for the moment he’s ready to be part of them again.

Because healing has never been about rushing. It’s always been about meeting him where he is.

Together as a team ❤️

We have had a tough couple of days here with Jude. So thought I’d share something that may help others understand what m...
28/07/2026

We have had a tough couple of days here with Jude. So thought I’d share something that may help others understand what meltdowns and crisis mean.

And if it makes someone feel less alone, relates, or learn a little more? then it matters ❤️

I grew up as an only child.I have half siblings, but day to day, it was always just me.I spent as much time as I could w...
27/07/2026

I grew up as an only child.

I have half siblings, but day to day, it was always just me.

I spent as much time as I could with my cousins because I loved the chaos of a big family. But I also loved that, by default, life was usually my version. I didn’t have to wait. I didn’t have to compromise. I didn’t have to share.

So when I had four children, I never wanted them to feel they all had to like the same things. And when you throw autism and adhd in the mix it gets a whole new version of planning.

I’ve never pushed the same hobbies or interests on them because I wanted them to discover what they love, not what fits everyone else.

The reality is… it’s exhausting.

Four children means four personalities. Four sets of interests. Four very different needs. Four ideas of the perfect day. Some days I feel like a taxi driver, an OT, an event planner and a referee all rolled into one.

And sometimes the answer has to be no. Not because their choice doesn’t matter, but because in a family of six, it can’t always be your turn.

That’s why, during the holidays, we try to carve out a days that’s just for them. A day where they don’t have to compromise. Where they get to choose. Where the day revolves around what fills their cup.

Because I hope they’re learning two really important things.

Your choices matter.

But so does waiting for your turn.

And maybe that’s one of the biggest lessons a big family teaches you. You won’t always get your way, but when your moment comes, it should feel special.

How do you juggle different hobbies, needs and interests in your house? Do your children love all the same things, or are you forever trying to be in different places and different versions of you at once?

I don’t share much about me.Maybe because my story has always felt more complicated than even my children’s.But while we...
26/07/2026

I don’t share much about me.

Maybe because my story has always felt more complicated than even my children’s.

But while we’re talking about school this summer… here’s mine.

Primary school felt safe. I struggled with learning, but no one really knew because I became brilliant at pretending. I couldn’t really read until I was seven, maths still makes no sense to me now, but I learned to copy, nod, smile and hope no one noticed.

The funny thing is… I loved school. I loved sport. I had friends. I loved belonging.

Then came secondary school.

The work got harder, but I found my secret weapon. My clever best friend. She quietly got me through every lesson… until one day they moved us apart.

I then quickly started to drown. She was my safe space. My secret TA.

I became the “disruptive” one.

Looking back, I think humour was my mask. If I could make everyone laugh, maybe they wouldn’t notice I was drowning.

Then one day…

It all became too much.

At 14, I stopped going.

I’d try to go back after weeks away, but every day made walking back through those gates feel more impossible. Until one day… I never went back.

That was the end of my education. I was only 14 and no one noticed enough to help.

Back then there wasn’t a name for children like me. There wasn’t support. You just quietly disappeared.

Now my own children ask, “When did you leave school, Mum?”

And the truth is… I still don’t really know what happened.

I just know I couldn’t do it anymore.

Sometimes I wonder…

If I’d been 14 today instead of the 90s…

Would someone have looked beyond the jokes?

Beyond the “disruptive” label?

Beyond the pretending?

Would someone have realised I wasn’t refusing school…

School had become impossible for me.

And maybe that’s why, when I hear the words school refusal, I never ask…

“Why won’t they go?”

I ask…

“What happened that made school feel impossible?”

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