Not everything is as it always seems. Education is important.
Raising a neurodivergent child is one of the most challenging yet rewarding experiences. But let me be real with you — it’s also tough when you feel like you’re the only one truly understanding the situation, especially when your partner doesn’t quite get the depth of what your child needs. And bless their hearts, they mean well, but sometimes the suggestions they make are like an emotional punch to the gut.
Take, for example, something my fiancé suggested yesterday. We were talking about ways to help Maverick feel comfortable in new environments. We had tested one place and, let’s just say, it didn’t go well. Maverick was overwhelmed, frustrated, and just didn’t adapt. I mentioned this in a previous post, but long story short, it’s a process. A slow one. We’re figuring it out, one day at a time.
So, then, out of nowhere, he mentions, “How about taking him to Chuck E. Cheese?”
Y’all, I had to stop myself from saying, “Did you really just suggest Chuck E. Hell?”
For those who aren’t familiar, Chuck E. Cheese is a place full of noise, running kids, germs, and chaos. It’s the very definition of overstimulation. And while kids love it, for Maverick, it’s a recipe for sensory overload.
Maverick, my sweet boy, isn’t like neurotypical kids. He struggles with overstimulation, has a tendency to put everything in his mouth (especially his hands), and the idea of playing with toys or engaging with other kids just isn’t on his radar. He’ll watch his iPad, and that’s about it. When we go to therapy, he can barely last 2 seconds before getting overwhelmed, and the cries that follow are heart-wrenching. And don’t get me started on the office lobby full of other neurodivergent kids; the noise, the movement, the chaos—it’s too much for him. He runs for the door, crying, and I’m left standing there, trying to soothe him in a place that feels like a battlefield.
So, Chuck E. Cheese? Absolutely not. He’d have a meltdown as soon as we entered. Plus let’s be honest. He doesn’t even turn 2 til next week.
I get that my fiancé wants to bond with Maverick and to do something fun with him. I appreciate that. But sometimes, the suggestions are just so off the mark. It’s not about depriving him of experiences or making him feel less than — it’s about protecting him from unnecessary stress and sensory overload that could actually make things worse.
This is where things get tricky. How do you navigate this with a partner who doesn’t fully understand the unique needs of a neurodivergent child? How do you communicate without making them feel like they’re doing something wrong? Because, trust me, that’s not the intention. I know he means well. But I have to admit, sometimes my temper gets the best of me, and it’s hard to keep my calm when these situations come up.
So, what’s the answer? How do you balance love, respect, and understanding when you’re in this parenting journey with someone who doesn’t fully get it yet? How do you gently, but firmly, correct without making them feel like they’ve failed?
Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
- Patience is key – It’s not always easy, but taking a step back and approaching the conversation calmly is essential. Yes, it might be frustrating, but your partner wants to help, and they just don’t always know the right way.
- Educate – It’s important to communicate the reasons behind your decisions. Share your feelings and your child’s needs in a way that helps them understand, without sounding like you’re attacking their idea.
- Compromise – There will be times when your partner suggests something that, in theory, could work. Maybe not Chuck E. Cheese, but something else. Work together to find middle ground, and if it doesn’t work, you’ve learned something for next time. We did this with taking him to a park. But it needed to be an inclusive park.
- Don’t be afraid to speak up – It’s okay to voice your concerns. You know your child better than anyone, and it’s your job to advocate for their needs. If something feels like it’s going to be too much, it’s okay to say no. And be firm in it.
And when all else fails… wine. Lots of wine. Because this is hard.
If you’re out there, raising a neurodivergent child with a partner who’s still learning the ropes, I see you. It’s not easy, and sometimes it feels like you’re shouldering the weight alone. But you’re not. We’re all just doing the best we can, one day at a time. And sometimes that means saying no to Chuck E. Cheese.
Stay strong, mama. You’ve got this.