October 2025
A few months back, I was at an extended family gathering—one of those rare occasions where you’re suddenly surrounded by relatives you haven’t seen in years. Naturally, I wasn’t up to date on everyone’s lives. But then something caught my attention: my cousin’s 14-year-old son was sitting alone at a table, quietly eating a box of gas station chicken, hugging a stuffed teddy bear, and watching something on a tablet propped in front of him. Now, mind you, this was a fully catered event; we had a full buffet and even Grandma’s famous homemade cookies. But there he was, chicken box in hand (which his mom had clearly gone out of her way to get), while her husband and other child were at the buffet with everyone else.
My immediate thought? This seemed like a kid who might be neurodivergent—maybe sensory sensitivities or specific routines help him feel grounded. But as I sat nearby, I started hearing the murmurs. Some family members were whispering about how he was being “babied,” and how his parents “didn’t set boundaries.” There was a clear undertone of judgment, as if this approach to parenting was somehow doing more harm than good.
One of the people making those comments was actually my mom—and I just couldn’t let it slide. I gently challenged her and asked, “When was the last time you actually talked to our cousin about her kids?” Because really, she doesn’t know what that family is dealing with day to day. She’s not the one juggling meltdowns, appointments, routines, or trying to figure out which battles are worth picking and which ones just aren’t. I also asked her, “Do you really know what it’s like to raise a child with special needs?” It wasn’t about shaming her, but just reminding her (and maybe others around us) that it’s easy to make assumptions from the outside looking in.
Can you believe it’s already mid-October? Before we know it, our calendars will be packed with Halloween parties, trick-or-treating, Thanksgiving dinners, and all the ugly Christmas sweater chaos. And what do all of those events have in common? People. People who might know us well—or barely at all—but somehow always manage to sneak in their opinions about how we parent. Here’s the thing: you know your child. You know what helps keep life manageable (and maybe even enjoyable!) for them and for you. And that matters more than anyone else’s unsolicited commentary.
And yes, it can be exhausting to deal with the stares, the whispers, or the passive-aggressive comments—especially when your child is neurodivergent, has experienced trauma, or is simply overwhelmed and showing it. But those people? They don’t live your life. They don’t carry your child’s story. They’re not the ones working every day to build a trusting, respectful, connected relationship. You are. So, advocate unapologetically. Protect what matters. Tune out the noise when you need to. Because at the end of the day, your job isn’t to raise a child who pleases strangers at holiday parties—it’s to raise a child who feels safe, seen, and loved for exactly who they are.
Before the whirlwind of these big holiday events kicks in, it can really help to slow down and check in with your child. See where they’re at that day—because their needs can shift—and if they’re able, help them name anything they might need to feel more grounded or supported. And most importantly, remind them: you’re on their side. You’re their safe person. Your priority isn’t managing relatives they barely see or keeping up appearances—it’s making sure your child feels supported, understood, and not alone in the middle of it all.
Check in again during the event if you can, or plan a little time afterward to “debrief”—even just a quick chat in the car or during bedtime routines. However it looks for your family is exactly right. There’s no one-size-fits-all approach, there’s just what works for you and your kid. And that’s more than enough.