Friday, December 31, 2021

Autism Answer: A YES Day Expansion Pack for the New Year


YES to coffee, books, and bare feet.

Today – Friday – is my “YES Day”. What is a yes day, you ask? YES! I love that you asked! 

In a nutshell: My YES day is the day I say YES to the things I want throughout the week.

I don’t remember how many years ago I started saying “YES” to myself instead of, “No, not healthy” or “No, not responsible” when I wanted something. These were things like foods and too much coffee or reading/dancing/walking/chit-chatting while sipping too much coffee. I don't remember when it started but I do remember loving the change I made for myself.

I would want to eat a pie (YES, I said a pie, not a piece of pie) and tell myself, “Yes! On Friday,” and then I would want to read, rather than work, and tell myself, “Yes! On Friday,” and then I would want to drink too much coffee while hanging out with my kids rather than do dishes and sweep floors and would excitedly say to me, “Yes! On Friday.” Suddenly I was telling myself YES to all the things I wanted while still getting most of my work done and not wildly overeating junk food. The cool thing about putting everything to one day is, well, it’s just one day. You simply aren’t going to eat all those pies. And even if I do actually read, walk, dance, and chit-chat all day rather than get stuff done, it’s not a big deal. In fact, it’s fantastic and fun!

Of course, in reality giving myself a YES day doesn’t play out in such an organized fashion. If my sons are able to chit-chat with me on a Wednesday I’m going to take advantage of it. And if people are gathered around pie and coffee on a Saturday while I’m around, I’m going to appreciate such luck and enjoy it. And if, on a Monday night, someone puts music on and starts singing along and dancing in the living room while I’m changing cat litter and knowing I need to still sweep and clean toilets, I might instead join in and dance along. The point of my YES day is to love my life and keep me healthy. Sometimes that means recognizing when important moments are happening now, not on Friday.

But in general, I tell myself YES and give the fun to Friday.

This has been fantastic for me! And I plan to keep it going as long as it continues to be fantastic. Although, now, I’m considering expanding it a bit for the new year and seeing how that goes.

I’m thinking I might give myself a YES week at the end of the month; for the less concrete, more ambiguous things. The things that I tuck away in myself to deal with alone, or not say out loud for fear of being misunderstood or for fear of being disliked, or wrong. The things that are whispers in my heart and or mind that can turn into snapping at the wrong moment or avoiding situations or feeling low self esteem. The stuff that makes you want to yell at a character in a movie or book, “Just talk to them about what your thinking! Just tell them what happened! Just say what you’re worrying about!”

To be completely candid, I don’t have a lot of that. In fact, I have more of a being completely candid habit. (TMI – too much information - should be my middle name. Actually, maybe my first name.) But I am human and so I do have those things.

Main Example: When I talk to my sons, every single one of them, there are different things I worry about and fear saying or telling them. I want to nudge them, but not push. I want to reveal things I notice about them, but not give them a feeling of being judged. I want to be supportive, but I also want to give them the space needed to support themselves. In these areas of want I have so many things going on in my heart.

The thing is, though, I don’t want to be so afraid of pushing them too hard or having them feel judged that I don’t do anything, or I don’t do enough. Or, actually here it is: that I don’t do the thing I feel I should do. I don’t say the thing I feel I should say.

So, the expansion pack on my YES day: say YES to these deeper feelings, the desire to express them. Say YES and tell myself that the last week of the month (or something similar) is when. That way I'll have several weeks to think about whether or not I’m being fair with the thing I want to say or simply reactionary. Whether or not I truly think something should be done or whether I think someone else thinks it should be done. And to get the courage to say and/or do it well.

I’m hoping, as it has been with my YES day, this will lead to happy habits. Where I hardly notice the “not yet” aspect of putting things till Friday and always notice the “now is the right time” opportunities when they show up on a different day. 

It's funny. I don't think of myself as needing a YES week for these deeper things and yet, as I tell it to you (confession: at first I was thinking it would be more of a good idea for other people, particularly types who tend to keep everything inside and then explode their feelings creating unnecessary fallout) I'm excited and surprised by the many things I already know I will consider taking care of during my YES week. I already kind of do this by taking advantage of my PMS. When my hormones cause that familiar moodiness, I listen to what comes to the surface, examine it's value, and take care of the stuff I recognize as being a lasting issue for me, not only when my mood is sensitive. However, that is a little less proactive than the YES week I'm imagining. When I use my hormones I simply notice when things annoy me (admittedly, there's rarely anything) but now I plan to look. Like the difference between being offered cookies by a friend or perusing aisles at the grocery store with the intention of purchasing food for the week. I'm thinking of grocery shopping my aisles with the intention of nourishment. 

I'm curious what will come of this. 

For now, though, I will enjoy my YES day! There is a pie in the fridge calling my name and I am going to snuggle my man with every intention of encouraging some heavy petting. :D

I hope you are also saying YES to making delightful plans for yourself as well!

Have a wonderful today and a fabulous new year! 

Hugs, smiles, and love!

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

Autism Answer: Chandelier

 "I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, the chandelier..."

She's so inside it. Serenity, my two year old granddaughter, is so inside the song. She loves the way she feels inside the song, swinging herself around the room. She sings the lyrics as she understands them, she smiles and twirls, looks down at her little legs poking out from under her shirt - scratch that, under her sister's shirt. The one she's borrowed that is a bit long on her and feels pretty as she looks down and spins. She spins again and the song continues to play from my phone which I have strategically placed on the windowsill. There is a bouncing of sound from that spot, a trick that gives us more than we're actually getting. 
"I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist, like it doesn't exist..."
My oldest granddaughter dances and sings, too. Nevaeh, big sister, little lady, speaker of opinions. She sings and dances with me. My heart is swelling while I'm dancing with my oldest granddaughter but Serenity, my younger granddaughter, is alone in this world. I recognize that place. The song has swept her away and she's flying. 
"I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry..."
I can hardly hold onto my heart as it wants to fly with her, alongside her, forever be with her. Serenity swoops down low and then brings herself up, fills her lungs with air and sings out: "I'm gonna swing from the chandelier..."
But, suddenly, a crash. A smacking of toes into the wall, cut by the vent. Where was this? Where did this come from? We were flying, we were everywhere and filled with such joy when BAM! 

I swoop down, Nevaeh runs over to her little sister, Serenity is crying crying crying out. She's bleeding and hurt. It isn't going to require medical attention but it needs attending to. And now, drastically, the song sounds obnoxious. Cruel, even. Holding my sweet granddaughter in my arms, her sister cooing, "It's okay 'renity, shhhh, we're here. It's okay." I reach up to the windowsill and silent the vehicle of this pain.
"One, two, three, one, two, three..." pause.
I think about this as we stop dancing and start finding distractions from her pain: I think about how much joy she was immersed in, how filled up with fantastic feeling Serenity appeared to be and how, had she been more present, less letting herself be taken away into the place she had been taken away to, she may have been more careful. She may not have gotten hurt. And we would still be dancing away, silly and safe in the bedroom. 
Yet it is in that place, that allowing of abandon I saw on her, where I feel my most free, my most connected to the world, my most awesome. Do I want to say, "Be a little more careful, sweet Serenity. Don't let yourself get so carried away,"? Or do I want to say, "It's okay, little love of mine, you will feel better soon. And the joy of letting yourself be so free is worth the bumps and bruises,"?
I think about this and I know both answers are right. I know I want my grandchildren to throw caution to the wind with courage, kindness, and curiosity; I also know I want them to think things through and choose carefully, with eyes open. 
I want Serenity to sing her heart out while moving to the music, untethered by distractions inherent in paying attention to the world around her. But I also want her to watch her toes. Her sweet little feet matter to me more than I can express, even understand. 
The song, Chandelier, sings to us from a woman "just holding on for tonight, on for tonight," and claiming she's "gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist, like it doesn't exist."
But I want Serenity to succumb to abandon because tomorrow does exist, because flying like a bird through the night can bring a feeling of connection and awesomeness and perspective and joy that is not easily felt or celebrated in everyday activities. 
So, I think about this. 
About Serenity's song and the joy it brought her, a joy that was entirely felt because she let go of looking at the world around her in order to fall into the feeling, how then she was - necessarily - unprepared for the edges that hadn't disappeared. 
When we decide to be brave, to follow our heart, to step into a life we are called to but have no experience with, to be swept up in emotion, it makes sense to be careful. When I dance, for example, I move furniture, I wear my knee brace, I choose a fairly safe environment. But then, I dance and disappear and close my eyes. 
When I've done what I can think of to set myself up for success, I let go. Invite abandon in. 
That's what I want to tell Serenity.
Set yourself free.
When you swing from the chandelier hold on, for more than only tonight, and if you fall there are so many of us who will be here to attend to your wounds. 
As Nevaeh sweetly said, "It's okay 'renity. We're here. It's okay." 
If you want to check out the song that brought Serenity such joy, here ya go: Just, please, watch your toes. :D 


Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Autism Answer: When the Song Ends


My oldest son

"As my body moves inside the song, as the lyrics push my hips in uncontrolled urgency, as my arms reach outward into space then pull that space tighter to my sweating, swerving, swinging body - a body that is mine but not mine; given over to the song, a song with words of pain and crescendos of desperate loneliness and need - I close my eyes tighter, pushing the darkness in all directions and joining it with my energy. I invite the loneliness and pain to pull me apart, I push my arms out, I sing along and swing, sweat, sing. I know this song and it is near the end so I scream the lyrics louder, move myself farther in and out with the melody, ride the wave of emotion to it's very last drop. The song ends. I'm spent. My eyes open and the world is still here, I am still here, the cat is looking at me funny. If my memory serves, there are still dishes in the sink. Also, my knee hurts a little. But I feel fantastic. I've been here in this room, dancing, but also gone, disappeared into the pain and loneliness of the song, experienced it with every bit of body and energy I could muster, and it was intoxicating. What story will the next song bring? What feelings will I fall into and fill up now?"
I feel so much when I'm dancing. And though I love all kinds of songs, it's the ones about pain, particularity about self-loathing or self-destruction, that force my feelings around the room with the greatest amount of emotion. I freaking love dancing to those songs. They don't bring me down in any way but, instead, bring me something more. I'm not sure what it is, exactly. Maybe I feel less alone, maybe I feel grateful to not live in that place of self-loathing while still able to recognize it and remember most of us will experience it and that's okay. Maybe I just like pushing on a bruise. I don't know what it is but I do know I feel happy, I feel joy, I feel connected to everything and everyone after a stint of dancing, especially to those songs. 
Those songs tell a story that I would argue is not a nice story, not a positive story, not a sweet story. But they are raw and real, they say things that are hard to say in ways that are both personal and universal. It's powerful poetry where I can recognize parts of myself or loved ones and feel not so awful about the awful stuff. Because it is something in a song, I can dance it out, I can sing along to lyrics that depict someone else's version of our similar awful feelings and we're not alone. 
I am a true deep absolute believer in being intentional and careful with the stories we tell. (I'm an annoying person to watch, read, or listen to stories with because I have strong opinions on the power of stories and my passion pushes those opinions out in words more often than not.) But I don't believe we should tell only good stories, or only stories that have a happy spin. 
I think we do our healthiest storytelling when we care about using our words to add something meaningful or thought provoking or unexpected. When we tell stories, to ourselves or others, in order to explore, consider, reconsider. 
And I think we do our healthiest audiencing when we care about how we are affected. When we choose the stories we read, watch, or dance to carefully. When we pay attention to where we pay attention and how it moves us. If songs of hurt and self-loathing only steep you in feelings of hurt and self-loathing, don't choose them. And if they bring you joy don't let the fact that it's strange for them to bring you joy stop you from feeling the joy. It is, however, a good idea to consider why they bring you joy. 
Which brings me back to my dancing. I'm not sure why I love those songs, but I think it has something to do with having a place for those feelings. A place I can feel them without continuing to feel them after the song ends. 
That's the thing about stories. They bring us somewhere, tell us things, give us new perspectives and ideas, then - they end. 
But they also don't end, because they're part of our memory. 
And we are left to live with their influence.
We are still here, the cat looking at us funny, when the song ends. 

Monday, September 27, 2021

Autism Answer: Spilling Secrets


Shhhhhh.... don't tell Dr. Lynette Louise (aka "The Brain Broad" aka "My Mom") I showed you this but I've been offered insider access to a transcript from the upcoming All Brains Grow platform being built by Lynette and Louloua Smadi (author of From Client to Clinician) for parents and therapists and clinicians and I snuck this itty bitty little bit to show you because I feel like it encapsulates the reason you're also going to want to have access:
"That question of when to do what to do, why to do it, how to do it, is the question that swims in a parent's head and says, I am at a loss. The experts must know, and the experts know a lot more now than they did back then. But they still don't know, because though an expert, occupational therapist or a speech therapist, brain therapist, may know a lot about their particular subject, they don't know that much about your particular child." ~Dr. Lynette Louise ("The Brain Broad")
Do you get what I mean? How she understands the question you have of what to do, why to do it, and how to do it, how she understands that you are going to want expert inclusion but you are the one with your child most of the time, you are the one who knows them in more of their moments and you are the one who needs to know what do do, why to do it, and how to do it in more of their moments. All the information they are putting together for All Brains Grow is there to give you that. That answer. What to do, why to do it, and how to do it. 
Detailed, entertaining, unique, and effective brain, play, and behavior stuff. 
It will be quite a long while before All Brains Grow will be complete and ready for consumption. But until then, check out some of the books and videos and interviews that are available. Stuff that is insightful and offers ideas on what, how, and why. These can help lay the groundwork for the exciting new way of being we get to learn via All Brains Grow. And here's the thing, all brains grow whether you understand how to influence that growth or not. But if you understand, and Lynette and Louloua do help you understand, you can play a purposeful role in that growth. 
My friends, I highly recommend it!
A few links for now:
Louloua's book, From Client to Clinician: The Transformative Power of Neurofeedback Therapy for Families Living with Autism and Other Special Needs -
YouTube playlist of Learning with Lynette - interviews with Lynette and Louloua -
Fix it in Five with The Brain Broad - All episodes FREE on YouTube -
Books, blogs, and more on Lynette's websites - /
Okay, no more sneaking you stuff from behind the scenes. 
At least for today. Let's see how this goes first. Hopefully you won't tell on me and I won't get in trouble. ;D

Thursday, August 19, 2021

Autism Answer: Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, Little Brothers, and Moms



Me and my brother

His brown eyes seeking, his words profound, his question legitimate, the wish birthing it unreachable: "Why didn't my mom stop drinking? It was just nine months for her, a lifetime for me. My life."

My little brother was sitting across from me at my kitchen table, visiting me on one of his rough days. I could almost never fix the problems but I could sometimes help shift his focus. Which, quite often, served to guide him away from more problems.  

This is such a strong memory for me. Sitting there, impotent, as my youngest brother begged for an explanation while wanting, desperately, a different brain. His brain was working against him again and he was frustrated, exhausted, tired of working so hard to find his way. Always, for over thirty years and more to come, working harder than most to handle and understand common situations, and in large part because his mom drank alcohol while his little baby brain was growing in her womb.

Question: are you wondering about our mom? Wondering, maybe, how much drinking went on? Wondering why she was drinking while pregnant? Or wondering if he's my step-brother? Or if he's adopted? Question: Are you thinking things about the mom?

I've recently learned this about myself: I would be.

My brothers are my brothers. I have four of them and they are impressive. It rarely occurs to me that they're adopted. However, when the subject of their fetal alcohol spectrum disorder comes up it occurs to me. More accurately, it occurs to me to mention it.

It didn't used to, but my mom is an international brain change and behavior expert who tends to lead with her experience as a mom. A mom of eight now adult kids, four who had autism and various other co-morbid diagnosis. A mom who has helped all eight of her children become more than professionals or statistics allowed for. Mentioning adoption didn't occur to mom either until too often, when sharing what she learned about teaching people with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) by sharing anecdotes from her life as a mom to my brothers, people would get sidetracked by questions of why she drank while pregnant, or judging her for it, or just thinking about it so much they missed the lesson in the story. So, now she mentions it. Now we mention  it.

NOTE: It is not a bad thing, mentioning the adoption. I'm not trying to say it's unfortunate that we mention adoption. Adoption is beautiful. It is an awesome aspect of who my mom is (the determination, the lengths she went to for my siblings, is so mom) and an intriguing aspect of who my siblings are (they have limited access to their biological story and a mom who went to great lengths to be their mom). Anyone who's grown up in a blended family where some siblings are adopted, or step-siblings, or half-siblings, etc., knows that growing up as a family is simply family. No shame, but rarely does it occur to mention it.
If I introduce you to  my brother, I introduce you to my brother. Not my adopted brother. 

However, I'm thinking about Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder and biological moms. And my behavior, mentioning the adoption if I'm mentioning the FASD in my brothers, is telling. I don't want people to think my mom is at fault. I don't want them to think she was drinking while pregnant. It's not for sure that they would, but I don't want to risk it.

As I said, I recently learned that I would probably think about the mom.

I was invited to review the book Blazing New Homeschool Trails: Educating and Launching Teens with Developmental Disabilities by Natalie Veccione and Cindy LaJoy for Disabled World. (Click this link to read the review.) It was my pleasure! As I read the bio for each author I was surprised. They are homeschool moms to children with FASD. No mention of adoption. I got a flutter in my tummy, "Will they talk about it? Reach out to other moms who might be feeling too guilty about drinking during pregnancy to ask for guidance? Or to even recognize the FASD symptoms in their children because they don't want to see what may have been caused by them?

Now, reading the book I learned the children were adopted. That the question of "do they have FASD?" was a hard question to answer for those families because of adoption. Because their children's birth stories were incomplete and unknown.

But before I learned that, my mind had wandered and wondered. Why? Why had I wondered? Because there is stigma. 

"Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) is a brain injury that can occur when an unborn baby is exposed to alcohol. It's a lifelong disorder with effects that include physical, mental, behavioral and learning disabilities. These can vary from mild to severe."

Often people with FASD struggle just enough with learning deficits to feel as though, and be treated as if, they're being defiant. Or not trying hard enough. They're similarly capable to those around them, and indeed often exceed their peers in some areas, but there are areas of entirely real less common challenges that incite low self esteem. And the challenges become far more serious because we are unaware of the physiological problem causing them. 

Often people with FASD struggle enormously with learning deficits and feel completely incapable. They are treated as such. People give up rather than dig in and get to know the unique reasons and workings of the brain. 

Often people with FASD (and their families) fall somewhere in-between and struggle alone.

We do want to ask our children to try. We do want to raise the bar. It is the same when living with and teaching someone who has a mild or severe challenge. But understanding, or at least trying to understand, the very real difficulty they are living with that has to do with their brain, not an unwillingness or meanness, can be the difference between helping them grow vs pushing them to self-loathing, addiction, and bullying behavior.

But where FASD is concerned, there is the added hurdle of knowing it could have been avoided. Of knowing not drinking during pregnancy could have meant less difficulties.

My mom says, “You can’t walk gingerly. You have to step in and say I am gong to love you robustly, and we are going to get to the end of this!”

I think that includes being willing to accept that perhaps our children, even the ones that grew in our wombs, may have FASD. We have to make supportive room for moms to ask questions, to not be shamed if they seek ideas from others. To say, I drank while pregnant and now my child struggles with these symptoms, do you have any ideas for me?

At the same time, we continue to remind moms not to drink when they're pregnant.

"It's just nine months for her, but a lifetime for me. My life." My brother would have been best helped had she not drank during pregnancy. But he has also been undeniably helped by having a mom who taught with creativity, a fierce belief in him, and an understanding that though he could certainly learn, he learns differently.

Sitting at a kitchen table visiting my youngest brother, who has his own car, apartment, ideas, and sense of humor, is a delight. I want to help create a world that invites more brothers to the kitchen table. And moms.

We'll sip coffee.

Hugs, smiles, and love!


Monday, August 9, 2021

Book Review: Blazing New Homeschool Trails: Educating and Launching Teens with Developmental Disabilities by Natalie Veccione and Cindy LaJoy

 This review was originally written for Disabled-World and can be found by following THIS LINK.

Blazing New Homeschool Trails book cover, surrounded by a wrench, roller skates, and a bowl of veggies. You know, homeschool supplies. :D

Weekdays: Bed times were tough. Mornings were tougher.

Weekends and holidays: those were the too-short sparks of absolute joy and comfort.

When my four sons were school aged I ached with worry and indecision about school. Each one of my sons, at different times and in their own ways, struggled to stay their vibrant brilliant selves while being shuffled through a system that has grown cumbersome and dangerous.

Eventually, my sons found their own ways out. General education diplomas mostly. My youngest graduated with his class and even went to University for a bit.

But I will always wonder what might have happened for them had I been brave, creative, and willing to homeschool them myself. Oh, I thought about it at the time. I thought a lot about it. But I always chickened out, falling on the excuse, “If I try and fail, then I've failed. If the system fails, that's on the system.” Of course, it's not about me it's about my children and this excuse does not hold water.

What, I wonder, would I have done had I come across the book Blazing New Homeschool Trails: Educating and Launching Teens with Developmental Disabilities by Natalie Veccione and Cindy Lajoy? What, I wonder, new trails might my sons and I have blazed had I discovered resources such as Cindy's Facebook group or Natalie's podcast?

I don't know what I would have done. But I do know it would have been a gift.

Regardless of whether or not you are a homeschool parent, a potential homeschool parent, or simply a parent who wants encouragement to blaze new trails, this book can be a friend.

Encouragement is the prevalent mood that barrels through Blazing New Homeschool Trails. Whether reading a segment written by Natalie or Cindy (both homeschool moms), there is a strong feeling of being believed in; being cheered on. And it is effective.

The authors don't deny the challenges. They share personal struggles and obstacles with us readers, put a mirror up to our own worries as they reveal theirs, and remind us that this will be work. But parenting is always work. Parenting neurodiverse teens in a world built with them as an afterthought, and too often considered a burden, is extreme work. And while we avoid the work that might do the most good we're doing the harder work of undoing harm.

I saw it with my brothers. My mom pulled all four of them out of school (they had various developmental disabilities, including FASD – Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder) and they learned more skills and academics in one year of homeschool on the road with mom than they had the previous eight or nine years in a variety of schools and classes. They learned more and everyone was happier. I wonder, what would it have looked like had mom started sooner? How much less building up of broken beliefs in themselves? It doesn't help to regret, but it can help to share with someone who is still at the beginning and can choose to start sooner.

While reading the stories Natalie and Cindy share in their book I kept being reminded of mom. The people and stories are different, of course, but there are so many parallels. Adopting children with uncertain diagnosis and experiences, seeking help from educators who are often ill-equipped even if well meaning, moving neighbourhoods in order to leave persecution or overwhelming judgment, seeing your children as capable and worth the time while being frustrated with people meant to help who are unable to do so, inviting laughter and honesty into the home at every turn, and taking an approach to teaching that sets everyone up for a healthy future, not only good grades and other short-term accolades. I am certain you will recognize parallels from your life, too.

Blazing New Homeschool Trails offers a strong foundation while being a short and simple read. This book can be read quickly but does not leave you with less because of it. The tools to blaze your own trails are there, infused with encouragement and specific tips. Stories of what the authors did in their homeschooling, how it effected the family, what changes were made, and how things evolved over time.

More than that, they take the time to join you in your homeschool room. They include specific practical tips (the value of visual supports, for example) and also remind you to take advantage of the freedom homeschooling allows. Sometimes it's a good idea to simply change the subject, for example, rather than try to force a lesson. Pushing too hard at the wrong time only builds more barriers and leads to frustration and low self-esteem, for teachers and students. This flexibility is not natural in a typical classroom.

Blazing New Homeschool Trails can be helpful regardless of the type of learners your kids are. But it is particularly valuable if you're teaching and learning with people who have developmental disabilities of any sort. Both Natalie and Cindy look at their children from a place of love and belief in them. They don't ever use language that forgets. These are friends and role models you want as you blaze your own trails. Because that's the thing. You will have to blaze your own trails, with others as support but not exactly as leaders. This is something that comes through well in the book. They can't tell you how to do it. They can show you how they did it, what the guiding principals are to build your one-of-a-kind curriculum on, and why for many families it is more than worth it.

My sister is a homeschool mom. Her daughters were only beginning to struggle in school when she had a moment echoed in Cindy's story. Both my sister and Cindy had a strong gut feeling they would lose the spirit of one of their children if they didn't get them out of the school settings they were in. And both of them had the courage to follow that feeling.

Did I have a similar feeling when my boys were little? I think so. But I didn't follow that feeling.

Blazing New Homeshool Trails is a great introduction to what it can be to follow that feeling. Not all learners need homeschooling, but if you have a gut feeling yours might blossom with a different kind of learning environment, one you can build with them in mind, I recommend taking the time to read this book. Not only because helping your children blossom is lovely but because not doing so can hurt and harm them.

If you are already a homeschooling parent – especially if your students learn differently! - this book is a good tool to have on hand.

For parents who choose not to homeschool, this book is still a good idea. It can help you build a healthy learning environment for your children during after-school hours, weekends, and holidays. It can encourage you when you're feeling at a loss and remind you to look for opportunities a little differently.

For parents who have children, especially teens, that are developmentally disabled, this book is more than a good idea. It might be a necessary one.

* * *

Blazing New Homeschool Trails on Amazon:

by Natalie Veccione and Cindy LaJoy

pages: 97