I had a revelation the other day. I was talking with the fifth parent of the week who had just found our support group.  She had just been told her child had “sensory issues” by a physician and given no further explanation. I started out by sharing the Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) basics with her and what it can look like in a child. I explained that we had more than just the obvious senses in our bodies.

Every day—Literally. Every. Single. Day—starts at 1000 mph and does not stop. A dear friend of mine once referred to our son, Ryder, as “WAO” wide ass open (side note – we live in the South), because he does not stop or slow down. The only time he stops is when he takes a few brief moments to eat. He runs almost everywhere he goes, requires fairly constant supervision and has a very poor sense of fear. Ryder isn’t just an overly active boy.

Some subjects are easy to write to about while others are still painful to this very day. Even though this topic is still painful, I have promised myself for a long time to write about it to help others in a similar situation to know they are not walking the path of Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) parenting alone and give them strength to know they will make the best decision they can for their child at that particular moment.

Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD), is only one part of my daughter.  It is an integral part of her daily functioning and how she copes with her environment minute to minute.  I have always been determined to not let SPD define her as a person and so I’ve begun giving her space to explore herself. We’ve stopped saying “no” and we’ve started to say “yes”.

We’ve hit a brick wall in therapy. Our 11-year-old severely needs therapy for his Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD), and his visual tracking disorder. Thanks to preteen angst, he’s refusing to go. I watch him as he struggles to read his schoolwork and sloppy handwriting, along with many other SPD beasts that are a part of his daily life. This is uncharted territory for me.

When I decided to write this blog post, I approached my husband with the topic of Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) meltdowns, he turned to me and asked “Which one of the many that we have experienced over the years, are you going to use?”

I am the father of a child with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). My son Woodrow, “Woody,” is now 23 years old. His diagnosis and treatment began when he was about 6 years old.

A guaranteed way that we get a blown away look from strangers is when Jackson, our 11-year-old son with SPD, announces that he has Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD).  Perhaps they are shocked that he is so open about it. Sometimes their questioning look is redirected at me but typically the stranger responds with a nod that says “I have no idea what you just said you have but now I just feel weird about it” and the subject of the conversation changes.  So this brings up the big question:  Do you tell your child he or she has SPD?

Over the past eleven years, I have become a magician. Have you ever been to a magic show and stared in amazement at how one man can pull trick after trick out of a hat all in the blink of an eye? I guarantee that if you find a well trained parent of an child with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) trying to prevent a meltdown with their child you’ll be just as amazed at their talent.

It’s that time of year…. Parent-Teacher Conferences. Some parents love hearing about their child’s successes, but some parents don’t have that experience. Instead they receive a troubling report.

If you’re reading this, you probably sat in the tiny chair in front of your child’s teacher and absorbed the classroom your child occupies five days a week.  You scoured the walls looking for your child’s artwork and reminisced on your own school days for a minute.