Our House is Not Your Ordinary Home—And That’s Okay

If you’re raising a child on the autism spectrum, I know you feel those words deep in your bones. Our homes just don’t look like everyone else’s. And most days, that’s okay.

But let’s be honest—there are also moments, usually around 3 a.m., when you think to yourself: Is anyone else out there living like this?

I’ve been living alongside autism for 29 years now, and while I’ve learned to find joy and even humor in the chaos, I still have those nights where I lay awake and think, “Our life is just… different.”.

The Kitchen That Looks Like Fort Knox

If you’ve followed our story, you already know that our kitchen is on lock-down 24-7. Literally. We’ve got keys, locks, and even our pantry has barn doors that are bolted shut every night. I’m not exaggerating when I say that our kitchen has been more secure than most jewelry stores.

Why? Because Jordan is a food seeker. I spent years frustrated —lecturing, punishing, reasoning, begging, and yelling (plenty of yelling), and none of it worked.

I used to feel like I was failing because I couldn’t 'fix' behaviors like this. So eventually, I stopped fighting it.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned on this journey is that sometimes, teaching a child not to do something just isn’t realistic. So instead, I started asking myself: How can I take away the opportunity?

And you know what? That mindset shift saved my sanity.

Now, every night, we make sure nothing is left out—Halls cough drops, mints, even apples and tomatoes. Not even his favorites, but at 2 a.m., anything is fair game.

Unconventional Solutions for an Unconventional Life

People who don’t live this life don’t understand the kinds of creative strategies we come up with. From reversing door locks to keep our kids safely inside our homes to hiding keys in obscure drawers to choosing vacation rentals based on whether I can block off the kitchen at night—every solution we’ve found came from trial, error, and a whole lot of patience with a willingness to fail and learn along the way.

There was a time I didn’t know any other families living like this. I felt isolated, like maybe we were doing something wrong. But I’ve learned—we’re not alone. So many of us are just quietly out here, finding our way, doing what we need to do to make life work for our kids. And the truth is, even after all these years, I’m still figuring it out.

Even now, I have to think through every single detail of leaving our house. A mountain cabin sounds dreamy to most people, but to me, it sounds like a sleepless weekend trying to keep Jordan out of someone else’s snacks at 3 a.m. The world is not designed for our families.  The mental checklist never ends. But I’ve also stopped resenting it. This is just how we roll—and honestly, we roll pretty well most days.

Communication is Still One of the Hard Parts

I thought by now it would be easier. And in some ways, it is—but communication is still hard for Jordan. To this day, he struggles to tell me when something’s wrong. And definitely if something hurts because his pain tolerance is unbelievably high.

I remember the time I finally figured out why he kept unplugging Alexa—because she couldn’t understand him through his stutter, and it frustrated him so much he’d rather just silence her.

And that stuck with me because it reminded me that no matter how much progress we’ve made, there’s always more to learn about him and the way he navigates this world that wasn’t designed for him.

We’re Not Saints

People say things like, “God only gives kids like ours to special moms,” and I just don’t subscribe to that. I’m not special. I’m not a saint. I’m just a mom who loves her son and continues to figure it out one obstacle at a time. But here’s what I don’t do anymore—I no longer apologize for how different our life is. It’s not typical, but it’s ours. And it works for us. Some days, my patience wears thin. Some days, I cry in the shower. Some days I yell more than I like to admit.  Some days, I laugh so hard at the absurdity of it all that I forget how tired I am.

But every single day, I keep going. Because that’s what moms do.

And About That “Cure” Thing…

I’ve said for years that I never looked for a cure. I never searched for the “why.” Autism has shaped who Jordan is—and who I am too—and I’ve made peace with that.

But here in 2025, as I’ve watched more research unfold, I can honestly say: I am glad they’re looking into it. Not because I want to change Jordan or because I don’t love the life we’ve built—but because I wouldn’t wish the struggles of this journey on anyone else.

If there is a cause… if there’s a way to ease some of the pain and frustration—for future families who haven’t yet started their journey—I hope they find it. Not because this life is bad, but because it is hard. And if someone else’s road could be easier, and their child’s struggles could be less, I would wish that for them every time.

A Different Kind of Love

At the end of the day, this house may not look ordinary. But it’s full of a different kind of love—a love that doesn’t care about appearances, a love that figures things out, a love that laughs at things most of the world would never understand.

So if you’re reading this, sitting in your own locked-up kitchen, or lying on the floor outside your child’s door hoping to intercept them before they streak through the neighborhood—know this:

You’re not alone.

We may not live in ordinary homes, but we live extraordinary lives—full of fight, full of grace, full of fierce, relentless love.And that, my friend?  That’s more than okay.

This was written by Shannon Urquiola at Not Your Average Autism Mom.

Thank you for being part of our journey.