A Day in the Life of a Divergent Parent

Organised Chaos with a side of Coffee!

6:30 a.m. – The Alarm That Snoozes Itself

The day starts with a familiar sound: the alarm. Or rather, five alarms, because we all know the first one is just a warm-up.

After a few strategic snoozes (and possibly turning off the alarm in your sleep), you finally roll out of bed, already thinking about where you left your phone, your glasses, and your sanity.

7:00 a.m. – Breakfast: A Choose Your-Own-Adventure

Breakfast time is when the ‘real’ chaos begins. One kid wants toast, the other wants cereal, and someone else is suspiciously quiet (which, of course, means disaster is imminent). While you’re pouring milk into a bowl that mysteriously has no cereal in it, you find yourself wondering, “Did I even eat breakfast? Or was that yesterday?” Either way, you decide coffee counts as a meal.

8:00 a.m. – The Great Search for the Missing Shoe

Every neurodivergent parent knows the ‘legend’ of the missing shoe. It’s always one, never both, and it hides in the most random places. Today, it’s under a pile of clean laundry you meant to fold... last week. But let’s be real, folding laundry is overrated anyway. As you triumphantly wave the shoe in the air like a victory flag, you can’t help but feel like you’ve won a small but mighty battle.

9:00 a.m. – Work Mode Activated (Kind of)

With the kids dropped off at school (hallelujah!), it’s time to shift gears to “work mode.” The plan? To be a productive, focused, and efficient human being. The reality? 15 open tabs, half of which are articles you don’t even remember clicking, and an urgent email you somehow forgot to reply to... from two days ago.

Oh, and a random 20-minute-deep dive into the science of how squirrels bury their nuts. Because neurodivergence is all about being curious, right?

12:00 p.m. – Lunch... Maybe

Lunch rolls around, but let’s be honest: you either forget to eat or you’re standing in the kitchen, holding a spoon, wondering why you’re there. Eventually, you settle on grabbing a handful of something snackable, because lunch is more of a concept than an actual meal at this point. Plus, who has time to prepare a real meal when there’s so much still to do (and YouTube rabbit holes to fall into)?

2:00 p.m. – Hyperfocus Mode 

By mid-afternoon, something magical happens. You enter ‘hyperfocus mode’. Suddenly, you’re knocking out tasks with laser-like precision. Emails? Sent. Reports? Finished. Socks? Color-coded by shade and folded in a drawer. Wait, was that on the to-do list? Who cares! You’re a productivity machine now, and no one can stop you... except maybe the school run.

3:30 p.m. – The Afternoon Shuffle: AKA, the Brain Fog

It’s that time again: the kids are back, and with them comes a flurry of snacks, stories about their day, and homework you vaguely understand. This is where the brain fog usually sets in. Suddenly, the to-do list from this morning feels like it was written in a foreign language, and you start questioning if you’ve done anything at all today. Time for another coffee.

5:30 p.m. – Dinner: The Ultimate Battle

Dinner is a daily negotiation, some might even call it a hostage situation. One kid wants pizza, another wants... well, to ‘not’ eat what you’ve made, and somewhere in the chaos, you accidentally give the dog a snack meant for a child.

You try to remember if you defrosted anything for dinner, only to realise that you didn’t, but hey, frozen waffles count as gourmet, right?

7:00 p.m. – Bedtime Shenanigans

Bedtime should be simple, but in the land of neurodivergent parenting, it’s anything but. Pyjamas turn into an outrageous debate, brushing teeth feels like a marathon, and somehow, everyone remembers they need to tell you something ‘very important’ just as you’re tucking them in.

One child wants to discuss the origins of the universe, another wants to know why they can't have a pet giraffe. You answer both with a mixture of worldly curiosity and mild confusion.

9:00 p.m. – The Quiet Time (That Never Really Happens)

With the kids finally asleep (or pretending to be), you think about having some quiet time to yourself. But instead of relaxing, you realise you’ve forgotten at least three things from your to-do list. So, you spend the next hour organising tomorrow’s chaos, which somehow involves finding five different socks, none of which match. At this point, you’re just hoping that tomorrow, things will be a little more... well, organised. 

10:30 p.m. – The Brain Won’t Stop

Just as you lay down, ready to drift off, your brain decides it’s time for a deep dive into life’s big questions. “Did I remember to feed the cat?” “What did that email mean?” “Do giraffes dream?” Before you know it, you’re planning next week’s meals in your head, creating a mental checklist of things you won’t remember in the morning, and googling random facts until you eventually pass out, ready to do it all again tomorrow.

The Moral of the Story?

As a divergent parent, life is a beautiful, messy, unpredictable adventure. Some days, you feel like a superhero, conquering the world with your neurodivergent brain. Other days, you’re just trying to make sure no one steps on a LEGO. Either way, you’re doing amazing. You’re parenting in your own unique way, full of creativity, flexibility, and heart, and that’s what makes you a rockstar.

So, here’s to the daily chaos. Here’s to the hyperfocus and the brain fog, the mismatched socks, the never-ending to-do lists, and the magic of neurodivergent parenting. We may do things a little differently, but different is what makes us extraordinary.