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Chairs, Choices & the Chase for Freedom

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Kaedyn has a brand-new set of wheels!!! an Offcar Quasar in champagne gold, with a sleek white e-fix controller. It’s stylish, strong,nand totally him. Straight out of The Tortured Poets Department. Taylor would be proud! But like everything in additional needs parenting, it didn’t appear overnight. It took months of planning, stress, phone calls, and tears. We started shopping in April 2024. Not because it was urgent yet, but because I’ve done this before. I know the signs: the slouch, the tight fit, the unsupported legs. This is Kaedyn’s fourth wheelchair and I’ve learned the hard way what happens if you wait. And yet, even being early… we were still too late. By early 2025, the old chair was dangerous and I had already acquired an $8000 quote to repair this single problematic wheel. I checked it before school one Friday and realised that wheel was about to fall off. If I hadn’t looked, he could’ve ended up injured. I cried in the car, I cried on the phone. (What can I say? Emotional...
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Why Physio Matters!

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There’s a significant difference between what a sports physio does compared to what a paediatric physio provides and if you’ve ever stepped into our physio’s space, you’d know exactly why this is so important to our family. Our physio clinic looks more like a hybrid of a gym and a play space. There are cages designed so children can stand with the support of bungee cords, reformers, gym blocks, balance beams, bikes, walking frames, slides, climbing equipment, etc. The setup isn’t just impressive, it’s essential. This is where our funding goes! Every inch of the space is purpose-built to support children ranging from babies to young adults, each with their own unique physical challenges and goals. Beyond equipment, there are other massive costs: rent, insurance, wages, ongoing training, and the constant drive for innovation. Our physios are constantly evolving with the kids. And that’s not something you can replicate easily. I’ve never used other types of physios...
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Do We Build a New Door?

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We're barely halfway through 2025, and already families are being told that enrollments for 2026 school year is full.  Yep... full! Education Support classrooms, designed for students who cannot attend mainstream are at capacity. If your child didn’t get in, the door is closed.  So where do they go? For children who are medically complex, disabled, or neurodivergent,.but not a “mainstream fit” what’s the answer? Because right now, the answer seems to be: There isn’t one. We talk about education like a menu of equal options: public, private, online, Montessori, homeschooling. But for many families of kids with disabilities, there’s no real choice. So families are left “choosing” homeschooling not out of lifestyle preference, but out of sheer necessity. It’s not flexible learning. It’s survival. Parents become teachers, aides, therapists, case managers. They coordinate everything from literacy to mobility aids, all while trying to work, raise siblings, and stay afloat. And they ...
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Not just any Therapist...

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Today, something unexpected happened. The NDIA announced a big cut to physiotherapy rates across Australia. Here in WA, it dropped from $224.62 to $183.99 an hour. That's more than $40! For years, we searched for the right physio for Kaedyn. Not just any therapy, but a place where he feels safe, understood, and even happy. Where therapy isn’t just a task but something he can be part of. With Ben and lately Kal, Kaedyn has found that. Therapy hasn't always been fun; sometimes he would cry just knowing he had to go, but he laughs in sessions now. He’s challenged in ways that help him grow. He’s proud of himself. That kind of progress isn’t just physical; it’s about feeling valued and seen. But now, with these cuts, the future feels uncertain for so many of us.  These small clinics, these therapists who care deeply, can’t keep going if funding keeps shrinking. It means fewer appointments, fewer resources that benefit our kids, and the therapists we love just have to walk away...
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A 'Changing Place?'

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We talk a lot about inclusive cities or smart cities. Buzzwords like accessibility, universal design, and diversity are tossed around in policy documents and press releases as if they’re already achieved. But here’s the truth: If your city doesn’t have adequate Changing Places facilities, then your city is not inclusive. It’s not accessible. And it’s definitely not modern. Changing Places are fully accessible bathrooms designed for people with complex disabilities. They go well beyond standard accessible toilets and include: An adult-sized, height-adjustable change table, a  ceiling hoist system, e nough space for a wheelchair user and multiple carers, a  privacy screen or curtain.  In short: basic dignity. If you’ve never needed a Changing Place, chances are you’ve never checked whether one exists nearby. But for families like mine, our entire day hinges on finding one. And even then, we are bracing ourselves. Because like most parents of a disabled child, I don’t just h...
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How I Found Myself Between Bottles, Battles, and Novels

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At sixteen, I handed my English teacher a diary written from the perspective of an ANZAC soldier. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t even for a grade. But it was real . I wrote it like I was in the trenches, mud on my boots, grief in my chest. She read it, looked up at me, and said, “You should keep writing.” And in that moment, I believed her. But life moved fast... really fast! I worked. I partied. I made choices, good and bad. And then I became a mother, and everything changed. I had two babies under two. One needed me in every possible way, physically, emotionally, endlessly. Therapy became our routine. Hospitals became more familiar than playgrounds. I gave every ounce of myself to my kids, but somewhere in the chaos… I stopped hearing my own voice. Then, one night, I had a dream. And the next night, it came back. So I borrowed one of the kids’ iPads, tapped out the first scene, and something I thought was lost inside me, cracked open. I was 24 or 25. Exhausted. Lost. But I was w...
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Thirteen Years and a Thousand Sacrifices

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Dante is my oldest son, he's turning 13! And while everyone else might celebrate it as the beginning of the teen years, I’m here sitting with the quiet truth that his childhood is over, not in a dramatic way, but in a way that hurts if you look too closely. Because Dante’s childhood wasn’t just bikes and birthday parties. It was therapy clinics and hospital corridors. It was me wrapping him in cotton wool cause I was terrified something bad might happen to him. It was watching his brother’s legs get braced in AFOs while his own questions went unanswered. It was learning to entertain himself in the corner of a room while the spotlight was on someone else. It was missing out. Quietly. Repeatedly. Without complaint. He’s the boy who gave up Saturday sports so we could all go to inclusive games instead. The boy who learned to cheer for someone else’s milestones while tucking away his own. The boy who carried the emotional weight of our family’s reality before he had the words to compre...
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