New Year, Same Chaos: Resolutions for Parents of Complex Kids

Ah, January. A time for fresh starts, gym memberships we’ll never use, and the soul-destroying moment when you realise the Christmas decorations have to come down. While the rest of the world is pledging to drink more water or master sourdough bread (again), parents of children with complex needs are setting their sights on slightly more realistic goals.

Here’s a little peek into my New Year’s resolutions list—a blend of ambition, grit, and the occasional unrealistic fantasy of drinking a cup of tea while it’s still hot.

1. Master the EHCP Process Without Losing My Sanity

The Education, Health, and Care Plan (EHCP): the holy grail of paperwork. Our review is coming up early January, so my resolution? This year, I’m going in armed with coloured tabs, sticky notes, and a playlist of motivational 90s R&B classics. If you see me muttering, “I will secure Section F funding” like a mantra out in public, mind your business.

By December, I hope to add “semi-pro legal advocate” to my LinkedIn profile and get through a meeting without saying, “With all due respect…” in a tone that means exactly the opposite.

2. Complete the DLA Application Without Needing Therapy

We need to reapply for DLA, Motability Scheme and renew our Blue Badge this year. Completing these forms is akin to writing a PhD thesis on your child’s life while simultaneously questioning whether you even know how to hold a pen. My goal this year is to finish it without crying into my keyboard or wondering if the assessor has secretly been hired by MI6 to weed out anyone too soft for this process.

Pro tip: Every answer is either “it takes forever,” “needs 1:1 support,” or “I haven’t slept since 2021.”

3. Finally Organise (or create?) the Medical Binder

Right now, my “system” for Elias’s medical paperwork involves shoving random letters into a drawer and hoping the nurse won’t notice me panic-flipping through it during appointments. 2025 is the year I become that parent—you know, the one with a colour-coded binder, laminated tabs, and a smug sense of superiority. Will it take two months of bingeing organisational TikToks? Absolutely. Will it last beyond April? Absolutely not.

4. Remember Self-Care Is Not Just Drinking Coffee Alone in the Car

Don’t get me wrong—I love a good solo coffee. But this year, I’m levelling up. Maybe I’ll actually book that haircut I’ve been rescheduling since 2022. Maybe I’ll read a book that isn’t a sleep study guide. Or maybe I’ll just lock myself in the bathroom and scroll TikTok in peace. Baby steps.

5. Convince Family Members I’m Not a Walking Resource Center

This year, my resolution is to gently remind extended friends and family that while I can explain Elias’s feeding schedule, sensory needs, and the intricacies of mobility equipment, it’s not my only personality trait. Please, let me eat my roast potatoes in peace without discussing the latest medical device catalog.

6. Stop Buying Sensory Toys Like I’m Hosting a Pop-Up Shop

Do we really need another squishy toy or light-up fidget spinner? Probably not. Am I going to buy it anyway when I see it on sale? Also no—this year, I’m saving those pennies for something practical, like therapy resources or my caffeine addiction fund.

7. Laugh More, Worry Less

This one’s a cliché, but it’s staying on the list. Life as a parent of a child with complex needs is full of curveballs, late-night Google rabbit holes, and moments where you wonder how on earth you’re holding it all together. But it’s also full of joy, milestones, and unexpected giggles during the hardest days.

So, here’s to 2025: a year of progress, paperwork victories, and hopefully a warm cup of tea or two. And if all else fails, there’s always next January.

What’s on your resolution list this year? Let me know in the comments, especially if it involves surviving EHCP meetings with your sense of humour intact!