I Love Them All… But They’re Driving Each Other (and Me) Up the Wall

I love my kids. Deeply. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I’m on the brink most days.

Parenting five children — all somewhere on the autism spectrum, each with their own strengths, sensitivities, and support needs — is like trying to run five different operating systems on a single device that’s already running low on power.

And the truth is, we’re glitching. A lot.

The Battle That Never Ends

Lately, the biggest challenge in our home isn’t school or meltdowns or routines.

It’s each other. More specifically, it’s my 13-year-old and my 5-year-old. They’re constantly at each other’s necks — fighting, yelling, tattling, teasing, blaming.

And it’s not just them. All five of my kids seem to be stuck in this constant power struggle, arguing about everything from snacks to screen time to who looked at who first. But the thing that triggers the most chaos? Minecraft.

You’d think playing on the same server would bring them together. Instead, it’s become an emotional war zone. They scream about who’s stealing items, who destroyed what, who’s building where. Neither of them can handle feeling out of control — and Minecraft, ironically, is all about control.

The Fight for Control (When No One Feels Like They Have Any)

If I had to guess what all these fights are really about, it’s not just Minecraft or noise or teasing.

It’s control.

In a world that feels unpredictable, overwhelming, and often too much for their sensory systems, my kids are all trying to carve out some kind of power. Some kind of say. Some kind of stability in a house that’s loud, chaotic, and full of competing needs.

They’re not bad kids. They’re dysregulated kids in a dysregulated world — and sometimes that world is inside our house.

And then there’s my 13-year-old… who adapts so deeply to his environment that sometimes I forget how young he still is emotionally.

He plays with the younger ones, talks like them, argues like them — but then flips into teenager mode when he feels challenged or embarrassed. He mimics the chaos around him, like he’s trying to blend in and be safe at the same time.

And the truth? It’s exhausting. For him. For them. For me.

So… We Made a “Sibling Survival Plan”

No fancy Pinterest chart. No unrealistic rules. Just a simple, flexible plan to give us all a little more breathing room and reduce the power struggles that were draining all of us.

 Our Sibling Survival Plan:

1. Set shared-play boundaries ahead of time.

• If they want to play Minecraft together, we talk about what that looks like first.

• We agree on the goal, the game, and the expectations — like no stealing, no destroying each other’s builds, and asking before entering someone’s area.

2. Use timers and breaks.

• 20–30 minute max co-play time.

• Then everyone takes a break — even if things are going great. That way we don’t wait until they explode.

3. Separate to reset, not punish.

• When it gets heated, I split them up without shame.

• “Your brains need space” sounds better than “go to your room.”

• I often say: “You’re not in trouble, your brain just needs quiet right now.”

4. Daily 1:1 time when possible.

• Even just 10 minutes of undivided attention helps fill their cups.

• When they feel seen individually, they don’t seek power in sibling conflict as often.

5. Teach language for boundaries.We’re practicing phrases like:

• “I need space.”

• “I didn’t like that.”

• “That made me feel frustrated.”

  
  

  It’s not perfect. But it’s better than yelling.

6. Praise play that goes well — even for 5 minutes.

• “You guys built side by side and didn’t fight — that was awesome!”

• Celebrate the progress, not perfection.

What I’m Learning (and Still Struggling With)

There are no magic answers here. No sticker charts or breathing techniques that make everyone suddenly play nice forever.

But I’m learning to:

• Separate the behavior from the child

• Regulate myself first, even when I want to scream

• Give grace even when I’m tired of giving

• And remind myself that they’re learning — just like I am

Final Thoughts: Love Isn’t Quiet. Sometimes It’s Loud and Messy.

I don’t have a picture-perfect family.I have a loud, loving, deeply neurodivergent family full of learning, breaking, rebuilding, and trying again.

And on the days when I feel like I’m failing them — I try to remember that they’re still here. They’re still showing up. They’re still trying to connect, even if it comes out sideways.

And so am I.

So if your house is loud, if your kids are constantly at war, if you’re feeling like you’re just surviving one power struggle at a time — you are not alone.

Try a plan. Try again .Breathe in the chaos. And know this isn’t failure — this is parenting.

Real, messy, ausome parenting.