Sydney tentatively packed up for camp; she really wanted to feel included but didn鈥檛 want to get her hopes too high. She had been to summer camp previously but came home feeling less than fulfilled. 

As we entered the Howell Nature Center, all our hesitation and worry about potential disappointment disappeared. We were greeted with warm smiles and handshakes. Unsurprisingly, parents of gifted children are likely to have some, if not many, of the same traits that make our own kids so special and unique. As such, both of us almost instantly felt a sense of peace and belonging when we walked into the lodge. The opening meeting with the fellows felt like a gathering of like-minded people. We both wanted to stay for camp ourselves and learn more! We left Sydney with trust that she would grow as a person and find her people.  

When we returned that final day of her first camp, the energy in the closing ceremony was electric. Sydney鈥檚 smile and energy glowed through the room. The beautiful echoes of her laughter coupled with an obvious bond with the campers and fellows was heartwarming to witness. It felt collectively, all the staff, fellows, campers, and parents were a family on that day. A few tears were even shed. As we left, the first words Sydney said were 鈥淢om and Dad, I have to come back next year!鈥�  

Over the course of the following year, she continued to grow her spirit and mind along with her intelligence. She became more at peace with herself. The second summer at Yunasa continued this development. She reconnected with old friends and gained new ones. Again, she glowed when we picked her up. By virtue of the transformative impact and breath of fresh air the camp has provided us, we regularly reference positive things along the line of 鈥渢his has a Yunasa type of feel.鈥�  

Yunasa, and by extension 优蜜视频, have become a byword for good people doing good things.  

To close, a quote from Sydney: 鈥淭o me, Yunasa is a place that is rather difficult to describe. It鈥檚 a place which fosters curiosity, companionship, and spirituality in young minds. I feel quite honored to be among that community – at camp, and at heart.鈥� 

Joel and Molly Parker
Yunasa Parents of Sydney聽

I still don鈥檛 quite know how it happened. One minute, my 3 kiddos and I were sitting at the dinner table, laughing and enjoying a conversation that (miracle of miracles) didn鈥檛 involve arguing over who鈥檚 turn it was to talk. The next minute, my 12-year-old (Cub) was screaming from a potential broken nose, one of our dogs was missing, there was a dying bird on our porch, my 4-year-old (Chimp) was in tears for the bird, but quickly began running around through the neighborhood in his underpants to hunt down the missing dog, my 9-year-old (KBear) was furiously yelling at my 12-year-old, there was a UPS guy threatening to call Child Protection (ok, that might be an exaggeration), and I was standing there bewildered by how the evening fell so far off the rails.

Sadly, my bewildered moment was really just a brief intermission to be followed by the second Act, which went something like this: Cub sulks off in the corner (nose in one piece, by the way), KBear in full blown autistic meltdown, followed by impromptu birds and the bees talk with her after she鈥檚 more regulated (thanks Anne with an E for providing us with that teachable moment at bedtime. Yes, sarcasm intended).

I鈥檓 assuming, as parents of gifted or 2e kids, that you can relate. I鈥檓 assuming you know how the mood of an evening can turn on a dime, or a dying bird, as the case may be. I鈥檓 assuming that you鈥檝e had those moments, standing in the driveway, trying to reign in the crazy, but feeling just as crazy as the rest of 鈥榚m. Please tell me I鈥檓 not alone in this.

Parenting these gifted kiddos is a totally different monster than parenting a more typical kid. It can feel very isolating. Many, more neurotypical, families could have experienced the dying bird, the injured, nose, the runaway dog, and the package delivery without the same level of intensity. But, that鈥檚 gifted life.聽 It鈥檚 intense.

So, how do we manage these crazy-making moments?

We remember to breathe. This too shall pass. Breathe in some calm and breathe out the crazy.

We remember that this is more intense than the average family life. Many kids would react to the sight of our cat delivering a half-dead bird to our doorstep, but Chimp鈥檚 emotional intensity took hold and his empathy and emotions were big and required extra effort to regulate. I鈥檓 not a bad mom because it took me 45 minutes to console the sensitive little soul in my arms; his emotions are simply that intense. Many kids would feel pain from a wildly thrown hard toy hitting their nose. (Thanks Chimp for your lack of impulse control and hugely rambunctious psychomotor intensity.) Cub鈥檚 sensual intensity meant that he felt that pain more acutely. It took him longer to feel better because the pain is bigger for him. Kbear鈥檚 strong sense of justice and emotional intensity, not to mention all the added complexity of her other exceptionalities, meant that she wasn鈥檛 just frustrated that her brother couldn鈥檛 find the leash quickly, she was in full blown rage. And the intellectual intensity of all 3 of them meant that within the course of this evening, I was having in-depth conversations about death, dying, euthanasia, sex and relationships. Which, really isn鈥檛 all that uncommon day to day. Remembering that this is more intense than typical parenting brings comfort to those moments when we just don鈥檛 feel like we can do this, or that we must be failing this parenting thing on a massive scale.

We call in reinforcements. Since everything turned so quickly, I couldn鈥檛 actually call in others to be there to help, but I could text others to remember that I鈥檓 not alone. My exact text to my husband, who was at work, says, 鈥淥h my clusterf—鈥�. You can decide if I actually filled in those last few letters or not! We really 补谤别苍鈥檛 alone, even though it can feel like it.聽 We actually do have people around who can commiserate. Whether they鈥檙e people you know IRL or only through the magic of the interwebs, there is support. My husband responded to the original text with a 鈥渧ague texts do not become you鈥� (yes, another gifted crazy-person lives in this house), to which I said, 鈥淵ep. I know. I just needed somebody else in the world to know that life got crazy for a while.鈥� And that鈥檚 the truth. It helps to know that someone else knows.

We feel what we feel. We allow ourselves to cry and get huffy and be angry. We choose our behaviors as effectively as we can, and when we can鈥檛, we show ourselves compassion.

We give ourselves a break . . . psychologically and concretely. We pour intense energy and love into our intense kids. We need intense recovery and rest, too.

We appreciate all those intensities in ourselves and our children. It might be a crazy life, but it鈥檚 also intensely rich.

And, we allow ourselves to laugh. To laugh at the amazing wit of our children. To laugh in shock as our small children use adult phrases and vocabulary perfectly. To laugh to keep from crying. To laugh at the surprising and amazingly quick responses from these people we鈥檙e honored to raise. To laugh at our own mistakes. To laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. And to laugh around the holiday tables in the decades to come, as we recount the night that we were eating dinner, cried for a dying bird, rescued a runaway dog, broke a nose, flashed our underoos to all the neighbors, worried the UPS man, and learned about sex.

Heather Boorman is a writer, public speaker, &聽Licensed Clinical Social Worker who provides therapy to kids, adults, and families at her private practice, Boorman Counseling, in Western Wisconsin. She and her husband Jon maintain a blog and podcast about the real life side to having a family with gifted and twice-exceptional children. is both refreshingly honest and full of helpful information. Make sure to check it out!