THIS IS ME
Life in the fast lane: My world as a working mum of two, one with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder)
Written by Lucy Peters-Briggs , Operations Manager – MMG
Life as a full-time working mum of two young boys – aged 9 and 5 – is equal parts rewarding, exhausting, and eye-opening. Each day starts with structure and good intentions, yet somehow, despite the same morning routine, we still end up in a flurry of reminders, prompts, and mini emergencies just to get out the door. It’s a dance – repetitive, familiar, but always slightly out of sync. Despite the same steps, my husband & I have to continually prompt and remind what comes next – whether it’s brushing teeth, getting dressed, or finding the elusive second sock.
Our eldest son, now 9, has an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) diagnosis. He’s incredibly bright and capable, particularly when it comes to academics, but like many autistic children, social interactions, particularly in small or informal settings, can be a little tougher to navigate. He’s very much ‘Monica’ (from Friends) in that, ‘Rules make the fun!’ which is definitely a challenge for his younger brother (and most children) to grasp.
Casual chats and unstructured social settings don’t come naturally to him, and as a parent, it can be heartbreaking to see him excluded from smaller gatherings. But rather than sit with that sadness or place blame, I’ve learnt to channel that emotion into positive action: I organise playdates, reach out to other parents, and do my best to create opportunities for connection. My hope is to help shape a world around him that feels more inclusive, understanding, and welcoming.
As a former primary school teacher, I’ve always been interested in how children learn and communicate. Since my son’s diagnosis, I’ve thrown myself into learning more about neurodivergence, and that’s had a profound impact on how I interact with everyone — whether they’re diagnosed or not. You can learn so much from someone’s body language: just watch and see. For example, it’s incredibly common for people with ASD to find holding eye contact stressful. Rather than insist on it (we all remember teachers saying, “You will look at me when I’m talking to you!”) I take a gentler approach. When I was teaching — and now with my own son, I’d rest a hand lightly on their shoulder to signal I was speaking to them, allow a brief moment of eye contact, and then communicate. Another strategy I’ve found effective is asking them to repeat back what they’ve heard and understood: it’s a simple, respectful way to check for understanding without pressure.
One of the many things my husband and I have also come to understand is just how literal some of his thinking is — a classic trait for many autistic children. Early on, we’d say things like, “Just wait a minute,” and he’d return in exactly sixty seconds, wondering why we hadn’t moved. He’d counted to sixty, and we weren’t keeping our word.
It was a lightbulb moment — we needed to be mindful of what we said and how we said it. Those little misunderstandings taught us just how much power language holds and how important it is to be clear and intentional with our words.
Holidays are another adventure entirely. Whilst he loves the idea of them, the lack of school routine can make things feel unstable. He doesn’t just like to know the plan — he needs to know what’s happening and when. Loose, unstructured days might sound relaxing to most of us, but for him, they can be unsettling. So, we look for ways to create structure — not rigid, but reliable, as it’s important he learns in life there are times we need to flex and adapt therefore routines are sometimes subject to change.
The more I’ve learned about ASD and ADHD, the more I see myself reflected in what I read. I’ve never been formally diagnosed, but I’m confident I sit somewhere on that spectrum. Routines help me too, and while I’ve grown more skilled at hiding my discomfort with change, it still affects me deeply. My brain runs at a hundred miles an hour. It’s like a web browser with dozens of tabs open all at once — constantly switching, constantly busy. It’s fascinating but completely exhausting. And although I’m in my early 40s, powering through as a mum of two (and therefore don’t expect to have the limitless energy I did during my 20s!) I’m drained more often than I care to admit — not just tired, but mentally and physically spent. I’m eternally grateful for my husband’s understanding, love and patience.
In the middle of this wild, beautiful chaos, I’ve found enormous support in our workplace. I’ve only been at Lockton for under a year, but my team and my line manager have been nothing short of amazing. They understand that I have a lot to juggle, and they don’t just accommodate that — they genuinely care. That kind of support is rare and valuable. I’ll always get the job done, because I take huge pride in my work, and I love working. It gives me a sense of identity, purpose, and achievement — and I think it’s incredibly important that my children see that — that they know it’s possible to love your work and be a parent; to balance both with authenticity and pride – but you have to be kind to yourself every day.
So yes, life is busy. It’s messy, noisy, unpredictable, challenging and often overwhelming. Every single day I reflect and consider whether I could have approached something differently, in a more supportive way. But it’s also full of small, beautiful moments — belly laughs, bedtime stories, quiet cups of tea (and glasses of wine!), and a whole lot of love. It’s important to remember these moments are fleeting and to embrace the magic in the madness. You might be wondering why I chose to write this. I want to educate people. I want to help create a new way of thinking about, supporting and embracing one another. Not just adapting because of someone’s diagnosis but creating environments that naturally accommodate everyone. Whether you’re neurodivergent or not, we all benefit from compassion, clarity, and flexibility.
If you’d like to learn more about ASD, I highly recommend the book Being Autistic by Niamh Garvey. It’s a fantastic, quick read — one I used when I spoke to my son about his diagnosis. It’s also a great book to share with your child if you’re in a similar situation. And if anything I’ve shared resonates — or you’re just curious and want to learn more — I’d love to chat.
I’m part of the Neurodivergent & Physical Disability ARG here at Lockton, and we’re just about to launch our first café-style drop-in session. Please come along. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is just listen to each other.
If my story resonates with you, or if you would like to share your story, please get in touch.