hen I decided to venture out into Blogland, I wanted to share our experiences and teach people, to be positive and tell positive stories. To share the good truths. Also Tragedy Then, just as I entered the blog world, a horrible and preventable tragedy, introduced me to another range of allies and advocates.
In 2015 I said, I want it all. (Also, I said Publish)
In 2017 I said, Patience.
In 2018, I say: Produce.
(Also, Stretch. And Clear. But these aren’t as alliterative, so they’re forced to be a subtitle.)
I’m still a little tired from 2017, recovering from a good, no – more than good, a seriously incredible line-up that 2017 delivered. (Holy cow, where do I even start on the links? Try this.)
Every year I say I’m scaling back on this or that, every year my husband doesn’t believe me, and I defend that
When you have a child with an intellectual disability the tests come early and often. Medical tests, intervention tests, IQ tests.
IQ tests are the worst. On the parents. I’ll never forget Marcus’ first IQ test, he was three. He communicated mostly with action/expression and sign language. But not that day, well I take it back. He was clearly communicating, just not compliant. An important differentiation that, as his mother, I could see but the Ph.D. in the room clearly could not, Or did not.
One moment that stood out, the psychiatrist held before Marcus a doll with its head off, laying
In about 5th grade I thought, “I hope when I have a daughter she’s not too pretty. Pretty girls…they don’t understand anything.”
In fact, when I was pregnant, of all the things I feared, I feared having a daughter.
I had one big birthday party when I was 6. It was a whopper, my whole grade was there. We ran across the lawn with raw eggs on spoons. There was a huge array snacks and more games. A long table made of planks and concrete blocks, perfect for 6 year olds to fit around. The radio was