Thoughts on life, disability, and the power of connection.

0

When You Give a Mom a Snow Day

When you give a mom a snow day (followed by another snow day then a sick day then another snow day) She will lose her ever lovin’ mind. And when she loses her ever lovin’ mind She will crack a raw egg on her husband’s head (because he said I wouldn’t). ***** True story. This clearly isn’t a real post, more like a cry for help. ALL DONE WINTER!!!! What about you? Have you gone...

0

Food for Thought

Food for Thought – January 3, 2014 Football Edition This was my favorite part of the Super Bowl. So much local greatness here: And this is what I see when I watch football: This was not a year for commercials (and dead kid and a traumatized puppy? Come on.) But this was awesome: And a tip of the hat to the Irish:

0

Yale Nurses Score and A+

I started my presentation to the Yale Pediatric nursing students by telling them why I love nurses. It seemed like a good place to start. Nurses saved Aidan’s life and advocated for me when I couldn’t be bedside in the NICU. Then I asked the students to tell me what they noticed about Aidan (who was tooling around the classroom), what observations did they make, what words would they use to describe him? They were...

0

Food for Thought

Food for Thought – January 26, 2015 Edition A Day for Becoming Someone New On this day, I will become a mother again. I will be starting at the beginning and hoping I remember how this works. I will relearn and regroup. I will see that this time is different– as each new life is different. As she is learning me and I am learning her. I am someone new. What Facebook Means to Special...

0

Food for Thought

Food for Thought – January 19, 2015 Edition Please Don’t Praise Your Kid for Playing with Mine We all want to show our kids we’re proud, we want to encourage them when we see positive traits in them. But playing with a child who has a disability should not be seen as heroic or exceptional. Be proud because they see a friend first and not the disability, please help them to keep it that way....

0

Food for Thought

Food for Thought – January 12, 2015 Edition She Was Once Called Retarded: Judith Scott didn’t move to San Francisco and become enrolled in her art studio until she was 43. She produced work that has received international acclaim, but did so only in the last 18 years of her life. As wonderful as the critical reviews and commentary written about her are, reading them left me wondering: What beauty have we missed by shunning...

0

How Life is not a Toaster Oven

I get really annoyed when I have to replace my toaster oven. I end up with warm toast, or burnt toast, or toast toasted only on one side and I need to start over after about two years. Mostly I pay my $40 every couple of years and get over it. It should work longer but it doesn’t and it won’t break the bank to replace. If I can’t get to the store, I just...

0

Dating and Giving Birth

Garreth and I skipped the dating part of our relationship. We met, wrote letters to each other, got married, had babies, then started dating. Not exactly advisable, but in our case best. We’ve had more than our fair share of bad dates. There is so much pressure to instantaneously be magical. My sweet wonderful husband is a people watcher and I’m all about connecting. See me. Stop looking around. Have a conversation. To be fair, I’m...

0

Say it Again

It’s my most favorite time of the year. Sure Christmas is over but now Aidan and I get to go speak to the pediatric nursing students at Yale. I believe so strongly in parents and professionals working together that I will continue to take every opportunity to help them help us. I’ll definitely tell them how important presumed competence is to me. And since they’re nurses, I’ll tell them that I’m convinced nurses saved Aidan’s life...

1

Drip Drip Drop

Let’s go ahead and start the New Year with a super awkward conversation, ok? (Happy New Year, by the way) Let’s talk about drooling. I’m not a bodily functions kind of person. Liam has already puked at one track meet (it’s a runners’ thing apparently) and he knows if he does it again I will stage whisper in mock horror, “Where is that poor boy’s mother?” and then disappear out the back door. I know...