Today on the radio, the dj quoted someone as declaring proudly: Don’t let your past define you. And the other djs cheered and encouraged the thought and the adage. It’s a common cheer these days. It catches on quickly and people agree wholeheartedly as they celebrate the fact that they can rise above a horrible experience and still be a good, happy person despite a troubled past. While I get the sentiment of keeping on keeping on and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and not letting a bad experience defeat you or derail your life, I have to disagree. My past definitely defines me. I ..read more

We entered the building and walked across the lobby to the elevator. Two little boys sat with their mom over to the side. When the oldest of the two spotted Chloe, he called out excited, “I love your wheelchair!” As we stopped to say thanks, he dashed over, dropped to the floor beside the wheelchair, and announced, “This is my favorite part!” as he touched the small light-up caster wheels of Chloe’s chair. “Oh, yes! That’s my favorite part, too!” I said. It’s sad that this 5 second interaction had such an impact on me as Chloe’s mom, and there are a couple of reasons why it’s important. First ..read more

On the way to take Zippy to school today, he was in a playful mood. He jokingly pushed my buttons the whole drive. He messed with the radio, turning it back up after I turned it down, etc. He thought he was really funny. Each time, I would turn off the radio for a few minutes as “punishment.” Then, through smiles and laughter, we would talk about obedience and respect and then we’d turn the radio back on for another chance. But over and over, we would end up with the radio off for punishment, and wails and laughter would ensue. When we pulled up at the school to drop Zippy off, the radio was o ..read more

Be the one. Be the one who holds her hand. Be the one who dances to her music. Be the one who stops and joins her in her dance. Be the one who looks her in the eyes and smiles. Be the one who stands with her holding her hands while others look on. Be the one who is her friend. Because when you are that one, others will see that it’s okay to hold hands. Others will see that it’s okay to dance. Others will see that it’s okay to stop what they’re doing and join in her dance. When you are that one, you will empower others to come and join in her song and look into her eyes and smile and be her fr ..read more

Last night I finally crawled into bed a little before midnight. My bed had been calling my name for several hours, and I was ready to crash into a deep sleep. However, Elliot, my 20-year-son, was driving from the football game to his friend’s house for the night. He wouldn’t arrive at his destination for at least another hour and a half. My mama heart felt the need to know when he had made it safely. My mama heart willed my eyes to stay open and close to my phone incase he needed me. I dozed several times but was literally waking every 10 minutes and checking my phone. Finally after an hour or ..read more

“Family meeting!” I yelled. “Everyone  come to the kitchen!” As my three teens gathered around me, I asked, “WHO made the mess with the coffee grounds??” Someone had removed the lid of the coffee grounds container and made a mess with the grounds on the counter and on the floor. “Not me!” “Not me!” ”Not me!” chimed my kid’s one-by-one. But then I notice a clue… and I know who made the mess. You little stinker ..read more

It’s something that comes up over and over and over again in the world of disability and special education. The hot topic: hugging. Seriously. At some point in the history of special education/ special programs, someone decided that it was inappropriate for a person with a disability to greet people with a hug. And they set out to eradicate the practice of hugging altogether for those individuals who present with a disability or other social deficiencies. The argument is that it’s inappropriate. We should replace it with a more accepted practice of handshakes, fist bumps, or high fives. If yo ..read more