That smile

Today I was invited by a friend to go to a Memorial Day BBQ. I'm typically good with this sort of thing. I can mix and mingle, make conversation with just about anyone. It was a mixture of a crowd and I enjoyed it immensely. When the 40 plus crowd dwindled to about 15 I found myself in the back yard enjoying some cocktails and conversation. As the topic of conversation to the right of me turned to what was obviously a re-enactment of some comedian's rendition of a "retarded" person I stood quietly. 

Those that know me, know this is a huge feat! With  most  issues that I feel strongly about its hard for me to contain myself, especially if alcohol is involved, but this time I stood quietly. I took a few deep breaths and when the topic died down I took out my phone and showed those involved in the conversation this: 

And said, " this is my son Walker".

That's all I really needed to say. The men started apologizing and I shook my head and said, "no need, just remember that smile" and walked away.

I wasn't angry, I wasn't sad. It's life. It's what people are afraid of or have no experience with that they make light of. 

I hope that with my gentle nature and understanding that they learned something today. When your language and actions are based in hurtfulness, it is always someone's child you are talking about. 

Whether it be race, religion, class, sexuality, gender identity or able ness, it's someone's child. He/she/they are loved, cared for and worried about. 

Remember that smile! 

Simply simple

It's been a year of transition. What I sometimes forget is to get out of my own head and remember that it's been a Year of transition for my children too.

Two different houses and my oldest moving out has left our sanctuary feeling a little off. 

I've been putting serious thought into it. Meditating on it and wondering what the universe wanted me to learn. There has to be some lesson here. 

And there it was. 

Something simple. 

Something perfect. 

9 months later

Last August I finished my last graduate class at SUNY New Paltz. The class was a perfect ending to my educational program, it was Expressive Art. It was an amazing mix of theory and social justice practices combined with a safe classroom atmosphere In which art could be ceated. For me, art is a vulnerability, an insecurity of mine that was only fostered in higher learning. So to end my graduate work in this way felt fitting to the degree I was getting. 

It was bitter sweet. I was happy to be done but sad that I was not given the opportunity to wear a cap and gown and walk onto stage to shake hands and get recognition for my degree. My university only does commencement ceremonies once a year. The next opportunity to partake would be 9 months later. It just felt anti-climatic. 

To my surprise I received this picture today 

I have to admit, I felt a ping of accomplishment and pride! Although I didn't walk on stage it did make me take a moment and acknowledge to myself that I did it! I worked hard and completed my goal. No party, no cards, no cap or gown is needed to prove to myself that I did it! All in my iown! 

I am from

I am from log cabin walls and cathedral ceilings,

I am from worn out slippers and baskets hanging from railroad ties,

I am from 33 records spinning the story of Fiddler on the roof and Paul Simon lyrics.

I am from horse shoe pits and firewood.

I am from oils stains and gravel driveways shoveled in the snow.

I am from corn fields and Holsteins and black dirt tornadoes.

I am from unpaves roads and the turn around tree.

I am from Dottie and Clara Bell

Chocolate chip cookies and meatloaf

I am from family portraits hanging on a stair case.

I am from cedar trunks and shoe boxes filled with photos and memories.

I am from "foof it" and "dunk the baby"

Dancing in the rain and catching fireflies.

I am from riding motorcycles and collecting river rocks.

I am from the black cherry tree bending in the wind and the spring peepers singing ther song.

I am from everything that was, that is and that could be.

My short skirt

My short skirt is not an invitation

A provocation

An indication

That I want it

Or give it

Or that I hook.

My short skirt is not begging for it

It doesn't want you to rip it off me

Or pull it down.

My short skirt is not a reason to rape me

Even though it has been a reason before

It will not hold up in court.

My short skirt, believe it or not

Has nothing to do with you!

My short skirt is about the power

Of my lower calves

A cool autumn breeze blowing between my thighs,

It's about everything I see, or feel or live to be inside.

My short skirt is my defiance

I will not let you make me afraid!

This is who I am

Before you made me cover it up

Or tone it down. 

Get used to it.

My short skirt is happiness

I can feel myself on the ground

I am here

I am hot.

My short skirt is a liberation flag

In the women's army

I declare these streets

Any streets

My vaginas country.

My short skirt does not mean that I'm stupid

Or undecided

Or a malleable little girl.

My short skirt is a turquoise blue ocean

With swimming colored fish

A music festival 

A stary night

A bird calling

A train arriving in a foreign town

My short skirt is a full spin

A full breath

A tango dip

But mainly, my short skirt

And everything underneath it is mine

Mine

Mine

Learning to let go

It took me three days to finally go in and look. I didn't want to see the emptiness, the reality that my oldest child chose to leave and go live with his dad. My heart is breaking. 

I've known since his was a toddler that this day would come. I thought i was prepared. But there's really no way to prepare when your child breaks your heart. 

I know I need to let go and as a parent this is just my first lesson in that. I know that it's not about me, that it's about him finding who his his, learning his path in this life and becoming a man. 

I can only be here to support him, love him and today..... Miss him. 

Mr. Mr update

In the first few years of his life, I spent a lot of time blogging about Mr. Mr. I was a stay at home mom and trying to manage the complexities of life with a child with special needs. Being on line, saved me in some many ways. When people question the integrity of relationships built on line, I can only use the examples of so many of my closest friends whom I met via on line during this time. Blogging and chatting virtually saved me from going into a deep dark depression.


Life has moved on, and we have settled into a routine with Mr. Mr, and I returned back to work.


Days are still challenging... as a family we struggle to include him but also give attention to his siblings who are often set aside due to his constant care. Our own needs are set aside. Simple tasks like going grocery shopping are exhausting and there is no putting him in the child care at the Y while mommy runs on the treadmill.


Recently we have been on a roller coaster of sorts.... although Mr. Mr. is a very involved child, (non-ambulatory, non-verbal and a pureed diet)  for the most part he is healthy. He has never needed medication and is usually in a happy mood as long as his belly is full and pants are clean. But the last two weeks we have been experiencing him having seizures. At first I didn't believe that was what was happening, but as the week progressed the activity became more and more obvious. He was having these "episodes" 6 - 10 times a day. The validation for me was when his school also confirmed that they were seeing the same thing.




Today we went for an EEG...he hated it. He hates his head touched, he hates laying on his back and most importantly he hates me in his face holding down his arms. The technician said to sleep deprive him.... yeah right! This kid is the king of cat naps and never sleeps longer than 4 hours at a clip to begin with.  We managed to make it through with minimal melt downs for both of us!


the neurologist snuck us in after and confirmed that what we were seeing were in fact seizures. He acted like this was just another thing, prescribed some meds and sent us on our way. I realize that for him this is common... children with special needs often develop a seizure disorder. What was most upsetting for me are the side affects of the med which can cause anger. I can't have my little man pissed off all the time!  What I find solace in is that even though his life is limited in his reality life is great, silly noises are hilarious and bright lights are pretty cool to check out. If he becomes grumpy, angry or just irate that will be a hard pill to swallow!


so we will wait... wait to see if the seizures stop or slow down... wait to see if he has any behavior changes and wait.......


if my children are my lessons in life this kid is teaching me plenty!!