What do you owe the public?
{Originally Posted at Mom to the Screaming Masses}
Last week we had our big fishing trip. We took a meal with us, thinking that there might be an eating space nearby. And there was, and so while we set everything up, the kids sat under the gazebo and ate. When the lines were set up and the bait had been (euw!) prepped, we called them out to us and they came running. All except Riley. Often, Riley doesn’t join in, preferring to keep to herself. That’s fine with me. I don’t force her to join in - often, that’s counterproductive to our family enjoyment.
So we were fishing, or, rather the family was fishing and I was watching, because, euw! She strolled from the fishing area to the gazebo, bit her hamburger and walked back. Lather, rinse, repeat. She sang songs to herself and played finger games, stopped to admire some flowers, climbed on the bench and called to me often. When she wasn’t next to me, I kept my eye on her most of the time, flipping from “watch me fish, Mom!” to watching her play. She was satisfied to be alone. In short, it was a time that worked for her. She was content, and that’s a state I strive for. I relaxed, admiring the boats docked in the marina and waving to a woman who walked by with her medium sized dog on a leash.
Until I heard her scream, and scream, and scream - long, ear piercing, heart rending screams that seemed follow each other - as soon as one ended, she began again, without taking a breath.
Sarah Palin and Motherhood
{Originally Published on The Dr. Laura Blog}
I am extremely disappointed in the choice of Sarah Palin as the Vice Presidential candidate of the Republican Party. I will still vote for Senator McCain, because I am very concerned about having a fundamental leftist, especially one who is a marvelous orator, as President.
At first, I thought it amusing that McCain picked a pretty, smart, and tough female to counter the racist/sexist accusations going back and forth between parties. I remember how Oprah Winfrey got caught in the cross-fire as she stepped up to the political table to support Obama with pride that a black man could rise to such heights in the USA, only to get slammed by feminists who told her it was gender, not race, that she should back. Understandably, Ms. Winfrey pulled back from it all.
Forget gender and race. I’m frankly and sadly caught in the dilemma of having to balance policy versus example in touting a candidate for the office of the First Family. I was ferociously attacked (what’s new?) when I spoke out strongly against Bill Clinton’s dalliances in the Oval Office. That situation quickly turned into a debate whether “private has anything to do with public.” Nonsense.
Role models are very important. Children and young adults look to those who are visible and successful as a road map of what is acceptable behavior and emulate those actions over the morals and values their parents and churches have taught and tried to reinforce. It’s a tough go these days, when the “bad that men or women do” is used for entertainment purposes without judgment, or is excused because of political or financial considerations.
I’m stunned - couldn’t the Republican Party find one competent female with adult children to run for Vice President with McCain?
To: the hearing impaired me. Love: the deaf me.
Originally published at Strange Musings of a Distracted Spunk.
browsing around the internet, I found an article I wrote when I was
nine. Fourteen years ago. I remember sitting in a hotel room with my
dad in upstate New York, on our last family vacation before my parents
divorced, patiently editing and revising and writing. Apparently, even
when I couldn’t write well, I still strove to write. Shows how much of
this is innate.
I read through, I laughed at my younger self. Things that didn’t seem
important to me then are now - isn’t that true of everyone? It just
goes to show how much we can change. Then I thought, what would I say?
Because the nine year old me has yet to see so much. In a post McGee wrote about time traveling, she asked what we would say to our past selves. I wrote, …honestly?
There’s nothing I can think of that I would tell myself. Though I
wouldn’t mind hearing from myself in five years and knowing where I am
then. I never really thought much about the future - just knew it was
out there. And someday it will be here.
back, however, while I can’t go back in time, it’s like a little piece
of time caught up with me. So. From the twenty three year old me to the
nine year old me. A little slice of the future. Welcome, darling. It’s
been an interesting ride, and I gather it’s only going to continue
being bumpy.
My name is DS. I am nine years old. I am hearing impaired. I wear
hearing aids. My little sister is also hearing impaired. That is what
this story is about.
Sweetheart.
This is not a story. A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Or
some variation thereof. What you wrote? Is purely an article. I gather
for our age, we were rather intelligent. Not that that’s remotely a
surprise, given how intelligent and witty and charming we remain to
this moment, but it may take you a few years and MANY creative writing
classes to really understand what comprises a story.
(click title for more)
Learning to Accept My Autistic Son
Originally published on Mother of Confusion
My son was born after midnight during the cooler days of May, before the Central Valley could blaze triple-digit temperatures.
The delivery room was packed full of people. The doctor, several
nurses, my husband, my parents and my mother-in-law were in attendance.
As my son emerged into the world, I expected him to gasp and then cry
about the abrupt ejection.
He did not.
Instead he was quiet and blue. The umbilical cord was wrapped around
his slender neck several times. Of course I didn’t know that yet, but
the jubilant faces of the others gave way to peaked, pinched
expressions.
When I asked what was wrong. The response was, “Nothing. Everything’s okay. It’s okay.”
The reassurances scared me. I was only 20-years-old, but already I knew people lied when things were really, really wrong.
(click title for more)
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