Crazy-vember

Sometimes life catches up with us in weird ways. We’ve been having a very busy November at the moment, and trying to make sure ‘everything’ happens when it needs to happen has been hard. And I’m not talking about fripperies, I’m talking about having enough time to do basic stuff like washing clothes and dishes. The stacks in our bathroom and kitchen are getting very high indeed at the moment.
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My Kid is NOT Average, and Pride Has Nothing to Do With It.

My Kid is Not Average, and Pride Has Nothing to do with it, yellowreadis.com, Image: Purple flowers in grass

What can I say about the post, ‘My kid is average and I am oh so proud‘ ?

I can say that it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the passive aggressive tone, maybe it’s the conflation of their child’s achievements and their own ego. I’m not sure.

What I think is damaging and breath-takingly dangerous about this post, is that it reinforces stereotypes that encourage discrimination and prejudice. Even if the opposite was the author’s intent. Which I’m not sure is the case.

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Normalising Disability

My little girl, J is a funny girl sometimes. Recently, when we took C to his physio session at the hospital, we had to share the room with another therapist and patient. J loves these ‘go Doctor’ sessions, as she calls them – there’s lots of cool toys, and she usually has Mummy running around after her while C ‘plays’ with the therapist. This time, she spent her time watching the other patient – a teenage girl with motor problems – grab toys from one location and crawl to another to put it in a circle. Suddenly J wasn’t next to me, but had raced forward to join the other girl – grabbing toys and putting them in the circle. I quickly sped forward and scooped her up, exclaiming,
‘I know it looks like a lot of fun, but it’s the big girl’s turn now.’

The other girl and therapist laughed and J went back to playing with her toys and copying and bugging her brother.

It was only after the session that it hit me. This is J’s normal. She has spent her life going in and out of doctors’, therapists’, and specialists’ waiting rooms. It’s been like that from the very beginning, even in the womb.
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