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I’m Tired

I’m tired.

I think that’s why this election, this result, is hitting me so hard.

I believed that, in Hillary Clinton, my family would have a true advocate in the White House.

She values and supports families like ours. Her inclusion of people with disabilities at the Democratic Convention and in her platform was not just politics. She is a true supporter of families and of those with disabilities and has been for a long time in her career.

So, I was hopeful that we could have a president who sees us, who hears us. Who “gets” us. Read More

The Man He Was Aiming For

After a police-involved shooting, when you hear the spokesman say it was “accidental,” you might start to feel a little better. The victim wasn’t purposefully shot. It was an accident, a misunderstanding, and thankfully he survived. The policeman didn’t mean to shoot the guy while he had his hands up and was complying with their instructions and lying on the ground. Because shooting an unarmed man purposefully in that situation would be very, very bad.
But, for families like mine, this particular accidental shooting is still very, very bad.

Here’s the part that keeps me up at night (quoted from the CNN report below):

“Please be still … get down … lay on your stomach,” Kinsey says in the video.

The man beside him rocks back and forth.

Charles Kinsey, a behavioral therapist, was accidentally shot because the officer was aiming for Kinsey’s client. His autistic client, who could be my son. A 23-year-old non-verbal man, just six years older than my own, whose actions were misunderstood.

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Bad Words-Curse!

Not a Bad Word

When I was in 4th or 5th grade, my best friend and I created a list of secret swear words.

These were made-up words, each corresponding to a real curse word—the ones we weren’t allowed to say.

Bad Words-M&R photo

…but we were so cute!

I don’t remember using our secret swears in front of other people, we’d mostly just “curse” at each other and crack up at our clever defiance of little girl rules. It made for endless hours of inside-joke silliness. We even made them into a song. We would belt out this nonsense-word melody while walking to school, confident that no one knew we were actually singing a litany of really rude things. We thought it was hilarious. (Sorry, Mom) Read More