I woke up with a scratchy throat, a headache, and a brain full of doomsday scenarios.
It’s probably allergies. Or maybe a minor cold.
Heck, even if it is the coronavirus, odds are we will still get through it OK. Most people do, they say, right?
But still, I worry.
We’ve been staying home for several weeks now, except for brief trips to the grocery or post office (followed by extreme scrub downs of all hands and items before entering the house). I swear we’ve been so careful.
But still, I worry.
I’ve been doing a lot of prep for the “stay home” thing – making sure we have all the right food, activities, supplies.
But I haven’t really planned for getting sick.Read More
After our son’s 20th birthday celebration, my husband and I were reminiscing about this emerging adult of ours. I had to admit, though, that sometimes his younger years are hard for me to remember. I remember all the things we tried and did, how crazy-busy life was, learning how to be parents and then how to be special needs parents. But it’s somehow hard for me to fully remember him, his little personality, what his language and behavior was like when he was just a wee guy. I catch glimpses in my memory of a happy, quiet kid—content to watch the same movies and read the same books over and over; to dance with his reflection in the sliding glass door; and to play in the sand in the corner of the playground while other children ran together around him. But I feel like I don’t remember as much as I should. Then, I happened across this email, written to my girlfriends a few months before my son turned 10:
A beach trip really does a body good. Last weekend, I went on a three-night trip to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico (aka Rocky Point), the closest beach to Phoenix—Nine moms chilling out in a beautiful condo in a high rise on the Gulf of California. The weather was gorgeous and the company of women I was with was wonderful.
I was initially nervous to go, although I couldn’t really pinpoint why. Even though it’s rare for me to leave my family for one night (let alone three), I knew my “boys” would survive just fine. My uncertainty was mostly because I didn’t know my fellow travelers all that well. A few I hadn’t met until we piled into 2 cars for the 4-hour drive. We all have special needs kids and we’ve been in the same circles in our local area for years—schools, therapists, social groups, doctors—but I’d never spent any extended time with these ladies.Read More