Now I move in both worlds. The neurotypical and the autism parenting worlds. I carry them both on either side of me, and depending on who I interact with--the parent of a neurotypical kid or the parent of a kid with autism--I will have a whole different conversation.
I think I can forgive myself for not writing for 4 months. Those last couple posts, in the midst of having a tiny baby and an autistic kid, remind me that it has gotten easier now. Even as I long for the next year when it will, I think, get easier. Even as I adore... Continue Reading →
I am on fire But not the empowering kind Not the athletic kind Not the sprinter burning toward a finish line, hands ready to hold up the sky in victory. The kind where you stand outside a house beyond saving and watch it burn, just starting to feel the loss. I am on fire, but... Continue Reading →
Or at least feel assaulted. When it seems like there is no reason and you will never be able to move on your own, or do any movement other than holding and bouncing. Sometimes I lay on the floor and just set the baby on my stomach, because my arms can't do anymore. Or just... Continue Reading →
I've been thinking a lot lately about why art matters. Ironic, since I spent all of graduate school rebelling against the imperative to address aesthetic theory (probably because "aesthetics" to the professors I knew meant pure, in other words white and male). Really, I think about aesthetics because I'm grappling with my shift to stay-at-home-mom... Continue Reading →