My son Simeon just turned one. He’s blond, he’s cuddly, he’s oh-so-munchable– and he uses a wheelchair. In all likelihood, my son will not walk.
Being the mother of a child with disabilities is rough. It’s also beautiful, and silly, and more normal than you would think.
But today I’m not writing about my son. No. I want to talk about friendship.
Some of you may have friends with children like mine. I know our brand of mommy-hood seems pretty heavy, but there’s something you should know:
Huh!? So, we’ll only share struggles that are as bad as having a child with a disability? I say “nonsense.” Jeez-Louise– I don’t even hold myself to such ludicrously high standards.
Case in point: Want to know what I did when I stubbed my toe today? I got angry. I cried. I may have said a potty word (don’t tell my dad). I did not, however, nod my head wisely saying, “Well, it’s just a toe– not nearly as bad as having a disabled child. I should be thankful” — because that would make me nutty as a fruitcake. Also it would mean I might be a robot.