About Me

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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Friday, December 20, 2019

It's Not Okay

As the mother of a child with a speech issue, the tweet sent by Sara Huckabee Sanders during the debate last night has left me feeling both infuriated and deflated. Let me be clear, it is never okay to mock an impairment. This is not a partisan issue, or at least it shouldn't be political. 

The message that she succinctly sent in a now deleted tweet cannot be undone. This morning, kids like my Robby will listen to the news and realize that they may never outgrow and nor will they completely outwork their differences. As hard as Robby has been working to improve his articulation, and he has made great strides, he will probably always have slightly slushy moments. 

Having a speech impairment is not an indicator of intellect, but yet Sara confirmed that myth in one fleeting moment last night. She hurt scores of kids, young adults and their families with what she probably envisioned to be a witty observation. As a woman who demonstrates marked exotropia, she should have known better. 

I'm tired of the growing normalization of mocking individuals with disabilities. I have seen my limp being mocked by strangers in public areas. I have witnessed Robby's speech being mimicked by adults. I have heard the complaints of fellow shoppers after being slowed by an individual in a wheelchair.  None of this is okay.

The emboldened judgment that seems to be stirring in the underbelly of society is not acceptable. Sander's tweet is just another example of the growing wave. Her apology does nothing to diminish the damage of her judgmental words. 

It's not okay.

Thursday, December 19, 2019


By late afternoon, my mischievous and energetic little boy made a triumphant return. He played games, ran through the house with the cats and ate well for the first time in nearly a week. I gladly offered him my steak after he polished off his own during dinner. Steak is his favorite food, and seeing him devouring it enthusiastically after picking at his meals all week was a welcome sight.  

With Timmy on the mend and re-energized, today will be spent baking cookies and decorating the house. I have to contain my compulsion to take him to a playground or activity zone until he has fully rebounded. Even though he is feeling better, I don't want him to push too hard and end up relapsing.  I don't like staying home, but right now I know it is best for my little guy.

On another positive note, my leg hasn't felt this good in a long time. The weeks of rest have done wonders for my sore and battered limb. Like Timmy, apparently all I really needed was extended rest.

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Coming Quickly

While Timmy watched Polar Express through the afternoon I was able to work in the kitchen, baking Christmas treats and infusing the house with delicious smells. There is nothing like the smell of a baking cookie to bring out the holiday spirit. 

With Timmy feeling ill, our seasonal excitement and enthusiasm has been tempered. Instead of going to excitement packed activities, right now he prefers to stay quietly at home. Yesterday I saw glimmers of mischief in his eyes, so I am hopeful that he is turning the corner towards feeling better. 

After looking at our countdown snowman for the past 93 days, it is hard to believe that we only have six days left until we are in full blown Christmas frenzy. Today will continue to be quiet, but hopefully my littlest elf will feel up to doing some fun Christmas crafts. Fingers crossed he feels better soon!

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Feeling Icky

Timmy's treatment on Friday has left him both depleted and grumpy. He is running a low grade fever which is to be expected. He is also irritable and uncomfortable, which is harder to treat. 

I know why he is irritable, but I'm not able to provide relief for him. I feel horrible that I can't take away his discomfort. Right now we are in "rest and relax through any means possible" mode. For Timmy, that means watching Polar Express while playing on my cell phone. I normally shun electronics for him, but right now I gladly hand them over because it keeps him both entertained and quiet.

My hope is that he will begin to feel better as the week progresses. Between time and rest, he should start to recover by the end of the week. It stinks to feel sick, especially when you are little and you don't fully understand the reasons. I think it is even more frustrating when you are sick at Christmastime.

Monday, December 16, 2019

We're Idiots.

Several weeks ago, Scott and I headed outside to tackle the leaves. While Timmy, Robby and I grabbed our respective rakes, Scott hopped onto the lawnmower. As usual, the mower did not start and needed to be jumped.

It took several attempts to jump the mower, and when it started we were discouraged that it would not steer or move. Ugh! We were both frustrated that there was one more thing that was broken in our house, and I began to search for mower repair.

Last week the mower was finally picked up for repair. The repair shop called at the end of the week, informing me that we needed a new battery (which was not a surprise). When I asked about the steering issue I was informed that the steering was absolutely fine. Apparently the battery was too weak to run the power steering mechanism on the tractor. We were delighted that the expense was not high but now our frustrations were inward focused on own stupidity.

Saturday afternoon Robby and I headed downstairs to tidy up his museum. While Robby organized his collections of military artifacts, I got to work purging and cleaning the room. It was a herculean task because of the overwhelming clutter.

Several years ago we sustained a lightening strike that felled a giant tree and damaged several electronics inside the house. The first time I ventured downstairs after the strike I was dismayed to discover that none of the lights worked. We tried to call an electrician but, do to a series of cancellations, we finally gave up. We decided to locate a new professional, but the repair dropped off our priority list. Our once beautiful playroom quickly became a dark and dank catch-all.  We all avoided going downstairs, and the area soon became inhabited with assorted clutter and trash.

I don't know why I asked Robby to change a light bulb above the bookcase. I wasn't expecting it to work. In retrospect, I was motivated to move the electrician back to the top of our repair priority list. I was in shock when the light illuminated after it was replaced by Robby.

We continued to change all of the bulbs, and they all worked! Scott came downstairs and was gobsmacked with our brightly lit room. In unison, we looked at each other and declared "we're idiots." The grid was not damaged by the lightening, our bulbs were only blown. We had surrendered half of our home for years because we didn't change a light bulb.