For my Children

I hate Mother's Day. I know my children love me, and it's nice of them to take the time to let me know, but I loathe this day as the pre-ordained time to do it. It's so forced, so Plasticine a celebration that I can't accept the sentiment. When my kids were younger, and I... Continue Reading →

Frame by Frame

When I talkĀ about my daughter having a disability, I get a lot of sad faces, murmurs of morose sympathy, and sorrowful eyes averted, so as not to look directly at the reality of being disabled. It's the last one that I wish I could fix. I don't care if people have pity, and I would... Continue Reading →

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