Those of you that have a child with Special Needs knows exactly what I speak of.

It can be judgment from a stranger (most usual form). Or from a friend. Judgment can happen even with families.

Judgment is defined as… (via



an act or instance of judging.

the ability to judge, make a decision, or form an opinion objectively, authoritatively, and wisely, especially in matters affecting action; good sense; discretion: a man of sound judgment.

the demonstration or exercise of such ability or capacity: The major was decorated for the judgment he showed under fire.

the forming of an opinion, estimate, notion, or conclusion, as from circumstances presented to the mind: Our judgment as to the cause of his failure must rest on the evidence.

the opinion formed: He regretted his hasty judgment.
    The type of judgment that we are talking about today is within the definition of choice numbers ONE, and of FOUR.
    Although, the basis of judgment more often than not, is primarily upon choice number ONE.
    Because most “outsiders” will not know (even within the family circle) TRULY what life is like for our children, or for us as their parents and their caregivers.
    My son, even at almost eleven years old, is a “safety risk”. He has no “I better be certain it is safe” button. He has a “‘wow, that’s cool and I want to go to it’ button”. He can only see what he wants. Not what it takes to get it. Including safety. I worry every time he wants to walk to school (which is not even five minutes from my home). Mainly because the section of road we live on is high-traffic early in the morning. But I have to let him be independent. If I see him crossing the street in the wrong manner, then after school, when he gets home (via the bus), we have (yet another) talk about safety when crossing the street.
    I have had him walking with us in the mall, and he suddenly is far back behind, because something caught his eye and he ran off to check it out.
    Because of things like that, and because of an incident at a huge Theme Park, over in the water area, I for a good while used harnesses on my child. I never have had to do so with the two girls. But then again, they don’t have the problems that he does, and they are really good about listening, staying close and asking to check something out or to go somewhere.
     The times that I have used the harness, be it a wrist one, or one that straps around the chest and over the head, I have gotten “the look” of disgust and judgment. And I say, KEEP ON JUDGING! You have no idea about my child. You don’t know the dangers he can get in to. You have no clue as to how fast he can honestly be.
      To judge ANY parent, based solely on what you see, and nothing on what is known (which in most cases you don’t due to not knowing the people at all), to me is demeaning and rude. And it’s something that sadly, millions of us mothers and fathers must endure every single day. Because people just don’t understand. Some don’t WANT to understand. Some cannot begin to. Not until they sadly have a situation like I have had. And we aren’t talking about a grocery store or a neighbor’s house.
      My son ran off from us at a Theme Park that has a Water Park built in. We were in the section of the Water Park for the younger kids, playing laughing. Back then, my youngest was a baby. About eight months old at the time. In one moment, when both my husband and I turned for a brief second, he was gone. We called and called for him, only to find him nowhere. That’s when panic set in. Next thing I know, we have Park Security, ourselves and a couple of strangers helping us to look for my son.
       Thankfully, he was found (by Dad) not too far off, in the other section, waiting for the huge bucket to dump water on them (Dad took him there a bit before and played with him and had the bucket splash them). He wanted to go back to the bucket area, but told no one, and just took off. He just got it in his head that he wanted to go back, but forgot the step to get his wish. Instead, he (literally) ran with the thought and took off.
        Hence why the next year, we placed him in a strap harness. It helped us, and it kept him safe. Back then, if it were on the wrist, he surely would have been slick and removed it, only to jet off to God knows where. It was a safety tool. Not an abusive parenting tactic. Abuse would be to NOT do it, and let him run off to anywhere he felt led. With no worry of what COULD happen to him. That’s abusive.
         These days, we are no longer using the harnesses. But I tell you what… IF there EVER came a time to need one, you can safely bet that I WILL indeed use one on him. It’s better than him being kidnapped and have unimaginable speaks of horror possibly done to him. My child is TOO trusting and has no boundaries where his social interactions and self are concerned. So, he is an easy target. Personally, I refuse to take that chance. Even at his age.

At almost eleven years old, even a wrist harness may be embarrassing for him to wear, and for us to have to use it. We will I’m sure get nasty stares and a few finger points and snickers. But it’s worth it when I KNOW my son is safe.


"ADHD isn’t *anything* but a myth."

This dude’s nothing but a crock of crap! He is NOT a certified Medical Doctor (and actually ADMITS to such claim). And apparently, so is Depression. It’s a “moral dilemma”. The ADHD is an “imaginary” medical condition according to this dummy.

Ones like this asshat has NEVER had children most likely. Or never had kids with these disorders.

The Perfect Night That Wasn’t

Last night’s trip to the mall was an embarrassment. Even Dad had a hard time with B. My oldest wanted to go to a few shops with her Christmas money. So we made it a (supposed to be) nice family outing. Dinner at Golden Corral and then the River Ridge Mall.

Even the restaurant thing kinda went downhill. But the mall trip was worse.

At the restaurant, he would barely sit in his seat, was boisterous and loud. He while in a happy mood at the time (which I AM thankful for) notably bothered certain surrounding customers with his “antics”. It was almost like the viewing of things to come. And that was the MILD part of the evening.

Like I said, the mall was FAR worse.

He was running around, trying to get (way) too far ahead of us, walking BACKWARDS or spinning as we walked in the semi-crowded areas of the mall.

As we were ending our night in Sears, where we had initially parked, anyways, it was BAD. Constantly handling things, running in to and hiding in racks, running off and “escaping” down in to other areas of the general area that I was at.

It got so bad in Sears, that at one point, I grabbed him by his shirt collar and held on for dear life. Of course then I was “choking” him and he was almost yelling for me to let go. I am SOOO thankful that barely a customer was in that area.

He also tried to go out the “merchandise pick up” door just off from the girls/baby section. And of course, I stayed there with him and the older one, who was still shopping as Dad took the younger one to use the toilet.

I honest cannot say what got in to him to be so freaking high strung. But good Lord, I was sure that someone was gonna call CPS on me for “man handling” my kid as a means to corral him.

Oh! And he almost knocked over a couple of displays or hit people as he walked backwards AND spinning. Both in Sears and in the mall area its self.

It was just a washout of an evening. All thanks to one kid and his actions. What was meant to be a NICE family outing, turned in to a chaotic nightmare for all (as in the two sisters and myself and Dad).

*Vent over*

"Invisible No More" (video)

Take a journey with these people and their stories of having hidden/invisible disabilities of varying degrees and ailments.

This is an introduction to those that have been willing to come to the forefront and be the “face” of the Peoples with Invisible Disabilities Community.

Pete Monfre

Lauri Cohen

Andrea Fabry


I own NOTHING. These videos are provided through a YouTube channel for the Invisible No More Organization. And are solely for educational purposes, only.

So Far, So Good.. Sort Of

EVERYTHING thus far in school is going well. For the most part. Mornings are a tad bit bumpy here at home. The usual grumpiness, and slight attitude in the voice. He had been non-compliant as of late in regards to getting a move on and ensuring he got everything accomplished, including medicine.

So he went to school without medication for two days last week. That’s on him. I have decided to not fight him. It’s HIS problem, not mine. Let the school call CPS on me for not drugging my kid.

I’m not fighting him in the morning anymore. I have OTHER kids to attend to and ready for school besides him. And I’m not up to having myself kicked, hit, punched and screamed at abusively anymore.

He is now in Fifth Grade. He needs to act like it. That includes making sure that BEFORE he leaves the house, to take his medicine. Or not being passive-aggressive when I mention the fact he needs to take it.

*Wander with me over at FOR THE LOVE OF BLOGS and join in the fun!*

Living Life To It’s Fullest…No Matter The Disability.

The year was 1976. It was Christmas time. And it was three weeks prior to my due date. My parents didn’t know until my mom was about seven months along that I was even coming in to their lives (she was obese and thought she was gaining more, though she was eating less). At the same time, she also had a tumor that sit next to me in the womb area, making barely any room for me to grow and made it difficult to move (or even breath out the fluids I swallowed).

I came in to the world literally backwards, butt first. As I did, I tore her to the point of her nearly dying from the severe blood loss.

Then it was shown that from my chest wall, I had a collapsed lung and after further inspection, that I had a Tracheal Fistula (my esophagus was basically severed, almost completely).

After stabilization, airlift transport and an eighteen hour surgery, where I “died” four times, I had my lung re-inflated and had the fluid removed. But I was also trached and they had to do the repair along with everything else to my esophagus.

First, it was that I most likely wouldn’t live past 24 to 48 hours. Then, the first week. Then the first month. Then six months.

All the while, per the doctors, I would *NEVER* walk independently, talk, feed/drink independently (as in require tube feedings) or have viable pregnancies.

Plus once my parents even fathomed bringing their almost-three-year-old daughter home FOR GOOD in 1980, they were once again met with resistance. They were firmly told that there was NO way that they could sustain me on their own and it was best to place me in an institution to get the level of care THE DOCTORS felt I needed.

Well, I went home with my parents, against Doctor’s advice. My in-home nurse was FIRED after the first three weeks of not allowing my own mother to care for HER child in any way. And both my mom and my dad had started me on a path of learning and doing. Walking, talking and eating.

Today, I eat anything I want. And drink anything I want. Of course, thanks to my esophageal tract still being way too narrow and having a “dent”, I have at times, trouble swallowing my food without it going the wrong way. Rice and carbonated sodas being the main culprit.

I walk ALL over. Have ran 7-mile races, and plan to run the four-miler (and walk, too!) in September with one of my kids.

And I have three great kids. Each unique in their own way. One like their mom. One like their dad. And one with a mix of the two of us.

Please, I urge you strongly to watch the following video. Yes, this man has had a MUCH harder life than I could ever have had, medically speaking.

Thanks to the UNCONDITIONAL love of his father, his dedication to his son, and the fact that this man NEVER ONCE let the obstacle of severe disabilities his son has hinder the now-grown man from enjoying life to its fullest capacity despite being so severely disabled that he requires a Speak Box and a wheelchair.

Believe me, you will need to get out a handful of tissues, because you WILL cry from the awesomeness of witnessing the powerful pull of love.

Thanks to fellow member Rainey, from the FaceBook group, Abled & Disabled United for Community Change for initially posting the video on the group’s wall.

Verbal Abuse/Assault. I’m tired of it.

Verbal assaults. Gotta love ’em. Yeah, I just LOVE getting yelled at by a ten year old. And over what are seemingly mundane things.

Like getting up for school and being told that I will NOT “cater” to his every whim as if he is a two year old.

This merry-go-round is getting to be an insanely OLD ride. I want to get the hell off the damn thing.

Why me? Why am I to be the “lucky” one to be bombarded in this manner? I’m just completely TIRED of this shit.

All I hear from Bryce is that he is a “tween” and is ten years old. And that he is a “big boy” now.

But each time he acts the way he did this morning, I remind him that he is NOT acting his age and that for being a “tween”, he being more like a “toddler”.

I came THIS close to back handing him in the face for being so verbally abusive to me. Telling me to shut up and to not tell him what to do. And for yelling at me for MAKING HIM get up for school.

Now, for the next 4 to 8 weeks, he will be WITHOUT his Nintendo DS, computer time and be in bed by nine o’clock EVERY night (including the weekend). If he keeps pushing me, it’s going to be moved back to 8:30 or even eight PM.

I’m at a point where if this crap doesn’t change, and soon, I’ll seek out a detention home or a group facility for the behaviorally challenged (which there IS one or two in our area for kids with these types of special needs).

I deserve better than this. So do the girls. We should NOT be subjected (almost daily) to verbal assaults and threats. Nor should we be getting physically harmed due to my son’s lack of control.