To the Moms I Am Not, But Was Supposed to Be
My son is a quirky kid. He talks about airplanes 99% of the time, he doesn’t like video games, and his natural energy level makes hiding the sugar products on the top shelf of the pantry a necessity. He has cleft scars that make his lip a little puffy, his speech isn’t always clear, and he lacks the ability to discern whether the kids around him are enjoying his antics or looking for an escape hatch. His Chinese, stick-straight hair is usually sticking up somewhere on his head, he is not concerned at all about his volume, and he is not persuaded by what…
I Didn’t Take A Picture
This past Friday, my son, Jax, and I went to the park. It was early, around 9am, and we were the only ones there. It was quiet and calm, a complete contrast to our typical park visits. Jax was free to run up and down the play structure that, in his head, was now an aircraft, parachute-jump off the swings, and yell to the control tower. He was laughing, smiling, singing made-up songs about Han Solo. His joy was palpable. I could see it, I could feel it. My kid was back. How did I miss this? Of course, I knew that…
