20 Not-Obvious Photos Every Parent Should Take

02  225x300 20 Not Obvious Photos Every Parent Should Take

I have an excellent source of Mommy crack. I can get it right off my computer, actually. It’s known as The Bazillion Snapshots I’ve Taken Of My Kids. Whenever I’m feeling burned out, I browse and get a bliss lift.

My children are 9 and 7. When they were little, I diligently ordered prints, arranged photo albums and made framed collages to hang on the walls—first year! Summer fun! But life took over and that fell off. Now my main fix is my iPhoto album, and even the countless photos it contains sometimes don’t feel like enough.

My husband teases me about the way I snap 50 shots of any given moment, but every photo I take of the kids—blurry, crooked, awkward—ends up being precious. The photos of big-deal events definitely stand out: holidays, birthday parties, first day of preschool, first tooth lost, school plays, violin recitals. It’s the everyday photos, though, that have turned out to be my all-time favorites. Snapshots that have captured the kids’ personalities, curiosity, exuberance and innocence, and let me worship at the altar of their cuteness again and again.

These 20 photos are especially memorable to me, the kind worth having in every photo album.

01 20 Not Obvious Photos Every Parent Should Take

Your child, dressed in a sailor suit
If nobody bought one for your baby boy, get one. Now. It's the clothing equivalent of Prozac, and you will not be able to save it for special occasions. No, you will regularly deck out your tot in it and take him for a walk, just because.

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More to read from 1000 Perplexing Things About Parenthood:

• National No Whining Day (And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve)
• 11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits
• The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

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Today Is No Mothers Day, Too

Today, many oNo Woman No Cry Christy Turlington documentary photo 300x164 Today Is No Mothers Day, Toof us face the reality of no breakfast in bed, no adorable cards, no extra coddling by our husbands and kids.

Today, a thousand women face the reality that they will die.

One thousand women: That’s how many die every single day around the world, due to complications from pregnancy or childbirth. That’s 360,000 deaths every year, according to the World Health Organization. An astounding 90 percent of those deaths could have been prevented by better medical or emergency care.

One thousand women a day, dead. The number is hard to wrap your head around, so try this: Today at the park or mall, look at moms with their kids and imagine hundreds and hundreds of them, gone. At the office, look at your coworkers who are moms and imagine them, gone. Look at your cell-phone contact list of  friends and imagine them, gone. A disturbing exercise, I know.

For Mother’s Day, Every Mother Counts campaign launched the No Mothers Day initiative and asked moms to “disappear” in an act of solidarity with mothers around the world by going not making calls or updating Facebook statuses. Instead of cards and flowers, you could ask family to donate money to causes that support maternal health programs. The purpose of asking moms to “disappear,” as Every Mother Counts founder Christy Turlington Burns explained: ”Show everyone just how much a mother is missed when she is gone.” And also, of course, get people talking about the issue, and how solvable it is.

A lot of moms blogged about No Mothers Day, on this site and others, and it made headlines nationwide. For No Mothers Day, I asked my family to not buy me a gift; I talked with my kids about the pregnant women who get very sick because they don’t have doctors, and then we made a donation toward building a health clinic.

What you can do:

• Take a minute to sign a pledge asking our government to keep its commitment to the United Nation’s goal to advance maternal health by 2014.

• Make a donation toward building a health clinic in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Just $25 can buy a bedframe—and potentially save another mother’s life.

• Pick up the Every Mother Counts 2012 CD at Starbucks, which features songs by everyone from Faith Hill and Beck to Diana Krall and Sting; $8 of the $12 price goes to the organization.

I choose to raise my voice today because this is an issue to think about year-round. It’s all too easy to return to our regularly-scheduled lives; one thousand girls and women around will not have lives to return to.

 

Image: Screenshot from No Woman, No Cry

Love That Max logo Today Is No Mothers Day, Too

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More to read from 1000 Perplexing Things About Parenthood:

• National No Whining Day (And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve)
• 11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits
• The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

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The Blog Troll Who Wanted To Share Cabana Boys With Me

blog troll photo 225x300 The Blog Troll Who Wanted To Share Cabana Boys With MeIt was bound to happen: a troll landed on my blog. “Congratulations —you’ve made it!” friends said. As in, I’d become an established-enough blogger to have attracted the attention of a troll. A commemorative plaque would have been nice, but my very own troll? Not so much.

It’s fair to say that my blog Love That Max is Not Evil. Max is my son, he has cerebral palsy and he rocks. I write the blog to inspire other parents, get inspired in return, and bitch about our insurance company. I welcome opposing viewpoints and lively debates (otherwise, why blog?). I can’t recall ever suggesting kicking puppies or punching babies. So I wasn’t prepared for seriously personal, cruel comments. Here’s what went down when a troll invaded my blog.

TROLL REARS ITS HEAD

Troll showed up the day I spoke out against a meme that made fun of a girl with Down syndrome. Troll (who posted as Anonymous) claimed I was being hypocritical since I had once confessed to calling a kid who was slow “retarded” when I was a child (and didn’t know better).

A little later, this gem cropped up:

“She did not even want her own son, max, when she found out he was not perfect! That’s right! The woman you are throwing roses at said eeeewwww I don’t want him to her doctor. What kind of mother does that?!?!?!?! Oh, wait, I know! One who then attempts to make ammends by writing a blog in an attempt to appear the perfect mom.”

When Max was born, he had a stroke. I was out of my head with grief when doctors told us all the terrible things my newborn was at risk for — not talking, not walking, intellectual disability, hearing and vision problems. “I don’t want a child with special needs,” I blurted, which I shared in Max’s birth story on the blog. Now Troll was flinging those words back at me.

Over the years, people have said dumb-ass things. Fly-by commenters have been cruel, especially when a video I’d made about the word “retard” ended up on the homepage of CNN. But nobody had ever gone so low. Troll’s last bit of loveliness:

“You don’t have to be responsible for what you say as long as you use your disabled kid as a shield.”

I’ve always had a pretty liberal approach to comments. I rarely erase any, unless they’re full of curses or paid links. I moderate ones that are more than several days old, to avoid spam. I’ve never made readers register, to make commenting as easy as possible. I also haven’t wanted to get into a volleyball tournament of deleting a comment, only to have it crop up again.

But Troll’s comments festered in my head. It wasn’t that I took them to heart — I didn’t. I’m proud of the blog I’ve built, and I’m a (mostly) good parent. I was just furious that someone thought it was OK to say things like that, in the most cowardly way possible. And then it bothered me that this was bothering me.

WHERE’S THE TROLL REPELLENT SPRAY?

I couldn’t call my mother (“What did you say? You have a troll? Honey, are you feeling OK?”). I couldn’t rope in the FBI (although it be awesome if they had a Department for The Extinction of Trolls). Unlike bed bugs, there’s no exterminator for trolls. And so, I ignored the “don’t feed the trolls” way of the web and went with the Mother Teresa approach. My comment:

“Anonymous, I’m sorry you are such an angry, bitter and closed-minded person, it must be hard to live that way. I’m not going to bother counteracting statements you’ve made, which are exaggerated, untrue or just plain ridiculous. I’m going to pity you. Please, get yourself some help.”

To which Troll responded (this time roping in my daughter):

“You pity me and I will continue to pity your children. I will pity max for having a mum who didn’t want him and sabrina for you already saddling her with caring for max after you die. Sad to saddle with being caregiver for her brother. What if she wanted to choose a career where she travelled extensively? Or wanted to marry someone who did? She can’t even choose her own lifepath because you’ve given her the responsibility of caring for her brother after your death. And having a 3rd child?! How selfish can you be?! If this one comes out gorked too, it’s ok cause sabrina can look after both.”

Now, I was furious.

I SEEK COUNSELING

I posted in a private Facebook group I belong to, asking what to do. Several people mentioned having a comments policy that clearly explained which ones would get deleted. One woman created a helpful badge: “Above all, stop and think what you are saying!” (nice sentiment, but not effective troll control). Some people had an it’s-my-playground approach — as in, it’s my blog and play nicely or I’ll kick you out.

I took some consolation that readers were sticking up for me. Said one,

“To ‘Anonymous’: I find it fascinating that someone who claims to find Ellen so repellent also seems to know a great deal about her blog posts. You’ve referenced her religious preference, her daughter’s name, her contemplation on having a 3rd child, heck, I’ll bet that you could even name her favorite colors & hobbies if pressed. My question is why? Why do you continue to read a blog written by a person whom you find so infuriating? Is it boredom, jealousy, loneliness, all of the above? Whatever the reason, I hope that you can find another way to pass the time because trolling on blogs is kinda sad, don’t you think? Sincerely, Kimberly”

Troll lashed out at some. A dad of a child with Down syndrome spoke up. Wrote Troll,

“I looked up ur blog (creepy family photo btw!)”

That night, I switched my comments to “moderate” before I went to sleep. My husband gave a reading of Troll’s comments in a creepy voice that made me laugh.

AND THEN I KICKED TROLL’S BUTT IN A PEACEFUL WAY

The next day on the blog, I mentioned the potty-training success Max had at school, and that he still wasn’t fully trained at home. Said Troll,

“Lazy parenting affects the child more than you realize.”

When people started defending me again, and Troll went off the deep end, I’d had enough. It’s a privilege to get comments; I didn’t want my readers wasting their time or energy doing battle. And so I wrote:

“Anon, darling? I’m going to start deleting comments like the above going forward because this blog is a place for productive conversation and I don’t want readers to waste time responding. Cheers!”

TROLL WANTS TO SPA WITH ME

For the next couple of days, no Troll. I wondered if it was gnashing it’s teeth, gearing up for another attack. Or perhaps Troll had been called back to The Mothership. I checked the blog frequently for comments. For the first time since starting it three years ago, I felt anxious about it. It was a home invasion.

Three days after Troll appeared, an email with the subject line “Confessions from A Nony Mous” showed up in my inbox. Troll, it seemed, was named Donna (or so Troll wrote):

“I’ve been researching for an article I’ve been writing called “Life Lesson Learned Under The Bridge” [OMG — it really was a troll!] and I wanted to apologize for the things I have said on your blog.”

Troll wanted to share a draft of said “article” with me. After a meandering story involving Troll overhearing someone speaking out against the word retard, Troll wrote:

“I, as well as my son, have physical, mental and emotional disabilities, along with my loving soulmate who has physical disabilities.”

And then:

“I would like to personally apologize to Ellen, Max, Sabrina and Dave. During my research, I ended up on her amazing blog, Love That Max, and as a troll, said some very nasty things. Ellen, I did not mean them… and you handled yourself with remarkable grace. I applaud you….”

And at the end of the note, this:

“I would love to share a spa day, one filled with laughter, wine and friendly conversation… and a few sexy cabana boys feeding us grapes while we lounge on golden thrones like the goddesses we are.”

Did I feel satisfied? A little. Relieved? Yes. Most of all, though, I felt sorry for this person who clearly had ISSUES. And that she had no cabana boys in her life. You know, unlike me.

I have yet to delete Troll’s comments though I plan to; I don’t want the words there for my children to someday read. There will be other trolls, I’m sure, for as long as I keep blogging. I doubt I’ll ever again get an apology, and it doesn’t matter, because the troll who came forward confirmed what we always suspect: There really is something wrong with trolls. There has to be, whether or not they’ve been diagnosed; only people with real problems leave nasty, cruel, anonymous comments on blogs.

But I sure wouldn’t mind Troll Repellent Spray.

What’s the worst thing a troll ever said to you? Tell me in the comments, and we can all commiserate.

Love That Max logo The Blog Troll Who Wanted To Share Cabana Boys With Me

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More to read from 1000 Perplexing Things About Parenthood:

• National No Whining Day (And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve)
• 11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits
• The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

Don’t miss the latest from Babble Voices – Like us on Facebook!

 

Photo credit: Flickr/chillihead

9 Genius Ways To Help Kids Learn To Read (And Love It)

baby reading photo 199x300 9 Genius Ways To Help Kids Learn To Read (And Love It)Reading Goodnight Moon to your child for the 479th time can cause parental insanity, reveals a two-year study conducted at my home. My research also reveals that reading to my kids is bringing out their bookworm gene—going to the library is their idea of a good time. And then there’s the fact that bedtime reading is often the best bonding time we have all day.

As it turns out, some of ways I read to my children are expert-approved techniques to fast-forward kids’ reading skills. There’s a new study out and other proven research on reading strategies that help children learn to do it and develop their language awareness and comprehension, too. Click away for the scoop on the study and for more ways to help kids get more out of reading time. Happily, you’re probably already doing most of them. (And if you’re being forced to read Goodnight Moon for the 479th too, sorry, can’t help you there.)

01 9 Genius Ways To Help Kids Learn To Read (And Love It)

Talk about the words on the page as you read
Preschool kids whose teachers explained print concepts as they read to them had more advanced reading skills one and two years later than kids whose teachers didn’t make those references, says a Ohio State University study in the April 2012 issue of the journal Child Development. “Track print as you read—point to the words on the page as you read them,” says Shayne B. Piasta, Ph.D., coauthor of the study and assistant director of the Children’s Learning Collaborative. Get kids to pay attention to letters and words and they’ll do better at word recognition and spelling (and really impress Grandma).

Photo credit: Flickr/molly_darling

Photo credit: Flickr/Monkey Mash Button

Love That Max logo 9 Genius Ways To Help Kids Learn To Read (And Love It)

Read more from Ellen at Love That Max

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More to read from 1000 Perplexing Things About Parenthood:

• National No Whining Day (And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve)
• 11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits
• The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

Don’t miss the latest from Babble Voices – Like us on Facebook!

 

Why I Feed My Kids Unhealthy Foods

pink donut photo 300x209 Why I Feed My Kids Unhealthy Foods“I want kale chips!”

That’s my two-year-old niece talking. My husband’s sister just had a baby, and we’re watching her daughter for the weekend. She and my two kids are in the back of the minivan; we’re on a road trip to a zoo.

We’re nowhere near a Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s or anyplace one could find kale chips. What we are near is a rest stop that offers plenty of crappy, kid-friendly food.

“Sweetie, we don’t have kale chips,” I tell her. “But we can go to the rest stop and see if they have frozen yogurt or maybe chicken fingers!” I think my sister-in-law would be kinda-sorta horrified to hear me say that, because she is all about feeding her child natural, preservative-free, 100% Good For You food. This is a kid who had an organic birthday cake at her last party.

“I want kale chips!” my niece says. “Kale chips! Kale chips! Kale chips!”

She’s adorable, but I feel like shoving a bag of Wise potato chips down her mouth.

Lest you think I’m the food devil, I am all for teaching kids to eat healthy, wholesome stuff. In our kitchen we have whole-wheat bread and pasta, assorted organic foods (milk, veggies, fruits) and a no-soda policy. I try to avoid fast food and when we do have it, there are limits. My kids know they can’t have both chicken nuggets and fries—it’s one fried food or the other.

But my kids live in the real world, where they are going to come into constant contact with unhealthy foods. And while I’d like them to crave salad over pepperoni pizza and kale chips over fries, I think it’s OK for them to occasionally eat the pepperoni pizza and the fries. I don’t want them inheriting my warped food attitude, the one that leads me to lust after bad-for-you foods.

My dad was into healthy food long before it was trendy. I grew up downing oatmeal sprinkled with bran flakes and salad with homegrown sprouts. The man made his own yogurt. Candy wasn’t allowed: “Sugar is poison,” Dad liked to say.

Thing is, completely depriving kids like that can make them crave forbidden fruit (make that forbidden chocolate). When my sister and I got older and went to a weekend activity program, we’d raid the vending machine for Snickers and Almond Joys. When Mom left us home alone, one of us would zoom to the corner grocery store to buy Cheez Doodles. Dunkin’ Donuts was our drug.

This impulse to eat off-limit foods has haunted me in adulthood. While I don’t keep much junk food in the house, if I’m at a party or buffet I tend to OD on the fattening stuff. At restaurants, I usually go for some overindulgent appetizer, dessert or both. Recently, my daughter sold Girl Scout cookies and we had several boxes around the house; one night, I downed an entire sleeve of Samoas. “Get those treats while you can!” my brain tells me. Needless to say, I’m not the skinniest girl.

I don’t want my kids growing up with that food demon inside them. Throughout their lives they’ll be exposed to many kinds of foods, and I’d like them to have a healthy response to all of ‘em. I want them to consider food their friend, not their foe, and understand that as with many things in life, it’s a matter of balance.

And so I let them eat a mix foods. Although I try to help them understand why fruits, veggies, fish, etc. are good for them, I don’t make a point of calling stuff “healthy” or “unhealthy.” I never give the kids “treats” for good behavior so they won’t equate food with rewards. I’ve learned, from interviewing nutritionists for various articles, not to say things like “If you eat your veggies, you can have dessert” because it teaches kids that veggies = bad and dessert = good.

We have Pringles in the cupboard, along with kale chips. We have Tater Tots in the freezer next to organic frozen entrees. I don’t insist the kids eat veggies and fruits they can’t stand, and I pile their plates with the ones they do like. I expose them to all sorts of foods, teach them about portion size and hope that, unlike me, they won’t grow up constantly tempted by food they “shouldn’t” eat.

At last, we’re at the rest stop. The kids have chicken nuggets and carrot sticks, my niece survives without the kale chips, and it’s all good. (Nobody tell my sister-in-law.)

What sort of rules do you have for what your kids eat?

 

Other posts that might amuse you:

You Cursed In Front Of The Kids. Sh*T. Now What?

11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits

The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

• Read more from Ellen at her other blog, Love That Max

• Follow her on Twitter and Facebook

 

Photo source: Flickr/Rob Boudon

You Cursed In Front Of The Kids. Sh*t. Now What?

kids and cursing2 300x199 You Cursed In Front Of The Kids. Sh*t. Now What?“Daddy said the F-word!” my seven-year-old announces. It’s 7:30 in the morning, and I’m rushing to get her ready for school.

“What?!” I say. I had no idea she even knew the phrase “F-word.” When, I ask her, did this happen?

“Last night,” she tells me. “Max locked himself in your bedroom and Daddy said that word and then he said ‘Fruit!’”

The previous evening, I’d been out at a work event and my husband put the kids to bed. Now I’m finding out what went down. I actually don’t mind tattle-telling when it’s about Daddy. Who evidently thinks that when you say “Fu*k” and you pretend you said “Fruit,” it’s gonna fool a 7-year-old who is already wise beyond her years.

My husband and I are generally not big cursers; we let the occasional expletive fly during moments of crisis or extreme frustration, and we try our best not to say them around the kids. But, given that we’re human parents, sometimes they slip out.

When the kids were younger, we’d get away with nonsense damage control:

“Duck! I said duck!”

“Sit! I said sit!”

“Mother trucker! I said mother trucker!” (OK, we never actually said that one around the kids, but that’s how we would have tried to cover it up.)

As the kids have gotten older, though, it’s gotten harder to make like they didn’t just hear what they heard. I am quite sure my daughter’s been mulling over curse words with her school friends, same thing I did at her age. I’m figuring that’s how she knew it’s called the “F-word.”

I learned all the good curse words at school; my parents were of the old-fashioned variety and they never said them. Then my sister and I started saying “Shit!” At first, Mom would charge us a quarter whenever we said it, which seemed like a small price to pay for the satisfaction of uttering it. And then, my sweet mom picked it up. I don’t think I’ve ever been more shocked than the day I heard her exclaim, “Shit! I burned the meatloaf!” We’d corrupted her. I felt a little guilty.

I believe there are far worse words than curses in this world, particularly racial slurs and any words that demean people. My son, Max, has special needs, and his sister knows full well that I think “retard” is an awful, awful word. Still, I don’t want my kid going around dropping the F-bomb. And so I tell her,

“Honey, sometimes we say curse words when we’re mad and it’s much better to say ‘I’m so mad!’ or even ‘ARRRGH!’ Daddy lost his cool.”

“Daddy’s not cool?” she asks.

“No, I meant Daddy just lost control of his feelings. Nobody’s perfect, he was mad! But that doesn’t mean it’s OK to say.”

She ponders that. “OK,” she says, and I consider it a good sign that she did not respond “Fu*k that!’

Caught up in the morning whirlwind, I don’t get to talk till my husband later. “So, I hear you said the F-word last night,” I say. He looks surprised. “It was on the evening news!” I add, and we laugh. I spare him the don’t-do-that conversation because he knows he shouldn’t, same way I know I shouldn’t.

“If it happens again, I think you should tell her you made a mistake,” I say. “It’s not going to work to just ignore it anymore. But let’s both try not to say it.” And we agree.

It would be so cool to have one of those mind eraser thingies that Will Smith used in Men in Black. Meanwhile, the best I can do is help my kid understand that there are better ways to express anger or frustration. Owning your F-bombs also teaches kids a lesson that’s even more important in life: Nobody’s friggin’ perfect.

More on Babble: Sh*t — my kid is cursing! 7 tips to curb your child’s potty mouth

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National No Whining Day (And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve)

11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits

The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

• Read more from Ellen at her other blog, Love That Max

• Follow her on Twitter and Facebook

Photo credit: Flickr/christopherdale

National No Whining Day… And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve

cheeseball photo 300x225 National No Whining Day... And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve Alert! Alert! National Cheeseball Day is coming up fast, on April 17. Perhaps you will celebrate by lovingly crafting a cheeseball. Perhaps you weren’t even aware of this day, which might make you wonder what other special holidays you’ve been missing throughout the year. NOT to worry, here are some important ones to mark on your calendar, based on exhaustive Google research: May 12 is National Miniature Golf Day, August 31 is National Trail Mix day, October 21 is Reptile Awareness Day, January 24 is Beer Can Day. And, perhaps best of all, September 3 is National Welsh Rarebit Day. (Prepare ahead and order your rarebits from Amazon, whatever they are!)

Oddly enough, festival-happy Americans seem to have missed out on key days that celebrate treasured parental pastimes and objects, as well as our lovely spouses and children and their less-than-lovely habits. And so, here are some suggestions. Contact your Congressperson!

01 National No Whining Day... And 9 Other Holidays Parents Deserve

National No Whining Day!
From dawn to dusk, children can participate in this wonderful day by refraining from all forms of wails, whimpers, moans and plaintive cries. Best celebrated by dropping children off at Grandma’s.

Photo credit: Flickr/AndrewEick

Other posts to check out:

11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits

18 Happy Reality Checks For Overly Crazed Parents

The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

• Read more from Ellen at her other blog, Love That Max

• Follow her on Twitter and Facebook

 

Photo credit: Flickr/michaelkmak

News Flash: Kids With Autism Aren’t A Tragedy

peekaboomax 199x300 News Flash: Kids With Autism Arent A TragedyYesterday, Americans became hyper-aware of the rising rate of autism in children. One in 88 kids in the U.S. has autism,  a whopping 78 percent increase over the last decade. The stats, from the Centers For Disease Control and Prevention, were all over the web and the news, and a hot topic of discussion among parents. “CDC announces new autism rate: 1 in 88. Does this worry you?” blared one headline. “There’s some fresh news on the autism front that will scare the pants off you,” noted another post.

All day long, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my computer screen. I have a child with cerebral palsy, not autism. Still, as I watched the outpouring of shock and concern, I kept thinking one thing:

People think it’s absolutely awful for a kid to have special needs.

Obviously, the stats are significant. Obviously, no parent wants their child to have special needs. If I could make life easier for my son, Max, I would. But I don’t pity him; he is my kid, not a tragedy. He rocks.

The mass panic and hand-wringing say otherwise. They make me realize how devastating the world believes it is for a child to have autism, or other special needs—and what a hopeless fate it is. It’s as if word had come down that rates of childhood leukemia were soaring, so powerful were the waves of worry emanating from my computer screen.

Like children with autism, my child has a condition—not a life-threatening illness. My child has challenges, not a deadly disease. Fearing an epidemic of H1N1 flu is one thing; fearing an epidemic of less-than-perfect children is another. And let’s be honest, that’s part of what’s driving the colossal freakout. Yes, there’s valid concern about harmful environmental unknowns and funding for services and research, but a major fear factor here is an influx of kids who are “defective.”

One in 88 kids has autism. That one kid in 88 also has awesomeness; too bad nobody’s doing a study on that. Unless you have a child with special needs or are close with one, it can be hard to get the ability in “disability.” I used to feel bad for kids with special needs, until I had one of my own. Now I don’t look at my son and see a child with special needs; I look at Max and see a smart, funny, curious, creative, entertaining and occasionally impossible child (you know, as kids can be). I consider him as bright as my so-called typical daughter, even if they learn at different paces and in different ways.

The news about the rise in autism rates will surely further raise awareness among doctors, helping to detect autism earlier in kids. That’s a great thing: Early intervention is key for enabling kids to achieve. Hopefully, there will be an increase in services as well. But as the concern surges, here I am—my son’s best publicist—hoping to raise awareness that he and other kids with special needs are not worthy of dread.

Max has real physical and cognitive issues. Yet one of my son’s biggest challenges is overcoming the perception that he is terminally flawed. If society didn’t view kids like him as damaged goods, there would be less panic about more of them.

 

Read more from Ellen at her blog Love That Max

Follow her on Twitter @LoveThatMax

You might also like:

I’m Not The Word Police, But I Am Asking You Not To Say “Retard”

 

Photo credit: Yasmeen Anderson

11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits

do not disturb mom sign 249x300 11 Totally Shameless Mom HabitsThe last time you saw your sense of shame, you were lying on a gurney in the delivery room and a group of people were hunched over your privates. Ever since, you’ve grown bolder. More uninhibited. More… desperate. You say and do shameless stuff, especially around your kids, that you never imagined you had in you.

Of course, there’s also the fact that you are tired and not always rational. Some days, you will do anything to get your kids to behave/eat/sleep/leave you in peace. Some days, you will do anything just to get by.

These are the tactics plenty of us moms resort to. Not proudly. But, heck, they’re good.

01 11 Totally Shameless Mom Habits

Cereal Killer Instincts
Nobody would ever know it to look at you but inside your body lurks a vacuum cleaner, ready to suck up whatever food the kids don't finish—Cheerios, mac 'n cheese, the cake part of the cupcake. Because you're somehow doing the environment good (right? RIGHT?!) and—wait for it—those calories don't count! Slurp.

Photo credit: Flickr/Y'amal

 

Other posts to check out:

18 Happy Reality Checks For Overly Crazed Parents

The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

Utterly Crazy Mom Fantasies

• Read more from Ellen at her other blog, Love That Max

• Follow her on Twitter and Facebook

 

Photo credit: Etsy/Martha Cole

18 Happy Reality Checks For Overly Crazed Parents

crying baby photo2 199x300 18 Happy Reality Checks For Overly Crazed Parents“I am not going to sleep! You and Daddy always go to sleep late! Why can’t I go to sleep late? I want to stay up tonight. I don’t even have school tomorrow! Don’t you want me to stay up and read?! Mommy!”

That’s how bedtime goes at our house lately: My seven-year-old tries to argue/rationalize/guilt me out of it. I swear, I’ve found myself aching for that time when she couldn’t talk. True, she cried a lot more back then but still, life was a whole easier when all the child did was gurgle at me.

This is the sort of perspective you get only when your children are older. Because when you’re in the throes of the baby/toddler stages, you often think there’s no greater hell (well, when you’re not swooning over how cute they are). You wonder why they didn’t provide Xanax samples in the free diaper bag you got at the hospital. You feel as if you will be cleaning up some bodily excretion and centering your life around naps for the rest of your life.

Thing is, there’s a whole lot you’re gonna miss when your kids aren’t little anymore—and I’m not just talking about kids who don’t talk back to you. I know this because my kids are now 9 and 7, which makes me both wise and old.  So I’m sharing a little perspective to carry you through the rough patches: the baby and toddler stuff you’re going to very much miss someday (and the parts your memory will mercifully erase).

 

Other posts to check out:

The Weird Stuff We Love About Our Kids

Utterly Crazy Mom Fantasies

• Read more from Ellen at her other blog, Love That Max

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about Ellen

Ellen Seidman is mom to two kids, and occasionally her husband. A longtime magazine editor, she is very adept at grasping pencils.