Not a white horse but a yellow bus...

~"I wanted to be a bus driver when I was a kid. I look at bus driving through the eyes of a little boy. I see it as glamorous."~Jim Lehrer

For Miss K, Miss D, Mr.J, and all the others who have filled in from time to time....Thanks.

I don't think that there are many other kids who enjoy riding the school bus with as much passion and fervor as Oscar..The rest of my herd could take it or leave it..but Oscar? Oscar sees it as an important part-an essential part-a most NECESSARY part of his school day.  My girls on the other hand....beg me to pick them up from school in the afternoon. "It's too hot...it's too boring...it's too loooooooong!" (They are actually the second stop from school-and they ride for maybe 15 minutes total) On rare occasions I surprise them and pick them up.  But most times..well...practically all the time I insist they endure..I tell them "It builds character!".."teaches you important life lessons!".."puts hair on your chest!"  The last usually distracts them enough to stop asking-because really-I cherish my last few minutes of alone time every day.  (Some may say that this is selfish-but I call it self preservation.) Oscar on the other hand would be very upset if I picked him up..terribly upset..most displeased. The bus ride marks the end of his day- gives him a chance to gather his thoughts...switch off school..relax. When he gets home, he's happy..running off of the bus (not to greet me) so that he can get beat out his brother and sisters for the first turn on the computer.  It wasn't always this way.

  When we moved to our tiny town eight years ago, life for us was very different. I was enormously pregnant, Sam was starting first grade, Oscar pre-school and Lily was two.( I was exhausted.) I remember how scared I was on the first day of school.  My boys had never ridden on a school bus-let alone ridden anywhere without me.  Here I was letting them go off with a stranger! Of course, once they got on the bus-I immediately waddled to the car and drove to the school.  I needed to actually see that my boys had arrived.(first and last time I ever did that) They did...and all was fine...and continued to be fine....Until Oscar started school full time. That is when our bus driver became much more than a nice person who got my kids to school safely..much more..

 Oscar loved getting on the bus...it was getting off at home that could be a problem.Sometimes he simply...refused.  He did not want to-and not having very many words at the time, he told EVERYONE  in the only way that he could. My curly headed little boy would become a 49 pound tsunami of epic proportions...he screamed...and kicked and punched...he held on to the seat rails flailing and (did I mention) screaming.. He WAS NOT going anywhere...at least not without assistance..There I would be..trying to pry his hands off of the rails, my glasses flying..my shoes falling off. and he WOULD NOT budge...I'd get his hands loose and he would lock his legs around the bottom of another seat...I'd get his legs unlocked...and his hands would grab the seat. It was awful...although kind of funny in hindsight...I would be stuck...and then Miss K would jump in...calmly getting his hands loose-while I got his feet..and together we would carry him out of the bus and into my house.  I can't tell you how many times we did this-but it was enough so that in time, we worked together like a well oiled machine. Not once did she lose her temper, complain..admonish Oscar or me..not once.  Not only that-she would take the time afterwards to explain to the other kids(on the bus) that Oscar wasn't a bad kid. That he just had trouble communicating..that it was o.k....that he was o.k. I used to worry that she would call and tell me he was no longer welcome to ride...and call she did.  Only it was to make sure that we were o.k...and to say yet again that Oscar was a great kid. and that she loved having him on her bus. The next day, she would greet my boys in the morning, just as she always did, just as she always does to all the kids-with open arms.. 

  Those of us in the disability/autism community hear too many god awful tales of abusive bus drivers..of disabled children being abused or neglected. It is just horrible. Yes, we have to bring attention to these horrendous crimes...but I think it equally important to recognize the good guys too.  I am blessed to live in a tiny town where the bus drivers are magnificent. From Miss K-who has seen me at my best and (a whole lot of times) at my worst..dressed in many unusual outfits (hey-I have to get four kids up at 6-I'm lucky to even be dressed at all!) and has loved and accepted all of my kids-for who they are...to Miss D. who every kid in this town loves because she is just so openly kind and loving-and she throws a great Halloween party for EVERYONE...and Mr. J-who the kids think is cool because he sometimes plays the radio, and greets every kid by name, sends a get well message when they are sick...came and shoveled my front walk when I couldn't-AND  today, bought all of us (on a field trip) donuts for the ride home! And to the others that I don't know as well...but have filled in from time to time.  Thank you for loving our kids...and for keeping them safe. Thank you.

  Next week is "School Bus Safety week." If you are lucky like me and have a great bus driver-make sure to thank them.  The good guys deserve recognition too!  

   

     

The world outside our home...

~"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."~

 George Eliot

This post deals with mortality- just giving fair warning.

I was thinking about a conversations that I had ( years ago on another blog) on a post about stimming.  The blogger had written about her worry over peoples reaction to her sons stimming.  I said "My Oscar stims all the time..but he's so damn charming that it disarms people...maybe that will go towards changing how the world looks at these things.." Another person chimed in with "Sure, he's cute and charming NOW-but wait until he's an adult and people are scared of him..you can't change the world!!-It's pointless to try!..." I didn't bother responding to that....Although, I remember thinking "Wow-she's bitter..and not very nice". I was talking about my Oscar! My funny boy!  How could he ever NOT be charming and wonderful? How could anyone ever look at him-at his stimming and be scared?  He was four at the time.

In a few short months, Oscar will be thirteen.  Something that he likes to remind me about whenever he wants to DO something..like watch R rated movies or walk in to town by himself.  It is also something he conveniently forgets when I ask him to DO something like homework..or clean his room.  It has been nine years since I posted that comment..nine years and still that little snippet of blog conversation lives a full life in the back of my brain...occasionally worming its way to the bright lights and center stage of my thoughts.  Nine years later and I realize that the woman who I thought was bitter-was probably in reality-just really scared. I can recognize that now that (some of) my kids are on the verge of young adulthood-I can understand it too.

  We have tried to raise all of our kids to be confident in who they are. Teaching them that being kind and decent were the most important things. Stimming, eeeeing...pacing and muttering were just some of the things that made them-them. That being different was fine-great even..wonderful...spectacular!  So they thrive and they grow..because they believe me. Because I am their mother..their mom..their mama..they trust me.  Me. And on those nights when I recall that long ago conversation...when I allow myself a moment to be scared,,I wonder...have I raised them to live in how I think that the world should be instead of how the world  really is?  This is something I wrestle with.  Sometimes I feel guilty-like I am setting them up to be terribly disappointed..yet at other times I think that building their confidence, their sense of self will give them armor to get through anything.

  Anyone who has ever had the dubious pleasure of attending an IEP meeting with me has (more often than not) heard me say-quite clearly "I have to die some day.".(Mortality-the enemy of parents everywhere!) I don't say this for its shock value-I say it because it is the truth. Because if my kids don't get what they need now-how are they going to get by later-when I am no longer there?  Yes, I worry about not being there.

  I try very hard not to let my fears guide me. I admit, there is a part of me that wants to encourage them all to stay together at home(forever)...where it's "safe" and they can protect each other from the world as it is. But that wouldn't be fair-because it wouldn't be THEIR decision-THEIR choice..not really. It wouldn't be honest-because I have raised them to be who they are..regardless of how the world outside our home is. We have raised them with the fierce conviction that they have a rightful place in this world-a conviction that I believe with my entirety.  Encouraging them to hide who they are would be a contradiction. It would make what I have taught them a lie..acceptance with strings attached.  I can't do that....won't.

Way back in high school, a friend once said to me "If we you want to change how men view women in the world-raise your sons." Yet  another one of those snippets of conversation that has stayed with me-especially when I look out at the world that is outside of our home..Nine years later and Oscar is still flapping and eeeing...and he is still as charming as he was at four. Maybe I can't change the world..but I can raise my children...raise them...raise them up..and hope...and hope and hope that in some way..anyway..even if it is in a small way...the world will raise with them...

Crouching mother- hidden music teacher....

 

~"Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.."~ Frank Zappa

We are a family that loves music.  Someone is always either singing along, listening to it...and on rare occasions playing it on an instrument.  It is part of the cacophany that makes up the sound track of our home.  Now, you might think that this passion for music would carry over to music class at school-that my kids would be excited over learning new songs and singing in concerts-that the music teacher would be one of their favorite people at school.   You would be wrong.

  I don't know what it is-but it seems that every elementary school music teacher we have dealt with, sucks the joy right out of music for my kids...sucks it dry..I know it sounds harsh..and I'm betting that many parents in our little school would disagree with me..And yes-I own my shame at hating to attend school concerts...at thinking xylophone solo's of Jingle Bells (that sound like funeral dirges) are one of Dante's unwritten circles of hell. I own that-I do! I watch the other parents at these concerts and they look so happy-joyful...rapturous even!...and all I can think .."Is it me? Or is everyone else on drugs?" Because really-hearing the same songs (and they do feel like the same songs) sung every year by a bunch of kids in a room where their are noise reduction tiles on the ceiling makes me want to....well, chewing tinfoil would be more fun.  But-I am an adult .I'm not going to spoil what is a special occasion for these kids.  I dutifully go to each performance-and praise my kids when they are done.(I praise other things as well).

  My boys had their "musical moments" in grade school- Oscar was actually pretty entertaining to watch in concert...but my girls?  My girls are struggling. This week-Lily auditioned for "concert choir" and did not get in.  Now, that is fine. She was prepared for it either way.  She knew that their was room for only a few-and was willing to take a chance.I was proud of her for trying...but you would THINK that our music teacher would use a little tact in how she told her!  "I only take the best-and their really weren't that many good singers this year." What-is she Simon Cowell?  Hey-thanks for crushing my ten year old girls spirit! Seriously-that would be like my saying to her- "Our small town would really love a world class music program-but we could only afford you." But I didn't. I thought about it though...I thought it real hard at her as she passed me in the hallway.  I'll admit, I may be a little bit touchy when it comes to music this year-and especially this particular teacher...but I have my reasons..


 My Zoe loves to sing-and there is nothing quite like hearing her belt out "Blowing in the Wind" along with Bob Dylan on her C.D. player...But at school?  At school my girl is quiet...sometimes even mute.  Noise, loud sounds-chaos really bother her. She doesn't always hear very well in noisy situations and it makes her anxious. Music class is torture for her. I can't tell you exactly how many "sick" days she took last year-that coincidentally happened to fall on days that she had music. Or how many times she came home( on music class days) and slept for 15 hours straight...or cried inconsolably for hours...So this year, we had a plan. She has a great team behind her, and  we made certain via her IEP that her disability was taken into consideration.  Except it wasn't.  No, my girl was coming home on music days and just falling apart..Only she wouldn't/couldn't/didn't tell me why. I come to find out that Zoe(as were all the kids) was being made to sing solo-in front of the class.  Only she couldn't-because as she told me "nothing would come out."  She was made to do this because the music teacher...forgot.  Forgot that my girl had a plan in place...forgot that this little one-who inwardly PANICS at being singled out-made to perform-speak yet alone sing in front of people!  she "forgot"...and what?  Am I supposed to say "Oh that's o.k.?"   I think not

  There is a real issue with disability and schools.  Especially for someone like my Zoe..  If she didn't have legs-no one would ask her to demonstrate dance steps. But, we aren't really "allowed" to discuss disability at school-and I think that we are doing a great disservice to people.  especially those people who like my Zoe, don't outwardly appear to be struggling. If it isn't seen-it's easily forgotten.  I was told we couldn't openly discuss disability at school because "Other parents aren't as open about it (disability) as you are."  But you know?  It isn't or shouldn't be about being open. Disability is not a sin-by not talking honestly and openly about it..makes it seem that way. How can we promote acceptance and inclusion...if we aren't accepting and inclusive?    How can I be sure that this doesn't happen to Zoe again?  

  In the meantime...Lily seems to have gotten over her disappointment over not making concert choir, and Zoe..well, she took a "personal day"..but-ASKED (via card) to be excused from music yesterday!! Way to go Zoe! So we will spend this weekend enjoying the music my family makes....there will be no xylophones.      

Watermelon...a pictorial..

~"For years my wedding ring has done its job. It has led me not into temptation. It has reminded my husband numerous times at parties that it's time to go home. It has been a source of relief to a dinner companion. It has been a status symbol in the maternity ward."`Erma Bombeck   

There is an Algerian saying (that Omar taught me) that goes.."The luck is in the watermelon."  To which I responded..."that's nice" because really-what else can I say to that? I mean...really...what does that mean?!  It's funny..Omar and I are from such very different places-he from Algeria..and I am a N.Y. girl. Yet here we are living together in Maine.  I used to wonder "How the hell did this happen?" and then we had kids.( I do know how that happened.) 

Let me go back to the beginning...It started 23 years ago in N. Y.  I was managing a muffin shop/cafe and Omar having just arrived from England (he planned to see the states by working his way across them) was looking for a job.  In a twisted turn of events-Omar was hired, but the applications got mixed up and the wrong person was called and given the job in his place.  Thankfully-this person did not work out...very thankfully..because the situation was righted..and Omar eventually wound up working there.  For me-meeting Omar was...something at first sight. I certainly wasn't thinking about relationships..or marriage.  I was an INDEPENDENT woman! I made my own way, did my own thing...lived my own life....And yet?  From the moment I first saw him...I knew...something..I wasn't sure what...just that I needed to be with him...somehow.  We started off as friends.  He was dating someone (she had a mustache)...and I had sworn off dating.  (some past relationships led me to believe that I was better off single-WAY better off-so much so that I hadn't dated in 3 years)  We just enjoyed hanging out together. Until December rolled around.  Omar wanted to see the sights (N.Y.C. is wonderful at Christmas) and his girlfriend wasn't interested.  So, I being the kind and caring individual that I am...promptly jumped on the opportunity offered my companionship.  The rest (including the mustachioed girl friend) was history...

Next week is a big week for us.  There is much celebrating to do.  Twenty years ago Wednesday, I married that man that I met in the muffin shop. Twenty years with the most decent man that I have ever known Omar raises me up.  He keeps me steady...he is my anchor and my launch pad...he keeps me steady...and his love-it encompasses me.  Never have I been so accepted and revered even. He holds me up even when I'm down..dances with me whenever the mood hits us..and always..always we laugh. We have tread some dark places..walked through fire together..and shared some of the most exquisite joys. He is my heart...although in Algeria he would be my kibbda (liver)..personally-I prefer heart but there you go. He is not my other half or better half..he is a whole person unto himself.  Together...together we are pretty damn good. Together we made one of the other reasons for celebrating this week. Fifteen years ago-on the very same day, our wonderful Sam pushed his way into this world.  It was not exactly the most romantic of ways to celebrate an anniversary-but it certainly made it memorable!  He's a great kid-our Sam. Watching him grow into himself has been an adventure..where he was..who he is and where he is going.  We could not be prouder. He takes after his Papa.  that should tell you what kind of man he will become.  Some people have said that I am lucky for having Omar. I don't know about that.  I will say though, that I am blessed. Blessed for having a partner like Omar, and the amazing kids that we share.  If luck really is in the watermelon-well then, I have quite the patch...and they are all good. 

There we are in front of my fathers fireplace with best man and justice of the peace
I was (as you can tell by my blotchy skin-and face...TERRIFIED!!!!!

much more relaxed...puffed sleeves! What was I thinking!

 

Our first dance- to Nina Simone's "My baby don't care"

Happy 5th wedding anniversary AND welcome to the world Sam!

me and Sam today...he's grown a bit!

Me and Omar...twenty years later and still going strong.

Seven words and a bit of a rant...

~"I understand the inventor of the bagpipes was inspired when he saw a man carrying an indignant, asthmatic pig under his arm. Unfortunately, the man made sound never equaled the purity of the sound achieved by the pig."~

Alfred Hitchcock

It was Tuesday afternoon..it had been a regular kind of day..nothing out of the ordinary..I was sitting outside sipping coffee..waiting for the bus. I love seeing the kids run through the door (and straight by me) at the end of the day.  I get it.  I mean, they have been cooped up for hours-and they are thrilled at  finally being free.  I totally remember the feeling..As a kid,  the end of the day was  my absolute favorite part of school.  So I don't take too much offense at being totally ignored.  And hey-sometimes they even stop and say hi-before asking for various food items and turns on the computer. I have to give them credit for that.  Sometimes they even stop and chat for a moment-granted, it's usually to tell on one of their brothers or sisters for something they did on the bus. But I'll take what I can get!  So, I wasn't too shocked when Lily decided to chat with me on that fateful Tuesday afternoon...

If only I had known..maybe I could have prepared better, girded my loins..stiffened my upper lip..I wasn't prepared..I was caught unaware-a deer in the headlights..when she uttered those seven small words...seven words that could and would change the course of our school year...words that could and would make life at home....interesting.. seven words that strike terror into the hearts of many a parent!  She said....

"Mama, I am going to join the school band!"

"wh..wh..what was that honey?" 

"They had an instrument demonstration at school today-and I want to learn one. I think it will be great!"

I was immediately transported back in time-a time when I was innocent and naive..only four short years ago when Sam said those very same words. Sam, who insisted that playing the trombone would be the "BEST THING EVER!" Sam, the boy who when he got his trombone, had to be forced (using dire penalties) to practice...and when he did..lets just say that our dogs will never be the same...I swore "Never again!"...But, I can't let one awful terrible uncomfortable experience sway me. I can't.  I have to let them try new things. A mother should encourage....right?  So, with sweat slowly beading on my upper lip, I said..

"Oh....great!..umm...what instrument are you going to choose?" (please don't let it be trombone...please don't let it be trombone..) 

"Well...I really want to play the conch shell."

"The conch shell?" (already I'm envisioning her standing on the roof at dawn wearing nothing but a loin cloth-blowing her conch shell to greet the day)

"Yeah...but they don't have lessons in it.  They only used it in the demonstration....so I have to pick two choices from the list I got."

"uh huh.....?"

"Yes...so I picked either DRUMS or TRUMPET!"

"Of course you did! ...of course you did"

"Yup!"

"Are you SURE you want to do this?"

"Well...yeah...why not?"

"I'm just saying that it takes commitment...and time and lots and lots of practice...even when you don't feel like it..it means doing your homework and then practicing before you do ANYTHING ELSE..once you sign up-you HAVE to do it for the year.  I'm not kidding-I have to pay to rent this instrument..and If I pay-YOU ARE GOING TO PLAY...."

"Oh....well...I'm not sure I really want to...let me think about it..."  

 Sometimes, I feel like a bad parent. I do.  I WANT my kids to try things..to explore the world..take risks even! Yet here I am...*sigh* doing my best to talk her out of doing just that..The thing is-I know my girl.  I KNOW that as soon as the novelty wears off (about 5 minutes after she gets the instrument) I will be finding drums shoved under her bed..or a trumpet with Littlest Pet Shop toys stuffed in it. She won't want to practice-she will fight me every step of the way-till we are both exhausted and I finally give in and tell her "Fine! Don't practice if you don't want to!" But it won't stop there-oh no..Because then I will start getting notes sent home..telling me about my child's obvious lack of practice-AND-it won't just be a regular note-of course not...it will be a condescending note!

 "Dear Kathleen, you know if you REALLY want them to be able to play, you are just going to have to encourage them to practice a bit more.."

As if I am the one at fault for this! As if I hadn't spent hours asking...demanding...BEGGING them to practice!  And if by some miracle I do get them to practice?...I ask you this.  Have you ever heard a child play a trombone with resentment?  It's not pretty!  I'm damned if I do-damned if I don't!  So, I am going to forgive myself for taking the easier of two evils. I think that in the long run, we will all be happier for it.

  I have three years until I am faced with this dilemma again.  Zoe will either choose not to join band (like Oscar) OR she will follow in Sam and Lily's footsteps and decide she wants to play the tuba.I will deal with that when the time comes.. In the meantime, I believe that I will start petitioning the music dept. to offer more options on their list of available instruments. I do believe that the "dog whistle" and "air guitar" would make lovely additions...

   

.Reduced to "Ish"

~"I never saw a man who looked with such a wistful eye upon that little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky"~ Oscar Wilde

So the school year started-as they always do. On the first day back...At the sound of the alarm, I sprang joyfully out of my bed..delightfully skipped down the stairs-not even pausing to scream out profanities when my feet found the scattered Littlest Pet Shop abominat toys.(.I swear those big headed things move of their own evil volition.)  Nothing was going to get in the way of my springing and skipping. NOTHING.

  The first day of school is pretty easy for my herd.  The girls are excited to wear their new dresses..Lily wants to see her friends..and Zoe? Zoe just wants to wear her new clothes. The excitement peters out pretty quickly for her-once she has worn all of her new things. (we are in the third week now-and she has already had one personal day) My boys were a different story. Well actually-Oscar got up and ready like he always does (he will get his own school post soon) But Sam? *sigh*  Sam started high school this year..and, like a true almost fifteen year old.. he refused to share my excitement. "Hey! Hey! Hey  Sam!  today's the first day of high school buddy!"    "uh-huh."   "I can not believe I have a kid in high school!"  "yup."  "Are you excited!?"  "Not really." "But Sam? ( I'm dancing all around him like a frantic puppy)  It's HIGH SCHOOL!  You are one of the older kids now!  you get to take some courses you're interested in! You're taking  a real art class!!..He's just looking at me. I mean, I'm hopping and skipping...and he has absolutely no reaction...he's not even giving me his standard slightly bemused "she's one hop away from senior living" look.  So, I threw down the gauntlet... brought out the big guns. He was going to be excited about high school-whether he liked it or not!    "Maybe this year.... you can learn  (gulp) how to drive !" (I don't want to think about it)  Did his eyes just light up? (I got him!)  "I want to drive!...I know exactly the car I am going to get too.!!" (he names some zillion dollar  car)  "Ummm Sam?  You do know that those cars cost money-right?..A lot of money."  "Of course I do. But once I sell my story and comic ideas I will be able to afford it." "Yeahhhh...but until then...you might want to think about driving something different...I mean you are going to have to take driving lessons(from someone who isn't me) and you are going to want to practice (again, with someone who is not me)..and believe me-once you learn-you are going to WANT to drive."  "You have a point."  "You'll probably be asking me to use my car."  " No..no, I won't."  "What?..You'll want to drive but you won't borrow my car?"   "No thank you."   "What do you mean?"   "No offense mama..but you drive a mini-van." *sputter* "Whats wrong with my mini van?"   "Nothing."  " My mini van is cool!  It has a c.d. player-and room for six!..not to mention matching floor mats!!!"  I was indignant!  Indignant over the mini-van that I......secretly imagine is a 65 1/2 Mustang convertible (black with white leather interior).  "Look-It's a "mom-ish kind of car."  *gulp*..."Mom-ish?"  "Yes...but that's o.k. because you're a mom-it suits you." "SUITS ME?!! (no!) I bet you anything that  there will be a day when you long for spacious leg and head room , four door accessibility and maximum cargo space!..mom-ish humph." "Mama?  why is your face all red?"  "Sam,  I'm going to give you some advice...you aren't going to understand it now..but it may save you later...you know how I tell you words that you should never use to describe a person?.."You mean like fat?" "Yes-just like that.  "O.k."  "Never call a woman "Mom-ish"...I mean I love being your mother-I adore it-I adore all of you!..But some words?  They just don't sound as nice as they mean...can you understand that?"  "Of course I can.  I'm in high school now. " "well..if you don't start getting ready for it-you'll miss the bus...and I would have to drive you! mwhahahahahaha!"

I think it is going to be an interesting year.

                      

.More than enough...

~"But when I reach the place I'm goin'

  I will surely know my way.."~Wynonna Judd

         

   So, it has happened again.  The unthinkable.  A mother attempted to murder her daughter and then take her own life.  I chose those words carefully-because there is no way to sugar coat it -nor should there be.  It was attempted murder. It was attempted suicide.  It was the ultimate act of aggression.  The why's the how's and what ifs..are all speculation right now.  I know that I can't wrap my head around it. Maybe it is because I had written (with Kim) about this family...gotten to know them, looked at their pictures, watched their journey, shared their story..Maybe it is because I'm a mother..I just don't know.  

 What I do know is that there is a young girl-Issy, fighting for her life right now. A young girl who overnight has become the focus of news reports, blog posts and articles.  Sadly-for mostly the wrong reasons.  I see it already-From the "My wife's cousins best friends sister has a son with autism and her life is awful!"  and "See what vaccines do?" "The mother is evil!" "The mother is a martyr!" "Exonerate!" "Condemn!" "How dare you!" "How dare they!" .."And on and on it goes..and in the background behind all the noise

 Issy fights for her life.

    What I worry about-is what is going to happen a week, a month, or a year from now. Will Issy be forgotten? Her story no longer relevant?  Swept aside by the next big controversy? Only to be remembered as an afterthought, a citation, or a strong warning?  Is this human being, this young girls life only worth the platform on which people stand on? My core shreds at the thought of it.  

  My heart goes out to this family.  Yes-all of them.  As a parent, I can not imagine the depth of darkness this mother must have fallen into in order to commit such a horrible crime. I feel the immeasurable love that I have for my children and have to rationalize it this way. Have to. She had to have been in a very bad place in order to do the unspeakable.  I am incapable of looking at it any other way.  My compassion however does not make her unaccountable.  I can feel for this mother, but there is nothing in this world that justifies taking the life of your child. Nothing. I don't care if they are neuro typical, autistic or have three heads. You do not get to do that. I don't care if they are easy going, physically challenged or violently aggressive.  You don't get to do that.  

Everyone needs to remember Issy is the victim-not her mother.

 I get that when something so horrific like this happens-it is human nature to try and figure out the cause, find something to blame-to try and make sense out of the senseless.  Especially when the crime is so horrendous. BUT!  No matter how awful the crime-it is an even worse offense to blame the victim and/or the victims disability for it. Issy is fighting for her life.  That is enough for one girl to handle. More than enough. 

 My thoughts are with this family.  I hope that one day all of them may find peace.

“You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.” ~Aberjhani