This morning, like the last 10 mornings, I sat in my big comfy reading chair I put in my new favorite spot. The chair’s new spot lets me look out my new french doors – 24 feet of windowed wonderfulness and because I can see both south and east I can watch the sun come up over the trees. It’s a great way to start my morning and today, as I looked at, and out, these windows I have waited 13 years to get, I thought about how in about an hour the contractor’s crew is going to be here to take them out. Continue reading
You are enjoying the lovely photos on a decorating blog and thinking about nothing in particular other than admiring good design, and then you are shown the image of a beautiful nursery and rather than seeing the style elements of the room, all you see are toys lined up on the floor and you hear yourself saying out loud, “Oh, their kid is autistic too.” You know you have a child with autism.
Image from design to inspire
1. The man-made lines that make this ’59 Jaguar so much more than a car. These lines make it a piece of art.
2. The fallen lines of our old deck railing.
3. The architectural lines of a Key West beauty.
4. The structural lines of a massive steel bridge crossing the Columbia River from Washington into Oregon.
5. The painted lines that make our family room closet visually fun.
6. The tell-tale lines of toys made by my autistic son.
7. The natural lines of a mimosa plant.
For more Lines check out Weekly Photo Challenge here.
Currently my tour of books on social history has lead me to The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. I wanted to share specifically what I read this morning about “autism.” (In quotes as it was in the book.)
As the mother of an autistic child, it was particularly interesting for me to read the thinking from 1963, two years before my birth. I have frequently heard mention of how it was once thought autism was the result of The Refrigerator Mother but never have I read such a gross account of just what that perception meant and the impact and prejudice I can easlly imagine resulted in such thinking. Continue reading
Evaluator in Chief, by blogger Ann Kilter is a post about a journal entry she wrote on December 23, 1991. On December 23, 1991, while my thoughts were filled with my infant son Teddy celebrating his first Christmas, Ann was watching her two young children participate in a Christmas program and was consumed by the concern she had about her then undiagnosed autistic children’s behavior.
After I read her post I began thinking about how my son’s childhood now too belongs to the past and how time gives us the gift of looking back on our lives, and the lives of our children, with the emotion of the moment safely tucked away in a place where it can no longer hurt. From the relative security of this vantage point, I can see the events that have marked my life in a more rational way. Continue reading