Friends ask how I’m doing. I tell them I exist between two states: exhaustion and resilience.
We voted as if our lives depended on it and, like the United States Postal Service and those mail-in ballots, we delivered.
Most of all, I will imbue her with a sense of hope that one day “The Talk” will no longer be necessary.
In the midst of this pandemic, one of the things I’ve been grateful for (in addition to stable employment and good health) is having more time to sit down and read a book—thanks to the absence of a daily commute.
This is what it means to be a parent: you make room.
No place of human gathering is risk-free in this Age of Corona. But how much risk is acceptable for your child?
When you’re not counted as human, it’s easy to be killed like a dog in the street. I don’t say this for dramatic effect.
Despite the bevy of public health precautions, we learned this week that a total of five people in our daycare have been diagnosed with COVID-19, underscoring the reality that no place of human gathering is risk-free.
“We’re free, but not equal. There’s a reality check that has been brought by the coronavirus, that exposes the weakness and the opportunity.” ~Jesse Jackson
Who do I want to be after COVID-19?
For now, the bubble of childhood remains mostly intact.
“The nurse called.” That’s one of the last things you want to hear as a parent.
How do you prepare your children for your own death?
Time pressure has helped cut the fat from my life. I literally don’t have time for foolishness.
“Float” presents a powerful metaphor for autism and a clarion call to embrace differences in a society that relentlessly urges conformity.
I won’t always be there to protect my daughter, but I can teach her to protect herself.