I can’t even remember where I heard the phrase but it has saved my sanity more times than I can think of. But here is the best definition I have of it. A Magic Chuckle is something that happens to you throughout the day where you have the opportunity to laugh at yourself and what you are experiencing in a particular moment.
The reason to keep your eyes open for a Magic Chuckle is: A Magic Chuckle doesn’t always “seem” like a Magic Chuckle at the time (referred to as an MC after this point). This means that sometimes it can occur at your own expense, sometimes it happens because of what you do or who you are around or where you are and sometimes it horribly embarrassing. It’s always good to look for these because they are the biggest stress-busters and tension-releasers I know.
So an example of a MC might be: you are taking your child shopping with you and they, in their sense of innocence, might blurt out something impolite about someone. You might actually be thinking the same thing yourself. The only difference is, YOU keep your mouth shut but your child doesn’t.
An example from my life might look like this. My child is developmentally delayed and at the time he was at least five years old. You might have already taught your child by this age, that commenting out loud; on someone’s appearance is something you just don’t do.
On this particular day I was grocery shopping and as we turned down an aisle a rather portly person was coming towards us.
My child immediately turned his head in her direction and openly watched the person walking closer and closer to us. I kept my hand ready in case I needed to quietly and quickly cover his mouth in case something came out of it.
The closer we got the more attentive my son got and I just KNEW we were going to have an expose′ in the middle of the aisle. I wasn’t sure when but my son was just vibrating in anticipation.
I know, I know. You are thinking why I didn’t just whisper something to my child. This however might result in him repeating very loudly what I had just said to him or him responding innocently and out loud anyway. My experience with him had been the less said the better and action was preferable.
I decided to skip buying anything in the aisle and just circle back when this portly person had moved on. As I sped up it seemed like a race for me to get past them before my son spouted his opinion. But we smoothly zipped by, without appearing too much in a hurry or anxious.
I was starting to feel quite pleased with my ability to sense what was happening. You might, in hindsight, say I was feeling a little cocky. “Phew!” I thought, “We got past with no incident and no embarrassment.”
I slowed down a bit after several feet and started to take a deep breath when my son loudly pronounced, “Gee mom! She FAT!” with the emphasis on fat.
The woman abruptly turned around to me and glared at my inability to teach my child manners.
What can I say? At this stage there is no point trying to explain to anyone that my child is handicapped or so sorry but my son is just being honest, or just plain sorry. I’ve never had a happy result from anything I might try to say in a situation like this. My son doesn’t look like he has a disability and I’ve been accused of making it up just to have a reason for the rude behavior. Yes you heard right. If a child has a disability and it isn’t visible then your child is just being down right rude.
I was embarrassed and shushed my child but the damage had been done. I immediately went to the check out and never finished shopping. I didn’t want to run into her at the check out.
I tried as gently as possible to put my child in his car seat despite my anger and I sat behind the steering wheel gripping it while I hung my head. I on the verge of crying but a switch inside me flipped the beginnings of a sob into a spurt of laughter. Just like that I was giggling like mad. I mean when I saw the woman come around the corner it had been the first thing I thought, “She is overweight.”
My son just happened to say “out loud” what I had been thinking. Then events took a turn when I got a little too over confident thinking I had “saved the day”. It was absolutely hilarious. Was I laughing at the woman? Nope. I was laughing at myself and my belief that I had out-smarted my child. I was laughing at my child’s ability to come right out and speak what was so obviously the truth.
Now THAT was a Magic Chuckle.
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Friday, August 1, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The First Time
I remember, so clearly, the day I was told my child had a disability. It was an explosion of emotions. Some emotions were conflicting which didn’t make acceptance occur in a smooth motion.
I was so terribly upset that my child should be singled out for this rare disorder. By the time I got home, from the hospital, I was shocked to realize that I was really upset that I had been singled out. My child would wake up still the same the next day but I never would but how was I going to cope with this. It was the most selfish thing I ever felt.
Then I was angry – at just about everything. I was angry at how the Doctor had “coldly” informed us. I was upset that the only thing my ex-husband was concerned about was our child’s ability to have his own children. I was also angry that before we were even out the door he was looking for someone to blame for this and it was me. Neither of which were his fault because he didn’t realize he was disabled too.
I was angry that I would have to deal with, yet another problem, when I still wasn’t over the last one. I was angry it was my child and not someone else’s. Silly me, since there are millions of “someone else’s child” out in the world.
I was relieved. Man, how relieved I was and ashamed at my relief. At last I knew what was wrong. My son’s disability had a name and I had something to start on. I was relieved that it would give me direction towards what to do next and that “next” was to find out as much as possible about this disability.
I felt vindicated that after all the years of saying, “Something’s not right here.” I was right. Not an “I told you so” – right, but more like, “Hey my intuition was heading me in the right direction after all.” I knew I had been okay in trusting my instincts, as a mother. Previously I found, that the more things that went wrong with my child, the more I was apt to blame myself for maybe something I had done.
I was excited about the challenge of finally making headway to learn what I needed to help my child. I had a direction to march off to and it would only mean more help for me and my child. At the time, I just didn’t realize how much help it would mean for me.
After feeling all these feelings I then realized how self-centered all these emotions had been. This was the first time I realized, as a parent, how disabled I was. I would have to learn parenting all over again. My expectations for my child had to completely shift and I had to re-examine my own life expectations. I was no longer the part-time guardian of my child till he became of age. I was probably now going to be the life-time guardian of my child.
This thought brought on a whole new spate of feelings, which I promptly shut down. I wasn’t ready to look at this aspect of my disability yet. Right now my child was a child and he needed me to be strong, focused and to most certainly dig out my sense of humor from my toolbox. I had a feeling that for the next several years I was going to need it.
I was so terribly upset that my child should be singled out for this rare disorder. By the time I got home, from the hospital, I was shocked to realize that I was really upset that I had been singled out. My child would wake up still the same the next day but I never would but how was I going to cope with this. It was the most selfish thing I ever felt.
Then I was angry – at just about everything. I was angry at how the Doctor had “coldly” informed us. I was upset that the only thing my ex-husband was concerned about was our child’s ability to have his own children. I was also angry that before we were even out the door he was looking for someone to blame for this and it was me. Neither of which were his fault because he didn’t realize he was disabled too.
I was angry that I would have to deal with, yet another problem, when I still wasn’t over the last one. I was angry it was my child and not someone else’s. Silly me, since there are millions of “someone else’s child” out in the world.
I was relieved. Man, how relieved I was and ashamed at my relief. At last I knew what was wrong. My son’s disability had a name and I had something to start on. I was relieved that it would give me direction towards what to do next and that “next” was to find out as much as possible about this disability.
I felt vindicated that after all the years of saying, “Something’s not right here.” I was right. Not an “I told you so” – right, but more like, “Hey my intuition was heading me in the right direction after all.” I knew I had been okay in trusting my instincts, as a mother. Previously I found, that the more things that went wrong with my child, the more I was apt to blame myself for maybe something I had done.
I was excited about the challenge of finally making headway to learn what I needed to help my child. I had a direction to march off to and it would only mean more help for me and my child. At the time, I just didn’t realize how much help it would mean for me.
After feeling all these feelings I then realized how self-centered all these emotions had been. This was the first time I realized, as a parent, how disabled I was. I would have to learn parenting all over again. My expectations for my child had to completely shift and I had to re-examine my own life expectations. I was no longer the part-time guardian of my child till he became of age. I was probably now going to be the life-time guardian of my child.
This thought brought on a whole new spate of feelings, which I promptly shut down. I wasn’t ready to look at this aspect of my disability yet. Right now my child was a child and he needed me to be strong, focused and to most certainly dig out my sense of humor from my toolbox. I had a feeling that for the next several years I was going to need it.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Confessions of a "Handicapped" Parent
It came to me in a flash! I was trying to think of a name for this blog. I wanted it to be for parents of disabled children and I wanted it to be short. If I just said "handicapped parents", then someone might think it was for a parent with a disability.
Then it dawned on me... okay it hit me like a hammer. This blog was never about my own child, who is disabled. This blog and story has always been about me. It was ME who was truly disabled and my stories are a journey of how I learned to cope with, deal with, grow and cure myself of this disability.
Children who are developmentally or physically disabled instinctivley and inherently KNOW what they are capable of. It us, the parents, not our children who have the disability.
As parents, we have been bombarded all our life about what a parent is and should be. There is the media, our parents and mentors and role models all throwing images and ideas on how to parent but NO ONE ever tells you how to be a parent to a child with a disability.
When our child is born we too are born. We are born blind to what we can do, say or be. We are blind to what our child is capable of.
We are deaf to our own inspiration and we are emotionally crippled by our constant questioning of: why me?
We are also born again mute. We speak about what we need and what our child needs and often the people and organizations around us cannot hear us.
We are paralyzed with anger and resentment because no one understands what it is like and we often become exhausted trying to make a case to people who can help us.
This this blog is not about your child or mine. There are millions of disabilities and diagnostic categories our children will fit into. But there is only one place for a parent who's child is born with or a child who develops a medical issue. This blog is for you.
This blog is all about offering a course of action, through sharing about the journey to recover from my "birth" as disabled parent to an adapted parent.
Then it dawned on me... okay it hit me like a hammer. This blog was never about my own child, who is disabled. This blog and story has always been about me. It was ME who was truly disabled and my stories are a journey of how I learned to cope with, deal with, grow and cure myself of this disability.
Children who are developmentally or physically disabled instinctivley and inherently KNOW what they are capable of. It us, the parents, not our children who have the disability.
As parents, we have been bombarded all our life about what a parent is and should be. There is the media, our parents and mentors and role models all throwing images and ideas on how to parent but NO ONE ever tells you how to be a parent to a child with a disability.
When our child is born we too are born. We are born blind to what we can do, say or be. We are blind to what our child is capable of.
We are deaf to our own inspiration and we are emotionally crippled by our constant questioning of: why me?
We are also born again mute. We speak about what we need and what our child needs and often the people and organizations around us cannot hear us.
We are paralyzed with anger and resentment because no one understands what it is like and we often become exhausted trying to make a case to people who can help us.
This this blog is not about your child or mine. There are millions of disabilities and diagnostic categories our children will fit into. But there is only one place for a parent who's child is born with or a child who develops a medical issue. This blog is for you.
This blog is all about offering a course of action, through sharing about the journey to recover from my "birth" as disabled parent to an adapted parent.
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