“R” word

I have been thinking a lot about the word “retard”. It’s a word that I used all the time to insult, make-fun and when joking around. It’s a word that rolled off my tongue with little effort and little thought. This is the problem, I didn’t think. It took having a special needs child to realize how much damage I caused to the world and to myself by saying retard. I made myself and the world around me less sensitive, less caring, less loving and less accepting. It is shameful that it took Cara for me to realize this. Shameful that we are comfortable making fun of special needs children and the differently-abled. Shameful that we, as a society, are not only comfortable with this but we laugh.

Think of what a retarded person looks like. Picture this person in your mind. Helmet? Involuntary movements? Drool? Speak with a slow muffled voice? Maybe they walk funny? Maybe they laugh funny? Remember how you would imitate a retard as a kid? These images you laugh at are real children. These images you laugh at are children that face challenges that would likely break you. These children conquer these challenges and continue to love life. They don’t judge you for making fun of them.

There are children that struggle to walk and coordinate their movements because the damage in their brain causes abnormal muscle tone. These children fight through hours of therapy a week. You should see them, they look totally retarded.

There are thousands of children and adults on feeding tubes because they aren’t able to or it is dangerous to eat like we do. What a retarded way to eat.

There is a little girl who brought tears to her parents eyes because she said “ma ma” years after the rest of us did. You should hear her though, she sounds so retarded.

There is a boy who is bound to a wheel chair, the simplest things make him laugh and he will need someone to care for him for the rest of his life. He is such a retard.

There is a disease where children have seizure after seizure and the only way to stop them is a medically induced coma. Many of these children die due to these unrelenting seizures. What a retarded way to die.

There are children that will go to school and be called names, have items thrown at them, laughed at and ridiculed not only by the children that attend the school but by parents. Oh my god, they are so retarded.

The way retards talk. The way retards move. The way retards look. The way retards live. It is all so funny isn’t it? The struggles they face and ugliness people throw at them is just hilarious. I mean, look at how they die? Look at how people have to care for them? Look at how much joy in life they have despite how we all make fun of them?

We all pray that our babies wont be born like them. We all pray that our lives wont be plagued with this burden. So, why not make a joke of it? Why not just throw around an offensive term because we don’t mean harm?

Just because we don’t mean it to be hurtful doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Just because we think we can separate our jokes from a real community doesn’t mean you aren’t causing damage. Just because you haven’t called a special needs person a retard doesn’t mean that you aren’t making fun of them. ;What exactly did you mean when you thought you looked “so retarded” in that picture you didn’t like of yourself?

Why do you want to use the word? You don’t know? Why use it? Use another word, or try a compliment.

Stop being lazy and pay it forward

I had a very grumpy moment (well, more like extended moment) last night. This world is not helpful even in the least for wheelchairs and the differently-abled. Please, if you see someone with a stroller, wheelchair, cane, etc.. take the bit of energy and jog ahead to open the door. Even if you pass someone trying to get through a door you are not entering, how long does it take to hold it open, let them through and then go on your way? Two maybe three seconds? Pay it forward.

This week I did a few very simple things with Cara, grocery shopping and picking Natalie up at preschool. Throw in her kidkart (chair on wheels) and the simple becomes complicated. Cara and I became a spectacle. Lots of lazy smiles and concerning looks. That does not: A. make me feel better ; B. make Cara feel better ; C. Help in any way! Opening a door or moving to the side a bit so I can easily pass is worth a million smiles.

Here is what a trip to the grocery store is like for us: I am pushing Cara’s chair ahead of me with my left hand and pulling a cart behind me with my right hand. Cara is not able to sit in the grocery cart or in one of those handy-dandy back or front carriers. I leave my cart in a central location to push Cara and quickly grab what I need from the produce section and return to deposit my veggies. When I get back to my cart, all the while pushing Cara in her chair, I am greeted with an annoyed shopper because my cart is in front of the apples. I apologize, move my cart and am scolded with a half-smile and slight tilt of a head. Instead of simply applying the 1/2 pound of pressure and taking seconds to move my cart out-of-the-way, this individual stood there, with an annoyed scowl on their face, looking around and waited for me to come back. I don’t ask for help but I can’t care and think about healthy people who refuse to help themselves.

I use to carry Cara into Natalie’s school when picking her up in the afternoon. I juggle Cara, Natalie’s school items and Natalie who needs to hold my hand in the parking lot. Cara is not getting any smaller and is not able to hold herself. She is not a baby anymore. Cara is 2. It takes both arms and a lot of arm and back strength to accomplish a simple preschool pick-up. Yesterday I decided to put Cara in her kidkart to pick Natalie up. Well, I thought this would be easier. Not the case. This school doesn’t have automatic doors and has spaces that fill quickly with children and parents. I open the door, hold it with my back and pull Cara’s chair through the door, while parents just stand and wait for me (they don’t have their kids yet). I have to do this a total of four times (two doors in and two doors out). Luckily I have become pretty good at this. I can barely move 6 feet to tell Natalie that I am here because children are running around and colliding into Cara’s chair. All the while parents are chatting and completely unaware of where or what their kids are doing. Natalie is trying to open and hold doors for me, not because I asked her to (I didn’t) but because at 4 years-old she wants to help and is aware. Most would argue that this is something that she is accustomed to because Cara is her sister. Probably, however, she is 4 which includes the attention span that comes with being 4. She has only been alive for 4 years and is more aware of her surroundings than adults ten times her age.

I don’t blame a culture that is ignorant and uncaring. I blame a culture that is unbelievably lazy and unaware. People fill an elevator, circle and circle for closer parking (or take the disabled spot), use the button that will automatically open a door (meant for the disabled), leave a grocery cart in a parking spot etc..etc.. all because we are lazy. L-a-z-y! It is no wonder we are battling childhood obesity, our children follow our example.

Cara deserves to be out in the world like everyone else so I am not going to do the easy thing, hire a nanny and leave her at home. This is not a temporary phase for us. She loves the grocery store. She loves seeing all the kids at Natalie’s school. She enjoys going to dinner with her family. She doesn’t want to be a burden on her family or the world. It is not her fault that she is a burden, it is ours. It is our fault that the world is so hard to maneuver for the differently-abled. She didn’t ask to not be able to walk. No, we didn’t cause it, but we did create a world and culture that make it difficult for her to freely enjoy it. We did that and we can fix it. Cara is lucky to have Dan, Natalie and myself to help her. Imagine the world of a differently-abled person that does it alone? There has been times when someone has helped make the world a bit easier for us. Stop being lazy and pay it forward.

[I choose to use the term differently-abled because my child and all those like her, are not broken]