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April 06, 2007

i pity the fool

I have never heard someone say "Boy, you have your hands full" to someone with one or two children. It is a saying usually reserved for someone with, I don't know, more than three or four kids. Am I right?

Then why is that complete strangers feel the need to tell me that I have my hands full on a regular basis? It usually happens at the grocery store but it happens quite frequently and I feel like people only say this to me because I have a kid in a wheelchair. I try to just smile and say "No big deal." But inside it makes me angry.

Then as I mention it to my mom she says I don't see why you're mad. I feel sympathy and pity for you. That made me really, really mad. It would take an entire book to even begin to describe my mother and her bizarre behavior and a whole other book to describe our love hate relationship. Anyway, it made me very angry to know that she has pity for us. I don't understand why she would feel pity for us. I think we have a great life. So what if our kid is in a wheelchair. He is awesome. He's smart, healthy, funny, sweet, and loved by everyone he meets. So what's to pity?

Am I being a dink or am I justified in being irritated at unsolicited pity from a stranger and even my own mother?

I found the following piece and thought it very fitting to how I feel...

by Emily Perl Kinglsey

"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland."


Posted by bugg at April 6, 2007 05:02 PM

Comments

Reading your post, it occurs to me that there's a difference between a stranger or family member admiring you for something they (who are not you, and do not know what it's like to experience your life from your perspective) see as a big deal (such as a non-parent commenting appreciatively on your patience as you rally two active kids in a crowded store) and either a stranger (who should keep his or her mouth shut) or a family member (who one would hope would know better) extending sympathy to you for something that is clearly not sympathy-worthy. I think I hear you saying (read you saying) that someone(even your mom)saying they pity you or feel sorry for you implies by the conveyance of sympathy that your son's disability renders him (and therefore your experience of mothering and raising him) as somehow less than, or worse than, something else. If you feel pissed, feel it. That's your reaction, and you're entitled!

Posted by: JP at April 9, 2007 08:57 PM

You hit the nail on the head, honey. Thanks for the validation.

Posted by: Bugg at April 10, 2007 09:47 AM