Category Archives: Parenting

Out on the Road

When we moved into our new neighborhood last year, I looked at the hills around our house, looked down at my wheelchair and thought Hell No. I took one harrowing walk with Scarlett “around the block”, which took 20 minutes and included several encounters with cars blocking the sidewalk, forcing me to wheel down short, steep driveways into the street.

Scarlett was riding her bike about a half block ahead of me the whole time, and if that sounds ok to you people who live on perfectly flat streets, let me just say that it was really not all that ok. I’m from a suburb of Chicago where we went sledding down hills that weren’t as steep as my San Francisco street. That first “walk” resulted in no injuries, and only one suggestion from a stranger that I attach a leash to Scarlett’s bike, but I was seriously sweating.

That was in my first wheelchair, a lightweight cutie that couldn’t handle a whole lot of climbing. When I got my new wheelchair, it was time to try again. I wanted to head out with my daughter, explore with her, just be alone with her for a while. But I was freaked out. Read More>

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Back to the DMV

Last week, I had to go to the dreaded DMV. Though I swore I’d made my last visit there, it turns out neither Rob nor I corrected our address upon moving, and our car registration renewal was sent to the wrong place. I took the earliest available appointment, an after-school option, thus ensuring that I had Scarlett along for the trip. Awesome choice, because if there’s anything more fun than going to the DMV, it’s taking a small child to the DMV. Especially a small child who announces the dire need to pee immediately after you arrive and are assigned a number. Winners all around.

We had gotten there early, and, rather than hang out in the depressing and crowded germ closet that is the DMV, we decided to take a walk (as I’ve said before, this is a term I use loosely) through the nearby Panhandle, which looks just like it sounds, a long, narrow extension to the “pan” of Golden Gate Park. It’s a place I’ve taken Scarlett a million times, because our first apartment was just one block away.

Back then, I walked (REAL walking) through the Panhandle almost every day with my new baby, snuggling her into a wrap against my chest or tucking her into an Ergo carrier to go get my morning coffee. I pushed her in a stroller for miles to get to Spreckels Lake, where we watched people sail small, electric powered boats. Read More>

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Monday Morning

Rob gets up first, and I hear the coffee machine crunching beans, such a loud sound inside our otherwise silent house. But familiar and comforting, at the same time, and I don’t even drink coffee. We’ve been in our new home for almost a year, and it’s so quiet here, unlike any other neighborhood we’ve ever lived in. I bury one ear deeper into my pillow. I had to wake Rob up twice last night to help me roll over and get my legs into a more comfortable position. We’re tired.

Scarlett is tired. She’s been having nightmares this week, her yells the sound that punctuates the night. I know there’s wind blowing outside, I can see the trees moving, but all I hear is my daughter shouting “NO!” I want to get up and go to her, but the first issue with that is, of course, that I can’t physically get out of bed on my own. The second issue is that, after a week of Rob going in and trying to calm her down, we’ve decided to try not going in. And it works. This time, she settles quickly.

Night terrors. So, at four years old, she has things that terrorize her. I could read a lot into that, but I hear it’s pretty normal, and I have enough to worry about. Unless things get weird, we’re going to assume the nightmares come with the territory of having a child. She is still sheltered from the harsher realities of ALS, for now. Read More>

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