Author: Deborah Cavanagh
My mom had it easy. I attended high school during the early 1980s. Remember fashion back then? The preppy look. Baggy jeans. Benetton sweaters. Prairie shirts. And Gunne Sax prom dresses that went up to your neck and down to the floor with lace. “Goth” did not exist. Sporty kids dressed sporty. Nerdy kids dressed nerdy. Even girls of questionable reputation kept body parts under wraps. Their jeans were just a tad tighter, their hair a bit higher. I was definitely a fashion follower. I preferred conservative and comfortable. If it was poking, pinching or pushing any part of me,…
My 17-year-old daughter, Amanda, keeps me on track when it comes to our daily schedule. She knows when we should leave for school. She points out that it is noon if she is home for lunch. For get-togethers with friends she must have the arrival, duration and end information. Heaven forbid if 5 p.m. comes along and I am not in the kitchen making dinner. And when it is her assigned bedtime, she heads upstairs, announces she is “tired and cranky” and goes to sleep. If we have a plan to go to the movies she will run through a…
No one ever said “She just loves children” to describe me in my youth. Santa brought me Baby Alive for Christmas when I was 7 years old. It cried, pooped, peed and ran a fever. It scared me to death. Within hours of opening the much-desired gift, I demanded my parents remove the batteries. Baby Alive ended up in the basement. As a young adult I was never one to want to hold the baby. Hold the kitten: yes. Play with the puppy: absolutely. Pick up a squirming, noisy, and unpredictable infant: no way. So it was a surprise to…
“My second child is so advanced cognitively and physically,” one parent said, “that it is hard to compare him to my first child with special needs.” I listened suspiciously from my seat. I was attending an advocacy meeting for parents of children with special needs. My daughter, Amanda, was 4. She has Down syndrome and a host of medical issues that have affected her development. I was pregnant at the time with our second child, Jason. I had heard similar comments at various venues before. The family with the oldest child that has special needs with a brilliant younger sibling…
“Can we do the Christian School of Performing Arts Summer Camp, Mom, please?!” both my children plead. I sigh. Isn’t summer about chasing butterflies and looking for rainbows? Don’t we live all school year for the hazy, warm days of not having to get up and out the door to anywhere in particular? No cute outfits needing to be pressed and ready in the morning. No healthy lunches needing to be packed. No caring if hair is brushed, faces are washed or teeth are sparkly clean. I come from a different starting point than most. My oldest child, Amanda, has…
Deborah Cavanagh’s note: My husband and I had different ideas about family before we were married. He wanted five children. I favored one. He thought about having children right away. I preferred a bit of a wait. He wished for boys. I fancied a girl. We compromised; we thought we had it all planned. Here is Brian’s view on fatherhood 20-plus years later: My daughter, Amanda, and I have always been close. When she was born she knew me from the sound of my voice. She was part of me. Amanda was born with Down syndrome and other medical issues…
Spring finds families considering new graduation options for kids with special needs. It’s scary to be thinking about the future—and my daughter’s life as an independent young adult. Amanda was born with Down syndrome and health problems that required intensive medical intervention the first two years of her life. We concentrated on helping her gain weight and stay alive. Every now and then I would ponder the future. Would she walk and talk? Could she someday go to school? Might she ever have her own apartment or live with a friend? But those thoughts of the future brought more questions,…
As I spend my days driving my two children from Fayetteville-Manlius High School to the Montessori School of Syracuse, CNY Gym Centre to Sports Center 481, voice lessons to saxophone lessons—the same 20-odd miles of road over and over—I ask myself: “Is this our life?” What will my kids remember of their childhood? Will it be the meaningful discussions we had while driving to and fro? Or will it be my constant refrain: “Will you get moving into the car or we are going to be late!” I was sucked into the vortex of scheduled activities and competitive craziness when…
When I was a child, people with special needs were not seen regularly in society. There were institutions, or families kept the children in their homes. This made sightings, much less interaction, rare. I was taught staring isn’t polite. Asking questions might hurt feelings. It seemed easiest to steer clear of people with special needs if possible. Pretend I did not see. I remember one interaction from my eighth-grade year in Fishkill. That day I could not figure out where my lunch had gone. I wandered the hallway searching for the brown paper bag with the sandwich, cookies and apple.…