SED 009: Thanks and No Thanks - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

Just a warning, the following podcast has swearing in it. Swearing makes me feel better, so you're gonna hear it. 

This is episode number nine.  

Some people, I swear, they're put on this earth to thwart me. I talked about some of them in the last episode. 

Others, though, cross my path and are the opposite. Some are teachers, others just kind strangers, in line at the grocery store, or out on a public sidewalk.  They want to help. They think about our family. They reach out to Dana. They take the time to think about Tess and what would work for her.

On this week's show:  if you're not with me, you're against me. It's about finding the people with good juju, who want good things for you and your family. And cutting loose everyone who doesn't.   

Tess is a skier. She's been going to Maine adaptive skiing for two years now - they have a nifty rig all set up for her, and they bungee her ass into it and take her down the mountain. It's pretty awesome. 

Most of its awesomeness comes from the vibe, these physical and occupational therapists who volunteer to work with people with disabilities like Tess. 

And I meet some amazing parents there, while we're inside the lodge, at the window, watching our kids cruise down the slopes. 

Last time I met this woman, who'd had her twins very very premature. They were in the ICU for weeks, and ended up having some physical and cognitive disabilities. Both kids have been coming to Maine Adaptive for years. They've made crazy progress as skiers. This woman told me about someone who had helped them, early on in their journey, and referred to the helper as an angel, sent by God. 

I'd just met this lady, like ten minutes earlier. She hastened to assure me, hey I'm not religious, not at all. If I were to press her on the issue, she said, she doesn't really even believe there's a God. 

But she stuck to this idea that certain people are sent into your life, and your kids' lives, to help you. To make things easier. To save you from some dreadful situation that's totally messing with your shit.  

I gotta say, I hadn't thought about it that way before. But when I look at everything that's gone on for the past five years, I get it. 

Example. A few years ago, we had just learned that Tess has CVI, or cortical visual impairment. It means that even though her eyes are healthy, good rods and cones and all that, there's a disconnect between her eyes and the visual part of the brain. It's a processing problem. It means that she's drawn to bright lights and the color yellow, and sometimes back then she couldnt detect objects, even when they were right in front of her, right under her nose, on a table. Luckily, we'd learned that you can intervene. Get in there early and fire up some vision therapy, and a CVI kid can essentially be taught to process things visually. Their brains get better at it, and their ability to detect stuff can improve. We had a teacher of the visually impaired who was trained to do that kind of therapy and was supposed to work with Tess. Time is of the essence with this - gotta act fast. The more you can do early in a kid's life, the better. But the teacher kept no-showing. Fall goes on, we're getting into winter - no sign of her. I come to find out she doesn't like driving in the snow. Now, we live in the state of Maine. I mean, come on. It's pretty far north. If you don't like snow, there are a number of options in the south where you could safely get rid of the snow tires. But this isn't one of them. 

So every day that Tess isn't getting vision therapy, is another day where we've failed her. Where we could have intervened and helped her brain learn how to visually process her world, but instead we did nothing. 

And that teacher was not helping. And if you're not helping me, you're hurting me. Especially, especially if I've relied on you. Relied on your promise to help. And you left me hanging. So not cool.  

We got rid of her. We were upset. It was a dark time for our heroes. It seemed like Tess's vision would never get better, and we were doomed, and we'd just have to live with her CVI. 

And then somebody new came into our lives. When we least expected it. Her name was Andrea, and she started working wiht Tess. She busted her ass for us. She found a way to get us to meet THE expert in CVI, Dr. Christine Roman, who knows more about it than anyone else in the world. She made binders, and filled them with objects, glued onto pages, things that Tess would recognize by feel, and developed this whole communication system for us, so Tess could tell us when she wanted snack or water or something else. She found all this great stuff, and repurposed it to make tools and learning centers and light boxes and play areas for Tess, with each thing modified to make it useful for someone with low vision like Tess. She was always doing like outside reading and coming up with new ideas and brainstorming how we could solve problems in our house with Tess being uncomfortable or not knowing how to do something. When it was time for Tess to start going to school, Andrea even went to the new school and trained them on how to create the right lighting environment for Tess, so her vision would be optimized. She was basically like Tess's personal angel, in the vision department. We freakin love Andrea.  

Here's another example. 

Our car trips can kind of suck. Tess gets sick of the carseat, and starts howling, and god help you if you're still an hour or two from your destination. Punishing. 

Most of the time our voyages take us through western Massachusetts, and we tend to stop overnight at the house of my wife's sister Lauren Bell and her husband Jamie. Or as I refer to it, the House of Elrond. 

J'ever read the Hobbit? JRR Tolkien? If you haven't, quick summary of who Elrond is, and why he's so excellent:  Bilbo the hobbit and his friends, these dwarves, had just gotten their asses thoroughly kicked, and they're on this quest, and they're out of food and water, and hating everything, and they show up at Elrond's place, and he takes them them in, gives them shelter, feeds them, and they rest. After a few days of this, they feel like new men. 

And that's what happens at the Bells. Lauren scoops up angry Tess and gives us a break, plays with her and gets her to chill out. Full glasses of beer and wine are thrust into the hands of my wife and me, and we're told to put our feet up. We have conversations. Actual adult conversations with Lauren and Jamie, about elections and music and movies and ideas and art. Meanwhile, Dana's older cousins whisk him away and play with him - video games, legos, the language of the eight-year-old.  It's unreal. We change back into people. We relax. We love being there. It's like hanging out with Elrond. By the time we go to leave, all four of us hop in the car and we're in great moods, ready to take on the next leg of our trip. Yep, Lauren and Jamie are pretty much our travel angels.   

We're so grateful to the people around us who get Tess and get our family. Laura, the director of Tess's school. Dana's kindergarten teacher. His bus driver. Our friends the Davins. Our neighbors down the street. 

That ski mom, the one with the twins? She's right. We have to see those angels when they show up, man. We gotta thank em, and keep looking for other ones. And we gotta see when someone's not gonna help, cause they're too busy, or they have their own issues, or they just don't care. Whatever the reason, we have to see that, and 86 those people. Cut them out of our lives. It sounds cold, but with Tess we don't have a choice. We can't rely on somebody and then have them bail on us. Not an option.  

The coolest thing about meeting the ski mom? I talked to her for only about ten minutes. I never even got her name. But standing there at the window, I was able to look out while she pointed out her kids, a boy and a girl, both about twelve. She was with me when Tess got strapped into her rig and carried out to go skiing. She told me her son, like Tess, started coming to Maine Adaptive when he was four. And also like Tess, he had that same rig back then -- a slider on skis, with arm holds and stabilizers and straps and shit. And now this year, that kid can ski on his own. With supervision and everything, but he's not in any kind of rig. He's just skiing. 

So in a way, it was a lucky thing that I got to meet his mom and hear about how far he had come in the past eight years. I may never see her or that kid again. But seeing into what could be Tess's future as a skier? I'm really glad that family was there that day. 

That's gonna do it for me.  I'll be back next week. 

If you're in Maine and want to make podcasts but aren't sure how to get started, it's your lucky day. There's a meetup group for you. Find us on Twitter - hashtag M.E.podcasters, all one word.  Hashtag ME like Maine, podcasters. On twitter.

Also, check out adaptive skiing if you know someone with disabilities who might like to hit the slopes.  I'll put a link in the show notes to Maine Adaptive, where Tess goes. They're awesome. 

Do you know how to get to the show notes? If you're listening on iTunes on your phone, click that little lowercase i next to each episode, and voila, there they are. They're also on our website, portlandrootsmedia.com.  

Thanks to Tony Magrogan, audio consultant extraordinaire.

Also to Will Sakran, who wrote and performed "Innergroove," which is our closing theme.

And to Brad Peirce for co-writing and playing guitar on our opening theme.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.   

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 008: Getting a Little Testy - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

Warning, the following podcast has swearing in it. You know, swearing makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing some. 

This is episode number eight.  

I've been a dad for over eight years now. I like to think I know what I'm doing. But sometimes I'm not so sure. 

I know my kids well. What they like, what they hate, and how to set them up to succeed. But the fact is, there are always tests. In classrooms and out in the world. And people are judging my kids, people who are never going to know them the way I do. And sometimes that is crazy hard.  

On this week's show:  this is a test. A test of your kid. An evaluation. Of them, and really, of you. As a parent. Are you doing your job? 

I got this certain habit from my dad. He's an engineer and worked as a patent attorney until he retired, so he's always appreciated good design, the way things are made. The flip side is, he hates when something is poorly designed, or even worse, made of cheap materials. He even had a term for it:  cheap junk. In my house growing up, there was no lower insult for the way an item is made. And now I have the same eye about stuff. Stuff that breaks, is designed to fail, to make you go throw it out and go buy another one. 

So there I am, picking up Dana at preschool. This was a few years ago. And I'm talking to his teacher, who's in her twenties, pretty friendly. From her I'm trying to get a sense of how Dana's doing, and what she thinks of him. I'm joking around, saying how in our house the battle about screen time has become a full-scale war. 

And then she gives me this odd look. I got little baby Tess on my hip, and she looks at her and then at me, with this weird pity, like she knows all about me, and she says, "Is that like your war against cheap junk?" 

And that's when I knew. This teacher didn't like me. She'd made up her mind. This was the kind of school where your kid isn't allowed to wear a t-shirt with a superhero or even any character on it. I have a boy. Which, you may have heard, boys often enjoy superheroes and characters quite a lot. No t-shirts with Yoda or Superman or anything. Sometimes I'd forget, and I'd get a reminder, almost a finger-wagging scolding from her. So she'd never like me. Which, is fine. I didn't really care whether she liked me. But I realized in that moment that she'd also evaluated my kid, based on the t-shirts thing, and him repeating my "cheap junk" diatribe.

She knew all about him and our family, she thought. There'd been a test, somewhere along the way, and I'd flunked it. She didn't believe me, when I said I'd been trying to limit the boy's screen time. She'd never been to our house, but--from that look she gave me--I knew she'd pictured it:  a disaster, a complete free-for-all, where dad is at home, and I'm perhaps irrationally opposed to cheap junk, but otherwise anything goes, and I'm serving up sugar to the kids all day long and parking them in front of cartoons for hours and hours. 

Look, I love teachers. My mom is one, my sisters are. But it happens, sometimes, to us parents--you winds up in a situation where the teacher doesn't get your kid. Maybe there's a learning style that suits your daughter really well, and the teacher doesn't do that, or maybe the school doesn't do that, and you gotta change schools. A friend of mine discovered that recently -- he and his wife lost a ton of sleep, wondering what the deal was with their son, what they could do, why he wasn't doing well in his school, and then they switched it up, tried another school with a totally different program, and the kid's now doing great. Loving school. There's nothing quite like the fury of parents, when someone tries to make them think there's something wrong with their kid, that their kid is a problem, a bad egg, and then it turns out that the kid was fine, and another setting was just the thing. There's that old saying - teach the kid they way they learn, not the other way around.   

There's other tests, that make me doubt myself, and they got nothing to do with school. Here's one for ya. It's a Saturday, I decide to bring the kids to this festival downtown. Tess has a new stroller, an adaptive one, which means lots of moving parts that rotate and click together, for her protection. Like a wheelchair, but more padded and a thousand times more complicated. I park, snap the thing together, and put her in it. But because it's new, I don't realize that you have to really push the wheelie part onto the seat part and lock them together with these two little clippy things. So there we are, walking in the street at the festival, and there's some power cords down on the road underfoot, all bundled together. The wheelie part of the stroller hits the cords and stops. And the seat part, not properly attached, keeps going. Tess in the seat tumbles forward. Onto the street. She lands on her face. Shit. Just about the time I'm thinking I'm the worst dad in the history of parenting, as she's shrieking and I'm scrambling to get her out of the seat and into my arms, I realize that all these other adults are at my side. They saw her wipeout and they want to help. But it turns out that the festival is not kid-friendly at all. I read about it in the paper, but evidently not carefully enough. The festival is about beer, and not much else. It's only around 11am, but the festivalgoers around us are super hammered. And there's a distinct smell of booze, and they're helping me get Tess back in the chair, and they're pointing out to me that, yeah, you have to click the wheelie part to the seat part, see here? And Dana is there too, soaking it all in, imprinting the whole dumb event into his brain, how Dad brought him to a beerfest when he was seven and made Tess fall on her chin, and how even the drunkest of the people around us were looking at me and wondering just what the hell I was thinking. Yeah. So that happened. Epic fail of stroller test. I can't make this shit up.  

This all comes back to why we parents generally hate tests. It's because they're a measure of how we're doing. 

When it comes to Tess, she takes tests too. Her school is fantastic, because they use something called authentic assessment. The school's director told me that it's the measurement of intellectual accomplishments that are worthwhile, significant, and meaningful, as compared to multiple choice standardized tests. They take time. They can't assess Tess without knowing her. Which means everything, to my wife and me.  

But there are other evaluations of the T-Bird that don't follow authentic assessment. And those evals I freakin hate. Mostly because they're multiple choice and don't acknowledge the gains we've made with Tess. Instead they focus on what she can't do. There's sometimes whole pages that break my heart because I have to mark "never," over and over. Expresses anticipation over future events like birthdays and holidays? Never. She has no idea what day it is or what day is coming. Exhibits caution when crossing busy streets? Never. She can't walk on her own. We carry her everywhere, and she's never in a busy street. I wrote about these evaluations recently on The Mighty, and some other parents chimed in. I talked to some of them. 

There's this boy in Connecticut named Dominic. I talked to his mom Chris Faressa, about the tests, and she told me about his behavior.  

Chris: You know we as parents, he is at an age Bo, you know, I'm gonna be 45 this year, so I had him later in life. And you know, it's one of those things where when you have a child later in life and you didn't think you could have kids, and not to get into the backstory but, you know, all you want is your child to be happy. And you tend to give them everything you can so you have a happy baby. And then you realize that when they're like two and a half almost three, like oh my God what did I do? 

Chris: So do I have a spoiled child, number one. You know so we were struggling with is it the only child syndrome, is he a little spoiled, used to getting his own way. Is it now, now I think back is it some of his issues, or is it his age?  What is going on? 


Dominic didn't want to socialize with other kids at school, he was running back and forth a lot, walking on his tiptoes. So they brought him to the doctor.  

Chris: It was one of his visits, and he exhibited the worse possible behavior between running back and forth, not listening, just repeating himself, anything he could have done.  I was like wow, look at this, he exhibited in front of the doctor.
And she was like, okay maybe we need to look in some another direction.

Chris feels the way I do about the tests, how black-and-white they are. But they've worked out pretty well for Dominic.  

Chris: So he got services, so he qualified for services through the town, so he's now, since October til the present time, he's been in a pre-K program, in meeting with the speech language pathologist, meeting with the OT person, and really getting some special treatment, and we've seen a huge improvement since he's been getting this more focus, but he's with other kids.

I also got to talk to someone who's already been through all this. Years and years of these kinds of evaluations. Someone with an adult child with special needs.  

Kathy: Well, I would say that the support intensity scale interview is absolutely the most heinous thing that ever happened to us. 

That's Kathy Wagner. Her daughter Molly is 26. The test she's talking about there, the support intensity scale, is a new rule to figure out whether people like Molly should get funding to support their needs. The state forced Kathy to explain how much support Molly would need in order to take a college course or hold down a job. Molly can't brush her own teeth, Kathy told me. If she gave Molly a pencil, she'd eat it or put her eye out.   

Kathy: It's a perfectly good tool for certain individuals with disabilities, but not people with profound disabilities and a lot of medical needs.

Kathy told me the secret to surviving the evaluations, the way they ignore the gains, is to split myself in two. There's the me who brags about Tess's walking, and there's a separate me, who downplays everything we've worked for.  

Kathy: I have changed my approach to that. I really talk more about her deficits in that situation because that's where you get the funding. So it's kind of everything splits at a certain point where you know what your child's needs are and you know how hard you've worked for them, but when it comes to talking to people from the state, you don't talk about that stuff. You talk about deficits because that's how you get funding so you keep your mouth shut.

Kathy's been doing this a long time. She's seen cookie-cutter systems come and go. So why was this recent round of evals so tough on her? 

Kathy: My point is you're asking me to make up stories and I don't see how this is valid and it's also quite upsetting. It's not the way I think about Molly. We don't think about her having a job, we don't think about her going to college, it's just not 
something that, we realized at a pretty young age that those things aren't gonna happen. It's just bizarre to be asked to do that. 

Kathy: Well it's just, you know, brings up old wounds. You know, that's stuff that you think you process and get over, but in truth you revisit those things at certain stages in life and the transition to adulthood is a big one. I don't need anyone pushing those buttons any more than they're already pushed. And it's just unnecessary. 

Parents, you're doing great. Really, you are. Look. If someone's evaluating our kids, and they either don't have time to get to know the kids, or even worse, they don't care, why should we give that person the power to make us feel doubt? 

I took my kids to a beerfest. Accidentally. Dropped Tess on her face. That day sucked. But I'm okay with it. I made a mistake. I don't care what kind of dad those drunk-ass people in the street thought I was. 

And I also don't care that Dana's preschool teacher thought I was nuts and assumed that I had no clue what I was doing.  

There's gonna be more tests. I'm doing my best. That's enough.  

That's it for this week's show. 

I'll return next week. 

A huge thanks this week to my audio consultant, Tony Magrogan. Aside from hooking me up with major help in making this show sound better all the time, Tony's also a helluva bass player. 

If you like this show, spread the word and tell somebody you know.   

Will Sakran wrote and performed "Innergroove," which is our closing theme. Will's also a hardware design engineer. He used to work at Fisher-Price, making the hardware inside talking toys, but he quit and went out on his own, starting Metre Ideas and Design. I'll put a link in the show notes.  

Do you know how to get to the show notes? If you're listening on iTunes on your phone, click that little lowercase i next to each episode, and voila, there they are. They're also on our website, portlandrootsmedia.com.  

Thanks to my man Brad Peirce for co-writing and playing guitar on our opening theme.  
Thanks for listening, and see you next time.   

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 007: Aircraft Equipped with Frustration Device - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. Without fail, swearing makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing some. 

This is episode number seven.  

Do you ever look around at a travel disaster that's unfolding before your eyes, and say, how is this my life? 

You're in an airport, on layover three time zones away from home, your kids are crying for food, you got nothing to feed em, and the last restaurant just closed.  

Or your plane finally lands, and you cart your family and all your shit on a shuttle, to get to the rental car place, only to find out they have no cars for you. (Yes Jerry, I'm with you--the key really is holding the reservation.)

On this week's show:  hittin the road with the family. Voyages--some celebrated, others, well, ill-fated. What it's like to travel with the T-Bird.

Let's start with a mildly terrible travel experience. We're trying to get to Hilton Head, South Carolina, where my folks have this awesome condo. We're lucky enough to get to use their place for a week. To save a few bucks, we fly out of New Hampshire, instead of Maine, where we live. It's winter. Which can be long and snowy in Maine. We can't wait to get where it's warm. 

Wouldn't you know it, there's crazy traffic as we get into New Hampshire. We've left plenty early, but still we know it's gonna be close. It's still before dawn. Our theory was that we'd keep the kids in their PJs, maintain quiet in the car, and then they'd sleep on the way to the airport. That theory is being disproven. Tess is making a lot of noise from the backseat. She's crying, and then Dana's crying. We're so late for our flight. Then someone says, "well, at least it's not snowing." Which you should never say.  

Because then it is snowing. Big ol flakes. We have to drive even slower, because we can't even see. By some miracle of steering wheel magic from my driver-ace wife, we park and get through security and make our flight. And then we realize why we made it. The plane isn't going anywhere. They have to de-ice it. 

We sit on the ground so long that when we take off and eventually land for our connection in Atlanta, we have like three minutes to make it. You been to Atlanta? That airport's like a series of straight vertical lines, A through E. We landed at A. Had to get to E. Somehow whenever you're in this position, they pass along a really unpleasant fact, something going through your mind as you sprint to your gate, sweating, your daughter wailing, you carrying three bags and at least one kid. Some fact like, if you miss this flight, the next flight to get you and your kids where you're going isn't until the last day of vacation week. Hope you brought a sleeping bag! Hope your family likes airport trail mix and Snickers bars! 

We had planned everything, which stroller to bring, which of Tess's toys are smallest but most amusing, so they fit in her bag *and* promise hours of diversions. We'd even calculated for an extra-long layover in Atlanta. But hadn't thought of the de-icing delay and how royally that would screw us. 

That was bad. We got to hilton head eventually, had an awesome week. But honestly, it was a day or two before we could really shake off the snowy drive, the airport sprint, and a fact that Tess told us, in her way, again and again, on the ground there in New Hampshire:  she doesn't mind long travel days, or even connections, but prefers her actual time on the plane to be as short as possible.  

We took the kids to Disney. Not a good fit. Not for us. Too much going on, too much noise for Tess. Not enough down time. Both she and Dana made it quite clear that their favorite place by far was the hotel pool. After a couple days down there, that's all they wanted to do. No EPCOT, no magic kingdom. Just hang out in the pool. Which meant that instead of Disney--where you can't even get outta bed in the morning for less than a hundred bucks--we could have taken them to Tulsa. Or Toledo. Or Des Moines. Anywhere with a pool, basically. 

Another time, and this was worse, we were going to Puerto Rico. We made it down to Miami and were sitting on our connecting flight. For some reason, our plane couldn't take off. We were waiting on the tarmac. Tess was a baby then, and was drinking a lot of milk. Which you can't bring through security, except in small amounts. We'd used up our supply on our first flight of the journey. In the Miami airport, it had been so early that only one place was open in our terminal. We had bought every container of milk they had left in their cooler--more than enough for the flight--but eventually while sitting there we ran out. Luckily, while we waited, the flight attendant came around with the cart to serve drinks. Imagine our shock when she wouldn't give us any milk at all. "We need it for coffee," she said. I told her we only needed a little bit, to get T to go to sleep. She refused. Tess started crying, waking up everyone in the seats around us. I eventually got up and went to the rear of the plane, to try one more time to get some milk from the flight attendant. I even offered to pay for it. No dice. By the time I got back to my seat, Tess was screaming at the top of her lungs. The next hours were a blur: the relentless sonic assault from my infant, the stares from bleary-eyed passengers, and a complete lack of any info about why we could not at least return to the airport. I remember standing up at one point and telling anyone who was listening that Tess needed milk and they wouldn't give us any. I thought about doing it over the PA, but was pretty sure that would get me deplaned into the hands of a federal marshal. But hey--at least everyone got the choice of having milk in their coffees while they waited, right? And who needed coffee, really? The whole plane was awake, thanks to our little T and her big lungs. Eventually, after four hours, we took off and reached our destination, Tess caterwauling all the while. That thing the pilots and crew do, where they wait by the door, and say "buh-bye" and thank you? Yeah, they didn't do that when we left.

My wife and I have this awesome friend named Rachel. Her daughter has downs syndrome. She tells us stories about her daughter's public meltdowns, and her philosophy about them is right on. She says:  how can I get mad at her, when I'm the one who put her in that position? I know her limits. I have only myself to blame. My wife and I think about that all the time.  

The great awakening from Tess, the alertness, the fact that when you look in her eyes there's so much more of a there there -- all that goes away when we put her in a bad position, when we ask too much of her. It's like she shuts down, takes the day off. Like she's not herself. 

And it's hard because the travel part of these trips is all about containing her. It's not like you can put her down on the airport floor. She'll lick up the dirt of fifty states and a hundred countries. 

We've learned. One layover, extra long. Simpler is better. Not too many activities. And most of all, inside those weird, tiny side pockets of your bag? Smuggle food and drinks. 

That's gonna do it for this week's show. 

I will return next week. 

I was super excited this past weekend, when my article about Tess was published on the website THE MIGHTY. Go to themighty.com and find my piece there, it's called I have a question for the person evaluating my child with special needs. Check it! 

Gotta say another big thanks to all you listeners who've reviewed the show in iTunes: Chris Sankey, Jim McCarthy, Anneliese Gerland, Amy Byrne, Jen Gaudiani, Katie Lynn Watson, and 
Andrea Hougaz. If you haven't reviewed it yet, please do -- it really does help.  

If you like this show, you know what would be excellent? Think of somebody else you know who would like it. Then if you want to go to Facebook, tag your friend, and mention the show, I'd be much obliged. 

Will Sakran wrote and performed our closing theme.

Thanks to Brad Peirce for co-writing and playing guitar on our opening theme.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.  
 

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 006: You're Both My Favorite -- text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. Swearing always makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing it. 

This is episode number six.  

If you have more than one kid, they watch each other like hawks. 

Their eyes are on their own plate, their own toys, their treats, but those eyes look around. A lot. 

Who got more? They want to know. 

They're thinking:  how much love do my parents have, and the most important question:  is that love being given out in equal portions at all times to all children under this roof?  

On this week's show: fairness. Equality. No favorites. Quit comparing. I love you both the same. Even if our family isn't 100% typical. Even when it comes to Tess.     

You give your kid something.  A gift. A slice of pie. Some screen time. A hug. A nickel. Whatever.  

Any gratitude from that kid is swiftly overtaken. And the comparing begins. 

Screen time is a great example. This ever happen to you? 

One kid gets the iPad. They play for some indeterminate amount of time. (Side note: meanwhile, you the parent are able to get your shit together for a second, do some dishes, return a text, take a breath.)

Kid two also gets some iPad time, which then ends, and kid two objects. Loudly. See, kid 2 was keeping track of how much time Kid one got. Really keeping track. Atomic clocks are not as precise as the time measuring capability of a kid when it comes to a sibling's screen time.  

Tess keeps track too. My wife used to have Tuesdays off, and Tess would have us all to herself for a couple hours before Dane got home. She knew it. She'd get all happy, put my wife and me in headlocks, incredibly painful, good times.  

These days, there's another way the t-bird gets more than her brother, and knows damn well that it's happening. 

See, every night she goes to bed and then escapes. She's in a big pack and play for now - I know, I know, we need a real bed for her, but the problem is, she gets out, and then is free in her room. We've childproofed, but still there's no way to make it completely safe. So eventually, we don't have any choice but to get her and bring her downstairs, to tire her out. It's fucked up. I know. I know. 

Meanwhile, it's Dana's bedtime. He's in a bed in her room, I'm carrying her out to bring her down to the TV room, and of course, he's not thrilled. So yeah, he's in bed, she gets to stay, AND watch TV, and as we walk out, I swear it's like she's sticking out her tongue at him, or flipping him the bird.  

She wants attention. She wants it so much that she hates our dog. Well, hate is too strong a word. 

Our dog Marley was trained to be a service dog. He went through a ton of the training, many months, on a farm, we think, only to flunk out when he broke out of line and ate a chicken. 

So technically he's not a service dog, but he's been trained so much that he acts like one. He tolerates ear pulling and loud noises. He's patient. 

We figured he'd be perfect for Tess. But she ignores him entirely. While I'm holding her or sitting and talking to her, the dog'll come over, in search of some love. And she's like, do you see something? Cause I don't see anything. It's like, for her, he's not even there. 

Bo: What is it about having the sound of her yelling that bothers you so much? So what? Big deal. Like you play loud music all the time, what's the difference?

Dana: The difference is that this really ticks. I mean, it's not like you're listening to music. It's like somebody's punching you in the face millions and millions of times. 

Bo: That's what it feels like?

Dana: It just feels like that, yeah, except it's in your earlobe.  

That was my son, Dana , back in Episode 2, talking about what it's like living with Tess.   

There's an inherent unfairness in our house. Tess is in many ways still like a baby, even at age 5. She needs to be held a lot, cooed at. Pampered. Literally pampered. Still in diapers.  

We can see that Dana wants to be babied too. He's at this crucial point, though, where he wants to be cool to the older kids, the 4th graders, (and we think that's why he refuses to wear a winter coat, by the way), but he craves baby levels of attention. He wants to get in our bed. He wants us to read to him, with us wedged into a chair together. 

Bo: Okay Dane, I got two questions for you. One, do you feel like we treat you and Tess equally? That's the first question, what do you think?

Dana: Um, sometimes you don't and sometimes you do. I mean, I'd have to say no and yes. 

Bo: Well what do you mean no and yes? How do we not treat you equally?

Dana: Well you pick up Tess and you give her attention. I mean you give her toys so she doesn't yell.

Bo: Okay. And what about you, do we give you attention?

Dana: Um, sort of. Ever since you tore your ACL, there's been really kinda nothin. I mean I usually play with you, but now I can't really.

Bo: Okay, that's fair. That's fair. What about you mentioned the iPad yesterday, or couple days ago, I guess. You were mad about her getting the iPad, she gets screen time when you don't get screen time.

Dana: Yeah, I didn't like that. 'Cause I'm, I can't have screen on weekdays unless it's vacation or Friday.

Bo: And so she gets screen on weekdays and that makes you mad?

Dana: Yeah, it makes me really mad.  'Cause I'm like, if you're treating me like this, when why don't you treat her like this? 

Bo: You want us to treat you both the same?

Dana: Yeah. 

Bo: Okay. Okay, second question--is there anything your mom and I could do to make you feel like things would be more fair? 

Dana: No, not really. 

Bo: No?

Dana: Not really, because Tess has special needs, and I understand that, so she might want more attention. 

See what he did there? 

He does this thing sometimes, where he says, "it's fine, it's fine," and not in the guilt-trippy way to get us to do stuff -- he's honestly saying it's fine, and sometimes it's when he's getting totally hosed.  

Look. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to spend my days clocking iPad time for each kid, monitoring fairness on every level about bedtimes and such. I have shit to do. I have to clean stuff and cook food.  

But my wife and I want Dana to keep talking. To tell us when he's frustrated, when it's hard to have Tess in our family, when he thinks it's unfair.  

The hardest part of this by far is when we visit with another family who has typical kids, and Dana sees what it would be like to have a sibling like any other. Somebody to play games with, to make up goony songs with in the car, to go outside and make snow forts with.  

I know all parents worry sometimes that they're warping their kids, but my wife and I think and talk a lot about Dana. We talk about how much we ask of him, and how important it is to let him be a kid.  

The fact is, our household will never be 100% fair. There are burdens, for sure. I just connected with a guy on Facebook in New Jersey named David Murphy. He's a grownup, a little older than me, his folks aren't around, and it's up to him to care for his sister.  She has special needs, she's 39 but operates more like a 5 to 7 year old on an emotional level. 

I've never met David, except online, but I can tell it's tough on him. He doesn't complain about it but it's hard, takes a lot out of you, you know? 

My wife and I have no idea how long we'll be around, on this planet. We do everything we can to stay healthy, eat right, all that. Sometimes Dana wants to know where Tess will be when she's a grownup. We don't have a good answer, but we know that he'll need to be there for her when we aren't there anymore.  

It's not fair. None of this is fair. It's good to say that out loud. 

But we see in Dana this generous spirit, this way he has of turning off the resentment over what's fair and embracing his life. He loves Tess so freakin much. Part of it might be that he never had to share his bayblades or magic cards or video games with her, but mostly it's just love.

And that's it for this week's show. 

I'll be back next week. 

Thank you again to all you listeners who've been reviewing the show in iTunes:  Mark Viviano, Rose Carradini, Adam Kessler, Laura Glover, Lindsay Haun, Jamie Bell, plus the people whose names I don't know -- Guinness Girlie, ME army nurse 73, no bones jones. If you haven't reviewed it yet, please do -- it really does help.  

If you like this show, you know what would be truly fantastic? Think of someone else you know who would like it. Then if you want to head over Facebook, tag your friend, and mention the show, I'd be forever in your debt. 

A ton of you have been spreading the word online, like Lauren Bell, Alison Camillo, Bandar Al-Hejin, Justine Cherry-Macklin, Amanda Rand, Krista Haapala, just to name a few. I am really so grateful to you guys for growing my audience so much in the past month.

Will Sakran wrote and performed our closing theme.

Thanks to Brad Peirce for co-writing and playing guitar on our opening theme.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.  
 

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 005: Shawarma and the Showdown - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. Swearing always makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing it. 

This is episode number five.  

It's well after dinner time, pushing 8pm.

Nevertheless, there's a room temperature piece of cod -- not a codpiece, that's something different -- no, a piece of cod. 

On a plate.  At our kitchen table. 

On one side, Dana. Unwilling to taste the fish. 

On the other side, my wife. God bless her, she's gone to bat for me -- I've made this fish dinner, and with the boy she's drawn a line in the sand:  taste the fish or you don't leave the table.

There are tears. On both sides. But no one is giving up.  

On this week's show:  kids hafta eat. There are battles. Wars, even. And no one's getting mac and cheese. Especially not Tess.   

A couple years ago, Tess was in rough shape. She'd often get eczema on her cheeks. She had indigestion like you'd never believe. And her acid reflux was so out of hand, we'd have to leave five or six backup shirts with her at school every day, since she was spitting up so much.  

It was then that my gym threw down the gauntlet with a 30-day challenge. They called it No Bread, and it basically took away everything I loved, food-wise:  pizza, pasta, sandwiches, beer, anything with gluten. I can't stress enough how much I loved those things. In the funk band I was in, ten years ago? I wrote a whole song, like a funk epic, about a sandwich. I live for a good sandwich.  

But I figured, hey, I can do anything for 30 days. Let me give it a shot. 

And because I do the cooking in our house, Tess ended up doing the No Bread challenge too. She had no choice.  

On day one, we both missed our morning toast something fierce. 

It took time to get used to it.  

But the damnedest thing happened. My wife noticed after a few weeks that T's shirts were coming home in her bag, still clean and folded. Tess wasn't spitting up at meals here at home either. She was sleeping better. She was less fussy, seemingly improved in the gastro department. 

And I felt better too. The food coma that usually laid me out at 2pm every day? That was gone. I had more energy in general, and my workouts showed it.  

The 30 days ended, and Tess and I kept right on going.  

So basically, for two years now, she and I have been paleo. She has other restrictions too, like no peppers or onions, the no-eat list fills a whole page, but she's basically gluten free, dairy free, and soy-free.  

Lots of vegetables and she's carnivorous as hell, so it works out well. 

In fact, she eats almost everything I put in front of her. Except celery. And butternut squash. She has a particular affinity for pork that's been smoked in some fashion. That's my girl.  

The diet isn't easy. Especially when we travel with her. I never realized how much quick food is based on gluten. You rarely see a sweet potato to go, you know? 

Dana, however, will never go paleo. 

That's because he prizes pizza and pasta above all things. I've tried every trick to get him to eat fruits and vegetables -- Jessica Seinfeld's book about sneaking vegetables into stuff, veggie tomato sauce, smoothies - you name it, but no. 

Deviate from the starch covered in sugar-laden tomato sauce and/or cheese? Forget it. 

He wasn't always like this.  When he wasn't quite one year old, he snatched a full size meatball sub off my plate at a 4th of July picnic and gobbled it down in about two bites. He eat steak, and even ask for it in his little-kid voice:  steak au jus? steak au jus? 

But now it's about control. That's my understanding, anyway. Our pediatrician suggested this thing called snack plate, to give some control back to Dane. We serve a snack plate alongside the dinner I've made, and he can select two of the three items that go on that snack plate. It didn't work, though. He'd never try the main dinner, and would instead eat about two cups of almonds.  

My wife makes this fantastic homemade dessert most nights. She calls it concoction. It takes about two minutes to make, and you don't have to heat anything up. It's a mug with spoonfuls of oats, honey, chocolate chips, and peanut butter. Mash it all together, enjoy with milk. Dana freakin loves it. 

But we created a rule:  if you don't eat dinner, you don't get dessert.  

The rule has since been watered down to:  if you don't try dinner, you don't get dessert.  

And now the boy has been trying to water it down even further -- how many bites do I have to take in order to get dessert? One? Two? 

We don't negotiate with terrorists. Start down that path of how many bites, and he'll never eat more than a bite of a dinner I make. He'll have nothing but dessert every night. He'll weigh six hundred pounds.  

Which brings me back to the showdown about the cod, remember? Dana wouldn't take even a single bite, remember? 

I used to be picky myself, but I didn't realize it. Do you know what shawarma is? When it's good, it is so delicious that they made a whole scene about it in the Avengers movie. Yeah. When I was in college, in Washington DC, a city with arguably one of the highest concentrations of sublime ethnic dining options, guys on my floor freshman year would order from this shawarma place just off campus. And I got the steak and cheese every time. I didn't know any better.  

And that's why it kills me that we're a chicken nuggets and pizza family. I'm trying to expose Dana to this whole world out there. 

This guy Matthew Amster Burton wrote this great book a few years back called Hungry Monkey, about being a dad and introducing his toddler to adventurous foods, like pad thai and hot chiles. 

I remember thinking, I'm totally gonna be like that. My kids are gonna ask, Dad? Can we order some sushi? Dad? Are there any oysters left? Dad? Are you gonna eat that escargot?  

Because of T's special diet, we don't take her on many culinary adventures. She's a meat and potatoes gal. Well, sweet potatoes.  

And Dana doesn't want adventure. Or even flavor. He just wants control.  

So there we are. At the table. He's not trying the fish.  

This went on for a long time. My wife and I were screwed because he had called our bluff. Eventually he'd have to go to bed. But he seemed willing to stay at the table until the end of his days.  

He cried so hard. He kept asking why? Why are you making me try this? 

It was difficult to see him like that, and know that we had the power to make it end at any point. We stopped talking, eventually. We didn't want to explain to him that we're in charge and he has to eat what's in front of him. Explaining would have ruined it.  

Tess went to bed, and still the stalemate went on. We became numb, all three of us.  

My wife and I were out of answers. 

And then, just about the time we were ready to give up, he took a forkful and tasted it. 

After that, we haven't drawn any lines. Not so vehemently, anyway. But he remembers. Once in a while, he'll bring it up. I remember the fish, he says. I don't want to go through that again, he tells us. He tries things. 

We don't have solutions to these food wars. We read everything you probably read, about how you're not supposed to give in, or how the French do it. None of that works. In fact, the boy seems to pride himself on debunking experts' theories. 

But we're gonna keep on going. With one kid who eats no gluten. And another kid who eats practically nothing but.  

And that's it for this week's show. 

I'll be back next week. 

Hey, I have a blog. It's also called Stronger Every day, and it's one year old. I started it in Feb 2014. To read about my adventures with Tess from the very beginning, head to bobigelow.com. 

Will Sakran wrote and performed our closing theme, which you heard a minute ago, it's called Innergroove.

Our opening theme was written and performed by Pineapple Humidor, with Brad Peirce.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.  

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 004: Why Yes, Those Are My Glasses in the Microwave - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. Swearing always makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing it. 

This is episode number four.  

I don't do well with sleep deprivation. My wife can deal, but I can't. 

That's how I end up in the kitchen at breakfast, calling my missing cell phone from our landline. 

I strain to listen for it, but it's not ringing. 

It's officially missing. 

Then Dana's bagel is ready, he goes to get out the butter, he opens the fridge and tells me, 

Dad, you have three missed calls. 

He hands me my phone, cooled to about 40 degrees.

On this week's show:  kids, and sleep. sometimes they just don't mix. Especially with Tess.    
  
Our little T-bird is a yeller. She yells in the car. In her high chair. Outside. But the worst is at night, when we're all trying to sleep.  

[Tess yelling]

It's 2:31am. 

What in the hell? 

This was the other night. She woke up my wife and me and wouldn't go back to bed until almost 5am.  

Which is how my cell ends up on top of the broccoli, in the fridge. 

We desperately need to figure out bedtime. 

Part of the problem is her room. Specifically, her bed. 

We kept her in her crib for as long as we could, until one night this past year, when her little ass vaulted out of it.  

Bye-bye crib. 

So we took out the crib mattress and put her on the floor, thinking we'd train her to stay in bed. It'd take a few tried, we figured, but she'd learn in time to stay put, just like any other kid. 

NNNN wrong. She wasn't learning. 

Then we ordered a special pack n play, one that could handle up to 50 pounds. Plus, it was broader at the bottom than the top, so she couldn't just lean over and tip herself out of the thing.  

She got out of it the other night. Jumped the rail, hit the floor. 

We know there are various so-called safety beds for special-needs kids, but they're a huge chunk of change. 

So here's what we're doing now, instead. Remember the movie silence of the lambs? There's that scene with the serial killer Hannibal Lecter. He's been moved out of the Baltimore State Hospital for the criminally insane, and now he's in that cage inside a courthouse in Tennessee.
in the movie there's a whole protocol involved with containing him.  a complicated handcuff system, various double-checks between the guards, and whatever you do, you can't let him get near a ballpoint pen. As the guards find out.  
Now, T is slightly less sadistic than Dr L, but the dangers and safeguards of her bedroom setup are strikingly similar.  
She used to have an iron gate, like the kind around fireplaces, around her pack n play, but she ripped it out of the wall. We're back to the drawing board on that. 
Around her now are two huge Yogibo cushions, each about 6 feet long and a couple feet thick. 
There's an exterior hook-and-eye latch, down low so even if she can get to the door she won't be able to reach it. 
And a baby gate at the top of the stairs, just outside her room, in case she gets the latch open. 
Her room itself has been stripped of anything that can possibly be eaten. Anything that isn't bolted down? Goes in her mouth. Some of the non-food stuff that she's consumed includes the hand cleanser purell, part of a bar of soap, her own hair, rubberbands, the corner of our wooden kitchen table, a piece of our floor, and part of the puffball on the top of her winter hat. 

Yeah.  

This is dangerous. 

She doesn't distinguish between food and non-food, and at any time something as small as a LEGO brick could lodge in her throat and block her airway. 

She doesn't like the pack n play. She's restless. She hates being contained.  

That's part of it. 

But why else is she waking up at night? 

On occasion, it'll be her diaper. Yes, she's still in diapers, even though she's five. We're working on potty training.  

Other times, she's lost track of her pacifier and you can come in, feel around for it in the dark, give it to her, and she'll go back down. Yes, my five-year-old still has a pacifier. Don't judge me, man. It helps with her reflux.  

Mostly, though, the reason she wakes up at night is food. Our girl can EAT. 

When you're at a diner, and looking at the menu, and you can't decide, sometimes you say, ah fuck it, I'll get it all. And you order the hungry man special, or the horny lumberjack or whatever they call it.  Two eggs, bacon, home fries, and toast. Well, that's Tess's breakfast every day. Minus the toast--she's gluten free. 
She can put it away. She eats more than I eat sometimes. And I'm a big eater. 

And at night, many times she won't let us go back to sleep, she'll keep bleating from her room at top volume, until we bring her downstairs and feed her. 

Even if she's had a full dinner. Which she always does.  

Dane, on the other hand, is the best sleeper. In the universe. 

He has his own room, but sleeps in Tess's room. He's looking out for her, wants to be close to her. He's an awesome brother. 

And when T is making goat sounds at the top of her lungs, and my wife and I are coming in and out, changing diapers, swearing profusely, carrying her up and downstairs, he'll come down the next day and be like YAWN How is everyone this morning? Everybody sleep okay? 

He has no idea. Sleeps right through all the madness. We're lucky. 

I don't know. I think the real reason she's wakeful these days is the same we've seen in the past. Sometimes she has huge breakthroughs. Like the day she started crawling. And in the nights leading up to that, she had us up every night.  

It's like she's trying to say, get UP people, I'm about to blow your minds, don't miss it. 

And if you read my blog, also called Stronger Every Day, you know that this was a mayyyjor week for her. 

She started walking. She took 23 independent steps at school. Which was a first. She's not doing it a lot, but she did it once. 

And we can only hope that this is why she's up at night. Because she's so excited. 

And one day soon, I'll come downstairs bleary-eyed, pulling my wallet out of the oven, and my rockstar wife'll be making Tess some food -- five eggs, half-a-pound of bacon, and three potatoes worth of hash browns,
and cheery Dana will stroll into the kitchen, fully rested. 

And we'll watch Tess bound over to the table, with its corner chunk gnawed off, remember, and she'll take a seat, to tuck into the Hungry Girl special 

And that's it for this week's show. 

I'll be back next week. 

You know, nobody emails anymore. Except about obligations and accounts and crap. But I still do. And if you want, I can email you. Things I write, stuff about this podcast, and nifty links to other cool things that people are making. All this, straight to your inbox. Once a week. No spam, I promise. Sign up today at tinyletter.com/bobigelow.

A lot of you listeners have gotten in touch, you're reading my blog, thanks for all your feedback. If you're new to these stories about my life with Tess, why not go back to the beginning, and start with the first blog entry, just about a year ago? Check it out at bobigelow.com.  

Will Sakran wrote and performed our closing theme, which you heard a minute ago, it's called Innergroove.

Our opening theme was written and performed by Pineapple Humidor, with Brad Peirce.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.  
 

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 003: Someone to Help Burn Down Your Backyard - text version

Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out our daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. I find that swearing always makes me feel better, so you'll be hearing it. 

This is episode number three.  

When you set your kid loose in the world, send em to preschool or kindergarten, 
it helps if they have a friend, one true friend, to stick with them.
An ally. 
With my eight-year-old boy, we talk about Han Solo and Chewbacca, how the Wookie's ready to take on the whole empire for Han, and how Han takes a carbon freeze for his buddy. 
That's what you want. Someone to be your Chewbacca. 
Tess is in her third year of school.
And for a while now, I've worried that she has no friends. 
She's a Han without a Chewie.  

On this week's show:  Friends. Compadres. Having a go-to, a true-blue. And Tess, who up til now has been a loner.  

 
When we checked Tess into her preschool in the fall of 2012, we kinda knew the deal. 

There wouldn't be a lot of playdates. She was three, but her eyes and brain didn't have her doing three-year-old stuff. If someone sat next to her, she wouldn't even notice them, let alone interact. She had no preferences about people, didn't seem to like or dislike anybody, not even my wife and me, not even her brother. She didn't know her own name. She'd never shared a thing in her entire life.  

This was hard. Her fourth birthday rolled around that November, and though she was finally in school and out in the world, we had nobody to invite to her party, other than relatives. 

It was jarring. We've watched Dana develop friendships over the years, bonding with boys in his class over mutual obsessions, these days mostly Minecraft, Magic the Gathering, and English Premier League soccer.  

These kids call our house. They constantly skype him, mostly while I'm trying to get something done on the computer. Then, when I don't answer their video calls, they write him on Skype, unleashing the string of emoticons, mostly the one that's the pile of poop? Like that smiling little steaming pyramid of shite? I'd always wondered what that one was for, and now I know:  it's to fuck with your friend's dad while he's typing an email.  

But I'm cool with it, you know? I love how much these kids love Dane. And don't misunderstand - it isn't perfect. We've had some of the same issues and anxieties as other parents. We've resisted picking his friends, have watched him gravitate to the sort of kid who's always team captain out on the playground, but who maybe isn't as concerned with other people's feelings.  

But take that anxiety, and multiply it by a million. That's how I felt recently, when I first started to hear the news:  Tess was making friends at school.  

I came in one day to see for myself.  I knew T had changed in the past few years in a huge way, her vision so much better, and she'd begun to prefer certain people, and even show some love to my wife and me, and her brother.  

But how was this gonna shake out in the classroom? I was afraid she wouldn't just be indifferent to other kids, but would instead maybe kick their ass. She can be hostile. Bitey. After all, if another kid has the iPad, that means Tess can't use it. 

I dreaded the day the flood would start, of incident reports, those write-ups they have to do when somebody gets hurt. I pictured a litany of em, cataloguing the ass-whooping she'd laid down on her unsuspecting classmates.  

I mean, our girl plays rough, even if she likes you. With Dana at home, she's always giving him the equivalent of a noogie. She's like the Thing from FF: crazy forceful, doesn't know her own strength, and it's pretty much always clobberin' time.  

Funny thing was, once I was in there and watching, I saw that kids *liked* that about Tess. She's got spunk. They're drawn to it. It's that fire, the same thing that Dana sees in the team-captain guy, the rough-and-tumble kind of friend that scoffs at your feelings and tells you not to be such a wuss.  

Tess is the anti-wuss.  

Kids sit near her at lunch, kids with open-mouthed, toothy smiles, gnawing on carrot sticks and sipping from juice boxes. They laugh uproariously. They keep wide eyes right on Tess, to see what she'll do next.  

So they like her. But does she like them? Does she know they're starting to become her friends? 

Tough to say. She knows they're there, for sure. And from time to time, she tilts her head      one side, smiling but not really looking at anything. Like she hears them and is thinking, oh you. She's beginning to understand give and take, starting to hand stuff to these kids, stuff she used to guard like a crazy woman, like the really fun toys, the iPad. She can share now. 

Dibs, blitz, ham and eggs, jinx buy me a soda, no takebacks, my mommy told me not to swear (middle finger). Opposite day. Do over, blackjack no tagbacks, infinity, infinity plus one, i was born on a pirate ship (hold the tongue)

This is some of what I hear coming from the backseat, while I'm driving Dana and his friends home from soccer practice. There's talk of who likes who at school. They pig out on whatever snack I brought. They lose themselves and forget I'm there. They talk about Skylanders and Harry Potter, NFL quarterbacks and farts. I never turn around, but I hear every word.   

We all want the same thing as parents. We want our kids, when they're old and gray, to be able to turn to somebody next to them, on the stoop, and say to them:  We go waaay back, you and I, back to the first day of school, remember? We want our kids to have their oldest friend do a toast at their wedding, thirty years after that meeting, telling about the time when, together, they burned down the backyard. Side note: this actually happened to me and my oldest friend. 

And we don't know if that's gonna happen for Tess, if she's gonna ever have an old friend.  She just started to really nail the concept of doing an activity in another location, like asking to go to the bathroom down the hall when we're in the living room. But what about *people* who aren't present? We hope it'll come with time, the idea of saying, hey, where's that girl I know, the one from school with the pigtails and the Adventure Time lunchbox? I want to hang out with her. Let's give her a call.  

For now, she's doing great. As my wife always says, the only limits Tess has are the ones we put on her. Gradually kids around her are starting to see through her disability, to see the fearsome gal we know and love. Adults too are starting to include her. Which means the freakin world to us. Sometimes people leave her out, just because it's easier and maybe they aren't comfortable with all she has going on. Which I get. But sometimes people don't leave her out. And we love them for that.  

Next year she'll be in kindergarten, at the same school as her brother. He'll watch out for her as much as he can, but he'll be a fourth-grader and won't be around all the time. We hope somewhere out there, is just one person, an ally for our T-bird. Somebody to have her back.  Her Chewbacca. 

And that's it for this week's show. 

I'll be back next week. 

I need your help. Here's the deal. This week my show made it into New and Noteworthy on iTunes. I busted my ass to get there and I want to stay there for a while. So. I need you to go to iTunes and give me a review. Ratings are great, please do those too, but for this I need a review. It need not be long. One sentence is fine. Once you've reviewed the show, tweet at me, @strongerpodcast on Twitter, or write on our Facebook page, facebook.com/portlandroots, and you'll be automatically entered to win. Free. Stuff. You could win a free gift card to iTunes or Amazon, plus other stuff, including free copies of the four books I've published - a crime novel, a book about food trucks, my graphic novel, and my children's book. Do it today. It really helps. Details in the show notes.  

Will Sakran wrote and performed a whole bunch of the music for this episode.

Our opening theme was written and performed by Pineapple Humidor, with Brad Peirce.  

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.  
 

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 002: More Songs about Groceries and Pass Interference - text version


Hi, this is Stronger Every Day. I'm Bo Bigelow. 

Four and a half years ago I quit my law job to be at home with my kids. Turns out my daughter Tess has special needs. She's different. And now, so is everything else.  

A bit of warning, this podcast has swearing in it. I find that swearing always makes me feel better, soooo you'll be hearing some language. 

This is episode number two.

Tess has a lot of shit going on, disability-wise. 
She has global developmental delay, meaning she's behind on her milestones.  
Hip dysplasia, which has set her back in terms of walking. 
There's cortical visual impairment. And others.  
Luckily, with all these things, we pretty much know what to do to help her. 
And we're doing it. 
And they're doing it at her school. 
But there's one thing we think she has, and we can't do a damn thing about it. 
We can't even get a diagnosis. 
And unfortunately, that one disability affects all the others, because it means we can't talk to her. 
Or at least, when we talk to her, we don't know for sure whether she can hear us.  

On this week's show:  Tess listens, with every ounce of her little five-year-old being. Is any of it getting through?  

***


A couple years ago, we managed to get Tess in to see a woman from Pittsburgh named Dr. Christine Roman-Lantzy. Christine's an expert. She wrote the book on cortical visual impairment, or CVI. She agreed to take a look at Tess and see whether she had CVI. 

Turns out, yep, CVI big time. 

Now, Tess's *eyes* work fine, apart from some nearsightedness, for which she wears glasses.  

But when it comes to her brain *processing* that visual info, that's something else. 

She has trouble with that. 

And over the last couple years, we've noticed she doesn't respond when you say her name. If you come in and slam the door, everyone in the room'll jump, but she won't. She'll turn in the direction of the sound, slooooooowly, on a delay of like five seconds.  And other times, you'll talk, make sounds, snap, clap, whatever, and she'll never respond at all.  

Her ears work fine. We've had em tested a few times.  

But we've started to suspect that she doesn't just have *visual* processing issues. We think she has trouble processing *sounds* too. 

There's a name for that. 

It's called Central Auditory Processing Disorder, or CAPD.

But we're totally hosed, for two reasons. 

First, you can't get tested for it until you're around 7 years old. It's just generally not done.

And second--much much worse--even when T is old enough to get tested, they're gonna ask her to do stuff that she just doesn't do. Things like stay still in a chair and raising her hand when she hears a sound. Things like repeating words back to you. Try to give Tess a test like that and she'll bare her fuckin teeth. Literally. Get the band-aids ready.   

How'd we test her hearing? Well, we hooked up electrodes to her head. (That went over great, as I'm sure you can imagine.) And then played some sounds and recorded her brain wave activity in response to those sounds. It's called an ABR, or auditory brainstem response.  

Can't we just do that to see what sounds she processes, and how well? Nope. 

There isn't an electrode test for this. Can't go to the brain and see what's going on.  So we're out of luck.  

Think about what this processing problem could mean. All that goofy singsong narration crap you do, when you're teaching your kid how to talk? Like, "sto-ore, we're going to the st-ore" or "bull-shit, that pass interference call was bull-shit."  Yeah, we've been doing that for years with Tess. And for all we know, none of it's getting through.  

So she doesn't really have words. Just ma-ma-ma and more. She has a few signs, but most of the time she gets what she wants by yelling. A lot.  

Bo: Hey what do you think is the hardest part about having Tess in our family, for you? 

Dana: Um, yelling. Definitely the yelling. That's one of the big main things that I hate.

That's her brother Dana talking. He's 8, and is generally really patient with her. But even he has his limits.  

Bo: What is it about having the sound of her yelling that bothers you so much? So what? Big deal. Like you play loud music all the time, what's the difference?

Dana: The difference is that this really ticks. I mean, it's not like you're listening to music. It's like somebody's punching you in the face millions and millions of times. 

Bo: That's what it feels like?

Dana: It just feels like that, yeah, except it's in your earlobe.  

There's a lot of yelling in our house in general. Not the fighting kind. But mostly, like when I try to read the paper. You know what I'm talking about? This happen to you? You sit down, and your newspaper is like one of those greeting cards that plays a song. As soon as you open it, it pulls this tab and activates some module, and the kids are yelling. Five minutes before that, they were like, fuck off, but now it's like Dad, I need you, something's on fire.   

[sigh] There is not enough whiskey. 

Anyway, it sounds bad, but I end up comparing. Observing Dana to see how *he* processes what he hears.  We're entering a golden age with him, of us saying stuff and him listening and doing what we say. 

At least that's what I hope is about to happen. Up til now, sometimes I've said -- forget listening, is he even hearing me? 

Man, I had the same deal as a kid. I remember that feeling, my mom or dad in my face, saying something I knew I should be listening to, but my little mind's ability to pay attention was short-circuited by a cocktail of Pepsi and Skittles. Who knows, that fog could also have been Nintendo-related.

But the fog. Those weird deficits. That's how I ended up not listening. Riding back across town with my folks, through the snows of Milwaukee, scrambling to get to Chuck E Cheese's before they closed, to retrieve my winter jacket after a birthday party.  

And that's how my son can memorize his buddy's instructions for setting up a minecraft server but can't remember to flush the toilet.  

And how, as I'm pulling back into the garage after a long afternoon on the soccer field, he tells me no, I don't have all my stuff after all, can we drive all the way back to get my goalie gloves?

Side note: this could also be the multi-generational shortcoming on my side of the family, of leaving shit in places. When they mapped Tess's genome and took DNA from my wife and me I joked that they oughta isolate my gene for returning home without my wallet.  

How should I get through to the boy? I see the fog. I talk into it, knowing it's pointless. Sometimes I say what my grandfather said to my dad, who then said it to me:  "You don't listen. You don't listen." As if saying stuff twice is gonna work. Heck, sometimes it does. Like I said, with Dane it is getting better. With him the golden age is coming. Sorta.   

As for Tess, I got nothin'.  I haven't cracked the code to her processing issues, her CAPD. No clue what's getting through to her for sure, except making certain sounds right up against her cheek, sounds like mm and ooo.  That and the whuh-whuh sound, like the beginning of Bon Jovi's Livin on a Prayer. She digs that in a big way. And I'll keep talking, I guess, in goony voices, about going to the store, and about terrible calls in football games. 

 

****

I need your help with this show. Wait wait, don't hit stop. I'm not asking for money. All I need is this:  go to iTunes. Find this show. And rate it. No need to write a review, but if you want to, that would be cool too. But rate it. Please. Do it now. Thanks.  

I got a message from Anna Ault, her daughter's Olivia, age 7. Olivia's got cortical visual impairment and developmental delays from an in-utero stroke. Anna needs help. She wants to take Olivia on a plane, but can't see how to do it. She tried bringing her on the polar express train ride and it didn't go well. Olivia has fears and anxiety in certain situations, Anna thinks maybe sensory overload. Olivia had a panic attack on the train and they had to get off. Even though they talked about it with her and even watched the polar express movie weeks in advance. Anna would love to take her to Disney, but - they're earthbound. Has anyone else ever had this issue, parents of kids with CVI, or even typical kids? It's a tough question. If you're listening and you have any ideas to help Anna and Olivia, tweet at me, @strongerpodcast on Twitter, or write me on Facebook - facebook.com/portlandroots. Thanks. 


This week I found out about an awesome book. It's called Dads of Disability, and it was put together by a guy in New Hampshire named Gary Dietz. 

Now, I see a lot of stuff online and in print, and some of it grabs me, and some of it doesn't. And every so often, something is so, relevant for me. It hits me on, like, every level. Like it was made with me in mind. If you could score things, based on how suited they are to you, like give it a suitability quotient, or SQ, and it was 1 to 100, and 1 is totally not suitable, but 100 is like perfect for you. This book by Gary Dietz is SQ 100 for me. Here's why. He noticed that most of the support literature about disabled children focuses on women, but the men are totally left out. What about dads, right? Yesssss. Yes, Gary. You read my mind. This book is for and about the dads. And it's not sappy and it's not pandering, it's just real. About the process that a dad goes through, the sort of mourning period and transformation and transition later. If you're out there and you're a dad to a disabled child, or you know one. get a copy of Dads of Disability. I just got it, and within the first few pages I found myself nodding my head over and over and over.   

 

I want to say thanks this week to my remote audio consultant, Tony Magrogan. I used to be in a band with Tony, and when we first started out, we did our recording with a boom box in the corner, press play and record at the same time. How times have changed. Thanks for the help, Tone.  

And that's it for this week's show. 

I'll be back next week. 

Special thanks to Will Sakran, who wrote and performed the music you heard a minute ago, our closing theme, which is called "Innergroove."

Also special thanks to Brad Peirce, who co-wrote our opening theme and performed on guitar.

If you like this show, you might like another shows in the collective known as Portland Roots Media, a series of podcasts made right here in Maine but not just for Mainers. 
Check out portlandrootsmedia.com.  

Many thanks for listening, and see you next time.  

Hey! Sign up below for my weekly newsletter. I'll send you my updates, exclusive content, and nifty links to cool stuff other people are making. Plus, if you sign up now, I'll send you a free copy of The Stay-At-Home Parent's Survival Guide, a handy list of the five things I always have with me. 

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SED 001: Escaping the Chunderdome - text version

This week Tess started throwing up. 
Throwing up a lot. 
She has gastroesophageal reflux disease, or GERD, or just reflux we call it. 
But she rarely hurls. 
I found it in her pack-and-play on Monday morning when I woke her up, a neat little pile buried under her cheek. 
It didn't really smell, but I still felt like a huge dick for not finding it during the night.
I cleaned her up, and she spent the next four days getting sick, off and on.  
She'd seem fine, go for twenty-four hours of regular eating, and be good to go, and then her school would call me to come pick her up. 

On this week's show:  how it is with an ailing Tess.  She's non-verbal, non-ambulatory, and sick as a dog. 

On Monday, I had no idea how long this would go. 
I tried to be zen about it, went back to a piece I wrote for Playground Dad a year ago called So Your Kid Is  Sick -- Three Rules to Make It Suck Less. 
But I had no clue that this sickness would last the whole week, that I'd be stuck inside the house, on extended lockdown.  
No clue that the same bug would take down my wife. 

Also no clue that sometimes Tess would shout to demand food at mealtimes, just like always, then puke it up afterwards. 
I mean, come on. 
I know she lives to eat, but does she not feel nausea? 
Contrast with Dana, who's 8 and typical. Once he got the bug, he was so nauseous he declined all food.   

Here is what sick Tess looks like.  She's remarkably similar to healthy Tess. Cheerful. Vocal. Except just before she's gonna toss her cookies. She gets this momentary look of alarm, almost like, "Did I leave the oven on?" Then a burp that I can only describe as seismic. When those two things happen, I have about twenty seconds to scoop up her little 40-pound ass and sprint to the toilet, or sink, or whatever sort of receptacle is closest. 

I know what you're thinking:  why didn't I just have a bucket next to her? 

Well, she faked me out a bunch. Went for a full day in the clear. That night, just before bed, right about the time my wife and I are breathing a sigh of relief that she's better, outta nowhere she hurls. Everything she'd eaten that day:  breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Practically undigested, like she was saving it for us. 

Here's another highlight. We have a dog, and at one point the boy was sick, lying on the couch, threatening to throw up, Tess was throwing up, and then the freaking dog, the dog, also started throwing up. At the same time. He's making gagging sounds, and then, when I call him to get him to go outside to get sick, he runs away, so he can get into the next room and throw up there. 

So I've got two kinds of chunder -- dog and kid -- in my carpet.  

I just read Jenny Offill's (awf-ILL) excellent but heartbreaking novel Department of Speculation, and I totally, totally sympathize with the part where the main character, known as the wife, talks about getting her daughter a puppy and that, though her daughter's thrilled, the puppy "does the final work of unhinging the wife." 
You ever get that feeling?
Like, if one more thing happens, you know it's gonna send you over the edge, and then it does happen.  
Another example:  after days of lockdown I'm running on fumes, and Tess is gnawing on our wooden kitchen table, literally, like with her teeth, getting splinters in her mouth every time I try to do something like sip from my coffee or answer the phone. And I'm just saying to myself, if I can just make it to 5pm, or this certain event, like a babysitter coming so I can have a much-needed date night with my wife, then I can take a break. But then, the sitter cancels. She's got the flu. So no break. And my table looks like we have a pet woodchuck. 

Do you ever think, what if someone came in here right now? What if someone not from my family, walked into my house, without warning, and saw all this? Could I possibly be a worse parent than I appear to be at this exact moment? Could it be any clearer that I have lost control, that the wheels are off? 

I can be in two places at once, but not three.  
 
It wouldn't be so bad if I could work out. 
But I can't. I did something galactically dumb, a couple days after Christmas:  I tore my ACL at this trampoline center that just opened near my house.  
As you may know, being at home can make you insane. And for me, running, and workouts in general, have been the antidote. Without them, I am losing my shit. I'm unhinged.  

While this was all happening with Tess, and I couldn't leave the house, I did a few workouts in the basement -- just simple things with situps and dumbbells. Honestly, it kind of sucked. It was one of those workouts where you stop every few minutes and say, what am I doing? But it was better than nothing. 

My father-in-law, Don, lives about five minutes from us. He's fond of saying to my wife:  you have no idea what you can handle. Meaning:  you're way stronger than you think. If I believe something's about to break me, I'm probably underestimating myself. And Don's right. While I did a lawwwwt of swearing during this quarantine, it didn't break me. I'm not unhinged. 

And you know, I got to see a rare side of Tess, while she was under the weather. She was a little klingon, glued to my hip. That's a change. I haven't seen that from her in months. Most times she does the dead-weight thing when I try to pick her up. 

I'm not whining. Really. My wife is around a lot, and she cuts me loose to get out, go to the gym, whatever I need. She's awesome. I can't imagine being a single parent. 

I'm grateful that this sickness ends, you know? Maybe you're out there and your kid throws up every day, or has a feeding tube. Fact is, T can feed herself, even with a fork now. Her reflux is minimal. She's good. So I'm good. 

And finally, I made it through this stir-crazy week. 

I'm working on getting better at asking for help when I need it, so
Many thanks to my dear friend Tracy, for saving my bacon big time, hanging out with the kids for a couple hours while I got an MRI on my busted knee. 

Also thanks to Tyson at Crossfit Beacon for giving me a list of knee-friendly workouts. Tyson, hope the clavicle's healing.  

Also also, thanks and a big shout out to another Tracy, Tracy Wilks. I recently wrote on my blog, the story of how we learned that Tess has cortical visual impairment, and Tracy Wilks tweeted me that she plans to share my story with parents of her students with CVI. Which made my day to hear that. The story I told was about how a lot of people, including Tess's eye doctor, thought we were nuts for saying she couldn't see, and I also talked about how we were vindicated and thankful when we learned that CVI is real, it's a thing, and there are experts, and support networks, and parents out there, like Tracy, who are connecting all of us. So thanks to Tracy, I hope it helps people, especially anybody who was ever made to feel like they were nuts.    

And a big NO thanks to our insurance company, that patch of ice next to my mailbox, ESPN3 for blacking out Syracuse basketball games, and the flu, or whatever the hell this bug is, making the rounds up here in Maine.