King of the Road

So I am on my own at the airport. I've had my bloody mary and my espresso and the somehow necessary, bar stool conversation that bored me to tears, and the other that made me want to trade business cards. I made sure the lady in the wheelchair hadn't been abandoned, and now I just need to wait for my flight to board.

It was so easy to get through security. It surprises me that single people can take so long when we have near perfected, after many errors, the art of getting through security with a kid with disabilities, then we added Lucy!  I realize as I go through the checkpoint, then sit here or there, just by looking, no one knows I have a special needs kid.

I move through much of my life now with people who know my story, and my child, my children, my SEPTAR, my advocacy is such a part of who I am, I am surprised that people don't just know all about me. I think there is some sort of mantle upon me, but for most people I am just a blonde woman wearing jeans.

And when I casually use the words CP or Autism, I am taken aback by the "oh I'm so sorry" and "wow. You're a great mom." Most people don't have a special needs kid, not even a special needs cousin. In my world, it's surprising when things go right, but for most people, my world is really foreign, and possibly scary, and certainly not part of a casual conversation.