Hey, I’m Sara

I’m living the dream…are you?

I don’t mean a fancy car, big house and a live-in housekeeper (Brady Bunch, anyone?) kinda dream. I mean the literal kind. The ones you wake up from in the morning questioning what you ate before bed kinda dream. The…I’ve gotta stop binging that one show kinda dream. The WOAH that’s so crazy it might just work kinda dream. Those are the kind I’m living.

Let me explain. I’m a special needs momma. That’s just a title though. As any mom can attest we all have little bundles of joy with extra special needs attached: sometimes in the form of explosive diapers, picasso paintings on the walls, flushing the remote down the toilet and other fill in the blank sort of special… but for lack of a better phrase, I’m an actual special needs mom.

It all started when my infant could do crazy cool stuff that made me pull out my camera and snap a bunch of pictures and stop everyone in line at the grocery store, bank and even an occassional red light to see if they would concur that I had the smartest baby. I was swelling with pride. “Yes, say momma, say it again. Goochie goo” Genious!

Then several months went by and the accolades started to shift slighty. It was no longer me (the proud mother) that was pointing out what a genious my little guy was… but others were making the comments as well. As time went by these polite strangers and supportive friends were not the only ones praising my kiddo, but the doctors and specialists were noticing a thing or two as well. It’s one thing for my neighbor to be impressed but a whole nother thing for a doctor to say “your child is gifted.”

That’s the dream right? Everyone wants the brightest kid, the most talented little ballerina, the STEM science project trophy winner and the little league baseball star. People hire tutors to prepare their kids for the gifted school assesments and go to great lengths to wear the parental badge of honor that states “my kid is gifted.”

Just as I started patting myself on the back for playing Mozart during naptime the bubble I was floating in for a little less than half a second was popped.

Unfortunately, no one tells you while your fast asleep in dreamland, that in order to have a “gifted” child you must also be ready to have a special needs child as well. Yes, you read that correctly. BEING GIFTED IS A DISABILITY.

So, in my pursuit to inform, encourage, dry some tears, and add some of my own, I started gifted by sara to change the narrative on what society calls special needs, disability, handicapped, different, and a slew of other pronouns and adjectives that should never make their way into the vocabulary of descriptions for our children.

Join me in the gracefilled awakening called exposure. Everything stays dark until the flashlight is turned on. Watch out, I’m bringing in a strobe.

You’re a gift,

Sara