We all have them, those unmet needs or wishes from our own childhood, the painful bits that creep in and affect how we parent.
On the heels of my diagnosis, I feel there is no way to construct a narrative around what’s happening to me—a deep betrayal for a writer.
In the battered barbershop chair, Faris sits slightly camouflaged and crumpled, as though he is a mystery even to himself.
Being disabled means hundreds of thousands of people believe they always know better than you do.
When you give birth to a life, you are also giving birth to a death.
My kids have been kicked out of many, many places for being different—just like I was.
I was thin-skinned as a child, with an ego that could put bruised peaches to shame.
An unexpected pregnancy, a birth, and a family reunion.
Maniacal clowns and pale men with eyes in their palms are the worst my son has to fear in life. Or so I wish.