Now, I don’t normally bring this subject up, because don’t feel the need to talk about it with people I don’t know. But what the heck, on my last shopping stop, I got yet another disapproving scowl when I got out of my car, so I am feeling chatty. Why? Well, I’m glad you asked! You see, I had parked in the handicap parking space!
Just Because You Can’t See It, Doesn’t Mean It’s Not There
I was born with Cerebral Palsy, it isn’t as bad as it could have been, my doctors classified me somewhere on the “light” side of the severity scale. I speak normally, I have all my mental faculties (my wife may disagree on that from time to time though) and I lead a pretty normal life in general. And thankfully, not one of my kids have shown any signs oh being born with it.
And that is why people tend to throw disapproving looks my way after I occupy that blue parking space near the front. Unless you know what to look for, all you will see is the guy with three kids stealing the premium parking space.
What they don’t see, is the slight limp that I walk with, or that even though I have full use of my left arm and hand, I tend to favor using my right hand for tasks that would be more natural to accomplish using your left hand. And they don’t see that the muscles and ligaments in my left leg are a bit too short for someone my height, so I have a funky walking pattern that makes the muscle fatigue set in faster during normal everyday tasks. But the side affect that bothers me the most, and on some days, pushes me to hit up that blue square on the blacktop, is the fact that sometimes walking is a straight up painful endeavor. I don’t mean the “Ow, that’s uncomfortable” kind of painful, I mean the ” Holy F***ing Hell! This hurts!” kind of painful.
Now this is nothing new, when I was preteen, my parents bought a wheelchair for me, because I could not make it to the end of a simple mall trip without feeling like somebody had put red hot steel in my calves, and shoved knives into both of my hips. A few years time and lots of physical therapy later, I ditched the wheelchair.
Parenting, Disabilities, and Chasing Kids
Fast forward into my 20’s, with a child on the way. There was more than one occasion when I was left wondering if my soon to arrive offspring would be born with CP, or some other condition. In some cases, doctors can pinpoint a cause for CP, other times, they can only chalk it up to Cause Unknown, as was the case with my diagnosis. When we headed off to the delivery ward with child #1, the “what if” theme crossed my mind a time or twelve. Same thing with Child #2 and Child #3. But, they are all normal, toy scattering, juice spilling, dirt eating monsters, so all ended well.
Being a parent is exhausting, sometimes adding a physical problem or two can up the exhaustion level. My kids are very active, thankfully we have a large fenced back yard, and that allows me to send them out the door for an hour or two, so they can burn off some of that near limitless energy. I don’t tend to last all that long when playing games with the kids that require constant running around the yard. I’m good for about fifteen or twenty minutes before the muscle fatigue sets in. Around that point, my legs start to develop a burning sensation, give it another ten minutes, and full fledged muscle pain has set it. This is about the time that Dad throws in the towel, and picks a spot in the middle of the action to hang out in, near zero running around is done from now on.
This makes me feel bad for my kids, they are still full of energy and wanting to play the millionth game of Run Around Screaming Like Banshee’s. My oldest seems to have gotten a decent grasp on what’s going on with her Dad, the other two are a bit young for anything besides being told that I’m just tired from running around. My body gives pretty much the same reaction to actions like bending over or squatting down pick up items from the floor. After a day of cleaning the house, all I want to do is set up camp on the couch for the evening. But you can’t do that, because life doesn’t stop simply because your body is throwing a tantrum. Kids still need to be fed and bathed, and your spouse may just appreciate having some kind of dinner ready for her when she gets home from work.
I’m Disabled, I’m Not an Invalid
Just because my medical files have a few strange acronyms and nineteen letter words written in their many pages, does not mean life as a parent sucks. Thankfully, activities that only require a long, steady walking pace are perfect for me, so theme parks are always a good family trip destination. And when all else fails, there are some pretty good OTC painkillers out there, and they do a great job of taking the edge off. And while I may not be hiking to the summit of K2 anytime soon, my kids seem to really enjoy visiting the local splash park during the summer. Last year my wife and I took a trip to Lake Havasu, and we got to ride jet skis for most of the day. At the end of it all, I was exhausted and popping pills like they were going out of style, but we had a blast.
All in all, my kids and I have a great time doing what we do. While we may not run around the yard for hours, I can taste my oldest child’s latest attempt at making a dirt and rock soup. I don’t have to be super active with my two year old, he is perfectly happy with getting some help burying Hotwheels under shovelfuls of dirt. The three year old splits his playtime between bugging his brother, and learning how to drive a car, courtesy of Little Tykes Co.
Through all of this, and even before we got married, Valerie has been absolutely amazing in understanding, and dealing with, my condition. Some days we have to cut activities or outings short, due to me just not being able to physically endure any more of whatever we are doing that day. She can read my body language, and knows when I am having a shitty day, and will take over the everyday parenting and household duties, even if that means giving up her “Me Time” on her well earned days off. If it wasn’t for her, I doubt I would have ever attempted raising children.
And even though parenting with a disability can be a real drag at times, I still wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
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