Some of you have asked me about what kind of reactions I get from The Public(tm) as a disabled parent. It's not a daily thing. Most of the time I go about my business and people are nice and friendly. I do get some strange looks and confusion in conversation sometimes, but in general, people are at least nice to my face. When I'm with D, sometimes he will report to me about little double takes and whispered comments when we walk by, but I guess being deaf blind has its advantages in that I am oblivious to most of this. Or maybe you just get so used to it you just don't pay attention. I remember when I would go home and spend time with my family and they would go places with me and my guide dog. They were unaccustomed to all the attention I got and would report to me every stare, every dog story said within earshot, every speculative question or comment said behind my back, every point-and-whisper. It was a lot of attention that they weren't used to. And I remember thinking that I don't pay attention to it anymore even though I know it happens, but when they brought it up, it was like, "Oh, yeah. That's my life."
Now, I can still pass as nondisabled usually sometimes unless someone actually interacts with me, and that is when things get weird. So, I thought I would share a typical example of that that happened today. This kind of thing happens, I'd say, a few times a month or so, depending on how much I go out and about and stuff.
I took the kids to the local library today. It is next to a park, so I decided to let them play at the park for a bit before we went into the library so they could get their wiggles out. I had walked by this park before, but had never really been in it or let the kids play in it before. I pulled up to a large play area and unloaded the kids from the stroller. They immediately headed for the big play structure. It was a bit too advanced of a play structure for them, but I went with them and they pretty much stayed with me and we climbed around on all the different levels and stuff. We held hands over the swinging bridge. I lifted them up some steep steps so they could "drive" the steering wheel. It was no big deal but I did have to stay close by them to insure their safety. It was not as ideal as the little play structure that we usually play at in our neighborhood. Then, this:
Other Mother: says something indistinguishable to me
Me: I'm sorry I didn't hear you.
Other Mother: Still says something I can't hear.
Me: I'm sorry, I still didn't catch that. I'm hearing impaired.
Other Mother: (walks right up to me and speaks with overenthusiastic loud tones) You're hearing impaired? Really? CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW??
Me: Yes, If you look at me when you talk, I can pretty much understand you.
Other Mother: What I SAID was, WHY CAN'T YOU TAKE THOSE KIDS TO THE TOT PLAYGROUND?
Me: Oh, yeah. Thank you. I didn't know there was a tot playground. This is my first time here. That would work out much better. Where is it at?
Other Mother: Where is it at? [Looks at me as if I am an alien] What do you mean? It's right over there.
Me: Over there? Oh, Okay.
Other Mother: What's WRONG with you, anyway? Are you blind, too?
Me: [laughing casually] Yes, actually, I'm visually impaired, too. I know, it can be a little confusing sometimes when you don't know. But I appreciate your help--
Other Mother: You're DEAF AND BLIND???? Wait. Are these your children? Should you be out here with these children?
Me: Yes, they are my children. And we go to parks several times a week. We do fine and have had no problems. I just stay close to them.
Other Mother: tsk tsk tsk. I don't know. I just don't know about this. I really think you need some supervision. I mean maybe you've been lucky up to now, but anything could happen. Your husband allows you to take them outside without him?
Me: {In my head, I contemplate completely blowing her mind by telling her that my "husband" is a quadriplegic who has been in the hospital for a month so I've been allowed to escape his supervision...but I decide she might very well implode in front of me if I do that.) Of course he knows I take them to the park. He encourages it! He knows they are safe with me. Accidents happen to all kids sometimes. But actually, I'm a certified teacher and have supervised more than just two children many times for the past fifteen years. I have never had a kid seriously injured in my care. There really is a technique to this. I'm not leaving it up to chance.
Other Mother: I just don't think you are using good judgment. I'd never allow MY kids to be put in so much danger.
Me: Well, I don't think they are in any real danger. I am able to supervise them. I appreciate your help with the directions to the tot lot. We'll head over there, now.
Now, heh heh. We've been standing on an upper level of this play structure while all this has been going on. I can either take my kids through several layers of this thing with her watching me, or I can just take them all down a big slide and get out quick. I grab each kid on either side of me and we all three slide down a big slide together, sending my kids into a fit of giggles. (Isn't it fun to be a mom and have an excuse to go down the slides again?) Anyway, she says as I go, "You're crazy." And not in a good way.
One thing I think is funny when I tell people these stories is they can't believe that I was that calm and diplomatic. They say that they'd tell her some snarky comment. I think people that have to deal with stuff like this on a regular basis develop a snark to polite translator in their head. Through years of practice having the same conversations over and over, you develop a style of assertive politeness that also allows you to escape without escalating the situation. I think black guys that have to deal with the police have to do this to a great extent as well. Here is the deal, I don't have the luxury of telling her off. No one except the disability community and a few sympathetic others are on my side here. If I tell people off like this, and I let it escalate into something awful where this woman is pissed, wants to save face, and thinks I'm crazier than she already thinks I am--boom! the police or DCF is called and I end up in a horrible mess and put my kids in jeopardy. It takes lots of practice (I'm lucky to get lots of practice, ahem) and a balance of standing your ground while sweet talking and comforting the other person to get through these situations without incident. When I was younger, I wasn't so good at it. It got me in some trouble, too. But thank god I didn't have kids at the time so the only one who faced the consequences was me.
I think some people can be educated and these kind of experiences become positive things. Most of the time, you get people that will never be convinced, but they just say, "there but for the grace of God goes the deaf blind mom. How shameful, but I'm staying out of it." Then you get a few vigilantes that are hell bent on saving the world and yourself from the likes of you and they will go off and do something crazy like call the authorities on you. It is those few that you have to be careful of. It is a walking on eggshells thing.
But usually, I just come home and laugh it off. I think this is one reason, though, I have such a hard time living with my dad. I get so much judgment out in public that I NEED to come home to a safe haven where I don't have to deal with anything like this second guessing me and judging me and making stupid comments about what I am capable of. I think with my dad, it is not entirely related to my disability, it is just because I am the youngest kid who will always be the incapable youngest kid. But still, it has the same effect. I'm sure he says stupid stuff to my sister as well, but she probably goes to work and about her business each day without everyone in the public scrutinizing her capabilities, so what my dad says probably isn't that big of deal to her. But then also, she can do no wrong and is all knowing. For example, he went off on me once about how she has such great computer skills and knows how to do everything on the computer and because I was having a computer problem that I hadn't gotten around to fixing yet, I didn't know anything. Now I'm sure my sister's computer skills are great, I don't dispute that. But I actually worked at a job where I made websites for a living, writing HTML, putting together access databases, using dream weaver and photoshop, and with D's guidance, I've fucking built three computers from scratch from the processor to the motherboard and up. But she knows Excel, he says. She's an accountant, so I'm sure she does know it inside and out. But, hey, dad? Remember that part where I worked in RESEARCH at a university? How do you think we managed our quantitative data? Yeah. With EXCEL!!! But who the hell cares who wins the best computer skills contest anyway? I don't care, except that there is always a contest with my dad and she always wins based on no meaningful criteria and no matter what the contest is. I wanna quit a competition I never even entered in the first place.
Wow. I completely went off on a worthless tangent there. Too bad my parents couldn't have been able to read that book, Siblings Without Rivalry. I have read it and I'm trying to already apply it to how I react to my own kids who are so very different, and twins to boot. I know they meant well and did not do any of this comparing intentionally, but man is it a pain to have a SUPERSISTER(r). D has a SUPERBROTHER(r) who's also put on a parental pedestal that creates tension with the other siblings. Have any of y'all got one of those?
Okay, so much for my idea that I would plan out my posts and not just let them take me to wherever incongruent places they take me...
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...but now for something completely different:
Besides the above conversation with playground mom, the library and park were very fun and a good day altogether. But our major excitement came in the afternoon when we received our new pets. Ready?
We are now the proud owners of 1000 red wiggler worms! So much fun! And so gross! Ew! Ew! Ew! (If you are squeamish about worms, you might need to stop reading now. Though I am squeamish about worms, and its not as bad as you might think.)
In my continuing journey to become a lighter abuser of the environment, I've decided to set up a vermicomposting farm. That's worms, people. Worms, and lots of 'em. We got a really nice worm composter off of freecycle and I've been researching worms all summer. Ask me anything about earthworms and I can tell you. Did you know they have five hearts?
I got a nice outdoor compost bin that is insulated, so they should be able to stay out there all year. Also, I decided that if I was going to vermicompost, the requirement was that I did not have to actually have to touch the worms (or at least keep it to a bare minimum) so our composter is the kind with tiered shelving that allows the worms to sort out themselves from the compost so I don't have to sort 'em out myself. Because, ick.
If you are unfamiliar with vermicomposting, it is really easy. It sounds much grosser than it is. Basically, worms eat your garbage and turn it into a rich fertile mulch that you can mulch with or fertilize with. They eat anything that you throw down the garbage disposal except meat. They eat anything from your yard. They eat paper. You don't need a shredder anymore, you can give your confidential files to the worms! The worms hate sunlight and being above surface so they really don't get away and escape the bin. They reproduce according to how much they are fed, so you don't have to worry too much about them getting overpopulated. You put them in some moist dirt, feed them your garbage, and forget it.
If I haven't lost you yet, here is how my super cool (and free) composter works:
It has five parts. A drainage bin, three tiers of composting bins, and a lid. The drainage bin on the bottom with a spout so you can drain runoff and extra water. They call this compost tea and if you water your plants with it, they will be very happy. The next layer is where the worms start. You put in some starter bedding and wet it and put in your worms. You can't even see the worms because they hate light and immediately dive into the soil. You feed them your garbage which is anything that used to be alive except meat. (They can actually eat meat, but they do it too slowly and it will rot and stink and attract other animals, so it is best to just avoid it.) They process the veggies and other stuff fast enough, and it an aerobic enough environment that it doesn't smell.
When the first tier is full of compost and empty on food, you place the second tier on top and fill it with a little bit of newspaper and bedding. the worms will crawl through the grate to the next level and you feed them there. Then you repeat with a third level. By this time, all the worms are out of the bottom level and you can take it out and dump the mulch in your garden or wherever, and put the empty tier on top and start again. This process takes a few months, so it is really low maintenance. You just need to feed and water them at least a couple of times a week, and that's it.
The benefits are that it enriches the soil, saves water that you would use to shove it down the garbage disposal and also keeps more trash out of landfills. Since it is an aerobic breakdown of food and paper, it does not get diseased with bacteria and mold like it does in landfills or even in your garbage can. It is just a more sustainable way to get rid of most waste. Between composting and recycling and using cloth diapers, I can usually give the landfill garbage man only one garbage bag a week, and sometimes it isn't even all the way full. If I am good about not buying food in plastic ridiculous containers, I can have even less, but sometimes I'm not so good at that.
So, the funny thing from today was that I was sent my 1000 worms through the U.S. mail. I ordered them from a farm in Kansas. Where else? A standard priority mail box came in my mail. It had very small holes punched in it and it said in big writing, "LIVE WORMS! PROTECT!" I had to walk a block from my mailbox home carrying this box very carefully that said LIVE WORMS on it. I passed a neighbor and just thought, yup. Another reason for everyone to talk about that weird neighbor woman with the twins and the sometimes old man who lives with her and the sometimes wheelchair guy who lives with her and who has a car in the garage she never drives and who never makes good eye contact and never hears what we are saying. Now she's carrying around a box of live worms. Do you think she's causing my house to depreciate?
I was actually very scared of the box of worms. I thought I was going to be completely grossed out. I can handle one worm, but a swarmy bunch of 1000 all wrapped up together in a box? Heeby Jeebies! I grabbed some latex gloves and sticks and all kinds of devices that would put the worms as far away from me as possible. But it wasn't that bad. The worms were all in a zip lock bag with small holes in it. They were nestles in a clump of moist dirt, and I just dumped them into the bin and they just went into the dirt. I did not touch them and I barely even saw them. I did see a few. It was kind of reminiscent of my childhood when I used to actually have a backyard to dig around in.
I think the kids will enjoy this little project when they get older. It's kind of fun. I'll keep you posted. I'm sure you all are just dying in suspense to find out what happens to my pet worms.
The bin is on the shady side of our house. We have about six feet of space between our house and our neighbors. It is worthless, so this is where most people keep their garbage dumpsters.
The first tier of the bin sits on top of the water collection tray. I just dumped some shredding in there to get them started, but, see? You really can't even see the worms. they stay in the dirt.
These are the second and third tiers that will be placed on top of the bottom one in the coming months. Then the tiers will just be rotated every couple of months. I should not have to ever really even touch or see the damned things hardly at all.
yay, vermicomposting! my former roomate, ben, who used to be the vermicompost dude in our apartment, sent me this link today:
"Calif. Encourages Bringing Worms to Work"
http://apnews.myway.com//article/20061012/D8KMP4100.html
And, you have my undying admiration for your calm and informative conversation with that clueless playground mom. and all the others like her.
Posted by: marisa | October 13, 2006 at 01:10 AM
The optimist in me is hoping that the mother at the playground, despite her "crazy" comments, will eventually assimilate what she actually saw, which is a deaf blind mother taking fine care of her kids. The cynic in me, ugh.
My housemate in grad school used to ask our landlady for some worms from her compost to put in the potted plants in our apartment.
Posted by: luolin | October 13, 2006 at 09:10 AM
I found you from the carnival. Love your thoughts and your writing style. Thanks so much for sharing.
Posted by: | October 13, 2006 at 12:34 PM
Stupid playground lady: stupid. That is all.
Worms: cool! I want some! I am totally getting some! Sometime. Not sure when.
Posted by: shannon | October 15, 2006 at 11:12 AM
I started to feel sorry for you having to put up with that stuff from people when I had to do a double take. Man, I would be so proud of myself if I had the ability you have to handle yourself in a confrontive interaction. To be able to defuse that kind of situation is admirable. I don't think that being disabled gave you that ability, although it certainly gave you a need for it. I think your strength and pragmatism is a part of your character and the choices you have made. That is not to say that I don't think it is rotten that any jerk on the street can threaten your freedom to live your life. It is not very understandable to me that so many people never question their own right to deny another person a freedom they never question possessing. Maybe you should not have the right to get married if you are an alcoholic or if you have been convicted of assault? Maybe you should not have a right to build a pool in your backyard unless you take lessons in CPR. That kind of intervention in people's lives isn't even feasible but where are we drawing the line?
Anyway, I think you deserve to give yourself a smoothie or chocolate shake in honor of your mature and tolerant behavior.
Your title made me laugh. My bossy 2 year old grandson has decided he gets to tell the dog how to behave. He can't pronounce the 'k' sound yet but you can hear the echo of his preschool teachers when he scolds, 'Wat away, Rowo! You wat away!'
Posted by: Gillian | October 15, 2006 at 05:31 PM
Well! I thought I had lots of screwy comments when I take my nephews and niece out in public (never all 6 at once!), but apparently not! Is it bad that I'm glad there are other people out there who can relate to the whole "being a target in public of well-meaning people" thing? I'm in a chair and man - it's like you are someone else's property!
I can't wait until I have (one) kid but I'm not looking forward to the slightly concerned looks from suspiciously-nice people on the street.
Bravo to you for being a cool cucumber!
Posted by: jocelyn | October 22, 2006 at 11:47 PM