I'm sort of afraid of kids. Not of having my own. And not because I think they're secretly all adults with murderous tendencies like in that Orphan movie. I guess 'dread' is a better word for it. I dread meeting or even sometimes just passing by children, because most kids don't know how to react to something out of the ordinary.
I've received many varieties by this point, and if you have a noticeable physical difference, you've probably gotten them too. "Mom! What is that??" "Dad, why does she...why is her arm...?" Or there's the version that comes without sound and instead manifests itself as a kid bending his or her arm at the elbow and waving it around.
I get it when I'm taking the bus to work in the morning. I get it in the grocery store. I get it when I'm introduced to a family friend's child. Even my cousins who are too young to remember who I am frequently voice confusion the next time they see me. It really helps brighten your morning and make you feel like a normal human and everything, let me tell you.
So I've had times when I tried to hide my arm from kids—maybe I have my winter coat on and I just turn away from them. It seems better than having to hear their disgust, fright, confusion, whatever it may be, about me. But at the same time, how wrong is it that I'm hiding who I am on a weekly basis? And hiding from children, no less?
I don't know what the answer is. Maybe someday, when all kids are the spawn of millennials, or they're even further generations out, we'll/they'll all be progressive enough to understand that people are unique and there's no reason to freak out. But maybe kids will always have that fully candid and curious way about them. It's what makes them kids, right?
I'm working on being OK with their reactions. I'll admit that it comes in phases. And of course, how I feel about it depends on the kind of day I'm having.
In theory I could directly address each kid who asks his or her parents about me; make it a learning moment, tell them about how I was born with one arm but can still do everything they can. Buuut, I've chosen to take the 'I can't hear or see you, kid, unless you address me directly' approach. I feel better that way, and feeling better is the best I can do.
xo,julieo
I've received many varieties by this point, and if you have a noticeable physical difference, you've probably gotten them too. "Mom! What is that??" "Dad, why does she...why is her arm...?" Or there's the version that comes without sound and instead manifests itself as a kid bending his or her arm at the elbow and waving it around.
I get it when I'm taking the bus to work in the morning. I get it in the grocery store. I get it when I'm introduced to a family friend's child. Even my cousins who are too young to remember who I am frequently voice confusion the next time they see me. It really helps brighten your morning and make you feel like a normal human and everything, let me tell you.
So I've had times when I tried to hide my arm from kids—maybe I have my winter coat on and I just turn away from them. It seems better than having to hear their disgust, fright, confusion, whatever it may be, about me. But at the same time, how wrong is it that I'm hiding who I am on a weekly basis? And hiding from children, no less?
I don't know what the answer is. Maybe someday, when all kids are the spawn of millennials, or they're even further generations out, we'll/they'll all be progressive enough to understand that people are unique and there's no reason to freak out. But maybe kids will always have that fully candid and curious way about them. It's what makes them kids, right?
I'm working on being OK with their reactions. I'll admit that it comes in phases. And of course, how I feel about it depends on the kind of day I'm having.
In theory I could directly address each kid who asks his or her parents about me; make it a learning moment, tell them about how I was born with one arm but can still do everything they can. Buuut, I've chosen to take the 'I can't hear or see you, kid, unless you address me directly' approach. I feel better that way, and feeling better is the best I can do.
xo,julieo