Below is a letter I’ve written to my daughter. She’s the younger of our two kids. But I already see that in some situations, she takes the big sister role. I so badly want her to understand her brother’s autism. I know she notices that he gets more attention than she does… and I don’t think it will stop. Anyways, here it is.
I’ve been thinking about writing this letter to you for about a year now. In that time, I’ve been noticing you noticing me… and it hasn’t always been positive. For the most part I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job as a parent and daddy. But I know I’m letting you down in a crucial area of your life, and I’m not sure that I can stop.
In the last couple of weeks, I’ve made you cry, and it breaks my heart because I know it will not be the last time I do so. I’ve ignored you, favored your brother, and I know it hurts your heart. I just want to let you know — I’m aware of this, and it hurts my heart too.
You’re the baby of our family, and as much as I want you to always be Daddy’s baby, I also want you to grow up quickly so you can gain a certain amount of understanding. I guess I want this for you so I don’t feel like I’m damaging you as much. You see, your older brother has autism, and I fear that it takes from you at times.
I started a nonprofit organization because of your brother, in hopes that we could help other families. It takes up a ton of my time. When you ask me to play while I’m working, I tell you, “No” way more than I tell you, “Yes.” I see that it breaks your heart. It breaks mine too.
The local news did a interview with me, and your brother was in it. You watched it and didn’t understand why you weren’t included. I didn’t have a good answer. I didn’t think you would understand. We shot a brand new “About Us” video, and you asked me, with tears in your eyes, “Why am I not in that video?” Once again, I didn’t have a good answer for you. You left the room, and then the tears hit my eyes.
Your brother has behavior therapy twice a week for two and a half hours a session and a socialization class once a week. You don’t understand why you don’t get to do these things. I try to explain it. I clearly don’t do a good job.
You’re developing at a rapid pace, and I’m in constant amazement at how easy you learn. It also serves as a constant reminder that your brother doesn’t have it this easy. I need to stop and celebrate you more. You deserve it.
You and your brother are playing on the same soccer team for the first time, and you’re holding your own with these older kids. Daddy is so proud of you! But, if I’m being honest, I catch myself watching your brother more than I watch you. And it’s not fair to you. I think it’s because I expect you to keep getting better. When I watch him, I’m hoping he gets better.
I’ve tried a couple of times to explain autism to you. I’m pretty sure you don’t fully understand. I’m not sure why I expect you to, when most people 10 times your age don’t get it. Someday you will… I just wish it was today.
Please know that Daddy is doing his best and also know that he wants to do better.
I love you way more than you know.
For original article: http://themighty.com/2014/09/a-letter-to-my-daughter-about-her-brothers-disability/
Blake Satterfield is proud to open the door and greet guests at Special Kneads and Treats on the Lawrenceville downtown square. He shows guests to a table and to the gourmet cupcakes on display behind the bakery counter. Blake has Down syndrome and wouldn’t be the first person many businesses would put at their front door. But Blake and others with special needs are the reason why Special Kneads and Treats opened four weeks ago.
“From his first day here, he has felt included and productive,” said Blake’s mother, Pat Satterfield. “It’s a wonderful thing for our guys to give back to the community and feel accepted and useful. Once they get the hang of things, when they see a need, they get things done and make people feel welcome.”
Special Kneads and Treats at 132 E. Crogan St. is a nonprofit bakery that provides job skills training to special needs adults. It was opened by Tempa Kohler and her husband, Michael, when they purchased the former Sweets on the Square. “We prayed for only provisions and a building and God gave us a bakery with ovens, freezers and an established client base,” Tempa Kohler said. “And now we’re building our own client base. It’s awesome and definitely a God thing.”
The Kohlers opened the bakery to help their son Bradley, 24, who was diagnosed with Fragile X Syndrome when he was 7 years old. Fragile X Syndrome is a genetic chromosome disorder that causes mild to severe mental impairment. “Kids with special needs can stay in the Gwinnett School system until they are 22 years old and then they age out,” said Kohler. “We’re here to employ special needs adults and give them a place to come and work and hopefully learn a skill set that they can take to another location.”
Kohler is operating the bakery with one employee and five special needs adults who often have family members who stay and help with baking duties. The special needs adults have opened the door and greeted guests, washed dishes, cleaned tables, swept the floor and helped with lettering on cupcake wrappers denoting when they were made. They also help in the kitchen when adequate supervision is in place.
Adults with special needs are loyal,” Kohler noted. “They’ll be the first to show up and if you show them a job, they will do it and do it well.”
To Read the full article click here: http://www.gwinnettdailypost.com/news/2014/mar/01/lawrenceville-bakery-provides-job-skills-training/
Rebecca is an independent publisher working to help siblings of children with emotional challenges.