MSI Press Blog

  Shane suffered from migraines for a few years. It might have been a lifelong problem, but he was able to nip it in the bud, thanks to my own experience with migraines. In 1980, I took a trip down the stairs -- on my back. Hurrying to get socks for Shane, who was ready for school, except for being sockless, I slipped and literally bounced down the stairs, hitting the edge of each, and ending up crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, on the cement floor. I felt myself becoming woozy. I was going to faint -- but I could not allow myself to do that. Doah was upstairs, alone, in his sit-up bed, trached. If his trach tube clogged, I had to be nearby to unclog it, or he would die. So, I pulled myself back up, on my stomach. I could not stand up. I called the ambulance and long story short, the doctors determined I had a T5 compression fracture. Nearly immediately I began to experience multi-day migraines. The doctor prescribed medication, but before I had a chance to take it, I had learn...

  AI generated graphic   The rainbow makers never grew very big, except for Shane, who at 5'10" is not exceptionally tall for a young man. Lizzie topped out at 5', like me, Doah at 4'7", and Noelle at 4'3". Once in a while it has been a detriment to me at work, and Doah is always asked "pretty lady" or "handsome man" to get something off a top shelf for him at the store (they always oblige). Otherwise, we don't think about it much, but apparently others do. One day not too long ago, as Doah and I were eating at Denny's, a lady at the next table over kept glancing over at us. Not quite a stare, but clearly a fixation.  When we left, she followed us out, and as we approached our car, she spoke up. "Excuse me," she said, politely enough. "I really don't mean to bother you, but I just want to know if you are hobbits. Y'see, I've never seen hobbits before." Wow, how do you respond to someone with that...

  When Lizzie was offered the chance to skip first grade, I sought counsel from a professor of gifted and talented education. My concern wasn’t academics—it was social development. He reassured me, citing both research and experience, that if she was intellectually ready, she’d be socially resilient enough to manage the transition. So, she skipped. And he was right. The only social friction she encountered came from her classmates not quite understanding her academic passions. Still, they humored her—letting her lead them into scientific explorations that were far beyond the curriculum. Her delight at receiving a college-level genetics textbook for Christmas in fourth grade confirmed her oddness, but her enthusiasm for building a rocket launcher in the backyard was contagious. That is, until I shut it down. Maybe some mothers wouldn’t mind a backyard rocket launcher. I just wasn’t sure I wanted one in mine. Years later, Lizzie had the opportunity to skip seventh grade. Again, sh...

  We thought the hamster era would be fun. Noelle adored animals—especially hamsters. So we got her a pair from the pet store, not realizing they were male and female. Nature took its course. Babies arrived. We figured it would be a sweet experience for Noelle: watching them grow, learning about life. But one baby didn’t grow. It had three legs. And the mother killed it—right in front of Noelle. We weren’t prepared. Not for the brutality. Not for the questions. Not for the heartbreak of explaining that in the wild, animals don’t have the means to help their disabled young survive. They do what nature tells them to do. And nature isn’t always kind. Noelle was four. She didn’t have three legs, but she had two legs that didn’t work. She asked, “Would the hamster mother have killed me?” And the answer, of course, was yes. We couldn’t lie. Covering up the truth would have been as cruel as telling it. So we told her. And she sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. Nothing we said could ...