So. Um. Hi there. It’s been a hell of a 24 hours here. Last night about this time I sat down to finally read a blog post I saw on my Facebook feed, one that someone suggested might irritate me. One response blog post later and um, I’m kinda glad I have a great domain host because my wee little piece of the interwebz exploded today. When the stats line goes straight up and you can’t keep up with the comments, yeah, you’ve hit a nerve.
If you haven’t had a chance to read the comments, pour a drink and dig in. You will find some incredibly dedicated parents who are doing everything they can for the kids who are sprinting ahead, and yet are belittled by society because they are seen as pushing their kids, or playing the “my kid is better than your kid” game. I suggest reading Christi at Away from the Oven, to get an idea of what it’s like from both outlying ends of the bell curve. Or Mona at Life with Intensity to see what the mom of a profoundly gifted child deals with.
I am humbled by the response to last night’s post. Words fail me, which is kinda bad, as I’m a writer and I need them. I don’t write about parenting gifted kids as often as I could, for several reasons. The big one is that I’m writing a book about that very topic, and having material for the printed page is more than a little necessary in the creation of a book. I’m also a contributing writer to An Intense Life, which is Christine Fonseca’s blog on all things gifted (and she is guest posting tomorrow about writing for gifted teens, celebrating the release of her new novella). But the biggest and ugliest reason is also why I have two solid shelves of books on gifted kids I keep putting off reading: at the end of the day, sometimes it hurts to read or write about what you just survived. You simply want a glass of wine and the most brain-drain periodical or eye candy (hello, Hawaii Five-0) you can find. And other times, nothing will energize you more.
So welcome. We need to keep fighting the good fight, not only for our kids, but for us. Together we’ll be strong enough to face another day of unending questions, school meetings that reintroduce us to our breakfast, and kids who are somehow able to function on 3.14159 hours of sleep.
Just use the code words. You know, so it doesn’t sound like we’re bragging.