Month: November 2020

So there’s apparently a couple in Ohio – Myka and James Stauffer – that adopted a child from China in 2017. At the time, they were told that the child had some special needs but claim that the full extent of the little boy’s medical and intellectual concerns were never revealed to them. Although they were the parents of three kids already and were understandably daunted by the prospect of a special needs child, “God softened their hearts,” and they brought the one-year-old child home.

Turns out that Huxley, as he was named, was autistic and also had significant sensory integration issues. My daughter, Allie, does, too. Myka and James, who apparently are YouTube/Instagram influencers, had deals with a bunch of companies like Fabletics, Danimals, and Playtex, and I guess those contracts were pretty lucrative.

If all you knew about this family was what you saw on Myka’s Instagram account, you would assume that her kids never took their diapers off and smeared their poop on the walls, hit each other with fireplace shovels, or drew on a brand new sofa with a pink highlighter (all things my children have done). This is a Perfect Family. Their photos could be the ones they put in picture frames before you buy them. They could be the sample Christmas cards photos on the Shutterfly website. They’re THAT perfect.

Well, turns out things weren’t quite as perfect as they looked: Seems Myka and James “rehomed” Huxley because they thought it was better for everyone to do so.

You read that right.

After parenting this child for nearly three years, they gave him to another family. They did NOT put him in foster care, or go through any formal adoption process. They found another family, that family adopted Huxley, and at age 4, Huxley left the only home and family he likely remembers to live in a new home with new people and process with his non-neuro-typical brain what that means.

Now.

I have to say first, that many of the articles I have read seem to suggest that the decision to find new parents for Huxley was Myka’s alone, and the mother-bashing has been predictably loud. Let’s not forget that two parents adopted Huxley and two parents had to sign off on relinquishing him, so if you’re gonna bash Myka, make sure you bash James, too.

Second, as I said earlier, I have a child on the spectrum who had sensory integration issues (that she has, praise cupcakes, outgrown). She had a whole host of other concerns that made day-to-day life with her extraordinarily challenging for many, many years – for everyone in our family. So, I get it. Parenting a child on the spectrum is hard. Like, really, really, REALLY FUCKING HARD.

And one thing that can make it hard is that kids on the spectrum can be tough on their siblings, and don’t leave parents a lot of time for other kids. Which is why if you have three kids, and adopt a fourth, with special needs, who turns out to have a lot MORE needs than you thought, you maybe should work really, really, REALLY HARD not to get pregnant.

Which Myka and James apparently did not too long after Huxley came home.

I know.

Now, truth be told, if Myka and James could not give Huxley the attention, love, and specialized focus he needs, it’s probably a really good thing they gave him up. Kids with special needs deserve parents who are committed to doing all they can to maximize their well-being and potential. Since Myka seems more interested in coordinating her kids’ outfits and taking adorable photos of them doing Christmas crafts wearing Santa hats, I’m gonna say that doing home OT and speech exercises, behavior interventions, and food trials are probably not her thing.

So Huxley now has parents who will, it is to be hoped, focus exclusively on him and help him work on the things that challenge him. Myka and James can go back to being perfect – minus the big bucks from their many corporate sponsors, most of whom have dropped them in light of their sort of horrifying decision to return their rescue child to the shelter. One imagines the Stauffer Family will land on its feet – people like that always do.

But what of the Stauffer kids, who have now learned the lesson that if a person – a sibling, no less! – is not “normal,” or needs more time, or help, they should be disposed of. It’s Eugenics for the already born. What a tragedy for those children. How will this influence them in their relationships going forward? What will they do if one of their own children has special needs?

And while it probably is better the Huxley is with parents who want him and are willing and able to give him what he needs, what a gift the Stauffers have thrown away. Our Allie is about to turn 26, and while her early years were difficult, this young woman has been the single-greatest reason if I am a kind, empathic, and humble person. I feel sad, really, for families that don’t have an Allie, because their hearts will never grow as big as ours have.

My friends with special needs children know this. I think some people who don’t know it, too.

And Myka and James take really great family photos.

There are so many American traditions in which we can all participate on Memorial Day…parades, Taps at Arlington, flags on soldiers’ graves….to properly honor our war dead.

We can (responsibly) gather with family and friends for beginning-of-summer festivities after a difficult, quarantined spring to share fellowship, hamburgers and hotdogs, and gluten-free brownies (hey, Brittney O’Connor!) to reconnect with loved ones and remind ourselves that our personal relationships and devotion to family are some of the things that bind us together as a nation.

We can also hang effigies of elected officials (in this case, Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear)…in the presence of very young children… while Lee Greenwood plays in the background…

Because – I guess – he was concerned that people might get sick or die from COVID.

Or because he hates democracy and just wants everyone to be miserable and is trying to destroy the economy so he doesn’t get re-elected, and “Kentucky” continues to be the punchline of pretty much any joke.

What a dick, that Andy Beshear. Why doesn’t someone just shoot him already?

I mean, the most American thing in the world is to lynch people. It’s so American. In an ideal world, when the rest of the world thinks of “America,” ideally, they automatically think, “Lynching!”

Like, if you don’t like someone’s politics, or color, or sexual orientation, just lynch them! Sort of like the Nike slogan, “Just do it!”

“Just Lynch Them!”

So catchy!

I just think that, rather than have any sort of civil discourse or consider whether the edicts of an administration are lawful, just, or compelling, or take a step back to ponder the impact of such directives on public health, I think we should all act independently and call for the public lynching of any person whose politics don’t mesh with mine.

Because that’s what our war dead fought for.

They fought so that whenever an American didn’t like something done by an elected official (that is, the person elected by the MAJORITY of the population), they could urge the assassination of that person.

(Even when those actions conformed to the recommendations of another Governmental agency…)

I am so proud to be an American if being an American means allowing this sort of behavior.

I am proud that my father’s mental health was sacrificed in combat in service to his country so that others could later get away with this kind of nonsense under the aegis of the First Amendment.

I am proud that on Memorial Day, so many Americans died to protect and defend this country, which includes people who think it’s okay to “lynch” public officials.

That’s the best of us. 244 years later, that’s the best of us.

Sometimes people are dicks, and you say, “Universe, am I a dick?”

Sometimes the Universe says, “yes,” with proper punctuation, and you know you’re screwed, and maybe you need to try harder.

Sometimes, the Universe sends a gentle breeze, a New York style Cheesecake, or a furry Canadian beastie your way, and you give yourself a little hug and send some good energy back out there to everyone.

It’s easy to get discouraged. Then your husband walks through the door and you aren’t anymore.

These are hard times.

People can be disappointing.

We forget that hurricanes and wildfires and pandemics don’t care about our best-laid plans.

All we can do is our best.

All we can be is our best.

To all people, in all circumstances.

Regardless of our faith, that is what we owe each other, even if we are different colors or don’t like each other’s politics.

Beyond the well-being of those I love, the only thing I pray for is to be worthy, and not a dick.