There's a famous essay, "Welcome to Holland", written by Emily Perl Kingsley, on the challenges and rewards of parenting a special-needs child. The essay has prompted some other uses of metaphor in describing parenting.
Kingley's "Welcome to Holland" essay begins:
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
ABFH , of Whose Planet Is It Anyway?, writes from the perspective of a person with autism raising a neurotypical child. Her essay begins,
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a constant need for socializing—to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a restful vacation trip to Holland. You do some Internet research on the history of windmills and other fascinating topics, and you make your plans. Quiet, leisurely art museum visits. Peaceful walks through tulip fields. Painting windmills in a pastoral landscape. Maybe you'll read train timetables in Dutch. It's all very exciting.
Bev, of Asperger Square 8 writes from the perspective of a person with autism being raised by a neurotypical family. Her essay begins,
I was born in Italy to a nice Italian family. Or so I thought. My parents were so proud of their heritage. Mama started breaking me in on the music of Verdi and Puccini before I was even born. We spoke only Italian at home, though Mama and Papa were fluent in several languages. I never did get the hang of Italian. I hated to be such a disappointment, but it just didn't make sense to me.
The house was nicely decorated with Da Vinci prints and replicas of ancient Roman sculpture. On Sundays, Mama cooked a big meal, working all day in the kitchen to prepare huge servings of linguine with clam sauce or fusilli pomodoro, which we ate with the finest Italian wine the family could afford. It was good, I guess, but very heavy, I always felt tired and cranky at dinner. In school, we learned about the Caesars, Napoleon and Mussolini. Why does history have to be so full of violence?
Jennifer Graf Groneberg, of the Pinwheels blog, has published Roadmap to Holland: How I Found My Way Through My Son's First Two Years With Down Syndrome
Wanted to pass along one of my own parenting metaphors, relating parenting techniques to angry birds. Thought you might enjoy. http://www.ordinaryparent.com/lessons-learned/angry-bird-parenting/
Posted by: Ordinaryparent | Friday, January 13, 2012 at 05:19 PM