Karin Kasdin

Bonnie Malkin Gillman took Psych 101 in the early '60s. The autistic children in her textbook wore helmets, were self-injurious and more often than not, were confined to institutions for lifetime care. Fifty years later, when her grandson was diagnosed with autism, Gillman was understandably terrified and brimming with questions....

I am Hallmark's dream customer ... an easily manipulated sucker for the sentimental. But this year even I was astounded by the behemoth display of Mother's Day cards at my local stationary shop. Little tabs peeking above the cards drew a customer's attention to the appropriate rows of specially created...

It was utterly predictable and only a matter of time before Goldie Hawn appeared in photo and print (in this very news outlet among numerous others) as the poster girl for today's generation of grandmothers. My generation, the baby-boomer kids, have always thought we are the hippest, coolest, savviest, most...

In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a big fan of the advice-book genre. This is not to say that I could not use advice. I could use plenty of it. I might have been a much better parent had I perused any of the 20 or 30...

My son, Zack, longs to be a rock star. With his parents' encouragement, he is majoring in the music industry and loving every second of his college life. Zack is well aware that he will most likely have to wait on tables as he pursues his dream, and he is...

Dear Kyla,

I want you to know, darling granddaughter, that I tried. So many of us worked so hard for so long that I confess to getting a bit cocky. And cocksure that our daughters would inhabit a world where no man would dare speak for them about their reproductive...

I remember Margie more distinctly than the others because for one full year of Tuesday mornings she simply could not stop weeping. The other women who attended the support group I facilitated for victims of domestic violence also wept, but many of them, most of them, after a few weeks...

I am not prone to nightmares, but on those sporadic occasions when abject fear wakes me from my slumber, my vivid dreams are invariably composed of one or more of the following very terrible and terrifying scenarios:

1. I am forced to drive at night on a highway in a...

A tenth grade biology teacher cured me of helicopter parenting forever. I rarely ran interference with teachers for any of my three sons, but when one of them was on the verge of failing biology, I called his teacher to explain why his homework was in the trunk of my...

I didn't see it coming. One day I was typing away on my laptop, totally in the zone, when I suddenly realized I needed to double my font size in order to read what I'd written. Last November, I prepared the same luscious Thanksgiving dinner I've made for the past...

"Keep your wallet open and your mouth shut." unknown
"Bite your tongue until it bleeds." unknown
"Grandparents who want to be truly helpful will do well to keep their mouths shut and their opinions to themselves until these are requested." T. Berry Brazelton, pediatrician and author
"I...

My late father had a collection of mugs on his dresser from all the universities he and my mother, their three children and our spouses attended. He could have sipped his morning joe from a Princeton mug, or one from Stanford, Harvard, The University of Pennsylvania, Northwestern, Ithaca College, or...

If Carol and Sir Mark Thatcher want to exact revenge on their mother Margaret for being a cold or absentee mother, then condoning and endorsing the film "The Iron Lady" is a surefire way to do it.

I am no fan of Margaret Thatcher's. My political views run counter to...

Edye was the first to leave. In her late 50s, she sold her home, packed her belongings and her cats, and left her close circle of friends to pursue a relationship and a job three states away from those who love her most. My inelegant and somewhat selfish response was,...

The neon teal of the little box tickled the baby's fancy. The box itself fit snugly inside her petite fist. She held it to her nose, and I think the faint aroma of fresh mint cast a spell of serenity that flowed from her insides outward. She quietly examined the...

Objectively speaking, the photo of my granddaughter on Santa's knee, gazing into his gentle eyes, could easily be a cover shot for the Saturday Evening Post. It would do Norman Rockwell proud. This is a photo of innocence incarnate, and it cries out for a prominent spot on a family...

I cried when each of my boys had their first haircut. Because they were growing up. But also because their hair was just so dang gorgeous, and I knew this was the end of its baby splendor.

Several friends have been swooning over their grandchildren for a few years now and I have indulged their need to froth at the mouth whenever the subject comes up, which is often. I have fawned over thousands of pictures and have been selfless and flexible whenever social plans have been...

I write this with the permission of my son, Andrew. I write this with his support and his editorial oversight. I write this with tears in my eyes. Two stories about verbally abusive teachers have come to light in the past few days and they have stirred up memories I...