How crushing would it be to know that others think you are a lesser human being? Or that you are an "unlucky child" (who grows into an unlucky adult)? Our kids need every bit of confidence they can get in this world.

So often our kids' challenges are described in terms of impairment (disability, special needs), words that encompass their entire beings. But "rebel" makes it clear it's just a part of them that's acting up. It doesn't let their challenges define who they are.

When people figure that Max has autism because he looks or acts a certain way, or when people think that kids with autism are like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, they presume to know what our children are like -- which does our kids a major disservice.

What does it really mean to have cerebral palsy? Until I had a child with CP, I had no clue that it affects every person differently. As with any human, kids and adults with CP are as unique as their thumbprints.

To illuminate why the r-word is so demeaning, why parents take it so personally and why this isn't just about a word, I put together a little quiz I hope you'll share. The prize for acing it: a lifetime supply of compassion, consideration and soul.

We are special needs warrior moms, and we are proud. Because when we look at the progress our kids make, and how far they have come, we know it's all worth it.

There is no magical age when kids are suddenly primed to go potty; it's all about their readiness level, and it's not something you can push or even force.

I think I speak for many moms of kids with special needs when I say we don't want pity; it's isolating. But a smile or words that say hey, motherhood is tough -- any kind of motherhood is tough -- are reassuring.

Ann Coulter used only 74 of Twitter’s allotted 140 characters for her brief debate recap on Monday night -- but six of those were enough to awaken i...

When milestones like this happen, I flash back to my first meeting with Sue, the most lovely Early Intervention coordinator. "He will surprise and amaze you, you'll see," she said. He's never stopped.

One of my most desperate wishes for Max is for people to quit pitying him or being wary of him and just see him as a kid, period.

This week in Parenthesis, we envy the Blair family's quick trip to the Olympics, develop a yen for The Wednesday Chef's delicious-looking meatballs, d...

The everyday head-scratchers that crop up once you become a parent can be every bit as perplexing as these biggies (and some days, even more so). Ever asked yourself any of these questions?

Ever have to stifle laughter around your kid because you know you shouldn't be cracking up over something they've done but it's beyond funny?

No person's merit (let alone a child's) should be irrevocably determined by how his muscles move, the way his brain works, or whether he speaks in the way that people typically speak or looks the way people typically look.

To me, Max is just a great kid, not a kid with special needs. We've both developed a lot in the years since he was born. Here's what I've learned along the way.

Ellen Seidman's nine-year-old son Max likes to have things his way. He went through a Cars 2 phase, wherein he would watch that video -- never the ori...