From the $200 beanie to the bucket hat

Expanding my son’s stylish collection of padded hats

[Short and cute today, I’m a bit under the weather.]

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This newsletter rests at the intersection of the unserious ramblings of a woman full of buttered rice and dad jokes and the somewhat sophisticated stories and essays of someone who knows just enough “smart” words to sound super intelligent and insightful.

What will today’s newsletter be? Hmm…

My son’s first trip to White Sands was a moment I won’t forget. He wore a helmet, the kind labeled “special needs,” large and black, gaudy, padded to the point of swallowing his head. Everywhere he went, there were stares, whispers, questions. I felt his discomfort deeply, a constant exhaustion in explaining, in pleading with my eyes for people to simply look away. Don't comment. Don't point. Just let him exist without judgment.

Just let him be.

The helmet, in black, seemed like the least noticeable choice, but it didn’t matter. It could have been neon green, and the result would have been the same. His presence was always marked by it. Some asked why he wore it, others just stared—so many questions, none of which mattered to the fact that my son deserved peace, deserved to move through the world without the weight of others' curious gazes.

His hands, once so small and gentle, now moved with a force they couldn’t control. The slaps were unintentional, a sign of something he couldn’t express, an unruly body he couldn't escape. So, the helmet stayed. It was protection,

Now, years later, we return to White Sands. The hands are still uncontrollable, but the helmet has changed. This time, he wore a hat from Ribcap—a soft, stylish bucket hat with straps and padding. It still serves the same purpose, but this time, people’s eyes are a bit different. The stares are a bit gentler, the comments are a bit kinder, if they come at all. And my son, with his beautiful, unpredictable hands, looks handsome in a way that transcends the labels others try to place on him. He looks in the way that I always see him. And while I would love to live in a world where others could see him past his disability, we do not. So, when they see no gaudy, doctor-ordered, black foam padded helmet devouring his head, they are better able to see on him a little bit more. And he is better able to rest from their harsh eyes and sharp tongues.

A RibCap won’t stop people from being mean, but it has restored some of my son’s dignity, boosted his style, and satisfies his need for something on his head. With cooling tech and straps to keep it in place, it’s practical for us while also designed to protect against seizures, falls, and other head injuries.

This isn’t my first share about RibCap, I wrote the piece below back in November.

I bought this beanie and I struggled with sharing why I had. This community can really love its disability representation cute and light. Highlighting all the ways in which society will wound us far greater than our disabilities ever would. And I often feel like I am fighting a losing battle to get them to acknowledge that while society is indeed disabling, our disability itself is also disabling. My son’s far greater than mine. Or his brother’s.

I spent a lot of time thinking about how to share that post. If I should share it. I talked it over with my family. Sat on it. And then decided it was best to share it. It could help other families. I wanted this for them. I need them to know that they are not alone and we can help our children.

If you have not read that post, I encourage you to do so. Eventually I shared it to Facebook and Instagram, where it took off. And all the interactions were pleasant. But not gonna lie, I like the much calmer response it got here.

check out RibCap here: RibCap.com

And if you do purchase one you can use my code: TIFFANY10 for a discount.

I wrote to them after I bought the first one, that beanie. And I told them I loved their product and I think more people need to know about it. I introduced the idea of a partnership, that’s how much I love them.

Alright, this was longer than intended for an “under the weather” share.

Y’all be easy.

tiffy out.