Growing Up

The little ones in my life finished their school year a few days ago.   They started the school year thinking they would be in the South for who-knows-how-long...and finished the year in the Midwest. 

They grew and changed and embraced change and made me one proud momma.

T-Man took the changes in stride.  He smoothly transitioned from one climate and culture into the next.  He is a helper, a leader, a reader, and radiates positivity.  Ironically, his name means "long-winded talker" and "cheerful".  Both of those meanings fit our little T-Man perfectly.  And I love him to pieces for both of those qualities.

Fearless had the hardest time with the changes--he is one that loves the routine and anticipating what is coming next.  Moving and starting over with new school rules, new friends, new climate...it took awhile for him to adjust.  But being the little rock star he is, he realized he was having a hard time and every night he would pray that he would be happy.  And each day he tried hard to choose to be happy. 

That attitude is pretty grown-up for a five year old.  I'm so proud of him for pushing himself to grow and embrace the change. 

And this little lovey?  She's still my doll-baby; but she's grown-up too.  She loves her independence and is communicating what she needs and wants like a champ.  And although we lovingly refer to her as our little F5 Tornado (or just F5 for short) I love her curiosity and her sense of adventure.  I love hearing about what is going on in her mind. I love learning what is important to her, so it can be important to me too. 

Having them all home everyday means that our home is full of ruckus & chaos at any given moment--and surprisingly, it doesn't bother me.  Just having them close and deepening our relationship is worth all the noise and Lego messes.

Yay for 3 months of uninterrupted time for me to spend with my little ones!!

Bring on summer!!

The Other Side of the Card.

While I am currently focused on our upcoming move and in the thick of trying to keep my house clean for potential buyers (Side note: Anybody want to buy my house?  And: Please don't make me go through the work of getting/keeping my house ready to show if you aren't going to buy.  Just sayin'.) I am attempting to mix in at least a few of our annual Christmas traditions.

One of which is our annual Christmas card pictures.  I was happily getting the kids in their Christmas picture clothes, when our realtor called and told me some people were coming to look at our house in an hour and 15 min., and could we please be out by then?

At which point, Dr. C and I cranked the stress level up about 50 notches, threw the Christmas-pic clothes on the kids, buckled them all into the van, turned on Charlotte's Web and then frantically ran back inside to do some last-minute OCD arranging of the towels in the linen closet cleaning.

By the time we drove away, my once-happy-children had been imprisoned sitting in the van for almost an hour, Charlotte had long since died and that Norman-Rockwell-Christmas-picture ideal died with her.  (Note to self: Next time I put the kids in the van to frantically clean, choose a reeeaaaalllllly long movie.)

We went anyway.

I did get a *few* good ones...enough for the card...but I got a wholelotta bad ones.  Lovely.

Here is a sampling, for your viewing pleasure.  (Displeasure?)

Freed from the confines of the van, Fearless takes off the moment we get unbuckled.  Takes several minutes to bring him back. 

Don't be fooled by this cute pic--T-Man was pinching Fearless on the back.  Nice. 

T-Man: I will fake smile now because I know I'm in trouble for pinching.
Miss B: There is drama happening, so I must cry.
Fearless: "Mooooooommmmmy...T-Man PINCHED me!"

We are lucky to be alive after receiving that look.

Now it's T-Man's turn to run away.  Yay.

This cry was legitimate, fell down and scraped her knees.  So sorry, little love!

Miss B to T-Man: "Why the heck are you smiling?!?"



Another legitimate sad face...Fearless cut his hand a little on something and no amount of band-aids, kisses, reassurances would make it better.  On a positive note, T-Man shaped up after the pinching moment.



And now she's outta there.

The End.

Speaking correctly.

I'm a bit of a stickler for my children pronouncing words correctly and using proper grammar.  I know this is slightly hypocritical of me; I'm sure my blog posts are riddled with improper punctuation and word choice.  Despite my flaws, I do make an attempt to speak correctly and I expect my children to speak well also.

T-Man is a talker.  He has a huge vocabulary and can make conversation with anyone about any subject.  In fact, sometimes we have to remind him that other people need a turn to talk.  In all of these conversations, his pronunciation is usually flawless...at least it was until last night.

He came home from school with a tooth about to fall out of his head. 

I gave it a little push, and out it came.

Poor kid, definitely going to need braces.

And now words like "police" are being pronounced "pol-isth".  And "rice" is "rye-th". 

Strangely, my language OCD is not bothered by this yet; in fact, I find it adorable.  Although it is pretty hard to take him seriously when he tells us to "Sth-op laughing!" whenever he talks.

Love you, T-Man!!

And while we are speaking about language, in honor of Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I thought you all would like to know how to speak correctly about Down syndrome.  When I first got Miss B's diagnosis, the NDSS website was one of the first places I went for information.  I read and re-read reading all of their "About Down syndrome" pages a gazillion times, trying to soak it all in.  I remember thinking that I had no idea how to speak correctly about Down syndrome, about my baby.  Oy! I had a lot to learn!

I know most of you already say these things correctly;  thank you for being respectful and sensitive and for using the preferred terms and language when you talk about my little lady and all of her Trisomy 21 brothers and sisters.
Here's the "Preferred Language Guide" from the National Down Syndrome Society's website:

Below is the proper use of language for “Down syndrome”:
• Down vs. Down’s - NDSS uses the preferred spelling, Down syndrome, rather than Down’s syndrome. While Down syndrome is listed in many dictionaries with both popular spellings (with or without an apostrophe s), the preferred usage in the United States is Down syndrome. This is because an “apostrophe s” connotes ownership or possession. Down syndrome is named for the English physician John Langdon Down, who characterized the condition, but did not have it. The AP Stylebook recommends using “Down syndrome,” as well.
 
• People with Down syndrome should always be referred to as people first. Instead of “a Down syndrome child,” it should be “a child with Down syndrome.” Also avoid “Down’s child” and describing the condition as “Down’s,” as in, “He has Down’s.”
 
• Down syndrome is a condition or a syndrome, not a disease.
 
• People “have” Down syndrome, they do not “suffer from” it and are not “afflicted by” it.
 
• While it is unfortunately clinically acceptable to say “mental retardation,” you should use the more socially acceptable “intellectual disability”. NDSS strongly condemns the use of the word "retarded" in any derogatory context. Using this word is hurtful and suggests that people with disabilities are not competent.

Earning the Goggles.

*FYI, this is a shameless brag-post.  Have a great day!

Not only were we meant for the beach, but since moving to The South, we are also meant for the pool.

Last summer, my poor, swimming-daily children thought they were being deprived because they only had noodles and kick-boards (Oh, the injustice of only having 2 pieces of swim gear!!)--and that they NEEDED goggles.  (Please note the sarcasm). 

I postponed that desire for the whole summer last year (I want them to learn how to swim without wearing anything extra--no goggles, no floaties, no nose plugs, etc.) but I knew I couldn't hold them off for one more complete summer.  

Being the hard-nosed mom that I am, I told them that if they wanted goggles, they had to earn them by jumping into the deep-end and swimming across all by themselves.  T-Man was doing this last year, no problem, so after quickly warming back up to the water after 9 months off, he earned his goggles on Swimming Lesson Day 2.

Front crawl



Back Float



Goggles Earned.

Fearless was another story.  Last year, he had a scary experience that involved him slipping into the deep end, some quick swimming by my SweatSister (who is also the best swim teacher on the planet), and a blessed escape from a watery end.

So this year, he was pretty leery of that deep water.  Not that I blame him.

We spent some time in the shallow water where he was a little fish--swimming, flipping, jumping in without hesitation.

But still, no goggles.

Until we reached Swimming Lesson Day 7.  My SweatSister had to rearrange the lessons a bit, and Fearless ended up having private lessons.  I guess that one-on-one time was just what he needed, because on that day, my little man made the jump, the swim, and earned the goggles.

You can't see his face really well here, but right before he jumped, he had that Eye-of-the-Tiger-conquer-or-bust look going on.

Almost there!!

Made it!!

He's pretty proud of those goggles, as he should be.  I must admit, at the beginning of the summer, I was worried he might not make it...but I shouldn't have doubted.

The kid really is fearless...or at least he conquers all his fears.  Which is probably better after all.

And Miss B?

This girl was made for the water. 



As soon as we get to the pool, she heads down the steps and makes herself comfortable.  She will jump in, standing up, from the side while only holding onto one of my hands, and she can swim, underwater, for about 4 feet--no goggles, no floaties, no kickboards, no noodles--just my little two-year-old Miss B.

Sorry, no pictures of her swimming because it's kind of hard to take pictures AND try to keep her from doing something drastic.  Because this chick has no issues with the deep end and is known to run like mad mosey on down there, climb down the ladder, and hang out with the big kids if I turn my head for a second.  I wouldn't be surprised if I'm writing a post about Miss B earning the goggles next summer. 

Pay Attention

I get frustrated with my kids for not listening when I tell them something or when I ask them to do something.  It's probably close to the top of my list of parent-pet-peeves.

Apparently, I still need to learn the lesson myself too though...as evidenced by this exchange.

T-Man: Mooommmm!  Fearless forgot to flush the toilet!

Me: (automatically) Fearless!  Go flush the toilet! (My part done, I checked out of the conversation and continued working on dinner)

T-Man: I flushed it for him.

Me: (not hearing T-Man, but noticing that Fearless had not moved) Fearless!  GO FLUSH THE TOILET!

T-Man: Mom, I already flushed it!

Me: (still not listening...and still no movement from Fearless) Fearless!  Go flush it now!

(Fearless runs to flush the toilet.)

T-Man: (bewildered) Why, Mom??  Does he just need to practice??

Me: (finally registering what T-Man had been trying to tell me and trying to recover quickly) Umm, yeah, practice.  Good idea.

Oops!  I guess I need to work on paying attention too!  Just another reminder that I still have lots of room for improvement!

Two Encounters

A few weeks ago, I had two encounters--a day apart from each other--that made me stop and think.

Encounter #1--I went by myself to a new fabric shop here in The Village for the first time.  The lady that runs the shop was extra chatty...and to make a long story short, she mentioned something about working on quilts when she spent a long time in the hospital while her informally-adopted son was sick with brain cancer and then he passed away.  I said something about knowing about hospitals because my daughter had had a congenital heart defect.  She then asked if that had stunted Miss B's growth.  And I told her that yes, she is little, but she has Down syndrome, so who knows if she is little from that or from the heart defect or the combination of the two?

As soon as I mentioned "Down syndrome" the lady, who had been pleasant (pushy, but pleasant) made a face...like the "I just smelled something really stinky" face.  Then she went on to say that she has "a r*tarded brother"--and she said "r*tarded" in the slang way, not the medical way--"who only has the brain function of a four year old...And how when he was born, the doctors didn't think he could live so they just left him in the incubator pushed to the side to die...but he didn't die...And how he rides horses and does the contests where they jump over fences and bushes and such...and how everyone says how great he is doing at it and what a wonderful rider he is...when really it's just a great horse and her brother can't really do anything..."

Every sentence was full of disgust and irritation and...embarrassment maybe?  I'm not entirely sure.  But not positive AT ALL.  She went from being chatty to venting...and then after she vented about her brother, she couldn't get rid of me fast enough.  It was eerie and unsettling and offensive...I mean really, didn't I just tell her my daughter has Down syndrome?  Did she expect me to wallow in her intolerance with her?  I know that life can be hard on siblings of kids with special needs--that is something I worry about with T-Man and Fearless--but I certainly hope that in our family, Miss B brings out more tolerance and patience and love in all of us...not bitterness. 

Which brings me to Encounter #2--I went to another fabric place--a furniture factory warehouse where you can get upholstery fabric for $4/yard and under (LOVE that place!).  As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a truck that had the same Down Syndrome Awareness specialty license plates that we have on our van.  I got excited because I VERY rarely see other people with Down syndrome...just a handful of times in the past two years...so I figured I'd have to walk in with my radar on ultra high, just so I wouldn't miss them.  As I was unloading Miss B and Fearless from the van, an older typical man walked out, alone, and headed to the truck.  I was disappointed that I still would not be seeing anyone with Ds, but either way I didn't want to pass on the opportunity to speak to someone else in The Club.

So I said hello and pointed out that we had the same specialty plates...and instantly, I went from strange-lady-in-the-parking-lot to a close friend.  The man had an 8-year-old granddaughter with Ds and he told me all about how she was just wonderful.  And he wanted to meet Miss B and hold her and talk about any health issues she'd had and tell me about his granddaughter's health issues and on and on.  He ooohed and aahhed over Miss B just like she was his own granddaughter. We stood there talking for 15 minutes in the hot, humid Southern summer...simply because we both loved someone with some extra genetic material.  When the conversation ended, I was on cloud nine.

I've been rolling these two encounters around in my brain...trying to figure out the difference in reactions.  What happened in the first lady's family that caused her to be so bitter?  What about the Grandpa made him so loving of not only his own granddaughter, but even toward my daughter--whom he had never even seen before?  Is it just different personalities?  What do I do to encourage T-Man and Fearless turn out more like the Grandpa and less like the fabric shop lady?  Why do some families embrace and encourage their family members with special needs while other families splinter because of it? 

I don't have any of the answers to those questions...but the stark contrast between the two encounters has deepened my resolve to do whatever I can to foster good relationships between my all of my children.  To teach them all to respect each other and support each other.  I know it can be done.

Oh, how I hope we are on the road to that place!

Brave Feet

This morning (and just about every Sunday morning), Dr. C had some early meetings at church, so I was in charge of getting all three kids ready for church and out the door by 8:30AM.  For some reason, this feat is next to impossible for me, despite the fact that I started at 6:30AM.  I think in the three months that I've been doing Sunday mornings on my own, we've made it there before church started maybe twice.  Not a great record.  I'm still trying though!

Anyway, this morning I was trying to hurry and I was scolding encouraging the boys to get their Sunday clothes on--a process that takes infinitely longer than putting on regular clothes.  I got them to a point where I thought they could handle the rest on their own, and headed to the kitchen to make our lunches.  (We live 25 minutes from the church, and church is 3 hours long, so by the time we get done at noon, the kids are starving!  So we eat lunch on the 25 minute drive home.  That way we all get to take Sunday afternoon naps--one of my favorite things!)

The boys were in the living room, slowly finishing up.  All of the sudden, Fearless started wailing about his socks being "too tickly" and that he couldn't wear them.  T-Man was blessedly finished getting dressed, so I asked him to help Fearless while I finished the lunches.  From the kitchen, I overheard this conversation:

T-Man: Here, put on your socks.
Fearless: (sobbing) It's tooooo TICKLY!!
T-Man: (patiently) Okay, which foot is your brave foot?
Fearless: (stops crying) Um, this one.
T-Man: Well, it's not being very brave right now.  It needs to wear the sock.
Fearless: Okay.

And then, silence--no crying, no whining, no complaining...just silence.  During which time, T-Man helped Fearless put on both socks, then the shoes, and even tied the laces for him.

Sure wish I had thought of that.

One fish, Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish

School has started and summer is ending.  Here in The South, the weather apparently hasn't gotten that memo and it is still wicked hot.   

So we continue to live at the pool.

 T-Man's swimming skills have drastically improved this summer.  He can now jump off the diving board and swim in the deep end to the ladder completely on his own. 

Here is one of my little fish doing his back float.

 Fearless will only jump off the diving board if I jump with him, so no pictures of that...but he does approach jumping in from the side with reckless abandon.

 Ahh, my little fish.

Miss B is learning how to be a fish too.

 But first, she has to practice her yoga poolside.  She does a great downward dog.

 She will jump into the pool from the side now and she even holds her breath before going under.  We are working on swimming short distances underwater.  And she loves it.

While we are on the subject of little fish, please meet the newest member of our family.

His name is TommyFish and he lives on our kitchen counter.

T-Man gave him to Fearless for his birthday.

I think T-Man is hoping he will get a blue one for his birthday.