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!!

Spring/Easter/Birthday Mash-up. Or: Miss Banana Turns Three

In our family, birthdays and holidays seem to come together.  My birthday is New Year's Day.  T-Man's birthday is right around Labor Day.  Fearless was born right between the 4th of July and Pioneer Day. You might think that Dr. C didn't get he birthday/holiday memo, because he was born at the beginning of August, but it turns out his birthday is on National Lighthouse Day.  AND, lately, his birthday has fallen on the back-to-school sales-tax holiday, which might even be a better than National Lighthouse Day, don't you think? 

Maybe he got the memo after all.

And then there's Miss Banana, whose birthday is today, two days before Easter. 

Of all the birthday/holiday combos we have in our family; I think Miss B's is the most significant.  Her birthday is nestled in the midst of the Spring & Easter themes of everything new, fresh, clean, beautiful, growing, and reaching for more.  From watching the grass turn green, to the flowers that start to bloom, to the new baby birds chirping in the nest of a nearby tree, to thinking about our Savior, Jesus Christ, overcoming all and living again; Spring and Easter, to me, are about new life.  This time of year signifies the possibilities that we have inside of us if we let the sunshine in and allow ourselves to grow and become more than what we were before.

To me, Miss Banana being born during the time when the world was going through the Springtime renewal was not a coincidence.  During the dark, cold winter months when we received Miss B's diagnosis, I felt like life was against me.  The snow dumped down, the wind blew constantly, and my heart was devastated.

And then the ice began to melt and acceptance grew.  The daffodils in my front yard started to bloom.  The sun began to shine. And my little lady, with her wisdom and strength, was born. 

A new life. 

A perfect, beautiful, new life.

 

Having her join our family was like pulling back all the curtains, opening the windows and letting the sunshine and fresh air pour in.  It was like a big dose of spring cleaning in my heart.  The bleakness of winter was gone; the despair of the unknown replaced with hope and joy. 

 Life with Miss Banana has opened my eyes and allowed me to see more beauty in the world than I had known existed.  Because of her, I've grown, I've stretched, I've become something more than I ever was before.  Dr. C and I will often divide our life into two time periods: "Before Miss B" and "After Miss B".  Because having her in our family changed us forever. 

It was the beginning of a New Life.

 I thank my Heavenly Father for sending her to our family.  I am grateful for the Savior's example of overcoming all and for the Atonement of Jesus Christ that allows me to repent and be renewed.  I am eternally thankful that I have my little Miss B to teach me and help me grow.  I cherish this Spring/Easter/Birthday time and how it reminds me to celebrate the joy of Life.

 

Happy Birthday, my little lovey, I love you to the moon and back.

Medical Adventures with Miss Banana: Trust My Instincts

I would think that by now I would be one of those bad-arse mothers that could tell lousy doctors where to go, but alas, I am not.

I'm getting better, but sometimes I still find myself deferring to some M.D.'s opinion when really, I should just trust my own instincts.

Over the past week, I got that lesson in yet another Medical Adventure with my little Miss B.

On March 23rd, Miss B fell down a step?  off a chair and down a step??  and hurt her foot.  No one is quite sure what happened.  My sister was watching my kids for the weekend and because nothing seemed swollen or bruised, we just let Miss B keep doing her thang.  The next night when Dr. C and I went to pick up the kids, Miss B still wouldn't put a lot of weight on her right foot, but still no swelling or bruising anywhere.

Sunday morning, I became more concerned because she didn't want to walk on it.  I took her into Urgent Care, where the doctor looked at her for 3 seconds and proclaimed that she had simply "overstretched the tendons" and that x-rays were completely unnecessary.  I explained to him that Miss B had a very high pain threshold, and wouldn't it be better to x-ray it just to be sure? 

"No.  Just give her a few days and she'll be fine."

I left the office feeling a bit unsettled and questioning my judgement--was I just being overanxious?

By Tuesday, Miss B was STILL complaining that it hurt and would only walk on the outside of her foot.  So I took her into the pediatrician (LOVE her!) who immediately said we needed to x-ray. 

Ten minutes later, a definitive. 

Miss B's first metatarsal was fractured.

Um, would have been nice to know that on Sunday.  Let's just say I'll never go back to THAT urgent care.

Our pediatrician set up an appointment with a pediatric orthopedic specialist, the soonest we could get in was Thursday morning at 7:45--before school and while Dr. C was traveling--which meant I had to take all three kiddos with me. 

Yay.

After trying to corral all three of them in a tiny room ("Stay out of the red trashcan!!  See that "bio hazard" sign?!  It means it's not safe!"  and "No, you may not jump from the bed to the spin-y stool, you will break your arm!")  I was already a bit frazzled.  The doctor came in and was no help.

His first statement to me was that Miss B's SureStep SMO's (which I think have done wonders for her ankle stability) were pointless and that the only reason to have them was to make me feel better and so that some brace company got money. 

Uh-huh.

Hey doc, I've lost all respect for you already, and we haven't even talked about why we're here.  This probably isn't going to be a good visit.  Just sayin'.

He then went on to tell me that, "there was no point in casting Miss B's foot because she is going to have problems anyway."  and "it would take four people to hold her down to get the cast on, so it's not really worth it" and "it's already been broken for a week and she's gotten around fine, let's just give it a few more weeks and see what happens."

The way he presented it to me, it sounded like he didn't want to cast her foot simply because it would be inconvenient.  To me, that is unacceptable.

So I went home, wondering what the h*** was wrong with doctors this week, called the pediatrician and got a referral to another pediatric ortho specialist the next day.

After having a day to get over my irritation at the first guy, I was much calmer by the time we got to that appointment.  And the 2nd doctor actually listened to me.  (Hooray!!)  He agreed that her foot did not need a cast, but thankfully he explained his opinion by describing why it was not medically necessary and how it could even be harmful to her. 

AND he said he was happy to see her in her SMOs.

And so I chalk this whole much-ado-about-little experience as another trust-my-gut lesson learned.  If I think that something is wrong with my daughter, I need to trust that feeling and not let a doctor blow me off. And if I don't get answers that make sense, I have to push to get real answers from a different doctor. 

It's up to me to make sure Miss B is being taken care of by the medical community the way she needs.

Lesson learned.

And, just because having a broken foot seems to have not slowed my little lady down much, I leave you with some pictures of her--loving life as always.

Spread the Word, End the Word

It is no secret that I love my little lady to the moon and back.

 She makes the world a little brighter, a little better, a little simpler whenever she smiles.

She makes  me laugh, she makes me think, she keeps me young and she ages me prematurely.



Her clinical diagnosis includes "mental retardation" but this girl is not a "retard".  She is smart and funny and full of life and joy.

And when you use the r-word to describe anything you don't like or when you think something is stupid or ridiculous, you are making fun of my little girl. 

When you use the word(s) "retard(ed)" you are being disrespectful to her journey in life; mocking her fight to make her life a daring adventure.

My little lady works harder, loves easier, and smiles brighter than anyone else I know.  She deserves respect.

So stop using the r-word.

TODAY.

RIGHT NOW.

Take the pledge to end the use of the r-word and spread the word that using the r-word is hurtful to people with intellectual disabilities.

Forward.

Since my last post, I have been overwhelmed with all of your love and support.  I feel so blessed to associate with so many selfless, thoughtful friends and family that rally around us whenever we need it.  I am humbled and inspired by your examples of service and generosity.  From the bottom of my heart, Thank You. 

To me, the likely possibility of Miss B having leukemia, was like getting hit in the head with the Life-Is-Hard stick.  And it hurt!  Bad!

But as I've had the past week to move forward, I have come to the conclusion that Miss B either has leukemia, or she does  not.  Only God knows what is in store for her.

And while I will pray constantly that Miss B will be healthy; I am determined that the fear of future possibilities will not paralyze me in the present.  I will push forward with faith, trusting God that all will turn out for the best.

As Helen Keller said, "Life is either a daring adventure, or it is nothing." In our house, life being "nothing" is not an option.  I refuse to allow us to dwell and fixate on the storm clouds that could be brewing, instead of enjoying the sunshine of the moment.

Our lives will be a daring adventure.

Leukemia or not.

Medical Adventures with Miss Banana: Leukemia?

I have received two phone calls in my life that are so deeply impressed in my brain that I will never forget them.  The first came when we received the news that Miss B might have Down syndrome. 

The second came on Monday.

Last week, I took Miss Banana into the new Dr. Kids--a lovely, open woman who I think is a good fit for us--to do the physical exam required by Miss B's new preschool.  Because of insurance rules, Dr. Kids decided to do Miss B's 3-year CBC (complete blood count) check that day.

Other than feeling guilty about holding Miss B down while strangers came and poked her and took her blood, I didn't think much about it.

And then Dr. Kids called Monday afternoon.

Monday was a lovely day here in the Midwest...60+ degrees, sunny, light breeze...absolutely pleasant.  I needed that.

The kids and I had been playing outside, enjoying the fabulous weather; I ran in to check the time and saw that I had a message.

"Carrie--we got Miss B's CBC results back, and I showed them to the hematologist.  Will you call me when you get this?"

As a parent of a child with Down syndrome, I knew what this type of phone call could mean.  And it's not good.

I braced myself and called her back.

She chatted pleasantly for a bit (Why do doctors DO that??! We both know we wouldn't be chatting under normal circumstances;  just rip off the band-aid and get it over with!), then came the real reason for the call.

Dr. Kids: Do you know why we routinely check the CBC of kids with Down syndrome?
Me: Yes.  Leukemia.
Dr. Kids: I got Miss B's CBC back, and her lymphocyte numbers are a little wonky. (Yes, she did use the word "wonky".  That's why she gets paid the big bucks.)  I showed the results to the hematologist who said there is no reason to worry now (!!!!!), but we need to keep a closer eye on it and we will check it again in 6 months.

I then asked a few questions, she gave a few answers and ended with:  You don't need to worry; I'm not staying awake at night worrying about Miss B.  I thanked her politely, ended the conversation.
And then...

Emotional panic!!

That phone call might as well have been a python squeezing the air out of me; suffocating me with the weight of horrible possibilities.

Breathe.

Breathe.

OF COURSE I'm going to worry about this!!  How could I not?!?  I already  worried about Miss B getting the L-word; the idea kept me awake at night even when her CBCs came back fine.

And now?  I have six months to prepare myself for my baby having cancer. 

Six months of wondering if my little love's cells are killing her from the inside out.

I hope and pray that it is nothing.  Just a blip on Miss B's long list of medical adventures.

PLEASE! Let it be nothing!

Breathe.

Just breathe.

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.

The Third Year.

Three years ago yesterday, I got a phone call that would change our lives forever.  Three years ago yesterday, we got the results back from my quad screen test that indicated our little lady had Down syndrome.  A few weeks later, amniocentesis results in hand, the quad screen test results were confirmed.

Since then, October has become a "reflection" month for me.  A time to look back and evaluate how our lives have changed since that phone call.  A time of introspection.

On the day we found out, I felt devastated...and that word doesn't even begin to describe it.

A year later, I felt like I was on the offense--I joined several different Down syndrome advocacy groups and felt the fire to rid the world of the injustice toward people with Down syndrome.  When people would make comments about Miss B or about Down syndrome, I immediately became a mother bear, protecting my little one.

By year two, I was exhausted of being in constant "Down syndrome" mode.  And so I stepped back, and simply enjoyed my daughter and the blessing that she is...We didn't do all of the therapy-homework we were supposed to do.  I didn't read every news article about Down syndrome that came out.  I didn't talk about Down syndrome constantly.  We all just went about our daily lives.

And now, at year three--I am trying to find the balance of the two--being mother bear for people with Down syndrome when necessary, but living life just like any other family would.  As I've tried to find that balance--to walk the line of "same as everybody else, just different than most"--I have struggled.  How do I make a positive change in the world for people with Down syndrome without it consuming my life? 

The push to make the world a better place for my little Miss B has driven me to start a Down syndrome group here in The Village and surrounding towns.  As the President of this new group, I feel enthusiastic and optimistic that we can make a difference.  And I'm excited that, in our little corner of the world, I am promoting inclusion and acceptance of my little lady.  However, despite my enthusiasm, I worry about my life becoming engulfed by all things Down syndrome.  While I want Miss B to have every opportunity to have the good life; I think that part of having "the good life" means that we shouldn't always live in "special needs land" and that we need to be a family first--a regular ol' family--and a "family touched by Down syndrome" second.

At the same time, I have guilt that I haven't done enough for Miss B.  Like the other day when a friend used the R-word and I just let it go without saying anything...I felt like I was letting Miss B down.  Or when I read about all of the different therapies and reading programs and equipment and toys and foods and vitamins and experiences that are recommended for people with Down syndrome--and I know that we are only doing a small fraction of what we could be doing--I lay awake at night worrying that we are failing her.

And so three years later, I have come to the conclusion that there will always be struggles in life--things that make you worry and times when you have to push forward or pull back--and that is okay.  And I've realized that I feel so blessed to have these struggles.  I feel infinitely grateful for the growth and change and learning that takes place as we find our footing on this path in life.  I feel blessed to wake up each morning to my thoughtful husband and three beautiful children.  I feel grateful for the change that Down syndrome has brought into our lives.

And while we don't have it all figured out yet...there is no hurry, we will get there someday.

While our life is not perfect...it is good.

My Favorite Spot Is Down At The Park.

Miss B loves to watch SigningTime!  One of her favorite episodes is "My Neighborhood"...she knows all of the signs and her hands go a mile a minute when I tell her about the errands we have to run.

But when the song "Down At the Park" comes on...Miss B runs and grabs her shoes and signs "swing" and "slide" over and over again.

And then when we head to the park, the lyrics are constantly running through my head:

 (song from SigningTime! with Rachel Coleman)

My favorite spot

Is down at the park

So down to the park we go

Skate with a friend

Picnic with them

There's so much to do

Down at the park

My favorite spot

Is down at the park

So down to the park we go

Fly a new kite

Practice your bike

There's so much to do

Down at the park

Swing high, swing low

Slide fast, slide slow

Climb up, climb down

The park's my favorite place to run around

My favorite spot

Is down at the park

So down to the park we go

Play catch with a ball

Collect leaves that fall

There's so much to do

Down at the park

Swing high, swing low

Slide fast, slide slow

Climb up, climb down

The park's my favorite place to run around

My favorite spot

Is down at the park

So down to the park we go

Dig deep in the sand

Shake off your hands

There's so much to do

There's so much to see

There's so much to hear

There's so much to be

There's so much to play

Every day

There's so much for me

Down at the park

Down at the park

Down at the park

Down at the park!

Genetics Lesson.

In honor of Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I thought I'd share a little genetics lesson.

From the National Down Syndrome Society:

In every cell in the human body there is a nucleus, where genetic material is stored in genes. Genes carry the codes responsible for all of our inherited traits and are grouped along rod-like structures called chromosomes. Normally, the nucleus of each cell contains 23 pairs of chromosomes, half of which are inherited from each parent.

Down syndrome is usually caused by an error in cell division called "nondisjunction." Nondisjunction results in an embryo with three copies of chromosome 21 instead of the usual two. Prior to or at conception, a pair of 21st chromosomes in either the sperm or the egg fails to separate. As the embryo develops, the extra chromosome is replicated in every cell of the body. This type of Down syndrome, which accounts for 95% of cases, is called Trisomy 21.  

(Nondisjunction is what happened in Miss Banana.  I'd also like to emphasize the point that Miss Banana's extra genetic material comes from either Dr. C or myself...it's not an alien chromosome that came out of nowhere.  Miss B simply got an additional copy of either Dr. C or I's genetic makeup, not a separate "Down syndrome chromosome".  It is the fact that she has that extra genetic material that causes her to have Down syndrome. 

As an example...it's like she got two doses of my stubbornness and one dose of Dr. C's stubbornness...NOT one dose of my stubbornness, one dose of Dr. C's stubbornness and one dose of Down syndrome stubbornness.  Hope that makes sense! 

P.S. We don't know if it was me or Dr. C that gave her the extra chromosome.  And it doesn't matter.)

The two other types of Down syndrome are called mosaicism and translocation. Mosaicism occurs when nondisjunction of chromosome 21 takes place in one-but not all-of the initial cell divisions after fertilization. When this occurs, there is a mixture of two types of cells, some containing the usual 46 chromosomes and others containing 47. Those cells with 47 chromosomes contain an extra chromosome 21. Mosaicism accounts for about 1% of all cases of Down syndrome. Research has indicated that individuals with mosaic Down syndrome may have fewer characteristics of Down syndrome than those with other types of Down syndrome. However, broad generalizations are not possible due to the wide range of abilities people with Down syndrome possess.

Translocation accounts for about 4% of all cases of Down syndrome. In translocation, part of chromosome 21 breaks off during cell division and attaches to another chromosome, typically chromosome 14. While the total number of chromosomes in the cells remain 46, the presence of an extra part of chromosome 21 causes the characteristics of Down syndrome.

And now we come to the end of our little genetics lesson. 
 
Feel free to ask questions if you have any!

Sometimes, Kids Know Best.

Here's the Update from Miss B's big-girl bed transition.

Fearless is very protective of Miss B.  While he isn't always extra-careful with her himself, when other people are around, he is her personal bodyguard.  And if Miss B runs in the street (which is one of her fave things to do) Fearless is the first one to chase after her.  He looks after her, shares his snacks, helps her open marker lids so they can have a color-your-arms-purple party, gets her toothbrush ready at night, likes to help pick out her clothes and hairbows for the day, and always picks up an extra sticker/prize/treat for her when he gets one.  In short, he spoils her.  Don't get me wrong...they fight, just like all brothers and sisters do; but it's easy to tell Fearless has a special place in his heart for Miss B. 

(T-Man does too, but that's for a different day.)

Ok, with that background, let's go back to the bed-transition update.  Miss B has a twin bed; I put it in the corner and then put rails down the whole long side so that she wouldn't fall out.  The only open spot to possibly fall out of is the end of the bed.  And after doing the same set-up with both boys without having any problems, I was confident it would work.

Fearless knew better.

Fearless: Mom, we should put a rail at the end of the bed too.
Me: I don't think so, she would have to move around the bed A LOT to fall out all the way down there.
Fearless: But Mooooom, she could get hurt!
Me: You and T-Man never fell out the end.
Fearless: Let's get another rail.
Me (exasperated and thinking I know best and tired of the battle): Maybe next time I go to the store.
Fearless (unconvinced): um, okay.

I put Miss B to bed that night, and she was easy-peasy.  Didn't make a sound, didn't get out once, didn't cry...just went right to sleep, no problem.

At 1:34AM, I woke up to her screaming bloody murder.  In a sleepy-panicked-rush, I booked it to her new bed, only to find it empty.  With my panic level rising, I checked the end of the bed.

My poor little lady had fallen out the end, right into her empty laundry basket.  Just like Fearless had said would happen.

I would be screaming bloody murder too if I had been happily dreaming and all the sudden found myself falling into a laundry basket, wouldn't you??

Ack! What a bad-mommy moment! If I had just listened to Fearless, there wouldn't have been a problem.


Thankfully she was unhurt, just scared out of her wits.  Not that I blame her.

Back into the crib she went.

We won't be putting her in her big bed until we get another rail.

I really should have listened to Fearless.

Five Queens.

Every parent looks forward to the future of their child and has hopes and dreams for them.  All mothers want their children to be loved, successful, happy, well liked, and just an all around "good kid". 

And then we have those little "extra" dreams for them...the ones that we know aren't really important but things that we would like to see our children do.  Like not only wanting little Timmy to play football...but secretly, wanting him to be captain of the team, to score the winning touchdown, to hold the school state national record for number of yards thrown. 

We all know these kinds of dreams for our children are silly...that they don't really matter...but I can't think of a single parent that doesn't have them.

I have one of those dreams for Miss Banana.  Not only do I want her to be included in her classroom, but secretly? I want her to be popular.  I want her to have friends, boyfriends, be on the cheerleading squad, sit at the "cool" table at lunch. 

And I don't want her to be cool because she has Down syndrome, I want her to be cool just because Miss Banana is cool, extra chromosome or not. Is that expecting too much?


Is this little dream shallow of me?  Perhaps. 

But it's there.

When Miss Banana was first born, I thought there was no way that little extra-dream of mine would come true.  But after seeing Miss B rock the tests in the interpersonal relationships catagory; it's come back.  And just in the past week or so, there have been girls sporting an extra chromosome that are living that extra-dream. 

Here is Katelyn Simpson, Homecoming Queen for Northwest Rankin High School (Mississippi).

Photo taken by  Kevin Williams
Special to The Clarion-Ledger

And Emily Niedrich, Homecoming Queen for Birch Run High School (Michigan)

Photo taken by Brittney Lohmiller
The Saginaw News

And Sydney Blum, Tarkington High School (Texas).

 
And (the reaction at the end of this video is AWESOME), Mariah Slick from Azele High School (Texas)

 
Or read about Madi Sanju of Desert Hills High (Utah).  The cool thing about her story?  Her sister, also with Down syndrome, was the Homecoming Queen in 2010.
I hope that by the time Miss B gets to high school, these stories are commonplace. 
 
And that my little extra dream isn't so far-fetched after all.

10 Reasons.

If you haven't ever been to a Buddy Walk--you are seriously missing out.  The annual Buddy Walk is one of our favorite family days of the year.  They really are awesome.

Here are my 10 Reasons Buddy Walks are the best.

10.  The T-shirt.  While usually they are pretty cool and Dr. C and I wear them throughout the year with pride, this year, I think they were going more for the "get noticed" factor.  And they definitely got that right.  Dr. C and I decided that we will wear these shirts again when:

a) We decide to go for a nighttime run and all of our other clothes are missing

b) We become hunters and don't want to buy the orange vest

c) We find out someone is taking pictures from space and we want to make sure they can see us.

They did make us easy to find each other when we did a little post-Walk visit to Target.  And we easily spotted some other people that had been at the Walk too. 

9. There are plenty activities for everyone.  This year they did a carnival type thing.  The kids got to play the games as much as they wanted.  Heck, I could have played the games as much as I wanted.  Everyone is encouraged to participate however they want to.

8. All the money raised helps people with Down syndrome.  It funds scholarships for summer enrichment programs, educational seminars, family events, and more. 

 7. When a 20-something woman hops on the horse ride and yells YEEEE-HAAAWW at the top of her lungs in true wild-west style while moving at about .3 miles an hour...everyone thinks it's awesome. That cowgirl was living the moment to the fullest. 

Most of us could learn a lesson from her.

  

6. You could talk about Down syndrome the whole time...or you could not talk about it at all...and both options are completely acceptable and understood.  Our first year, I think we talked about it the whole time.  This year, I don't think it came up in conversation once.

5. When you speak in funky acronyms (AVSD, OT, ST, PT, IFSP, IEP, etc.) everyone knows what you are talking about.

4. No one is too cool, too old, or too self-conscious to have a good time. 

3. It's completely appropriate to hug everyone you meet.

2. The entertainers stay long past their original quitting time, just to make sure no one is disappointed.  

1. In a sea of 300+ individuals whose lives are somehow touched by Down syndrome, we all become "typical".  We bond together, support each other, and we celebrate the blessings that we have been given.

There are still Buddy Walks going on across the country.  To find one happening in your area, search here.

YEEE-HAAAAWWWW!!