Showing posts with label future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label future. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

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.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Welcome Back to the Pinball-Machine-Life

After our crazy year with Miss B's diagnosis, Dr. C's PhD, Miss B's birth, Open Heart surgery and then our move down here to a state I'd never even visited before...I was in desperate need of a soft place to land.  We had been living the pinball-machine life and I craved feeling like I was settled into Home

The South has taken me in, showed me some amazing hospitality, soothed my soul, and treated me like family.  And while The Village can't provide all of the things the city-girl in me misses; The Village has given me respite from the weariness I felt when we arrived.

So when Dr. C applied for a job back in the midwest back in August and asked me if I was ready to move again, I told him I'd think about it if he got an offer.

When he asked again after the phone interview back in September, I said I'd let him know when I saw the offer letter in his hand.

And then after they flew him up there for in in-person interview in October; and I felt like a little kid sticking her fingers in her ears--na-na-na-I'm-not-listening!

And then the offer letter came two weeks ago.

And I had to seriously think about moving. 

AGAIN.

Our sixth move in 9 1/2 years of marriage.

As we thought about it and prayed about it...I was conflicted.  We have been digging in here...we have our friends-that-are-family, Dr. C loves his job here, I was finally making progress on a Down syndrome group, Miss B is in the most wonderful preschool and has amazing therapists, T-Man and Fearless are excelling in school. 

Most of all, how could we walk away from the people and the place that took care of us when we needed it most? 

It is times like this...the times when you have a choice between good and good...that praying and receiving answers to your prayers is the only way to move forward with confidance.  I didn't know what we should do--Should we uproot our family again for the unknown?  Should we stay and make The South our permanent home? 

After much prayer, apparently God wants us bounce back into the pinball-machine-life and we have decided that our time in The South is coming to an end--Dr. C starts his new job in Des Moines, Iowa on Dec. 5th.

I know this is the right decision, but it is with a heavy heart that I have been getting our first home ready to sell...ready to be enjoyed for years to come by some other family.  And while I'm excited to live closer to my sisters...I will deeply miss all of my Southern family here.

Even though The Village and The South aren't going to be our lifetime-Home, I will always look back on these two and half years with gratitude for the wonderful people that have made my family part of their family; for the place that was a balm to my frayed nerves as I began our new journey having a child with special needs; for teaching me that slowing down is a good way of life; for giving us that soft place to land.

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Fall Travel Journal: The First Day

Dr. C and I are currently enjoying our vacation (for me) and vacation conference (for him).

Our first night, we left The Village at 9:30PM and didn't get to our hotel until 2:30AM.  When Dr. C was reserving our hotel for the midway-point of our drive, I told him my only requirement was that it needed to be nice enough that I could relax and sleep in it.

No such luck.

The non-smoking room smelled like it had been housing a chain-smoker for years.
The bathroom light/fan sounded like they had a hamster up there, running (and squeaking) it's guts out to make the blades go round.
The shower water smelled disgusting...I literally gagged a few times.  And then, randomly, it started smelling like a perm.  Not much of an improvement.
The toilet made the noise I would imagine a duck being strangled and drowned would sound like.
And let's just say I refused to walk around without my flip-flops on.

I'm beginning to think that the people that write online hotel reviews have a fundamentally different set of standards than I do.

We were too tired when we got in to find something else...and knowing we'd only be there for a few hours, we crashed, woke up 5 hours later, and got the heck outta Dodge.

After another 5 hours of driving (plus a detour in Houston--a city where you can apparently see where you want to go, but there is no way to get there without driving in circles on a zillion one-way streets first.), we arrived at Sea World in San Antonio.

Maybe it's because I'm a beach person, or maybe it's some lingering tween girl thing where you love everything dolphins (or horses or butterflies or whatever-girly-type-animal-you-can-think-of) but I absolutely loved Sea World.
Loved it so much, that I told Dr. C I need to add "marine biologist" to the list of degrees that I need to get.  "Marine Animal Trainer" is currently at the top of my Coolest-Jobs-On-The-Planet list.


And "Swimming With Dolphins" has been added to my bucket list.
I would even settle for "Swimming With Whales", if the dolphin thing didn't work out.  Either way, I'd be a happy, happy lady.
There is just something so graceful and powerful about the dolphins and whales...I could sit there and watch them all day.
Shamu waving goodbye. 
Although as far as I could tell, they call ALL of the killer whales Shamu.  So this could really be Shamu the Third or Baby Shamu or really Shamu's cousin.
Your guess is as good as mine.
It was Fab-U-Lous.

And then, when we checked into our hotel for the rest of the week, we were met with valet parking, a newly renovated room with a giant flat-screen, balcony view of the San Antonio Riverwalk,  granite counter tops, and a big comfy bed with a zillion down pillows that I easily relaxed in. 

Quite the difference from the night before!

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

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

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.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Half Birthday.

Six months ago today, Miss Banana turned two
  
At the time, I still thought of her as my baby--my little one.
But in the past six months, she has decisively grown out of babyhood and is solidly a toddler/preschooler.


Gone are the days of Mommy picking out her clothes.  Gone are the days of being able to keep her from climbing on the table.  Gone are the days of needing me for everything.


Once my girl discovered all the things she could do for herself, she decided she wanted to do them.  She is probably going to be just as stubborn and opinionated as her mother.

As a new parent of a child with Down syndrome, I worried about my child taking a long time to move to the next stage--all the questions about the timeline of the future swirled in my head; trying to stifle the joy to be found in the present...when will she crawl?  when will she walk?  when will she talk?  will she ever be able to do things for herself??

As I've watched Miss Banana grow and develop, I've found myself asking the "when will she ____?" questions a lot less and the "What's the big hurry?" question a lot more.

And I've discovered that there is no hurry.

Whether she reaches the next milestones quickly or stays behind...my little lady never fails to move on--she's constantly working, progressing, growing, becoming all she is meant to be.

While I miss my Miss Banana-baby, there is lots of joy in my little lady as she is now. 

Her future is bright; I'm so thankful that I get to be part of her life.

Miss Banana, I love you to the moon and back.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Partially Empty Nest

Whenever my kids reach a new milestone, I always start thinking about the related milestone that will happen later on.  Like when T-Man first took off riding his bike around the corner without me holding on or even being able to see him--I was proud as punch but my mind's eye flicked ahead to the first time he will pull the car out of the driveway, new license in hand, and drive away on his first solo adventure.  That little bike ride is a major step for him and is a preparation for the future for me.  We both grow a little in that moment.

Today was one of those days.  With Fearless starting Kindergarten and T-Man heading into 2nd Grade, we've reached a milestone.

As Dr. C drove them away this morning and Fearless stuck his head out the window with one last, "I love you, Mom!" My mind's eye flashed forward to years down the road when they would be heading off to college and a majority of what goes on in their lives will occur without me.

Miss B and I missed them almost instantly.  Miss B felt the need to make extra amounts of trouble (I'm assuming to try to fill in for her brothers while they were away) and the need to attach herself to my leg, hip, arm--whatever she could grab at the moment.   And, while it was nice to only have one munchkin to control at the grocery store, when we got back home for lunch and nap time, the house seemed eerily quiet.  Is  this what having an "Empty Nest" will be like?

 Even though my mind pushes me forward to prepare for that first-day-of-college moment, my heart is grateful for today; when, at 3:05, my little men and our carpool friend hopped into the van, their happy chatter filling and replacing any nervousness and sadness I had about them being gone.  Miss B was all smiles and the balance of life in our world was restored.
We all grew a little on this First-Day-of-School Happy/Sad Day.

P.S. Miss B starts preschool in a few weeks; then I will have a few hours to myself.  I wonder what that will be like?!?

P.P.S. I would guess that by next week, I will be relishing the time that I have to get things done while the kids are at school...and enjoying the time that I have with them as much as ever.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Graduation: Cue "End of an Era" Tears.

Ok, I'll admit it.


Since having kids, I've turned into a sentimental gusher.

(Whew, there. I said it.  Admittance is the first step on the road to recovery, right?)

Don't you love the flip-flops?? 
Wearing sandals just about all the time to just about every event is one of my favorite perks of living in The South!

It's predictable and cliche, but when my middle child, who is about to turn 5, got all dressed up in his cap and gown for preschool graduation, I busted out with the teary, "When did he get so big?" and "It goes by so fast!" statements that the pre-children version of myself would have found ridiculous.


Whoever came up with the graduation-clothing get up designed it with a some sort of psychological guarantee that mothers would cry when their children are wearing it.

 
And what end-of-an-era ceremony is complete without some Pomp & Circumstance?  I have a love/hate relationship with that inescapable graduation music that flashes me back to my own various graduations and at the same time, flashes me prematurely forward to my childrens' high school and college graduations.  It forces me to review the past and to see the future that I'm not ready for yet. 

Can't I just keep them little?!?

 (P.S. If I'm ever in charge of a graduation planning...they're all marching in to Darth Vader's music. And then, to help speed things up, Flight of the Bumblebee. Just sayin'.)

Despite my sentimentality, Fearless was quite the proud preschool graduate. 

His little sponge-brain has soaked in all it can from Miss Daisy's class, and he is ready for Kindergarten.

Congrats, my little love!

{cue tears}

Fearless with Miss Daisy

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Embark.

em-bark: \im-ˈbärk\    to make a start
I don't know why I ever plan my future because very little of my plans actually work out.  I'm pretty sure that when I was writing my "What I Want to Be When I Grow Up" essay in high school, I never once thought I'd be where I am now.

I'm pretty sure back then I just wanted to own a convertible, live on the beach, and be glamourously famous for something. So far, none of that plan has materialized.  Maybe someday.

Back in Mrs. Watson's 9th grade English class when I was writing those future-plans essays, I remember reading and re-reading a quote from Helen Keller posted on the bulletin board:
Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
Back then I thought that meant that I needed to:
1) Be a storm chaser or CIA agent
2) Travel the world
3) Go bungee jumping

I'm happy to say that my life full of daring adventures has involved crazy storms, but thankfully no espionage or jumping off of something tall while depending on a large rubberband to save my life. (I would like to have that "travel the world" part though!)

And I'm okay with that.  Because I'm embarking on a new adventure that might not be as heart-pounding, but is just as daring as jumping off that bridge with a bungee cord.

I'm starting a non-profit organization with some other parents here in The Village to support people with Down syndrome and their families.

That might not sound daring and adventurous to you, but to me...I feel like I'm stepping into the air and hoping that I bounce instead of slamming into the ground.  I already made some attempts at this a year ago and ran into brick wall after brick wall...but now it's time to push through and make something happen.  This time, I refuse to give up or be complacent with the way things are now.

I have no idea how long I will be on this adventure.  I have no idea how successful it will be.  I'm simply a mom who sees the need in this area and will do anything to make life better for her daughter and others that also have Ds.

Let the daring adventure begin.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Sometimes I Really Just Want to Play Ostrich

Wouldn't it be nice sometimes to stick your head in the sand and just be oblivious to whatever happens around you? 

Photo from http://www.ostrichheadinsand.com/ (Side Note--National Geographic says that ostriches putting their head in the sand is a myth, but for the point of this post, let's just say this picture--and the myth--is real)

I've been feeling that way a bit lately.

We went to the kindergarten open house for Fearless last night and picked up his kindergarten registration packet.  A few weeks ago, we went to a meeting put on by the nearest Down syndrome support group about Miss Banana making the transition from Early Intervention to the school system.  While both events were informative and beneficial, at some points I had to fight the urge to cover my ears with my hands and do the juvenile "la-la-la-I'm-not-listening!" chant.

Fearless starts kindergarten in August. 

Miss B's first transition meeting with the school is in four months.

My babies are growing up.



And with that--they have to go experience new things.  And some of those things strike fear in my heart.

Will Fearless pay attention?  Will his teacher quickly learn how to handle my little wildcard?  Will he make good friends and be a good friend?  Will he get good grades?  Will he be happy?

Will Miss B be able to communicate to me what happens at school?  Will the other kids be kind to her?  Will she get a good education?  Will I know when to compromise and when to take a stand?  Will she make friends and be a good friend?

All the questions just swirl around in my head along with the fear that we will get some scrapes and bruises along the way as we move forward.

The emotional part of me just wants my kids to stay little and at home and safe with me.  Part of me just wants to stick my head in the sand and ignore filling out those registration forms or taking classes on how to write a good IEP. 

At the same time, the logical side of me is bustin' its rear-end trying to learn all I can about the Special Education laws so that Miss B gets the best education possible.  And part of me is working with Fearless on sitting criss-cross-applesauce, saying the requisite "yes ma'am" and learning how to open his own cheese stick wrappers.

Change is coming.  And if I want the best for my children, I have to be a grown-up and prepare and meet the new challenges face-to-face.

(But it still would be nice to just play ostrich.)

Friday, January 14, 2011

There's still a long way to go...but will we get the chance to go there?

Becca, over at The Bates Motel, posted about this article:

A New Down Syndrome Test Could Cut Healthy Baby Deaths

Just reading the headline makes me feel sick.  Where's the test that's going to cut the deaths of children with Down syndrome?  Because right now, there is AT LEAST a 93% abortion rate for babies that are prenatally diagnosed with Down syndrome.  I've even seen some articles claim that the rate is really 98%.  THAT, my friends, is a statistic that needs to be changed.

Buried in page 3 of the article, is this gem of a quote:
"We are saving babies," said Chui. "And just because we know the results doesn't mean women have to terminate. We are saving women from losing normal children just because of a procedure."
Gee thanks, Chui.  So after 2 1/2 pages of talking about how all the "normal" children will be protected...you finally mention that just because you will now know that your child has Down syndrome, you don't have to terminate.  But obviously you don't really believe that because in THE VERY NEXT SENTENCE you again mention that really, this test is just to "save" "normal" children.  The implication being that if, by chance, a procedure caused someone to lose a child that did have Down syndrome, so be it.  Ugh.
I realize that not everyone views this topic the same way that I do.  And I'm not trying to start a debate on abortion.  I'm just fed up with the way that the media, with the help of lots of people in the medical field, portray having a child with Down syndrome.  Are any of those people parents to a child with Down syndrome?  Who are they to portray abortion of a child with Down syndrome as the best option??  I can tell you now, that I have NEVER once regretted my decision to continue my pregnancy with Miss B.  Not then, not now, not ever. 

She is beautiful and perfect and radiates joy and light. 

Do we have hard days?  YES.  Having a child with special needs is not always easy--it is a different journey than the one with only typical children.  But IT IS A WONDERFUL JOURNEY.  It is a path on which I am grateful to be walking.  I NEEDED her to help me see how much I was missing out on before.  My eyes have been opened to the beauty of the world in a way that I would have never experienced without my little Miss Banana. 

Why does our society not value my daughter as much as the "typical" kids?  At times, I feel like we are making headway in our culture and that my child will be accepted and loved and valued...but then articles like this come up and I realize just how much further we have to go.

If more children with Down syndrome are prenatally diagnosed and then aborted...will society ever get the chance to see their true worth? 

If we practice this type of genetic genocide, will our society forever miss out on the rare magic that comes with an extra 21st chromosome?

Sunday, September 12, 2010

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!

Monday, August 2, 2010

Is it enough?

This is the question that runs through my head every night as I try to fall asleep.

When do we know that we are doing enough for our children? 

With Miss B in particular...
Am I doing her "homework" with her enough? 
Did I talk to her enough today? 
Did I play with her enough to today? 
Did she get enough exercise time? 
Did I relax enough with her?
Did I sign with her enough?
Did I sing to her enough?
When is it enough?

And then there a zillion questions about T-Man and Fearless too...
Did they each get enough one-on-one attention?
Did I teach them enough today?
Did I play with them enough?
Did I laugh with them enough?
Did I say yes enough?
Did I say no enough?
Did they get enough exercise?
Did they get enough sleep?

In general, I think I'm adequate as a mom; but wouldn't it be fabulous to be more than "adequate"?  To be able to walk that thin line of teaching my kids independence and ingenuity and some plain ol' "Figure It Out" skills while at the same time being everything to them?  And not only just being able to walk that line...but to KNOW that I am walking that line so I wouldn't have to worry that I wasn't?  (Hopefully this is all making sense!)

Not that I wouldn't have worried about "enough" before with the boys, but with Miss B...there are just so many little things that if I don't do "enough" could have some seriously major ramifications later on. 

Take the pincer grip for example...for most kids it just happens...but for Miss B...we've been working on it and working on it...and breaking it down into so many smaller parts (who knew there was a inferior pincer grip?!? and a tip pincer grip?!?) and that she needs to learn each one well to lay the foundation for all of her fine motor skills--writing in particular--later on. 

So if I blow it off now, it could be years and years before my daughter will be able to legibly write her name. 

But then, maybe it will be years and years before she can write her name legibly anyways? 

Or maybe she'll bust out writing her name like a pro by age 4--with or without being able to pick up a Cheerio perfectly. 

Who knows???  I certainly don't.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Charity

This video made the tears flow.  Oh, how I hope and pray that there are charitable girls around when Miss Banana gets to this age!


Sunday, September 27, 2009

"i did it"


Jennifer of Three's a Charm came up with these "i did it" t-shirts. I was excited when ours arrived in the mail because I want everyone to know that Miss Banana can do it, has done it, will do it, and now she has the t-shirt to prove it!
Seriously though, in her short little life, she has already done a lot. She spent a week in the NICU, had open heart surgery and was out of the hospital a mere four days later, moved across the country, learned to roll from her tummy to her back, how to hold her head up, how to breastfeed (another post about that later), how to smile in a way that melts your heart and has figured out how to have everyone around her wrapped around her little finger.
There have already been things that people have told me (and Miss B) that she would never do and yet she did them. As I watch her work on her therapy "homework" I am amazed at the concentration and persistence she has while practicing a skill. You can see how hard she is thinking about what she wants to do and how to get her body to do it. I don't know if I'm just paying more attention to Miss Banana's development than I did with T-Man's or Fearless', but I don't remember them concentrating in the way that our little lady does. Maybe it's just because they didn't have to fight for each skill the way she does--or maybe I've just forgotten. Either way, it is a joy to watch her progress and learn and show her personality. Each milestone she reaches is a celebration--just the other day Miss Banana rolled from her back to her tummy for the first time (hasn't happened again since, but she's getting there!) and the way Dr. Corn and I were cheering, you would have thought she had just won the Superbowl. She is a fighter, a survivor, a champion, a blessing in our lives. Each moment with our little lady is cherished, enjoyed, and treasured because we know that whatever she wants to do she can do. In fact, she just did it.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

T-Man for President--On the Stump

I have SO SO much to post about--Fearless turned 3, our big move to the South, Miss Banana finally laughing, first day of preschool for Fearless and more, but those posts will have to wait for another day because it is getting late and T-man has his first day of kindergarten tomorrow and his school starts at 7:30AM (Who came up with that time?? We're usually not even out of bed by 7:30AM!!!) Anyway, I just wanted to quickly post this before I forgot it. You may remember that T-Man announced a few months ago that he wanted to be President. But because he is an almost-five-year-old, the idea was dropped after a few days with no recent discussion of the idea. Yesterday though, out of the blue, he offered some real solutions to the tough problems he has identified. And I quote: "To stop bull fighting, I will fly over the bull fighters in a helicopter and drop poison forks on them. Then, I will bring the bulls into the helicopter and give them lots of hay. Then, bulls everywhere will be safe!"

Seriously, I don't think I could make this up if I tried!

Monday, June 1, 2009

T-Man for President

Today T-Man announced that he wants to run for President when he grows up. His platform? "To stop bull fighting and hunting." Hmm...he might run into a problem with the NRA...maybe he should be running for president of PETA instead of POTUS.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Possiblities

Someone shared this story with me--while I'm not a fabulous writer myself (especially about anything personal!) I really appreciate when people write in a way and about a subject that inspires me to think deeper, learn more, work harder, be better. While I promise not all of my posts will be about Down syndrome, I hope that as I share some of the things that I learn, we can all rid ourselves of confining stereotypes and create a world full of possiblities and learn to view the people around us by their divine nature and potential.

_________________________________________________
A Story about My Two Daughters
How to Live in the World of Possibility
By Candee Basford
My first daughter was diagnosed with Down syndrome soon after she was born. Her language is delayed. Her abstract thinking abilities impaired. She is easily distracted and sometimes refuses to follow or listen to directions. She has some autistic-like tendencies. She has a bilateral hearing loss. Hearing aides have been recommended but she refuses to wear them. She has an uncorrected vision of 20/200 and a corrected vision of 20/60 at a distance. She is highly farsighted with nystagmus. She can be extremely stubborn and sometimes makes inappropriate comments. She can perform some functional tasks but has trouble with basic tasks like counting money and making change. She can follow simple cooking instructions. She can make her bed.

My second daughter is a sophomore in college. She is majoring in science. She loves anatomy and physiology, biology and anything connected to science. She loves to read but because of a vision loss she needs to take frequent breaks. She has a hearing loss so it helps if she can see the speaker and keep background noise to a minimum. Recently, she has become very interested in sketching portraits. Because of this new interest she is taking a course in advanced drawing. She is popular – the life of the party. She loves to flirt – in fact, her senior class in high school voted her most flirtatious. She has many friends. She has the ability to make other people feel welcome and loved. She is persistent, loves having fun and has a great personality. She loves to dance, travel and write to and receive letters from friends. She dreams of starting her own rock band.

The story of my two daughters illustrates the power of our words and our perspectives. It illustrates the power of the scientific processes and the labels we continue to use to diagnose, predict and sort people.

How? Both stories are about the same person, my daughter. The stories “differ in the way they are constructed – in their purpose – in their consequences – and in the assumptions they shape.” (O’Brien & Mount)

The story about my "first daughter” was constructed from exact words and phrases found on my daughter's school and employment related documents, written in the language of professionals, educators, psychologists and job specialists. It tells what she can’t do, won’t do and why. In this story, she is in need of repair, and thus in need of lots of professionals to fix her. The purpose of this story, in part, is compliance with federal and state regulations. The first consequence is that we (and the rest of society) accept the story as true and begin to adopt the language and beliefs and practices. Once that happens, the sad consequence is segregation, a client’s life, a planned life surrounded by professionals. The assumption in the story about my first daughter is that she is needy, broken, difficult and – most important – that her life should be safe and predictable surrounded by the service system.

The story about my “second” daughter was constructed from love, experience and by paying attention to gifts. It is told from the perspective that my daughter has immeasurable capacity once she has a valued and connected life in her community. The story about my second daughter is shaped (and lived) from a capacity perspective. This story is told in “context” of a life connected to others, a life that unfolds in exciting and unexpected ways precisely because of the many relationships she has. The consequences of this story are community and risk taking and surprises. The consequence is citizenship. The assumption in the story about my second daughter is that she is person who has capacity, interests, gifts, and contributions especially when her life unfolds in the presence of and participation in community.

The story of my two daughters represents two different worlds – the world of measurement and the world of possibility. Often, as my daughter grew up, I felt the overwhelming gravity of the world of measurement, pulling her toward specialized services and segregation with the promise of safety, and simplicity, and repair. In the world of measurement you get to know others by measuring and comparing. But it is the world of possibility that I find most powerful and promising.

The story about my second daughter is the story of possibility. It is the NEW story that we must learn to tell. It is the story told (and lived) from a capacity perspective, from a community perspective. We can learn to tell this NEW story by first examining our own perceptions and advocacy efforts. We can learn to tell the NEW story by listening, seeing, asking, discovering and taking action in the direction of gifts and capacities. We can learn to LIVE the NEW story by supporting rich relationships and taking actions that lead to more inclusive opportunities in our schools and in our communities, for it is these rich inclusive and ordinary experiences that will yield the context necessary to live in the world of possibility.

Copywrite 2006, Candee Basford
*Candee Basford is an author, artist, facilitator and independent consultant. She is president of Ohio TASH and active in capacity building approaches. She holds a Masters degree in adult education. Learn more about her and her daughter Katie here.
**An article by John O’Brien and Beth Mount inspired this essay. It is titled “Telling New Stories, The Search for Capacity Among People with Severe Disabilities” .
***For more on how to live in possibility read “The Art of Possibility” by Zander and Zander.

Friday, April 4, 2008

The future plans of a three year old

T-Man recently has been really interested in the things that he will do when he grows up. It's pretty cute to hear the things that he wants to do; here are just a few of them (all of these he has come up with on his own, with no coaching from his parents):
  • Run in "a big race" (aka, marathon) with Daddy
  • Play basketball for BYU
  • Go on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
  • Work in Nebraska's Capitol building (T-Man has also decided that Fearless will work there too)
  • Drive firetrucks and police cars
  • Sing in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
  • Ride his bike to work everyday (like Daddy)
  • Fly to Barbados in a jet plane with Fearless as the pilot and T-Man as the passenger (no insights as to what they will DO when they get there, they just need to fly there.)
The funny thing is that none of them are necessarily mutually exclusive, it is possible that he could do it all...he will just be very busy!
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