Belated Thanksgiving

It has been quite a week or so here at the zoo. While many of the events over the last 7-10 days are not what I would have planned, I truly am thankful in so many ways. Let me explain...

• I am thankful that Lamb only missed two days of school since she was sick on a holiday week, even though she ran a fever of 101 or higher (up to 103.8) for 7 days straight.
• I am thankful that we got to spend a quiet Thanksgiving together as a family of five, even though it meant missing Thanksgiving with my parents, my brothers and their families, and the rest of my side.
• I am thankful for my mom, who set aside portions of the entire Thanksgiving meal, so that my family could enjoy a Thanksgiving feast despite the fact that we had to stay home and miss the festivities.
• I am thankful for my husband, who picked up our Thanksgiving dinner from my parents' house and who took time off  of work to help me with sick kiddos--and helped when I got sick, too.
• I am thankful for a great team in my moms' group, who stepped in at the last minute and handled our meeting this week, when I couldn't come (again) because of a sick kiddo (again).
• I am thankful for modern medicine, on which my family has relied heavily this week. Lamb, Roo, and I have all been in for appointments, and my dad was in the hospital earlier this week too.
• I am thankful for my friends, those who have been listening to me vent about germs and who have helped me work through some of the other issues and decisions I'm facing right now.
• And more than anything, this week I am THANKFUL to have my dad with us, after he suffered a heart attack on Monday afternoon. I am incredibly thankful that it was minor, that he had the surgery he needed to have, and that he is home and taking it easy (supposedly). And I am hopeful to have him around for many Thanksgivings to come.

Happy (belated) Thankgiving. We are so incredibly blessed--sometimes we just don't realize how much so until we are challenaged a bit.

STOP THE PRESSES!

I have started and restarted this post at least 20 times now. I am literally tongue-tied. There is no way to get all creative and witty and... bloggy with this post, so I'm just going to say it...

ROO STOOD UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM AND WALKED TONIGHT!

What?!? I was sitting right there watching him, and I still can't quite make sense of what I saw!

After being a grump the entire day, I gave Roo an early bath with the intention of then getting him to bed early. But then I had to wait for Monkey to change and brush his teeth and all that, since the boys share a room; and while I was waiting, Roo got hit with a major surge of energy. He started hopping and spinning and laughing and... just plain being wild.

And he started hopping FAST, like he was a charging (hopping) bull and just suddenly started crawling on his feet and hands, and then just stood up (while still moving) and WALKED ACROSS THE ROOM! And these were not slow, uncertain, toddling steps. He was practically running--but he was totally in control. It was AMAZING!

A.MAZ.ING.

And then as quickly as he started, he stopped. He dropped back to his knees, laughing the entire time. And for the rest of the night, every time I tried to get him on his feet, he'd go completely limp.

Have I mentioned that he is, without a doubt, my most strong-willed child?

But I just can't get over those steps, that scene. He WALKED. For real.

This just furthers my belief, friends, that he is capable of doing so many things, but is too darn stubborn to give in and do them.

Have I mentioned that my baby boy WALKED tonight?

Halloween Fun, and not so fun...

If you "like" me on Facebook (and again I will ask, "If not, why not?"), you know that I was less than enthused about going trick-or-treating with my kids on Friday. Why?, you ask. Well, let me tell you what our Halloween experience has been this year...

First, there was the issue of Roo's costume. The child refuses to wear anything on his head. He is also stroller-bound while we're out trolling for candy, so I wanted something that wasn't going to be too bulky. A friend suggested that I just turn his stroller into a bulldozer and let him be the "driver", and I thought that seemed like a fabulous idea. Until I actually tried to do it. Let's just say... it didn't work out. And we're going to leave it at that.

Second, Halloween celebration #1. Ever since Lamb was a year old, we have gone to "Boo at the Zoo", a non-scary trick-or-treat event at our local zoo. And for the past 3 or 4 or 5 years, we've gone with another family, some dear friends who have kids about the same ages as Lamb and Monkey. So this year we bought our tickets and planned an evening of zoo fun followed by dinner. I hadn't really figured out what to do for Roo after the bulldozer-costume-fail, but then I remembered that he has a pair of Superman PJ's (complete with cape!), so Superman he would be! I got him dressed set him down to play, and went to help Lamb with her hair... and then Monkey ran in and announced, "Roo just threw up in the hall!"

Yep, there was puke all over his Superman pajamas--I mean, costume. And on his hands. And on the floor. Fabulous. I cleaned him up and called my parents, who had spent the day with him while I was at the office. They assured me that he had been fine all day, although my mom mentioned that he hadn't wanted his milk much after naptime. Hmmmm..., I thought, his puke did smell an awful lot like spoiled milk. I bet his milk was bad, and that's why he didn't want any more--and why he got sick. Reassured by this logic, and by the fact that he seemed perfectly happy (and didn't have a fever), I finished getting the big kids ready, all the while stressing out about Plan C for the little guy's costume. And suddenly, I remembered: I had come across the top half of a monkey costume in some hand-me-downs from my brother... and Roo had a pair of brown sweats that would work great for the bottom half. He likely wouldn't wear it with the hood up, which would pretty much completely nullify the costume, but... it was what I had. So I went with it.

Finally, we pulled into the zoo, listening to the oh-so-pleasant droning of Lamb complaining that it was too cold and too rainy and it was going to be miserable and blah, blah, blah. (And that last part isn't just filler--she has recently started saying, "blah, blah, blah." It drives me nuts. It makes me see red. It makes me want to hit something. But that's another story for another day.) We gathered up the troops, headed toward the entrance to meet our friends... and suddenly Roo started puking buckets. All over his daddy. And we found ourselves turning around and heading right back to our van. And Miss Lamb barely had time to stop whining about how miserable it was going to be before she could start crying about how much she wanted to stay. Poor girl--it's tough being seven. And so, our first Halloween event... wasn't.

Suffice it to say, Roo hadn't had bad milk. He had a stomach bug. A really yucky one, that lasted until the following Tuesday.

And then on Wednesday, everyone else got it. Mr. Fantastic woke up with it, I came down with it right after lunch, Lamb got off the bus with it, and Monkey was down before dinner time. Fab.u.lous.

That Friday was supposed to be the fall party day for the big kids at school. (Not a Halloween party, mind you. Costumes are not welcome at our school. But still, a party. And they wanted to be there.) I was signed up to provide the craft for Monkey's class, and I planned to at least swing by Lamb's class as well. Instead, I mustered up all my strength from my sick and I'd-rather-be-dead body, put the craft supplies together, and dropped them off to Monkey's teacher... then went back home, where my kiddos and I spent their party day watching "Phineas & Ferb" and taking naps. Poor kids. Our second Halloween celebration, gone.

And then, there came trick-or-treating. Our town is pretty rural, and I don't love the idea of driving my kids from house to house--it just doesn't have the right feel. So we are fortunate to have a lovely lady in our lives who invites us to her neighborhood to trick-or-treat every year. Her development has their own time, separate from the township--always on Halloween day, always in the evening. But this year, Superstorm Sandy made herself known Halloween week, leaving us cold and wet at the very least, and leaving some in our area without power. Our friend's neighborhood decided to rescshedule their trick-or-treating for Friday, November 2. My poor kids--another Halloween plan foiled.

And then do you know what happened? It was November. Halloween is over. I am healthy, but exhausted. I would like to just fall into bed and sleep until Thanksgiving and forget that October ever happened. But no... no, NOW it is time to don the costumes and beg for candy.

I was so over that.

BUT I couldn't deny my kids the joy of trick-or-treating. They really wanted one chance to celebrate this darn holiday. And Monkey and I had even made his costume this year. No, they couldn't miss it, and I wouldn't want them to. So shortly after they got home from school, we got started on their transformations...

Roo consented to being a monkey, hood and all...

Lamb became a beautiful fairy...

And Monkey... oh, Monkey... my super-cool, homemade OCTOPUS...

Is that fun or what?!? I loved making that costume. It is super-simple and would not hold up long-term, but it was so much fun to make, and a BIG hit both with Monkey and the families we saw while trick-or-treating.

And so we headed out... and we had a GREAT night! It was cold, but still--no chilly winds blowing through you. It was so so so nice. And the kids, they had the BEST time I have ever seen them have. They RAN from house to house at top speed, and they said "thank you" and they giggled and they squealed about how heavy their treat bags were and--it was wonderful. A perfect night.

And just to top it all off...

...a little popcorn... and some hot chocolate with marshmallows AND whipped cream...

...AND Daddy reading us all some "Tom Sawyer" before bed.

It couldn't have been a more perfect night.

Happy Halloween... in November...

Of bluebirds and pigeons

I know we are all familiar with the Bluebird of Happiness, that elusive creature that conjures up images of Cinderella and Snow White singing with nature. It's the idea of a magical happiness that is as beautiful as a bluebird sitting on your shoulder.

Cue the contended sigh.

Recently, though, I was introduced to the bluebird's lesser known, more somber cousin: the Pigeon of Discontent. According to Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project and a regular contributor to Good Housekeeping magazine, "A Pigeon of Discontent isn't a major happiness challenge, but rather, an ordinary problem that has settled in to roost." Yep, that sounds about right.

Now, Gretchen and I have one seemingly semantic yet actually important difference: I don't really think that happiness should be our ultimate goal. I am aiming for contentment, something that comes from trusting and resting in the Lord; not happiness, a fleeting emotion that is self-centered and relies on my circumstances. STILL, I have found her book and blog to be interesting and to have some good points, not the least of which is that dreaded pigeon.

That pigeon has been pecking at me lately. It comes at me in the form of a whining child, a scheduling mix-up with my husband, a hungry baby who refuses to eat his favorite food. Small things. Mundane, daily things. Peck, peck, peck.

It baffles me, this pigeon. God has been doing some major work on my heart lately. He is leading me somewhere, and I am excited (and anxious and a little bit scared) to see where we are going. I have been faithfully trusting Him, making some sacrifices, changing some habits, knowing that He has a plan. I think big changes are coming, though I don't know exactly what they are. And some of the sacrifices and changes He has called me to have been difficult, but I have done them gladly.

So can someone explain to me why I can handle the big things with no problem, but I can't seem to escape this darn pigeon? How can I devote my life to God, hope to use my LIFE to serve Him... and then get completely derailed when my 7-year-old comes home with a tummyache? How can I be willing to travel around the world for Him when I cried at the local McDonald's a few days ago?

Three words: Chinese water torture. Drip, drip, drip. It's not the size of the issues, it's the sheer number, the constant pestering. Drip, drip, drip. They wear us down.

As I have been writing, a verse has been running through my mind: "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9) Doing good is wearying--really? Shouldn't it feel GREAT? In a perfect world, yes. In a fallen world, we have the pigeon of discontent. He is there to distract us, to wear us down, to take our focus off of the big picture so that we focus on the little discontentments. He is there to make us weary and ineffective.

I wish I could summarize this with "The 5 Ways to Shoo Away the Pigeon of Discontent", but I don't have 'em, friends. I am right in the thick of it. But this one thing I know: I keep coming back to one of my favorite verses, "Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens." (Psalm 68:19) It doesn't say He bears the BIG burdens or He picks them up when He knows we have a lot going on or even when HE doesn't have too much going on. He bears our burdens EVERY. DAY. Big and small, important and mundane. We can hand them over.

Sometimes, on days when the Pigeon has gotten the best of me, and I collapse into bed feeling defeated, I picture myself staggering up to Jesus carrying a heavy sack. I drop it at His feet with a thud. He picks it up easily, puts His hand on my shoulder, and says, "I've got this. Don't worry."

Come to think of it, there's another verse that talks about being weary...

"Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28)

Off Topic: Signs

During my lovely walk yesterday that inspired this post, I also encountered a sign that left me laughing.

Have you ever seen the sign, "We don't swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in our pool"?

Well, our local park system has taken that to a whole new level...

Apparently, the "Posted: No Swimming" sign just wasn't effective!

:-)

Down Syndrome Awareness Month: What's it like?

"I just don't know how you do it!"

I hear this a lot, and it used to make my blood boil. (To be fair, I know I've said it myself in the past, so I know it's well-intentioned. From now on, though, I will save this exclamation for people who guess my card and pull rabbits out of hats.) I'd smile and say something witty like, "Well, I just do it one day at a time." But inside I'd be thinking, "What choice do you think I have? I just do what has to be done!"

I've realized, though, that at the heart of this I-don't-know-what-else-to-say statement is a very sincere but very awkward question: What's it like to have a child with special needs?

It would be a hard question to enunciate face-to-face, but it's a fair one. And now, during Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I think it's a good question to answer. So here goes...

From the minute you find out your child has special needs, you are on a whole new path--one that you have never experienced before...

...and you may even feel walled in, like you have no choice but to start walking.

So you lace up your tennis shoes...

...and embark on the journey.

The path seems anything but smooth...

...and you wonder if you can make it.

It seems like an insurmountable distance for one person to cover...

...and at times it's so hard to traverse that you wonder if you're the only one who has ever walked this path...

At other times, you see people zooming past you...

...and you think, Wait a second, is there some sort of fast track I'm missing? How can they do it so quickly and so well? Where's MY bicycle?

But you keep going.

And just when you think you can't take another step...

...you find provisions...

...and rest.

And suddenly, your perspective...

...begins to change...

...and you can see the beauty beyond the rocky areas.

You begin to relax and take it in...

...and you see that the very rocks that can trip you up can also make for a beautiful river if you flow around them rather than try to trample over them.

So what's it like having a child with special needs?

Well, my friends... it's a walk in the park.

Are you aware?

It's that time again... October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month! Yay! Just one more excuse for me to shamelessly show off my sweet baby boy.

Me & Roo on vacation this summer

Now, in blogging there is a rule that you shouldn't ask your readers for input if you don't typically get a lot of comments. But today I am breaking that rule. Today I have a question for you, and I would love for you to respond here in the comments, in a private e-mail, on Facebook--however you're comfortable.

Here's what I want to know: What do YOU want to know? The goal of the DS community this month is to make the general public more aware, obviously. So if you don't have a child with Down's, or if you have a new little one and you still have questions, what do you want to know about Down's? About having a child with Down's? About our little Roo? Ask me anything.

Go! :-)