Firsts, part 1

I have hundreds of photos I have been dying to share with you all, but... Well, let's just say that when I look back on 2012, the two words that come to mind will be "technical difficulties." In the past year I have dropped my iPhone and shattered the screen, had major issues with my laptop (which eventually died and is awaiting its time to be shipped to Sony to see if they can do anything for me...), and now our home PC is dead too. And it waited just long enough for me to load all 600 of our vacation photos onto it before it stopped working. Thanks for that.

So... I have no vacation photos to share right now, and I'm not sure when I will. BUT it has been a huge week of firsts here at the zoo, and I wanted to share those. (I had to go to my parents' house, upload the photos there, then upload them to picasa, and now I can finally share them with you! If only I hadn't deleted my vacation photos off of my SD card!)

ANYWAY, our first first :-) was for Lamb, who started 2nd grade last Tuesday. I can't believe she is that old!!!

Although she loves school, she wasn't too thrilled about having to get up. Roo decided to help get her out of bed.

When that failed, we had to call in for back-up: Daddy and the puppy! We'll get this girl going one way or another!

Lamb's breakfast request: Cinnamon rolls, kiwi, blackberries, and raspberries. :-)

Check out this beautiful 7-year-old!

Daddy had to go to the office after he woke her up, but  of course he came to see her get on the bus!

This is truly the best family photo we got that morning. Monkey woke up on the wrong side of the bed and was NOT planning to cooperate with anything we asked of him.

Time for the bus! This part gets a LITTLE easier every year.

Well, friends, I had planned to share ALL of the firsts in this one post, but working with Blogger on the iPad is turning out to be a bit of a pain. I think I'll post this for now, and give you the next first tomorrow. Enjoy!

Weird

"This year we'll be in the school play, and we'll have to dance with boys!"

I was listening to Lamb and a friend chat and giggle about their 2nd grade adventure, which begins tomorrow.

"Oh!" Lamb squealed, more for dramatic effect than any real emotion. "If I have to dance with a boy in front of the teachers and the principal...! Oh, I think I might just faint." (She is so full of bologna. She LOVES being on stage and has NO issue with dancing with boys.)

"And what if I have to dance with Steve*?" her friend wailed.

"What's wrong with dancing with Steve?" I joined into the conversation.

"Are you kidding? With Autism Steve??? He's so weird!" Somewhere in her 7-year-old brain, she put some pieces together about why this might be hurtful to our family (although I don't think she could fully verbalize the hows and whys of it), and she backpedaled a bit. "I mean... not weird exactly... he's just so... autism!"

He's different. He's hard for them to understand. She wasn't exactly making fun, and I truly think she would be kind to his face... but he's different. He's weird. He's autism. And she doesn't want to dance with him.

Someday a little 7-year-old girl will tell her friend's mom that she doesn't want to dance with Roo because he's just so... Down syndrome.

My heart hurts a little.

*Not his real name, for my local friends...

Last Hurrah

Good morning, friends. I know I can't exactly call myself a "regular" poster, BUT I have been trying to be around more often lately. Soooooo I felt that I should let you know that you won't be seeing me here for a few days. Mr. Fantastic and I are taking our zoo on the road for a week of family time, relaxation (as much as is allowable when traveling with three small children AND A DOG), and fun. One last hurrah before school starts. (sniff, sniff... and YAY)

I look forward to telling you all about it!

Missed Opportunity

I saw her in my rearview mirror as I sat down. I was in the library parking lot. We had made our weekly trek to the library for Lamb to do some summer reading tests and to check out books for vacation. We had spent an hour in there, searching for books, talking to other families from school, doing puzzles, and trying to keep Roo from completely melting down. (He's been especially... well... two-ish lately.) In other words, we got around in there.

And yet, I hadn't seen her. How had I missed her?

The almond eyes, the ears set just a little bit low, the small build. It was unmistakable. She is in our club. She was blessed with an extra chromosome.

She was beautiful. And cutely dressed. Around 5 years old, I would guess. And she was obviously having a grand time with her big sister and her mom. I took it all in quickly. I watched them head straight to the truck parked next to me.

And then I did a double-take of the mom. I know her, I thought. I couldn't tell you her name to save my life... but we went to high school together. I think she was a year ahead of me. Somehow Facebook hasn't reunited us. (Maybe she's smart enough to stay away from it...?) But I know her. We are doubly connected.

And I knew what I needed to do. I needed to open the door of the van. I needed to walk over and introduce myself. I needed to explain that we are part of the same family, not by blood or even (in my case) by adoption, but by genes. Chromosomes. The 21st chromosome, to be exact.

But I didn't do it. I stayed in the van. I watched them load up from the corner of my eye. I watched the mom take out her phone and make a call.

I can't go over there now, I told myself. I'll either have to interrupt her phone call, or I'll have to sit here and wait until she's done--and hope that she doesn't drive away first--and either way I'll look like an idiot.

So I put the van in reverse, half-satisfied with my justification, and left.

But that wasn't really the reason. I didn't go over there because I was embarrassed. So far the other DS mamas I have met have been at intentional meetings--play groups, the Buddy Walk, etc. I don't know how to approach someone "cold." What on earth would I say? "Hey, I see that your daughter has Down syndrome. My son does too." Really? That's pretty lame. And even then, what do I expect her to say in return? "No way! Let's exchange phone numbers RIGHT NOW and be BFFs!" Probably not.

Yep, it might have been awkward. And it might not have turned into a life-long friendship.

But... it would have been a connection. I would have known one more person in this world--in my COMMUNITY--who shares this journey. And so would she.

I should have said something.

Apparently, I need to work on my DS-mama-friend pick-up lines.

Celebration!

Before Roo's nap today, I pulled out a picture book about farm animals and said, "There's the cow! What does the cow say?"

And Roo said................. (Are you ready for this?!?)................. "Moo!"

I turned the page and said, "Oh look at the sheep! What does the sheep say?"

And he said.............................................. "Baa!"

WHAT?!?!? I tried this a few times, and he got it EVERY TIME.

Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooray! I am one excited mama!!!!









Have I mentioned that we celebrate EVERY milestone in this house?

In fact, I think I need to go bake something sweet now.........

Oh dear...

If you had been back-to-school shopping with Lamb and me today, here are a few of the things you would have heard her say:

"I am just SO into sequins this year!"

"This hat is just not me. But I am DYING for that purse."

"You know, Mommy, I just realized something. I LOVE shopping!"

And my personal favorite... "It seems like life was better when I was little--you know, like 3 or 4. I don't know why, exactly. Everybody was just happier. Things were simpler then."

Oh my word. This girl.

I love her so much.

And I'm in so much trouble.

Hammering

God has been chip, chip, chipping away at me lately--at my pride, mostly. It's good. It's necessary. It's actually something that I have asked Him to do.

But it is still oh. so. painful.

Have you ever read Max Lucado's book On the Anvil? It's a series of short stories that compare us all to materials in a blacksmith's shop. The first section is full of stories of those who are on the scrap pile--cold, lifeless, lonely, not useful. I'm glad I'm not there. The last section is victorious--those who have been pounded and shaped by God and are actively being used by Him. I have had moments there, and it is amazing.

But today I'm in the middle. On the anvil. Being shaped, lovingly handcrafted into a useful tool for the Lord. It's good. But the heat is uncomfortable... the molding feels unnatural at times... and the pounding of His hammer really hurts.

I am reminded of labor pains, of my midwife reminding me, "Don't fight the contractions. Relax through them. They hurt, but they are doing an important work. Let them do their work."

Don't fight the pain of the anvil. It's doing important work. Take a deep breath, and let it shape you.