Raising Cain

I remember... when TK was just eleven years old she came home from Easter vacation at her mom’s house with her long beautiful hair dyed black. Black as black can be, and I thought to myself, “Oh no, here we go.” And though my husband cut off all her hair, what drove her did not go away. From there on out, it was a rough ride... not because she began misbehaving but because she was struggling internally: sad, angry, and no positive self image.

I thought it would be so much easier with boys, but now I see that I was wrong. Just the other day when I was searching You Tube for a song, my oldest son—nine year old Gecko, poked his head in my office and said, “Can you play ‘Feel Like a Monster’?” I had heard that song before, probably on the van radio but I couldn’t think of how he would know it. He went on to tell me that it is his song, that he feels that way.

I pulled it up and clicked the Play arrow... and after a couple seconds of an animated icky video, I stopped it. “How did you find that song?” I asked him, concerned about him searching You Tube for anything at all... and he explained that I had the wrong video... there is a video of the Pokemon Zoroark with the song. Hmmm, Pokemon... ok but not really because I do not like the idea that he identifies so strongly with the words to the song.

Now he sings it everyday. Just this morning waiting for the bus, "♪ ♫ I've lost my soul, ♪ ♫ I've lost my heart." Listen if you dare.



I wish, no stronger than that, I ache to be able to go back to when he was just a little toddler and do it over again so that somehow we don’t end up here. (Did my mom think she did it all wrong when I would blare AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’ on my stereo everyday?) Isn’t nine a tad young for this kind of angst?

The boy sure is his mother’s son.

As Fate Would Have It

Did I tell you about the little girl my son the Gecko bullied in summer camp? No? Well she teased him about his name, and he pretty much decked her. When I got the call that night from the girl’s mother, I was a mess... shocked, sad, totally embarrassed and horrified by his behavior.

Soooo, can you guess whose mom is Masha’s Kindergarten aide? Yes indeed, and I am really happy about it.



It took a lot for her to call me to tell me what happened, and it also took a lot for my son to write a beautiful letter of apology. The day he delivered it, I ran into the mom in the camp parking lot. We had a wonderful talk and I left the situation feeling good about what had started off as something terrible.

When I brought Masha in to school for the walkthrough, there she was waiting for us with a huge smile. She gave me a hug and told me how excited she was to be able to work with Masha. I was thrilled and quite relieved because I have been worried about who would play this role for Masha.

I admit I had a fear that they would not choose someone who was looking forward to helping and encouraging a little girl with Down syndrome whose mom fought for her to be educated alongside the “regular kids”. I wondered if the aide would be well-educated, bright, caring, and if she would have a real desire to make a difference in Masha’s life. Well no more worries, and Jade (great name don't you think?) has already admitted to me that she is quite smitten with Masha :-) Here’s to a great Kindy start!

Waiting for the bus...

Ready or Not, There She Goes

She has been ready to go to preschool for a while, or so she thinks. It started last Spring with her following her big sisters to the door when mommy announced, “The bus is here.” She would bang her hands against the coat closet door and whine. Then she would escape after us out the front door and totter off the step.

Over the summer, in an ingenious move, she stopped cooperating with her EI therapists. “All done,” she would repeat over and over. She pulled a few sit-ins, started throwing their toys, and made numerous attempts to slip away from whatever room they were in.

On Monday I bought her very first backpack. All pink and flowery with a cute little brown monkey on it. She wore it around the house telling me, “Bye!” She was on a mission to find her shoes, and once she got them she was determined to have Masha put them on her. Co-conspirators, they pranced around (Masha in my black boots) with their backpacks on, blowing kisses and waving to us all.

This morning I snuck quietly into their room and slipped my sleepy girl out of her crib. Right away she caught on that this was something exciting. She plowed through a banana and a strawberry Nutrigrain bar, while mommy fixed her hair all pretty. When it came time for socks and shoes she signed and said both as her little feet came flying my direction.

Once she was all ready we passed the time playing with her backpack. “Zip” she said, opening up the front pockets. She removed her package of tissues and her bag of spare clothes, and then repacked them again. In, out, zip, unzip as the minutes passed and daddy snapped pictures.







She tried to wear the backpack but overloaded as it was with day 1 supplies, it took her down.



The bus pulled up and outside we went. She was thrilled and tried to run to it while it turned around in our driveway. I watched her get strapped into the carseat and realized that I am nervous even though this is my fifth Very First Day of School.



Anxious excitement threatened to make me cry as the van door came sliding to a close, separating us. In the last second before the tinted glass hid her, I saw a look of realization come over her that said, “I am in here with these strangers and my mommy is out there.”



And for a few minutes after the bus drove off with my little caboose inside, I stood there wondering... is she really ready?

Triple Blessed to Be a Ds Mama

Ever wonder what it is like to raise three girls with Down syndrome? Enjoy a sneak peek at life with my girls.

Pro-Choice/Life/Adoption Plea

It is that time of the election cycle when abortion becomes a hot topic again. When does life begin, and who has (or does not have) the right to end it... and where is the line drawn between the right of the mother to not become a mother and the right of the developing baby to become a full-fledged infant?

I have said it before and I will reiterate it now, I am pro-choice. I wish that every pregnant woman could choose to continue forward, but I get it... I understand the many reasons why some can’t or won’t. And as long as that decision is made before 20 weeks, I am ok with other people deciding what is best for them and theirs.

I wish the pro-life folks, those that cannot reconcile the willing destruction of a fetus with their beliefs, would turn some of that compassion and urgency to help toward those already born and wasting away in orphanages and institutions. I wish the pro-choice people, those who know how destructive it would be to force unwilling women to become reluctant mothers, would turn some of that concern and desire for personal freedom toward the existing products of those who were born unwanted. In fact, I plead with everyone to consider adopting before voting. And if like so many people you feel unable to adopt, can you donate toward to the families who are forging ahead with their pro-choice/life adoption agenda?

Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, you can make a huge difference in the life of an orphan. I know of a beautiful family who is adopting. They are taking a blind referral... which means that they do not even yet know the child they will save. They are moving ahead on faith and the belief that every child deserves life with a family to love them. The only thing standing in the way of this real flesh and blood child getting the chance to live a full life outside of the institution that awaits him or her is money. This family needs to raise $7000 in September to be able to complete the lifesaving process they have committed themselves to.

This morning while I was drinking my sweet latte, I got thinking that if every person I know who cared about either side of the abortion issue made the choice to give just the tiniest bit, even just the value of one cup of coffee, a waiting orphan could be saved. So as you get ready to vote with your heart this Fall, can you make a difference with your wallet today?

If so, please donate what you can to the Lakes family. Anything, any amount no matter how small will go a long way toward saving the life of a child who is waiting... waiting... waiting for them and waiting for you.

I remember when we were adopting... I remember worrying about funding... I remember that amazing feeling when a stranger gave a little gift toward our mission. Now because of the generosity of family, friends, and strangers, we have two beautiful little girls. Two girls whose lives look nothing like they did two years ago. Thank you for helping us pull it off, and thank you in advance for helping the Lakes family to do the same.

Candy Kisses

When was the last time you felt this way?

 

I See Evil People

It’s an epidemic. Everywhere I look on Facebook, I see evil people...

Just last week I found out that the Waltons (of Walmart) are evil. I did not know that they enslaved poor people everywhere, and are the reason poor people stay poor. I had no idea that they force people to work and shop at Walmart, thereby condemning them to a life of poverty. They make people wear cheap clothes (made in China) and they make people eat unhealthy foods (made in ?). Walmart stole more from us than the combined wealth (can you call it that when people are poor?) of the lowest 40% of our country. Those bastards.

 And then there are those evil fast food CEOs who are lining their pockets by blocking people's arteries. Thankfully New York’s Mayor Bloomberg is taking on those demons... if we are lucky he will protect NYC from 20 ounce sodas. But who will save us from Chick-fil-A? Those bigoted hatemongers, with values and beliefs that we do not agree with, use their profits (that they steal from us by force) against us. Thank God (um I mean thank nothing) that there are local politicians in Chicago, Boston, New York, and San Francisco who will block the expansion of evil businesses into their cities... because you know, I heard that if you buy a chicken sandwich from a hatemonger that makes you one too (unless of course you balance it out by picking up some Starbuck’s afterward).

Damn, it seems like no shopping trip is safe anymore. Drop a dime in the wrong place and I just might be keeping my friends from getting married or I may be helping to hold down the poor. This kind of stress might drive a girl to drink (hopefully not imported Vodka) or even to...

Bring on the smokes! Go Big Tobacco! 20oz sodas, clothes made in China, and greasy chicken sandwiches ain’t got nothin’ on you. Thankfully your CEOs know enough to shut up and pay up. Thankfully our politicians know enough to line their coffers (our coffins?) with people’s addictions... to the tune of more than $24.3 billion in gross cigarette excise tax revenues in FY2009 alone. Thankfully we all benefit from the death-colored revenues generated by Big Tobacco.

So skip the chips at Walmart, skip Chick-fil-A, skip Mac D’s and give your kid a smoke instead. You will be doing us all a solid.