Because Friday is a long way from Monday...and Who are THEY anyway?

I feel like Flashbacking now, daggone it, so Flashback I shall.

December 23, 2007



December 7, 2008


Uh, I guess we have a thing for grey and green? That is too funny. At least Playette can keep folks guessing what she's going to wear next year.

What a weekend. BD went to a Bachelor Party on Friday night and I stayed in. Playette and I had a pretty quiet evening and I ended up falling asleep on the couch. That was all part of the plan. It felt like such a luxury to do so. The last time I fell asleep in the living room, I realized how much better my back felt afterward and I couldn't wait to do it again. I slept so good that I didn't even hear BD stumble in come home.

I was up nice and early on Saturday for the Yard Sale. It was a pretty day and I was glad to make it home with less stuff and a few dollars in my pocket to boot. I shared my space with someone who had LOADS of stuff. She made out like a bandit.

That night, I went to a Ladies Night In of sorts and it was nice to meet some new people for the most part. There were tons of snacks and I felt like everyone else got the memo to eat dinner before they came but me. Shoot, I took "heavy hors d'oerves" to mean just that. Dang, I need some self-control.

Anyway, I was pretty bummed before leaving the house. I just couldn't seem to shake it. BD asked me what was wrong and I told him that I knew that I'd be in a room full of women and I knew we may have some fundamental things in common, but that I didn't feel like I'd really be able to fit in. I knew I'd be different.

I've mentioned this before here and it's really hard to put into words how it feels, but ever since I heard the Ds termination statistic, I've wondered. Every time I'm in a group of women, I wonder how many of them made sure their life didn't end up like mine. 90% is a huge number. Chances are, unless I'm at a gathering targeted to families of children with Ds or any other differing ability, I'm going to be in the minority. I thought I knew what it was like to be a minority before, but nothing has ever been like this. Even when I was the only Black female in my college...for years. It was nothing like this.

So, BD tries to encourage me and I try to shake off the feeling and I leave. And then what happens? As soon as I get there, the conversation turns to children and childbirth (my friend I rode over with is due to have a baby very soon). Before I can even put a glass to my lips, I hear, "I had to stop before I ended up with a baby with Down syndrome."

My heart stopped. I felt like I had been stabbed. I can't explain it. Either you know that feeling or you don't. It's the one that lets you know that you're different. You're not like the other moms. Your life, no matter how good things are going, is not carefree. You live the life that they don't want.

I hate when I leave a situation like that wishing I had said something. It always happens. And then I beat myself up for not speaking up. So I did. I said something. Not profound, but something. In a small voice I said, "It's not that bad."

Writing it out, it brings tears to my eyes. It's not bad. It's good. But that's not what I said. And again, if you don't get it, you don't get it. I'm not unhappy, but I can never truly convince them of that so how do I even try? When I do feel sad, it's primarily because of them, not Playette. If they didn't exist, I might know what it was like to be carefree too.

Back to "It's not that bad." Which, by the way, is not on my list of Snappiest Comebacks Ever.

When I said it, the lady looked up. She looked at me. Then turned away. She mumbled something, but I knew she didn't think that I meant that I knew firsthand of what I spoke. If she had, in her loud and boisterous way, she would have shifted the conversation. But I knew that when the room didn't get quiet, when the only sound was not of the jazz station playing on the TV in the background, but instead was that of 8-10 voices all vying to be heard, I knew the moment had passed.

The only person there who knew my story was the person I came with. She missed the entire exchange since she had stepped out of the room for a moment. I wanted to leave at that point, but I knew that wasn't what I needed to do. Not this time.

So we stayed. We all talked. And boisterous lady and I actually do have something in common. We've lived in the very same house. We talked about how the heat still doesn't work downstairs and how the tub still creaks. I left not thinking that she was someone I needed to avoid in the future, but I wonder if she wondered after that. I wonder if she thinks about that brief exchange of words like I have over the last couple of days.

After all that deep thought, I went and had pumpkin french toast on Sunday morning. You know I love me some pumpkin. That made me feel better.

And then we went and took photos. Sooo much fun. I'm about 60 pounds too heavy and 6 inches too short to ever reach my supermodel dreams, but yesterday you couldn't tell me nothing. I was working it like I had just won 50 extra frames on America's Next Top Model.


This photo is classic "us."


Y'know, I don't know if they will ever really get it.






On the days when it feels like it matters so much more than it should, I guess I just have to remember that we do.