Another glorious day here, weather-wise. I did my best to soak some of that up because, before you know it, I'll be complaining about the cold.
Auntie left this morning and Playette was none too happy about it. She had her backpack donned and was all ready to go with her. She wouldn't even say goodbye at first. Poor chile.
Shortly thereafter, I began the Quest of Failed Self-Improvement.
BD dropped me off at the hairdresser, but I got tired of waiting, so he came back to get me before I ever got started.
Later, I decided that maybe a pedicure would make me feel better about myself. So I drove to the shop only to find it was closed.
I am still just as much of a mess as I was when I woke up this morning.
In the middle of all of that somewhere, I decided to check in on the TMR boards.
Because, you know, it's been a while.
I don't know what I expected, really. I think that I'm probably still naive enough at times to believe that, generally, people are more informed. That, regardless of whatever choice they make for themselves and their family, they're doing it with the total of the info available to us in 2011.
Just so you know...that's not the case.
I read a lot of ignorant stuff today about children, people, with Ds. Stuff that people really and truly believe. Some of which was delivered to them on a silver platter by medical professionals so it must be true.
At one point, I looked up from reading and directed my gaze three feet down the couch at my daughter.
I wanted to keep an open mind while doing so.
I wanted to see if she was, in fact, suffering and maybe in my own selfishness I hadn't noticed.
I wanted to see if the feeling of her being a burden washed over me.
I wanted to check for every serious medical issue that some of those posters affirmed would occur with every single child with Ds ever born.
And you know what?
I just didn't see it.
I did see a four-year-old girl smiling back at me, in anticipation of whatever I might say or do next.
Her white shirt was stained by the red juice she had had earlier. Her socks were just begging to be pulled off and thrown on top of the shoes she had already discarded on the living room floor. She had an excited little bounce to her, as she usually does.
She was just the way I thought she was before I had started reading.
Happy and healthy and just where she belongs.