What Set You Claimin'?

I know I'm far from the first person to think of this, but we totally need a literal sign of solidarity within the Ds community.

Before Playette became a part of my life, I didn't really see people with Ds, it was more like I saw through them.

When we received her diagnosis, one of the first things I did was cry about how I'd treated people just like my newborn baby girl in the past.

What about my former roommate's little brother? I still remember making a comment about not wanting him to sleep in my guest room because I was afraid that he'd wet the bed. (I've since apologized even though she had no idea what I was talking about.)

And the lady from church's adult daughter? We went to dinner one night as a group and I don't think I said one word to her. None of us did.

How about the fact that I signed up to be a hugger for the Special Olympics every year in high school and never followed though because the idea made me uncomfortable? Instead, it was an excuse to skip school since no one was expecting me to be around.

Then there's the time I met my friend's cousin's newborn baby for the first time. Mom was 19, I think. I was a few years older. "Oh, she's pretty?" I said. I must have sounded surprised because my friend replied, "What did you expect?"

That still brings tears to my eyes. To this day, I feel bad about these things.

But as time has gone on, I see how different I've become.

I now seek out people with Ds.

I want to know them.

Last spring, we went to Las Vegas. Before heading in to see the dolphins, I saw her. Screaming her little head off. And there was mom, right behind the stroller, looking exasperated. At that moment, I wanted so badly to show her that I was with her. Maybe not in dealing with a toddler's tantrum, but that I had walked steps that she had walked and that we were linked in a way that made us sisters even though we'd never met.

Noting that it wasn't the best time, I kept moving, but I was hoping that I'd see them again.

Then there was the airport in Mexico. We had a very long wait for a delayed flight home and I hadn't seen one other person with Ds the entire week. I commented about this to BD only to shortly be proven wrong as not one, but two, families came through the security line and into the waiting area within the next hour.

But what to do?

If you're BD, you mind your business and hope that your wife doesn't persist to make a fool of herself. Again.

Poor guy.

You know I couldn't leave well enough alone. One family had a young daughter and I felt such a pull.

It was a pretty small area so I found them quickly. I got nervous though, so I went back to my seat. For a little while. Then I got up again, went up to where they were sitting and said something. I don't remember what exactly, but I had rehearsed it and it sounded pretty good in my head at the time.

The mom told me that her daughter was 12 and then asked about mine. I told her that she was sitting with her father and that I'd be glad to introduce her. She said she'd come by later and she (eventually) did. (Mom didn't seem as into this exchange as I was.)

Did I ever feel foolish.

The next time I decided to stalk a complete stranger was back in Vegas again. It was a few months ago when I went on a spur-of-the-moment one night get-away. On Monday, a friend and I went to the food court for lunch. Right by us was a family with three children, the youngest a little girl with Ds.

I kept glancing at her and talked to my friend about how I would love to go up and say hello. I can't explain why I feel this is necessary, but for all the things I've gone through that show how different we are as a family sometimes (see: yesterday's post), there are people that relate to those differences and an understanding smile from one of them means so much.

Anyway, so we finish our lunch and walk by them on our way back to the pool. Again, I mention how I wish I could just say something. Friend says, "Well, do it then!"

So I did.

This time, I said something along the lines of, "Your daughter reminds me of my daughter." What I wasn't prepared for was her to reply, "Which one?"

Doh. Didn't think that one through all the way. One boy, two girls.

I became more specific and the mom gives me the smile I was looking for. She then asks me where my daughter is. I explain that I'm alone on this trip and she proceeds to tell me about another family they met the night before in the casino and how it's great that we're all in this "secret club."

Exactly.

She understood.

Then, a few weeks ago, when I was in NY waiting to go in to see The Little Mermaid, I was startled when my aunt walked up because I had been watching this little girl with Ds so intently. She was with someone who could have been her mother and she was so excited and I was happy that she was happy and it made me look forward to the days that I could enjoy such things with Playette.

Even when I'm sitting at my desk at work, I find opportunities to show how "down" I am, literally. There's this guy who works here, Mr. P, I'll call him. Every afternoon, he walks by at least a half-dozen times as he completes his tasks. Almost every time, I go, "Hi, Mr. P!" "Hi," he says. When I ask him how he's doing, he always says "Fine." It's only when he gets really outraged that I hear him say much. Let one of his co-workers do something they're not supposed to do and he goes off!

Anyway, so one day BD brings Playette up here to surprise me. I get excited because Mr. P is around so I ask him, "Mr. P, do you want to see my baby?"

"No."

Well, alright.

I still laugh when I think about that.

I debate telling Mr. P almost every day about what he and Playette have in common. It hasn't happened yet, but maybe one day.

Wouldn't it be great if we didn't have to be afraid or nervous or anything? And we'd know right away if someone was in our not-so "secret club" or not? There'd be no need for explanation and even if you're child/sibling/friend wasn't with you, you could still use it to say, "I'm 'down'"?

Maybe if we all shared our ideas, it could turn into something? Who knows.

For example:

2
+
1
=
K?


Ok, so maybe that can stand for...karyotype?

Womp, womp.

No?

What about...

D
+
S
=
Something that looks kinda like a fancy "ok" sign

We'd only use the combinations of the two signs when greeting one another. You know, like a gang. Or something.

Really, that's all I've got.

Creativity is not my strong suit.

Plus, my cell phone camera is crappy and it takes forever to get these photos done and loaded.

I'd love to hear any ideas you have. Trust me, they can't be any worse than what I've posted here.

If you post something on your own blog, leave a link in the comments so I can check it out!

Update

Cabo: Part II

Good grief! Four days already without a post?! Where does the time go?

When you’ve got folks waiting on a “To Be Continued” that’s just not polite, y’know?

So, without further ado, here’s Part II of the vacation recap:

Day 1: We arrived at the hotel later in the evening and got settled in the room before taking a walk down to the pool. Ahhhh, que linda! There was a snack bar in that area, so we grabbed a table and a plate and ocean-watched a little. Not long after, we started to think that some actual dinner was a good idea and headed to the dining room. After a long day of travel, we turned in early.

Day 2: We woke up a little refreshed (biggest, and almost only, complaint of the trip for me: the beds - really uncomfortable) and headed to breakfast in the dining room. This would be our latest start of the trip. There weren’t many people there and we naively were excited to get a great table by the window. Later we found out that there were so few folks because the place to eat breakfast was down by the pool with the ocean view. Noted.

Since there wasn’t much room around the pool and I was drawn to the ocean, we headed to the beach. All of the chairs were taken, but we didn’t care. We laid out our towels and relaxed. Playette ate sand, I read. Then, BD took her for a walk to the water’s edge and I rested, grateful for a few quiet moments. When they returned, I went to check out the water. It was cold when I put my feet in, but after a few minutes it started to feel good to me. There were other people swimming in the small lagoon and I decided to join them. It took about 10 minutes to build up the courage due to the temperature. Once I did it though…I was happy. It was very refreshing.

Day 3: We took the bus into Cabo San Lucas, proper. It was a fun ride with locals, tourists, and long-term vacationers. It was a great opportunity to learn a lot. Because we were so busy chatting, we didn’t check out where we were going. That would bite us in the butt later.

Once off the bus, we started walking. It was HOT! There was a mall and there were vendors everywhere. We decided to take a water taxi to the arch which turned out to be a really good idea. We got a mini-tour and got to feel the breeze. We were dropped off at the beach, with the plan of having lunch at a recommended restaurant. The heat was getting to us though, so we plopped ourselves in some lounge chairs (minimum to sit: $20 per person) and ordered a couple of drinks (2-for-1). The vendors came by, oh, about every 30 seconds, working hard to sell us our names on pieces of rice, blankets, plates, tattoos, massages, etc. BD speaks no Spanish. I mean, NO SPANISH, and even he was all, “No, gracias.”

Trust me, this was huge.

Because I’m “brilliant” and poo-poo’d my husband’s suggestion, we had no bathing suits. The water was calling me though, so I stripped Playette down to the diaper, decided that my sports bra looked enough like a bathing suit top, took off my shirt, and rolled up my pant legs. After all that, Playette was not quite as patient with cold water as I had been the day before, so we went back to the lounge chairs.

More sitting, reading, sleeping, eating, and drinking.

We fed Playette guacamole for lunch, which she loved. We totally felt like POY (Parents of the Year).

BD wanted to buy some rum and we had learned that a place called La Europa was the spot for that. Apparently? Right next to WalMart. Really? WalMart in Cabo? Ok then.

Somehow, we had succeeded in spending $40 on the beach, so we packed up and started walking. To WalMart. That we had never seen because we were too busy chatting on the bus to be bothered to look around.

So we walked. And we walked. And we walked. Until we noticed that WalMart was not reachable by foot. We could see it. But we couldn’t get there.

Hm. Now what? Hey, what about those little buses over there?

Next: run across the street, cross the construction zone, cross another street and wait. The bus pulls up to the side of the road (Bus stop? Who needs a bus stop?) a few minutes later. This bus was NOT like the last one we rode. It was small and had seats that lined the sides. And it was decorated. I gave the driver a dollar and he seemed satisfied. After all, we could see the shopping center.

We did our shopping at La Europa, marveling at the Americanization of it all. When it came time to catch a cab back, we were once again confronted with the taxi mafia. The price was outrageous, but we made it back to the hotel safe and sound.

Dinner that night was at one of the hotel’s two restaurants. Eh.

Stay tuned for Part III. My typing fingers are tired.

Also, in case you’re tired of waiting, here are the photos.

Before I forget...

Good grief, have I been preoccupied lately. In a good way though. I just haven't been sitting down and making blogging a priority, but it's ok. It happens. I've actually been, like, outside lately and everything. It's amazing, y'all.

We took a walk today as a family. Over the sand dunes and down the recreation trail until we got to the big cross that faces the ocean. I was taking it all in, thinking to myself that one day we won't live here anymore and I'll miss it so we better enjoy it while we can.

BD was saying it was cold and he was ready to go.

Sigh.

Anyway, that reminded me of a time not that long ago when were were standing in the sand, gazing at the horizon, and no one was rushing me to leave.

And then I remembered that I still hadn't really posted about our trip.

So now I will. I may have to break it up a little since I tend to be long-winded. [Who, me?]

We left early on a Monday morning. It was dark and cold and I knew we'd have a long layover at LAX. Not long enough to leave, unfortunately, so my plan was to make sure that we spent those 5 hours as comfortable as possible. As a frequent traveler, I know the benefit of just asking politely. Kindness can get you everywhere in an airport. Well, not everywhere, but you know.

Fast forward to us in the Board Room. Free food and drinks. Very comfy. After watching The Amazing Race (TAR) since day one, I got right to looking for alternate flight options. I saw one that would allow us to leave a few hours earlier and set my sights on it.

Problem #1: This was just after the massive snow storms had shut down Seattle and Portland.

Problem #2: We were on Alaska Airlines. Hub: Seattle. Our plane was coming from: Portland.

There were people who were spending their 2nd and 3rd days in that very Board Room. Those were the people taking advantage of the free alcohol at 8am.

Anyway, so I really, really, really wanted that earlier flight, but the way things were going, it wasn't looking good. For a while, I thought our original flight was going to be canceled. Then I thought the earlier flight was canceled. I looked outside, saw the dark, cold, rainy day in LA and felt deflated. This was not what I had in mind when I woke up that morning.

After about an hour, I noticed that the earlier flight had arrived. I guess it wasn't canceled after all. The one we were ticketed on was still a mystery. I asked again if we'd be able to change flights and was told that there were seats, but we couldn't fly without our luggage on an international flight. Oh. So where was our bag? No one knew. And the baggage handlers weren't answering the phone.

The deflated feeling started to come back but then....da da da dummmm...the guy behind the counter asked me what the bag looked like. He was going to go find it for us.

WHA? Really?

I was so glad at that moment that we only packed on suitcase. And it was big. And green. Hopefully, making it easy to locate in a sea of smaller black bags.

It was a straight TAR moment. I could imagine the tense music playing as I stood at the counter waiting. They would cut to the clock, then to me, then to the supervisor asking where the counter guy was, then to me explaining how he was going out of his way to help us, cut to the guy sweating in a sea of luggage, cut to clock, then to the departure gate...and then the phone rang. He found our bag! WOOHOO! Suck it, bad weather, we were going to Mexico!

It would be a while longer before we left, but I was convinced that we would actually leave so I relaxed some. Granted, something else could have gone wrong, but I was feeling optimistic.

The Customer Service Saint refused to leave until our bag was checked and loaded. We thanked him profusely and even tried to tip him. Cause that there? Is tip worthy in my book. Not fixing my Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate (mmmm), but going out of your way to find my family's suitcase so that we can leave the country for the holidays.

Of course Customer Service Saint wouldn't take anything but a smile and a handshake. And then he disappeared into the crowd of people. Just like in the movies. Except the waiting areas in the movies don't smell like "sick", do they? Ok, so maybe not just like in the movies. But pretty close. And the stinky part wasn't Customer Service Saint's fault. He smelled like mangoes and calla lilies, IIRC.

Sooo, after waiting on the plane for a while [we won't be waiting for the missing passengers, yes we will, no we won't, KIDDING, we totally will], we finally took off. And Playette passed out. Like, cold. As in, one moment she was jabbering away and then the nose of the plane went up and she was done like someone took the batteries out of her back.

We landed without incident, got into the country, eventually found our bag, unsuccessfully negotiated a reasonable cab fare, and made our way to the hotel.

In Part II, I'll tell you how we spent our days and nights and share some stories behind the photos (previously posted on FB).

I Exhaled

What a week. You may not know this, but we were gone.

I didn't really announce the departure, but gave a little hint here and there. BD thinks I'm crazy paranoid, but hey. Maybe if he'd just let me get bars on the windows already, I'd relax some.

Seriously, I grew up in a place where window bars were common so I thought they were pretty and gave the houses character. It wasn't until much later that I realized they were for safety. Because I lived in what some called "bad neighborhoods". Oh. Whatever. I still like them.

Anyway. So off we went on Monday to Mexico. Ahhhh. Just typing it out feels good. I can hardly believe it wasn't all just a dream because here I am doing what I always do in the place I always do it. Did we really take a break?

According to the photos, we did. Wanna see some?

I woke up at around 6 am on Christmas morning, determined to snag a great spot for the day. The best ones get reserved fast. As a matter of fact, many folks just get up, stake their claim, and go back to bed. No fair, I say, but check out what they missed by doing so.















Our cabana for the day.

I had some time to kill before the fam woke up and came down to join me, so I created a Christmas tree for my own enjoyment.

More to show and tell later. For now, there are groceries that need to be purchased and tomorrow? Eh, tomorrow. I guess I have to go back to work and make the donuts.

Oh well. I guess it wouldn't be "vacation" if you did it everyday, right?

Many thanks to Cristina for helping me out while I was gone. I love those perspective posts. If you have an idea for one, please do share. It would be great to keep it going. People learn a lot from those, I think.