Seriously Stubborn

I'm realizing that it's difficult for some people to believe that I'm still pregnant.

But I am. 41 +1.

So I asked BD to take this photo of me yesterday as we were on our way in to my appointment to check on how our newbie is doing.


Apparently, he's just fine. He rocked the ultrasound and non-stress test. The only "issue" is that he's measuring big. I know it's just a guesstimate and all, but petite mama + big, comfy boy that doesn't appear to have any immediate plans to introduce himself brought out some concerns amongst my medical support staff.

That made yesterday a tad bit stressful for me.

Today is better. I have smart and caring friends that are earning their keep with reassurance and confidence in me.

And, also, I'm healthy. Doing great, in fact. No complaints other than the stuff that's par for the course at this point in any pregnancy. I still fit my wedding rings. I'm actually begging for some discomfort of the labor variety.

I still have every hope that Dez will come and greet us on his own, but if not, the interventions begin on Sunday night. Boo.

Just hope for the best, 'k?

Um, hi...

For those of you that are sticking around and showing me grace through this very dry patch of writer's block, I thank you.

So. What have we been up to lately?

Playette knows the baby is coming. It's strange interesting to watch her behaviors change because it's like she has this 6th sense thing happening. I almost want to ask her when it's going to rain next. And for some lottery picks.

I do tend to forget that even though her speech is delayed that she understands so much more. I mean, honestly, Self...it's not like we don't talk about the baby coming when we're around her. Duh.

But, yet, still, I sit here amazed. Sometimes she's great, with the kissing of the belly and the "good morning/night, Dez*"s and then other times she's a pure-dee wack-a-loon and I have to worry about getting a call from school that's she's not welcome back the next day.

Which reminds me. I went to see Kathie Snow speak back on the 15th. At the end of her amazing talk, I spoke up during the Q&A. I thanked her for reminding me that it's ok for my kid to have a bad day. I struggle with that. A lot.

Talk about a ton of pressure to put on a four-year-old.

It's almost as if I expect perfection out of her, something that her classmates' parents probably don't worry about lofting upon the shoulders of their own kids because they are "currently undiagnosed" and no one feels like those littles need to be the [booming voice] Posterchildren of Successful Inclusive Practices [/booming voice].

But I do.

And good grief. I should really stop.

=====

Last week, BD went to NYC for "work" work. That was also my first week of not having to go in to my own job-away-from-home. Even though that meant I had more free time during the day while Playette was in school, being 37-38 weeks pregnant also meant that I was also scared that my child would not eat of be bathed for 4 days while he was gone.

Because my energy and motivation level these days? HA!

Thankfully, my aunt came to town to help me out. She also kept me busy, which was ideal.

Things got done! The house was clean! We ate! Playette had baths!

Proof that things got done:


First of all, I never would have thought to do such a thing as put together little outfits. And, second, to have them all cleaned (and ironed!) and ready to go on the changing table like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Yeah, right. I can barely remember where BD keeps the iron.

It was pretty awesome and I was sooo grateful. I still am. I hope we didn't scare her off and that she really will come back after the babe is here.

=====

Now, after all of that, we actually give off the illusion of being "ready."

It's still so mind-boggling to me that I have no idea when this baby is going to come. I mean, today is Monday. I'll be 39 weeks on Wednesday. At 39 weeks with Playette, I was in the hospital being induced.

Looking back, it was awful. Not the worst thing ever in the grand scheme of what can happen in life, sure, but not what I have in mind for this time at all. I pretty much look at what I want now and can say "the opposite of what happened last time" and it works out great in my head.

And with that comes waiting.

So it could be tonight. It could be next week. It could be mid-April. I just don't know. And I have to be ok with that on some level.

In the meantime, I need to spend my days doing something other than sitting on the couch watching Good Burger while texting my friends. I know this much is true.

Ok, so I also watched Waiting for Superman today. That has to be worth something. (scared the crap out of me, it did)

And then I went for a walk this afternoon. Two miles. I used to run it. Today I huffed and puffed and shuffled through it. But I survived. I may even try that again tomorrow.

=====

Since you're so patient with me, here is my gift to you. A belly pic!

Wait. Make that a few.

And it's the real deal, yo. You can actually see the belly.

Because while digging through bins in the attic, I came across this gem of a Wal-Mart tee that I bought in New Orleans when I was pregnant with Playette.

Whilst knocked up is pretty much the perfect time for wearing a shirt like this, I think. Showing a little skin makes it that much more classy.





* Dez is what we call the newbie. The nickname started a while ago and then stuck. Even though BD said it never would. Neener Neener. Basically, it's just BD's initials and since we can't seem to agree on a name, Dez he shall be until we come up with something better. If we ever come up with something better, that is.

35

Every time I think to come here and write, I decide to do something else instead.

Like sleep. Or eat. Or rant about my situation at work.

Fun at parties, that's me!

You know, I tried to quit my job a few weeks ago, but the circumstances made me so angry that I chose fight over flight. It's not the best timing for sure, but I feel like it's important for me to take a stand against the bad behavior. We'll see what happens. At the very least, I am now down to part time. Five hours a day, four days a week. Yesterday ended the first week with that schedule and so far, so good.

I've been thinking on and off about Kindergarten for the (not-for-long) Littlest. For a while, I debated taking the extra year for her since her summer birthday forced me into thinking I had a choice in the matter, but then one day I woke up and it felt like the decision was made.

You ever had that happen? Obsess x 1000000 and then *poof* it's over?

Yeah. It doesn't happen often for me, but I was grateful in this case. It was just like a peace that washed over me and then I heard "Why wait?"

I couldn't come up with a response to the voice in my head (which, yay?).

Like, really. What would be the benefit for my child to spend another year in Pre-K? So at least that part's done. And then, on top of that, we should be moving again before the new school year, so no point in me battling with the people here about placement (though, of course, we'll update the IEP appropriately). That just gave me years back on my life. No unreturned phone calls, no explaining why I think she should be here and not there, no begging either for or against the home school.

Buying myself some time is nice.

Because one thing I can't keep from happening is this new babe.

He's coming.

Soon.

Earlier in the week, I realized that I was 35 weeks pregnant and that meant that I had 35 days to go until my estimated due date. Days.

I'm a 35 year-old woman 35 weeks into my pregnancy with about 35 days to go.

Pardon me while I go freak my freak.

People ask me if we're ready.

What's "ready"?

Like, do we have stuff? Yeah...some. I didn't throw anything away after Playette so the pack-and-play, swing, bouncy seat...all those biggies are cleaned up and in good working order. Some great friends have donated boy-type hand-me-down clothes and other items, which is awesome.

But are we ready-ready?

Um. Well. Er.

It's just...different. We're not as anxious about things as we were when Playette was born. I think we realize that whatever we don't have and end up needing, we'll get. Or maybe we don't really need at all.

Also, and more importantly, we aren't naive. No matter how much we want to be blissfully unaware, we know that things can happen. There are no guarantees. And with that in mind, our primary focus is on the health and well-being of this little boy.

No surprises would be a bonus.

Everything else is gravy.



And now I want gravy. Dammit.

Feeling Chatty, Pt. 1

I already know this will take some time to write, so a multi-parter it is. Plus, we're trying out a highly recommended music class tonight (no more gymnasstics - WOOT!), so I don't have a ton of time.

Oh, while I'm thinking about it, someone mentioned that maybe the instructor wasn't pure eeevil since she did do Special Olympics and all. I felt the same way! But then something hit me. If she stopped the class before due to low participation, then how come when she re-started the "Special Needs Class" in the fall, she didn't have the support/backing of SO? I mean, why not, right? They paid for it before. Just something I've been thinking about. I think there's way more to this story. If I get some interesting info, I'll share.

We've got about two more months, give or take, before the baby arrives. Um, yikes?

I haven't really talked about the pregnancy much here...for a few reasons.

First and foremost, I know what it's like to want to be pregnant and not be able to have it just happen. I would never want to lead to anyone feeling bad because of that. Which, I know, it's unavoidable and people dealing with infertility understand that other people have babies, but I'm sensitive to it. Because I've been there.

Having this baby was a process. It's no secret that after Playette, I wasn't hardly thinking of adding another kid anytime soon. I was too busy being sad, feeling screwed over, and about a million other emotions. I couldn't imagine having another baby. And then, honestly, I felt like I blinked and she was three. How did that happen?! So, we decided that it was time to try. Except that I know my body and how it doesn't like to cooperate. Before waiting too long, I involved my doctor. We did test after test before he finally agreed that maybe I knew what I was talking about regarding not ovulating. He said that he could put me on Clomid, after already trying some other alternatives with no success.

And then BD was deployed. I cried and cried because I realized that by the time he got back, I would be over 35 when/if the baby came. To me, that represented a whole new can of worms because not only did I have a child with Ds, but I'd also be classified as AMA and I was devastated at the idea of possibly being treated poorly by medical professionals. Again.

Close to the time he was due home, I went back to the doctor and said I was ready for my prescription. I tried one cycle of the Clomid, in the midst of our move. And nothing happened.

In a new place, I had to start from scratch. My old doc never did forward my records. I have no idea why. So I went and found a new primary care physician who referred me out to a fertility specialist, which was denied, and then I was sent to the military hospital to be seen by the Reproductive Endocrinology Department.

They were a lot more involved than my doctor in CA had been. They tested me. They tested BD. I had an HSG. I was given Clomid again and told that we would attempt IUI in July.

You know, because of my age. There was no time to waste. Gag.

But then you know what happened? The day I was to go in for an ultrasound post-Clomid fell over the July 4th weekend. And there was no way they'd allow me to proceed without first making sure that I didn't have a zillion follicles.

I was rescheduled for August.

I was heartbroken.

I sat and analyzed when I would take my Provera so that it wouldn't run into the situation of being in San Antonio for the NDSC conference when I needed to be home for more testing.

When I finally thought I had it all figured out, I started the Provera.

That weekend, I went to take a physical for the reserves. It was a Sunday.

A couple of days later, I checked in to make sure that all of my paperwork was complete and that the results from those seven mystery vials of blood they took were a-ok.

And that's when I found out that one of those mystery vials was for a pregnancy test.

I will never forget that moment. She said, "And you know you're pregnant, right, ma'am?"

Say huh?

"You didn't know?"

Wha?

I finally asked if she'd ever seen a case of a blood test being wrong.

"Never," she said.

Wow.

So I called the RE department and told them what I found out. They scheduled me to come in the following Monday for another test.

My first HCG level was a 13. The second was 836, I believe.

I was really pregnant.

And, apparently, I was going to make a fantastic designated driver in San Antonio.

No margaritas por mi.

But, right before all of that, something really interesting happened. It wouldn't be brought to my attention for many months.

I'll tell you all about that next time.

Another Month Bites the Dust

I have had this song stuck in my head for like a week.



You're welcome.

They used to play this at the church I went to whenever a couple got engaged. I thought that was like the best thing ever. Everyone cheered and it turned into a party. Not very traditional, I know. Shoot, it was stuff like that that got me in the door and kept me there so long. By the time I was betrothed to BD, they didn't do it anymore. Boo. I still can't help but think of that every time I hear the song though.

Anyway. So I've been gone. Again. Blah blah blah.

I really do have good reasons. Wanna hear 'em? Here they go:

1. I know I've posted since then, but I never really elaborated about our Christmas trip to the Dominican Republic. It was rather awesome, if I do say so myself. We didn't get to go away last year since we were in the midst of a post-deployment cross-country move. And then, over the summer, we were quite The Busy. BD was working and we were hosting company weekend after weekend. It was pretty chock full of activity and we hardly missed getting our passports stamped between beaches, lakes, and San Antonio.

So, yeah. The DR was a great get-away. I slept on the beach a lot.


And we ate a lot. Playette made plenty of friends everywhere she went. We forgot we had brought an actual camera until the last two days. Whoopsie! But I did get this cute little clip of her with my phone after the resort staff handed out gifts to all of the kids. It was an impressive stunt, even after a parade complete with brass band and landing Santa on the beach in a helicopter.

I'm not even kidding.


Obviously, I'll need to devote a post to this trip.

2. Right after we got back, it was off to DC for an amazing New Year's Eve wedding of a very good friend. Can you say Best Wedding Evah? Yeah. Cause it was. From the goody bag in the room (complete with a red velvet Georgetown Cupcake) to the steel drum playing during the cocktail hour to the fun photo booth to the hip hop violinist while we dined on amazing food. I totally made myself stay up until the music stopped at 2am.

Again, I'm not kidding. Hip. Hop. Violinist. It was all sorts of amazing.


I wore my sparkly shoes for the occasion and was feeling super cute, belly and all. Even though several people were concerned that I'd be giving birth on the dance floor. Apparently, I am very large. It's nice that people remind me of that, isn't it?

3. The next morning, we had to hop out of the ever-so-comfortable hotel bed and make our way to pick up Playette from her sleepover with my friend's kids so that we could get home as soon as possible.

Why?

Because I had to fly to Tennessee at noon on Monday (yes, the holiday) to start my two weeks of annual training with the Navy Reserve. Highlight: I got to break out the khaki tent, my affectionate name for the maternity uniform. That thing is not only super comfy, but totally unflattering. And it has no pockets, so it's also impractical. Woot!

I met some great people, had a few fantastic meals, learned a lot, saw the Globetrotters, went to the National Civil Rights Museum, skipped Graceland on Elvis's birthday, and more. If my family had been there, I would have been solid. But they weren't, so I came home as soon as the opportunity was made available to me.

BD did a fantastic job of holding down the fort. And Playette. Of course I mean that figuratively. Maybe.

4. I got home and slept. Because, ironically, while I was busy doing items 1-3, time did not stand still and somehow I crossed over into my third trimester of growing a human. After 12-13 hour days of work while I was away, coming home to my own bed was absolute heaven. The adrenaline rush that kept me vertical through the training faded right along with the second trimester and my body did all it could to recuperate before I had to return to work on Tuesday.

5. And then, on top of everything, work is a boiling pot of stress. I hate it. Did I just write that? I think I did. I really need to do something about this. It's been bad since pretty much Day 1 and here we are five months later and I'm still there.

I have a goal in mind and I've pretty much met it, so I'm about one stupid comment away from being back at home full-time again. Little do they know. Or maybe now they do.

I. Don't. Care.

6. If there's another excuse in there somewhere - and who knows, maybe there was something else - I can't even remember.

But I'm here now.

And I'm feeling big scared great, so let's just ride that out for a while, shall we?

Things are going to drastically change soon enough.

Hold me?

C'mon now. Really?!

For me, a trip to the ER has become a little too commonplace.

Because it had been a while, we went ahead and visited on Saturday.

It was the strangest thing, really. I was in the bed, lounging, reading my Twitter feed and a few friends were discussing [something pretty damn gross].

"Hm. I've had that happen before. It is no bueno," I thought to myself.

And then, I turned over to my side, coughed, and [that same something happened].

*sigh*

So I called BD to show him the proof and he was all "ewwww" and suggested that I contact a medical professional.

I made the call, got the answering service, explained my situation, and waited on a call back.

And, because I'm that kind of person, I decided that before we did anything, we needed to go to Costco.

Because I'd be fired up if I ended up admitted and couldn't use my coupon.

Turns out that the advice I got was to go to someone's urgent-type facility, so after I did what I wanted (I know, I know), we went to the hospital. It actually made more sense to go there than somewhere else based on my insurance coverage, plus I knew that if I needed tests, I'd already be in the right place.

Thankfully, traffic was light in there during that time, so we were in and out in a relatively quick 2+ hours. Playette enjoyed the time outside with her dad after I had to kick her out of my room for touching everything and just plain being four years old and I played with my phone in between repeating my same story to every person that walked into the room (what's the point of them taking notes, anyway?).

A chest x-ray later, it was revealed that I, thankfully, do not have pneumonia again some more, so I was released on my own recognizance.

We celebrated with lunch at a new-to-us place and then went home to football for them and a nap for me.

Exciting, huh?

We are some serious party animals over here, y'all.

After that, things were pretty tame for the rest of the weekend. BD put up the tree, I rested and addressed envelopes, Playette did her silly little thing as she is prone to do.

I just realized today that we are sooo booked for the next six weeks or so. Going here, running there, parties, family time. And I just found out that I have reserve duty in January. I'm excited for what I'll be doing, but bummed to have to leave my peeps behind. I know first-hand how Playette gets when BD leaves and the thought of her missing me that badly just makes my icy heart crumble a little around the edges. Poor little boobah.

Or she could just be thrilled to have me gone. Who knows.

Oh, and I know I've kept you all dangling for deets. It won't be long now. Promise!

Maybe I should put a Neicy Nash flower in my hair for Reveal Day.

Take Two

And here shall follow another post that proves that 31 for 21 doesn't have to include all Ds-related posts all the time. Because this one here? All about me.

Yes, again.

I'm pretty sure I only have 46 chromos, but no one's ever checked. Who's to say I'm not one of those people that doesn't find out until later in life? Ya never know.

So, today was one of those rare, awesome days that BD and I have off from work and Playette still has school. That almost never happens.

We got up and tag-teamed her right out the door before deciding that maybe a walk would be nice. And then when we were half-way home, I got the genius idea to...double the distance. Good grief. I just couldn't leave well enough alone, huh? It wasn't one of those situations where you could just change your mind mid-way either. I added a circle. A really, really big circle. With no short-cuts. One we started, that was it. We had to finish.

When we got home, I raced to shower because...

1. I had a massage appointment! Woohoo! It was the result of what I like to call the Summer of Groupon. I bought so much crap, I swear. And now we are in the Autumn of Using Everything Up Before it Expires.

Then I did something not nearly as fun. I went to sign Playette's IEP. Booooo. I got annoyed and kinda lost my zen-like state.

2. But then I went and got cookies! The local bakery that is known for its workforce of people with disabilities was right next door to the offices, so I just had to go. You know, in the name of Ds Awareness Month and all. I'm all about doing my part.

I got home and watched a little TV with BD, ate some lunch, and...

3. Went to get my hair done! (I hope you're all yelling appropriately when you see these exclamation points. This is exciting stuff.) The experience itself was less-than-awesome, other than the hair washing part - I love that, but the results were just what I needed. See, lately, I've been doing what I like to call the Lazy Brush-Over. I just kinda do the top of my hair. Whatever goes on underneath remains a mystery. Until I go to comb it and it takes 30 minutes of pain-inducing raking. It's a mess and I bring it on myself. With that in mind, I decided to get it temporarily straightened using a blow-dryer and scalp-scalding temperatures. I should have taken a before pic, but even I'm not that brave. Just know that it was an afro on it's best day and then remember all I mentioned about not combing it. Then make that picture in your mind 10 times worse. That was me.

And this is me now:



It's not flashy or glam, but I can get a comb through it. That's huge. And I'm good until it rains or I sweat. That equals about 12 hours, I'm thinking.

I attempted to have BD take the pics so it wouldn't be me doing goofy self-portraits in the bathroom mirror, but my husband and I had some creative differences. No worries. I love him for more than his picture taking abilities, thank goodness.

I still have my San Antoni-toes, but hey...I got a lot accomplished today. I'll get that pedicure in there sometime soon. That's a promise.

And I won't post pictures.

Well, maybe I won't.

Don't be mad. I have some pretty k-a feet.

Sunday

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.

The Rest

So, remember that whole trip to NYC for the Buddy Walk?

Well, when our fun-filled Saturday was over, we still had most of Sunday to spend in the city.

After, once again, housing the breakfast buffet, we headed out. We had decided that we'd keep the day pretty Playette-centric.

First stop, FAO Schwarz.

It was a long walk from our hotel to there, so it was a welcome surprise to come across a market all down 6th Avenue. We stopped at a couple of places, drooled over some of the food being sold (only not partaking because we had just eaten) and ended up with new sunglasses for the bigger two of us. Five dollar bucks for mine. And they're cute. Score!

We eventually made it. I was whooped. Playette was rearing to go.


Check her out. This makes me laugh. "Dreeessss. Dreeessss. Dress! Cheese. (strike a pose)"


I have no idea who taught her that little pointed toe move, but she likes it. A lot.

Once we moved past the dresses, I just kept the camera rolling because she was funny to watch as she explored.


Don't worry. I went back and put everything back.

When I found my fam again, they were here:


Playette and I got down to our socks right after this and did some horrible big piano playing of our own for a while.

We thought about purchasing the floor model for the low, low price of $250K, but decided that eventually owning a home might be the more fiscally responsible option.

We are such dillhole killjoys.

To get the festive mood back, we played around some more before heading over to Rockefeller Plaza to tour an exhibit on education...


(I couldn't resist the scramble board.)

...back to Times Square for a Thai food lunch, people watching...


...and, finally, the pièce de résistance:


My little cell phone camera does this lighted mammoth no justice. Playette was excited as we stood in line (translation: she thought she was too good to wait and tried to bust ahead) and quickly pointed out the car with "Lala" on it.

That stumped us. We kept looking and looking, seeing Dora, well, nowhere.

Finally, I spotted her. Way up at the top, in the tiniest corner of a Nickelodeon-themed car. I can't believe this kid is supposed to need glasses. She wasn't wearing any at the time. Hm.

So, lucky us, for the next 15 minutes, we got to hear "Lala! Lala!"

And of course it's first come, first served. You can't just want "Lala" and get her.

I felt really bad by the time we boarded and missed it by one. She had to watch "Lala" go round and round in front of us the entire time. Womp, womp.

BD and I were ok with what we got though. What self-respecting child of the 80s wouldn't want to rock the Mystery Machine?! I mean, really.


They got a really cute picture of all of three of us in the ride, but, uh...it would have cost more than our lunch so...sorry.

It was another great day. We left there, grabbed our bags from the hotel, I went to get some bagels to bring home, we boarded the bus, and actually had a really decent ride back home.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Now that's it's a week past our local Buddy Walk, I hope I can get that in sometime soon, before we head to our third and final for the year.

You Oughta Know

I'm playing that song in the background as I type this.

I like lots of different types of music.

I didn't appreciate my kid this time four years ago.

Now I can't get enough of her.

I was afraid and couldn't fight through that or the sadness. For way longer than I even realized until after it was over.

I know now that I'm not alone in having felt that way.

I wish I had known then.

I hope someone else, who really needs to know, knows now.

I love the way that my daughter calls Dora "Lala" but then when you try to correct her and get her to pronounce it correctly, she says "d-d-d-d-Dora." It cracks me up every time.

I'm still not sure how I feel about going back to work.

That's not true. I know how I feel. I just don't know what I'm willing to do about it yet.

Now I'm listening to Kurtis Blow.

I love my friends.

I wonder what my mother would think of me today.

I really don't want to have to move again soon (destination: unknown), but I'll be more than ready to leave by then.

It's not the people, it's the place.

Except Sonic. And Chick-fil-A. And the beach. I like those parts.

I really, really don't like Facebook anymore. Surprisingly, it's not because of whatever changes they just made. I don't even really know what happened because I usually only check it from my phone.

I miss when people used to call me on the telephone. I actually like the telephone.

krlr, you should totally email me. My address is to the right of this post somewhere.

I really like beans but BD doesn't, so I had to turn my big batch into chili so that we'd both be happy.

That's love, y'all.

5 Years

Summertime

I am The Exhausted.

But I'm also "A Blogger", so instead of plopping down on the couch and putting a dent in my already-one-day-overdue book, I'm sitting here typing.

So this post may actually cost me another twenty-five cents in fines.

Quelle horreur!

I'm that dedicated to my craft, to put myself that much more into library debt, just so ya know.

We've had some activity over here. Never a dull moment.

The job front is picking up. I've had interviews, have another tomorrow, and have a firm offer on the table. It's nice to be desired, but I'm also realizing what matters most to me. That complicates matters some, but I'm ok with that. We'll see how everything goes.

There's also some crap really thrilling stuff that's been brewing with the school district regarding Playette's placement for next year. My blood pressue is appropriately high. But I want this to be a happy post, so...

I already mentioned that we're in the midst of our holiday season over here. It all wraps up tomorrow with the big 0-5. It feels like we were just in Vegas, sweating to death while the Bellagio fountains decided that they'd take a break from being majestic that hour, just as we were planning to take our outdoor pics. Ah, memories.

We don't need any silverware, so go ahead and dazzle me with your traditional wooden gifts, k?

On top of that, we're having to say goodbye to new and dear friends. No fair on the moving while we have to stay behind, y'all. Booooo! That's what I say to your orders. Boo. And pa-tooey.

We've also been playing the role of hosts to multiple sets of out-of-town guests so I've been soaking up all the things about summer that I've missed over the last three years of living in HoodiesOnTheFourthofJuly-ville.

There's been plenty of pool and beach time, along with staying up way too late and lots of laughing and talking and reminiscing.

I could get used to that.

Regarding our most-recently-departed guests, this pic was taken the last time our families got together. Way too long, I say.


And check out these cuties now.


They get it from their mamas.

Peacock? Poppycock!

Yeesh. Neglected blog much?

Ok, so what excuse can I use this time? Family bonding after deployment was a good one. I can't really top that.

Also used: cross-country move and illness. Wait. I think I did manage to post mid-illness.

I guess the deal is that we've just been living...and reflecting on living. So many things need to be done when you get to a new place. Some fun, some not so fun. For example, Playette and I have doctors now that aren't way far away and through a tunnel, so that's good. That only took 3 weeks to get accomplished. I guess I can feel just a tad productive regarding that effort.

We've had family visit and then last week I just wasn't much up to posting after the sudden loss of an amazing friend from college. Everything I thought to write just didn't seem...right.

But, in general, we're making friends and irritating influencing people here, as we are wont to do. Playette is even enrolled in two classes at the recreation center. One way or another, I'm gonna wear that girl out, I promise.

So, in the hopes that you'll forgive this little bout of absentia, I wanted to share something that may make you smile from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

This is real life in the Smith-Smith house, y'all. I know you want to come visit.

Preface: A friend asked what everyone knew about peacocks on Facebook and I opened my big mouth and said that I was a veritable peacock expert (they roamed free around the campus where I last worked) and also did a mean impression. She called me on it, so I ponied up with a video.

It's not so much about my mad peacock calling skillz (which, hello? WICKED AWESOME) as it is about my daughter, who will never allow my head to get too big. Enjoy.

And, uh, beware of the volume.

No, really.

Peacocks are loud, yo.



Oh, and did you peep the part where I totally forgot the word "peacock"?

My brain is so fried. I'm glad I did all my book learnin' when I was younger.

Steppin' Up!

On Saturday, Playette and I drove to the Sacramento area to spend some more time with our favorite Phamily.

We arrived just in time to see Operation Spirit in full effect. I was quickly taught how to make a tutu. I was quite proud of myself as I am usually what is considered the opposite of crafty.

I did not, in fact, have to be taught how to eat all of the wonderful spread of food that was on display.

That? I am good at.

There was glitter everywhere. Signs and large, decorated "Gs" (for Team Gabalicious). Streamers and curly strands for the wagon. Matching t-shirts and accessories for all.

Well actually, there weren't quite matching t-shirts for all.

Sheree went out of her way to have slightly different shirts made for our team-within-a-team, "Playette's Peeps."



The walk itself was a lot of fun. The girls were gorgeous and as we walked, we cheered and sang and danced.


Last year, Team Gabalicious had won the "Most Spirited" award. What a fun thing to aim for, right? I'm all for getting festive and showing people that we, the friends and families of people with Down syndrome, know how to celebrate in the name of increasing awareness.


It was also nice to see so many other families again that I have gotten to know over the last couple of years. We all have this amazing bond based on the little something extra that our kids have in common.

Ds Walk #2 of 2010 complete.

Ds Walk #1 of 2010

Grandma Technology

I wanted to post last night.

I tried to post last night.

But I was useless without my internet connection.

I also learned that my Blackberry is no good when it comes to posting. Bah!

But I'm back in business. For now.

And I also now officially know the difference between the router and the modem.

I bet you're jealous.

You're really gonna hate me when I tell you that I "direct connected" the laptop to the modem with my "ethernet cord."

Yup.

*popping collar*

So, wanna know what I deduced this morning as Playette and I were playing Dance Party USA (snort)?

Well, I know her favorite singers.

They are:

1. Rachel Coleman
2. Rihanna
3. Me

She cracks me up. She was absolutely enthralled while watching Rihanna's new video for the first time today. And then she started singing along while dancing. I think she may have even signed "world" a few times but, um, I don't know that sign so I totally need to look it up. Heh.

I love moments like that and thinking back on it makes me smile.

Oh, and that reminds me. She seems confused by how Rachel used to be in the TV, which she was perfectly fine with before, then she was right there in person, and now she's back in the TV again.

I've caught Playette tapping the screen and looking behind the television in confusion.

Poor babe.

Driving Miss Crittle

Playette and I hung out at one of the coolest parks ever today.

She really enjoyed "driving" me around and doing the "beep beep" on the horn.

Some other stuff happened at the park, too, but, hey, it's 31 for 21, so I need to space out the goodies a bit. ;-)

The Notebook

Last week was busy as we prepared for the start of preschool. I already mentioned that I didn't have the requested composition notebook on hand the first day and had to improvise, but by Day 2, we were good to go.

Since this was my first time using this sort of thing, you know, a book to communicate with my child's preschool teacher, I thought that maybe I'd start it out. So I wrote her a little note:

"Ms. C,

Playette is very good at learning new things quickly. Please allow her to show you her potential. :)

She can wash hands, clean up, and uses the potty fairly well (we are working on her telling us 100% of the time - she knows the sign for "potty"). She loves to read books and dress up/play pretend. She is such a fun girl!

Today, I provided all of the Thick It that I had left at home. Please let me know when more is needed. She needs one large scoop for every four ounces of liquid.

If anything else is needed, I am happy to provide.

Thank You,

The Mama"

==

I was totally winging that and probably should have given it more time and attention, but it was five minutes until the bus was due to arrive and I just wanted to get something down. It's hard not to know what's going on during your child's day, especially when they can't tell you in a language that you can understand.

==

She replied:

"Hi The Mama,

We are seeing great skills. We are definitely going to help her learn more and achieve appropriate shills by practicing and doing them by herself. We will maximize her full potential.

At this point, we are still observing and learning what she can do.

We'll let you know what else she needs.

So far, she is doing great. She is enjoying playing with her friends and vice versa.

She is so adorable.

Ms. C

Note: I'm sending letter for our picture day on August 24th."

==

Gotta admit, this made me smile.

==

Nothing else came last week, so today, I wrote again:

"How is Playette doing?
Is she making friends?
Following routines?
Communicating in a way that helps you understand her wants/needs/desires?

Please let me know if a list of her ASL signs would be helpful for you to have.

Thank you! :)"

==

Reading that now, I sound like a loon.

==

And the response:

"Hi The Mama,

You can check her progress notes when you pick her up everyday. It's going to be seen next to the sign-in sheet. But be reminded, progress reports will be sent Friday or Monday.

Yes, she's following directions 85% of the time. If not, then we assist her with that. She tells us what she wants and needs right away. She complies to all of our routine and directions. She may at times say "no" but she can easily be redirected.

So far, she's doing great."

==

Good to hear.

Ok, so I'll back off from being Crazy Lady now.

Thank you, Composition Book. Though your tenure was short, you've served us well.

Bring on the Weekly Reports. WOOT!

Delightfully Boring

That was our drop-off today.

After finally getting bus info yesterday at 3:30 pm (I called one final time during our trip to the aquarium), we had quite the crazy morning, but then?

It all kinda fell into place.

At least I hope it did.

From where I was standing it did, anyway.

Sure, I realized at the last minute that I actually had to pack her a snack (<--spoiled by generous daycare) and that I didn't buy rubber gloves or a notebook, but I improvised.

1. Goldfish crackers and a cut up pear with a bottle of water. How excited was I that we actually had paper lunch bags in the pantry? VERY. Probably overly.

2. I have no idea why we had a baggie full of gloves under Playette's sink, but we did so I grabbed them.

3. We had manila folders in the office so I grabbed one, stapled a piece of printer paper inside, and wrote "Playette's Notes" in red marker on the outside.

I am so proud of myself it's borderline pathetic.

So, there I was, rushing around and sweating in my turtleneck and cords and furry boots in August, when I heard a noise.

Like a diesel-y truck noise. It took me a few minutes to realize that it wasn't trash day and more than likely that was Playette's bus sitting out in front of the house.

I grabbed her, ran downstairs, threw open the door and there it was.

The short little, yellow bus.

Wow.

I soaked that in for about 5 seconds (ok, whatever) and then walked to the door, introduced us to the driver, asked if she would be the only child every day (no, there are two others), where she would sit, and a couple of other things. I told him that we'd see him tomorrow and off he went.

Playette was very shy-acting during the whole thing, until I reminded her that the wheels on the bus go round and round. Then she got excited. That girl loves a soundtrack. Hopefully, that's a good sign and she'll be good to go tomorrow.

A few minutes later, we left and I drove to the preschool. Her teacher was waiting out front with another little boy that had just gotten off of his bus. Together we walked inside, passing in between the rooms of the children in Head Start screaming on our left and some of their parents outside crying on our right.

Once in the room, Playette got to exploring. She was happy. She started playing with the little boy. It was that easy.

I talked to the teacher some about what I had brought inside my Santa Sack o' Crap and that was that.

I left.

No tears from either one of us.

I always feel bad that I don't get sad about stuff like this.

I'm just glad that from her perspective that it all went smoothly.

I'll leave in a few minutes to start the afternoon transition from preschool to daycare. Hopefully, it'll be snooze worthy. That's what I'm hoping for.

Sprung

Last weekend, BD and I had the amazing opportunity to get some extended alone time. There's a beach around here that we've recently grown to love, so that's where we went. We had a great dinner and stayed the night in a B&B. In the morning, they brought our breakfast to the room and then we gathered our belongings and walked the shops before settling in our chairs by the water for some reading time. After, we had a great lunch and then made our way home to Playette. Even typing it out feels nice. It's important for me to take the time to acknowledge how fortunate and appreciative we are to be able to do something like that. It's one of those occasions that reminds me why we started this partnership in the first place.

Our get-away took me back to the first time we went to that same beach, about seven weeks ago, that time with Playette in tow. It was another beautiful spring day and it was during that trip that we named that patch of sand and surf our new favorite spot. It's warmer than where we live by about 10 degrees (yay!) and it's small enough that it's never uber crowded when we're there. Plus, there are great little restaurants and stores and a pier with live music and the cutest little beach houses and it's just...nice. At about 40 minutes away, it's perfect for a "staycation."

Cracking up while taking some sips.





I attempted self-portraits, but she couldn't have cared less about playing along.



She was way interested in BD reading to her though. Love these pics, especially the "Oh, no!" face.



Here, we are lucky enough to witness the Ancient Sand Throwing Ceremony.











Little Butt

Us

Next up...

I was trying to decide what to post first and then settled on going in chrono order.

That means it's time for race pics.


Pre-race pose. I don't know what we're supposed to be showing off here.




Hanging out at the starting line. It was coollld.




FNPT and I in the corral. She's typically a much faster runner than I am, but she agreed to keep me company and get me water and yell at me stuff. How awesome is that?!




Where's Crittle?




Mile 2ish.




Mile 8ish. We almost took each other out coming around that curve.




Some of our entertainment. Check out the awesome weather we got that day.




Coming around the bend. Note all the walkers surrounding me. I was not in any danger of winning this race, but dang it, I was gonna finish strong.




And then I noticed the camera and became deliriously giddy.






Race over, FNPT and I grabbed some snacks. At this point, I realized how much pain I was in. She wanted me to keep walking. I, on the other hand, wanted to curl up in a ball in the middle of the parking lot.




The Littlest One.




Post-race posing.



As I've mentioned before, prior to last spring, running was only something that I thought about doing. And they were never really nice thoughts either. I resented running and it hated me right back. I was sure of it.

Well, one day I decided to try. And then try again. I'd tried before, but the trying again part was what I had trouble with. Previously, every time I felt defeated, I moved on to something else. So this time I kept going. First, a few yards at a time Then, a quarter mile. Pretty soon, those quarters started turning into a mile. Then multiple miles. I complained and I cried (really, and more than once), but I kept coming back.

My body has changed (I was carrying 25 more lbs back when I started than I am now), my confidence has been boosted, and I'm actually proud of myself for once. I'm seeing the self I used to be and it feels good.

So, maybe I can encourage one person. I hope so at least. It doesn't have to be running. Maybe you've always had something, anything, that you just kept meaning to do but it seemed too hard.

Maybe now's the time to try it. And then try again.