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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Short and Sweet

I am too tired to type. Most times, I am too bored with myself to even think.

When I do read, I get all crotchety about the internet and what it has done to our culture, akin to how my great-grandmother felt about indoor plumbing.

And no one wants to hear that, right?

I have quite the low tolerance level these days.

And I still don't think it's pregnancy hormones. I'm probably just not that nice of a person.

I hope it passes.

Shoot, it's too nice outside to stay mean forever.

Something I can be grateful for today: apparently, Playette's school is having pity on me at the moment and not requiring me to pick her up for being 0.1 over the temperature limit. They called, but then called back a few minutes later and said that they'd try her again in a bit to make sure that it really is pick-up worthy.

I really must have looked like crap when I dropped her off this morning.

She's been very fortunate this year in the sick department. All over, families have been dealing with nastiness all "winter" and we've, thankfully, been passed over. Not that it makes us special or anything. I really have no idea where my kid got this immune system, but I accept.

If anyone has any questions for me about anything, let me know. Obviously, I'm lacking in creativity. I'd welcome any excuse to write and become a more productive member of society.

7.3

Crap. I thought I hit 8 this week and that sounded so good, but then I realized that couldn't be right based on the whole 40 weeks vs 9 months dealio, so I found a calculator online and I'm...7.3. As in months pregnant.

That's not nearly as milestone-sounding-y.

But it is over 80% complete, so that's something, right?

I'm not really in a rush to be done, because I'm quite far from being ready, so why this even matters, I don't know. I have been pregnant a really long time though, or so it feels. With Playette, I found out late. With her brother, I found out super early. It is what it is.

You know what I woke up thinking about this morning? Weight gain. Specifically, weight gain due to pregnancy after losing 52 pounds and then gaining back six, but who's counting.

I haven't done such a great job with this whole weight thing. I thought I'd do fantastic since I was thoroughly Weight Watchers-ized and in really good shape last summer, but the first trimester had me losing my mind by eating things regularly that used to be treats or Absolutely Nots. And then the whole working out thing went away.

So I'm up 30 pounds. Totally my fault. But strange all the same.

I didn't gain this much with Playette. I think it was 25 pounds by the time I gave birth.

But, then again, I started out 24 pounds lighter this time.

This is boring, I know. But it's what I've been thinking about.

You know, when I'm not busy stuffing my face with Pop Tarts.

At least they're not buttered.

To clarify...

I have heard from several of my peeps that they thought, after reading yesterday's post, that my "sweet" Playette literally showed her behind on more than one occasion yesterday.

I, for one, hate to ruin a hilarious mental image, but that's totally just a figure of speech.

It was more like a case of Preschooler Behaving Badly.

Urban Dictionary elaborates (warning: crass language!)

When she does explore that phrase more literally? I will be sure to let you know. Ha!

Potpourri

My brain is a hodge-podge spiral of everything lately.

I create posts in my head that never get written.

And, seriously, what else is new?

I want to talk about pre-natal testing (PNT). Whew, that's a biggie. I've been reading an article lately. In itself, it's not long. It's the 190 comments that are taking time to rifle through. And there are some doozies in there. Some make me gag because they're just so over-the-top syrupy and others make me fear for my life in this country and wonder if the author is my neighbor or co-worker. You can read for yourself here.

The article was published back in September, but I only just now learned about it for a reason that I will discuss sooner than later. I just need time to get my long list of thoughts together. I figure that people have wondered about my position on PNT, especially now that my pregnancy is common knowledge, but they're too polite to ask. Which is cool. So I'll just tell.

In a similar vein, I had an appointment with, as my friend likes to call it, my "nurse collective" last week. I am officially 3/5 of the way through my pregnancy and the baby appears to be doing well. He moves a lot and he has a great sounding heartbeat. I feel pretty good for the most part and if I could just get motivated to find a support group like "Pregnancy after Weight Loss" I might be able to wrap my brain around this whole upward motion of the scale thing. Trust me, I know it's a necessary part of the process, but I still sigh at every weigh-in. I need to get over it.

At my appointment, unfortunately, I also had to deal with a question about Playette that made me think. It brought up the whole "educate or get pissed or both?" feelings again. I swear, as more time goes by, this isn't as clear cut as it used to be. At least I'm not so quick to cry anymore.

There's also work stuff that is out of control. Like, really. They have gone straight nutty on me. I know I mentioned it briefly back in August/September, but because I wasn't ready to talk about the babe yet, I didn't get into details about why what happened really sucked as much as it did. Suffice it to say that coming back was not what I anticipated.

I've got reserve duty coming up (which caused more drama at work) and I am already thinking of how much I'm going to miss Playette and vice versa. My girl really tugs at my heartstrings lately and every choice I make seems to impact her to the core. I hope she doesn't hate me when I get back. The one good thing that will come of this is my getting to wear what I fondly refer to as "The Khaki Tent" again. Not only will I get more of my money's worth out of this rarely-worn gem, but it's super-comfy. So, yay for that.

Also, I want to touch on infertility. That's not something I've ever talked about openly. But it's real. And that makes me even more grateful for what's currently going on with my body.

I hope you're all enjoying a wonderful holiday season. If you have any specific questions, please either post here or email me and I'll add it to the lot.

We'll be celebrating in a unique way this year and I look forward to telling you more about that, too.

Soon...very soon.

Anything in particular that you want to hear about first? Majority rules.

Lovely Day

This song has been stuck in my head lately. A version (not sure who sings it) comes on Playette's favorite radio station and I love that I knew some of the words right away and can sing along to it with her. She loves it when I do that.

Despite my lack of sleep and a list of things that still needed to be done no matter how crappy I felt, I have to admit that today was a lovely one.

Playette got up at 3am. Why? I have no idea. I assumed that she didn't know either so after giving her a potty break, I put her back in the bed. I figured that we could pick up our little convo once the sun came up and, thankfully, she agreed and didn't start yelling for me again for about 3.5 more hours.

For some strange reason, we got temps in the upper 70s today, along with sunshine. Since I needed to fulfill a promise to head to the beach with the fam (seriously, in the way of promises, that's a good one), to the beach we went, along with our faithful helper, "Pretend" Jen.

Playette has been asking and asking for the beach since the time had long passed to take a dip in the water, so she was very happy just to be there and have the opportunity to play in the sand in her jeans and tee shirt. I wish we could have stayed longer, but there was a birthday party to attend for one of Playette's school friends. Apparently, she had a ball. Being that I am currently hosting a myriad of germs, I wasn't able to make it. Boo.

I can't wait to show you all what we were doing at the beach though. Really. I'm excited!

But...I need just a little more time to get it all together.

So, please, bear with me and all will be revealed.

I hope everyone is getting in the spirit of the upcoming holiday in the US.

Can I just say that I CAN'T WAIT TO EAT?!

Seriously. The food. Bring it.

In My Head

This is the first year that I can recall not being all stressed about trying to fulfill my 31-for-21 obligation to post every day in October. I think that may be because I'm not trying to make it all about Ds this year. And that's easier for me to do now because, as time has passed, that's become more of a side item in our dinner or life instead of the main course.

Ok, that was a little goofy, but you know what I mean.

There was a point where my life was all Ds, all the time. And not in a good way.

It was more like an overwhelmed, really sad, looking for a light at the end of the tunnel kind of way.

And I have to say, while our lives are now filled with more people and families that identify with Ds than ever before, it doesn't feel like too much.

It feels just right.

I love my friends with no children. I love my friends with typically developing children. I love my friends with children that came with a little something extra.

It's made my life rich, I think. I can't say "richer" for sure, because who can say, but rich fits just fine.

I like knowing that I'm not the only one wondering about Kindergarten placement.

I like being able to laugh at things our kids do only the way that parents who are "in the know" can.

I like answering questions from people that are asking because they care and really want to know what I think.

I like seeing my kid treated exactly like the others in the room, whether that's being fed, bathed, read to, or disciplined.

I like knowing, really knowing, that my child will never be left alone, even if I'm not here. She'll have someone.

That's really all that's on my mind tonight.

We had a regular day, doing regular things.

I don't feel particularly funny or eloquent or strongly about any singular topic tonight.

And that's totally working for me.

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If y'all want me to expound on anything, speak up, 'k?

Before you know it, I'll be back in my weekly posting rabbit hole.

Siblings

Playette doesn’t currently have any, but there’s always a lot of really interesting discussion going on around me about how people of all ages (must) feel about having a sibling with Ds.

Some believe it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them. They have joy beyond measure.

While others believe that it would be a pox upon their family for generations upon generations to even consider bringing a child with such a diagnosis into their home…for the sake of their existing or future children.

Personally, I haven’t ever felt like we would or would not have more children based on Playette’s diagnosis. It simply hasn’t been a factor for me. I don’t have expectations for another child of mine to one day be her caretaker, nor have I considered that having/bringing another child into our home would one day lead to resentment of either us or their sister. I don’t know if that makes me naïve or what. I’ve always - well at least after that first year of her life - felt that Playette would be able to one day do for herself. That’s the way we raise her. As if one day she will leave our cover and be her own person.

Shoot, we've got plans for 2025 and beyond. Grown-up plans.

Sometimes I wonder if other parents look at us in shock or disdain because we don’t do more for her, physically. As a first-time parent, I’m only doing what I think is best. Which means that I’m totally winging it.

So, yeah, I ask her to do as much for herself as I believe is realistic for her at that moment in time. Maybe one day I will discover that my expectations were too high. I guess I’m willing to take that chance. Again, it’s a personal philosophy based on how I, myself, was raised, combined with the input of BD, which is based on his experiences. Those were amazingly different, so we meet somewhere in the middle and have created The Smith-Smith Way. Which includes her taking off her own clothes and putting them in the hamper. You know, do as I say, not as I do. That kinda thing. One day, she's going to notice that I'm messier than she is.

But, I digress.

My point in addressing the sibling situation is that I wanted to talk a little bit about how this article made me feel.

In a nutshell, I liked it.

Even though, at age 27, Diondra is far from being Jamie’s older sister, as the article indicates.

Plus, a video would have been awesome. If anyone sees it somewhere, please let me know.

Maybe it’s because I’ve met them both (at different times) that I feel a teensy, itty bitty connection. It just feels like they have a great relationship and I love that. When we were in San Antonio last summer, I chatted with Diondra for a bit at the dance on Saturday night. I told her how I had seen her dance in his Blame It video and on an award show and she inspires me when it comes to thinking of my daughter’s future.

I remember how she placed her hand to her chest and lowered her head in that “Oh, stop, you’re too kind” way. After stepping away, I was told by a friend that she had been chatting with Jamie via Facetime on her iPad while he was in another country filming a movie. I remember wondering what they talked about. Was she telling him what a great time she was having? (Or that she was being stalked by this one weird mom, even?) Was he telling her to live it up and that he’d see her soon?

I’ll never know.

But what I didn’t notice was resentment or any sense of one being a burden on the other.

And I appreciated that.

Are you crossing the line?

On Tuesday, it was brought to my attention that I may want to consider setting my DVR to record yesterday’s episode of the medical information show, The Doctors.

Why? Well, they’d be talking about people with Ds who choose to have plastic surgery to change their much more obvious facial features to those that were considered more subtle. The goal would be to not be immediately identified as a person with an intellectual disability and perhaps then be afforded more opportunities or maybe even just be treated more like the average 46er. (Guessing these people haven't see this video of a woman getting taunted and beaten, but I digress.)

Ok. I understand the premise. I’ve heard of this type of surgery before, but there’s not a lot of information out there on people that have actually had the procedure(s) done. This is possibly because many of the patients are minors and/or it’s done in secret as to not bring attention to a surgery that was meant to defray such attention in the first place. I do recall seeing an article about a little girl in the UK a while ago. That’s about it though.

Really, it’s not about whether or not I agree with what people choose to do with their, or their children’s, faces. It’s not something I would do with my daughter. I can say that. As much as I wish we could keep her tongue from protruding, I'd much rather continue Oral Motor Therapy than clip it. I just don’t see the point.

Which brings me to the show.

I watched it last night thinking that there might be an actual debate. I thought that maybe they’d shed some light on the types of procedures people are having done, what the “success” rate is, or whatever. I wanted, and expected data. You know, actual medical information from a show built on providing medical information.

Sigh.

Ok, so the topic of the episode was “Are you crossing the line?”. They had several different segments that addressed people’s controversial cosmetic surgery choices, the last of which being the one that addressed Down syndrome.

I admit, I rolled my eyes a lot. There was way too much clapping. There was no debating like there had been in previous segments. It just seemed like, once again, the argument was that people with Ds are perfect and we can’t even TALK about things the way that other groups can.

Their faces remind people that they are different and that’s necessary because otherwise they wouldn’t get the help they might need*. (thunderous applause) People with Ds don’t need to try to be “normal”; “normal” people need to get with the program and accept people with Ds just the way they are.** (thunderous applause)

*But what about all the people with varying disabilities that don’t have Ds? Should they change their features to get help?

** Ok, fine. Yes. But what about the people who don’t agree? Let’s hear from them. Are there people who had it done and are happy with it? Show me. Or what about random audience members who have no Ds connection? Would they treat someone differently if they looked different?

Even Dr. Sears, who has a brother with Ds, said that his parents considered the surgery at one point, but opted not to go through with it.

He then went on to say,““We talk about trying to create normalcy,” Dr. Sears says. “But with Stephen, we could make him look normal on the outside, but he’s not normal on the inside.” (thunderous applause)

Gag.

For a show that talks about Ds on occasion and has a sibling of a person with Ds on staff, you’d think that some People First Language would come into play. But, no. There was a lot of Down’s/Down syndrome babies/people this and that, plus way too much use of the word “normal” for my own personal taste.

Because, really, what is “normal”?

I learned nothing new from watching the episode so that was disappointing. Additionally, it felt very patronizing.

I’m not upset with the show because they chose to talk about a controversial topic. I mean, they didn’t even really dig deep into it or anything. Plus, they didn’t create the surgery; they just brought the information forth. But, blah.

I did enjoy seeing Gail and Blair Williamson on screen though. Gail was the catalyst for our participation in the I’m Down with You project and her son, Blair, is an accomplished actor.

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.

Snippets

I believe that I owe you all another video. Not that anyone's asking for one, but I kinda prefer telling the school stories "in person" now. That saves me a heck of a lot of writing, for one. Yesterday and today, there were some new developments. And I'm proud of myself.

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On Saturday, I had a commitment with the Navy Reserve. As I've mentioned before, this is not a frequent occurrence, but this summer, there seems to be a lot more going on than usual. In fact, I have meetings this coming weekend as well.

So there I am, early in the morning, putting on my khakis, and Little Miss Possessive herself (no, really, she doesn't want servers to take away our plates, people to come too close with their carts in the grocery store, or luggage handlers to take our bags in the airport) starts giving me the "No! No! No! No!" complete with hand gestures. I'm wondering what in the world I've done to get this treatment and then she says, "Daddy's pants!"

Ah, yes. Of course. She thought I was stealing her dad's clothes since this is what she always sees him wear and never sees me wear.

Smart kid.

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We went to the ENT last Friday for a follow-up to the sleep study. Apparently, her episodes were extremely insignificant. No T&A or CPAP for her, for now. We go back in December.

That reminds me. It's about that time to start scheduling the next round of appointments. We haven't been to the Cardiologist since moving here so I think that visit should get some priority. Hopefully, it'll be just as uneventful as our past visits have been. But it is always nerve-wracking to go to someone new. Who knows if they'll agree with the other doctors? What if they want to do something we're not expecting?

Ugh. Why did I just go there? Borrowing trouble.

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Playette got new glasses when we were in San Antonio and the lenses are finally in. So stinkin' cute. I like them so much better than the sports goggles on her. I guess now you want a pic, huh?

All the ones I have in my phone are blurry. I'll work on getting a clear shot posted soon.

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In the meantime, here she is this morning, sans glasses, after deciding that she was more than ready to head out to school. She grabbed the garage door opener and the car keys, along with my sunglasses that she promptly placed in the headband position. Good thing I was right behind her because the garage door was up and she was out and at the driver's side door in no time. I guess she thought she'd do the driving today.

Loose Ends

Ugh. So maybe this is why I don't have a bazillion followers...I am THE QUEEN of not wrapping up a friggin' story. That has to be annoying.

Yeah, so last year I dangled stuff about our very interesting Costa Rican vacation. Several times. Did I ever post about it? No.

And, more recently? The stuff about being visited by Beth and Hannah? Yup, dropped that ball, too.

Oh, and I know that at least a couple of people are wondering about our situation with the school district and placement for next year...the truth about that is that I can't even bring myself to type it out. It's painful and I swear I can feel my blood pressure increasing every time I think about it. I have a physical this weekend, so I really need to stay sorta calm before I get kicked out of the reserves.

But I promise you this: I'll talk about it. I just won't write it out. That should at least be quicker to do and thus have less of an impact on my body. Right? Let's hope so.

So, a vlog it will be.

Just give me a chance to brush my teeth, shower, comb my hair, and figure out the stupid camera, k?

This may take a while.

Someone slap me if I show up with lip gloss on and freshly threaded eyebrows. Because that is not real life. I'm just trying to hold myself accountable here.

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Oh! So if there's anything else you'd like me to wrap-up, please let me know. Any other questions are cool, too.

Out of Character

So, last week, when I was feeling all motivated about the NDSC Conference, I checked Kayak and saw a pretty good price for tickets. Well, as good as they come these days. Flying is 'spensive!

"Ah, cool. I'll go back and get those later."

[cue the laughter of the universe]

Of course, when I went back, the tickets had gone up over $100. Each.

And since BD needs to come home a little earlier for work, his ticket was already more than ours to begin with.

iPouted.

To put it mildly.

Seriously. I was pissed like someone had stolen the money out of my bank account. In my mind, I knew that I never had the tickets to begin with, but still. I mourned the loss of that money and all that I could have done with it. Like buy really big cupcakes.

Thus began the obsessive checking and re-checking of Kayak.

I put a daily reminder on my phone, but there was really no need. All on my own, I checked as soon as I woke up, before I went to bed, and sometimes in between.

My chest got all stabby as the prices kept going up and up and up.

I began feeling bad about registering for the conference because, if I hadn't, we could just bow out gracefully, right?

*sigh*

And then this morning it happened. The clouds parted and a fare that was $5 less than the first elusive one popped up. BD's ticket had gone back down as well. Oh Happy Day!

They're still 'spensive, but what're you gonna do?

I bought them.

And it took forever, what with all the verifying and extra security measures that you have to go through. They also threw in the need for yet another password to use my debit card and I had no freaking clue what that was so I had to recreate it and then, of course, I remembered the last one when I tried to make that my password and they were all "you already used that one." Ugh.

But, anyway, we're going. For sure now. On an aeroplane. Or six.

That's what I get for trying to do stuff all early.

And I know that I need to take the Kayak app off of my phone immediately because if the prices go down again? I.WILL.LOSE.IT.

As a reminder, for anyone heading that way, there are discounts available on AirTran (20%) and American (5%). Not that I got to use either one. *grumble grumble*

Also...today is Day 10 of Insanity, in case you were wondering. This whole ticket thing kept me from working out....What? Do it now? But, but...Fine then.

I'm pouting again.

I still want a cupcake.

Bullets

• I finally registered for the NDSC conference. Funny that I said "finally" when it's wayyyy before the deadline for when the price goes up. It's usually more my style to wait until then.


• I guess that's why we still don't have plane tickets. Procrastination FTW!


• Someone I was friends with a long time ago died in a way that makes me very sad to think about. A lot of fun memories have come back to my mind since finding out that his life was cut short. I remember that my mother really liked him and that makes me smile. I also remember how pissed my mother was when the group of us "borrowed" her car and drove to the place that I now live and stayed overnight. If my child is like me when she's 18, I totally deserve it.


• Laughing makes me feel better.


• I have way too many papers in my house. They are in piles. Everywhere. And include lots of unopened mail.


• I will be 35 in 45 days. That makes me think of a lot of things.


• Like, "What can I accomplish before then?"


• And Advanced Maternal Age. *gag*


• By the way, I started Insanity yesterday.


• The Fit Test made my calves ache.


• I'm scared to do today's workout.


• Playette started Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) Therapy last Thursday. Today is day 2. They're still in the "getting to know each other" phase. What I like so far: it's at our house. What I don't like so far: 3 hours a day, twice a week is a lot for this mama! If you have any experience with ABA, please feel free to share.


• Playette continued going to her new school, the less-shiny place that we have to pay for, while I was on reserve duty. They took pictures. They are hilarious. I can't bring myself to toss the proofs even though I have no intention of purchasing them. Ever. Never.


• She's still enrolled in public school. She will obviously not be receiving an award for Perfect Attendance since, well, she hasn't been there in a month and we're still plan-less for moving forward. PoTY!


• But if she does go back? She's allowed to be picked up in front of our house again. I wonder what my landlord said to the board, exactly, to get them to switch up.


• This neighborhood isn't all bad. They had Margarita Friday at the clubhouse last week and we got the opportunity to meet some nice neighbors. Apparently, we have more than our share of Navy SEALs in this little enclave. I think that's pretty cool.


• Job hunting isn't fun, but I continue to do it. Just like laundry.


• I have the most amazing video of my kid doing something but I can't post it because of pervs on the web. You'll just have to trust me on this one. Or come to San Antonio in August and ask me to show you on my phone.


• Are we really going to San Antonio in August?!


• I've been cooking a lot more. BD bought me a food processor and it's awesome and so much easier that actual cutting. Yay!


• Every time I add another bullet, I'm really just trying to avoid working out.


• Ok, fine...

I Blame Blogger

The last time I posted was over two weeks ago.

Sure, the site may not have been down that entire time, but since I did try to write something yesterday and I couldn't? That totally counts as a valid excuse for not staying in touch.

Well, that and the fact that my reserve duty time didn't exactly leave me bored and alone in a hotel room for any good length of time like most of my trips. I worked all day and partied all night.

I mean, I didn't party every night, but the nights I did party kinda seeped into the nights that I didn't. Because I don't party often. I'm out of practice. Quite the cheap date, I am. Plus, on the night that I partied the hardest? I ended up sitting and crying on a curb.

You do not want to take this old lady to a club. You can now never say I didn't warn you.

Most evenings, I found a way to workout in a new and exciting or much-missed way (Tae Bo with my peeps! Zumba at my old church! Running through the nation's capital!) and then I used that as the ultimate justification to eat like every meal was my last. The cupcakes and the burgers I consumed, alone, were enough to feed a small village. But then I also had to have the Greek restaurant I've always wanted to try and then the Thai I missed eating and the pizza I'd heard so much about and the white chocolate bread pudding and the special strawberry lemonade drink...and, and, and. Yeesh.

I dared to weigh-in at Weight Watchers on the Saturday after my first week was done. It wasn't pretty. So I cried. Yes, again.

This weight loss thing is a beast, yo. I've been meaning to talk about it for a while. Have you ever had the thought that you'd be so happy if you could fit into those skinny jeans just one. more. time?

Well, I didn't have any skinny jeans, but I bought some. At the end of December, right before we left California, BD went with me to Banana Republic and I bought jeans that made me feel like a rockstar. I was 3 pounds from my personal goal and it felt amazing.

A week later, those jeans didn't fit.

Almost 5 months later, I don't think I can get them above my knees.

Maintenance...it's more difficult than I ever anticipated.

I wish I could say that's Blogger's fault, too, but I know it's all me. We moved, I got lazy. Not with working out, really, because I've been into all kinds of things like Bootcamp and Zumba and Double Step and swimming and weights. I even joined a local running group full of crazy people that like to run up hills for an hour.

No, it's not the activity. It's the food.

This place is full of temptation and I've been succumbing on a regular basis.

It's totally unfair that I live walking distance from a Sonic and I've pretty much become a regular at the Dairy Queen and Chick-fil-A up the street.

These place simply did not exist in my small Central Cali coastal town. They're a lot easier to avoid that way, y'know?

I guess it's good that I'm acknowledging this now, before I blink and end up right back at my starting weight. Because I'm totally liable.

I'm up 10 pounds and if you add in those last 3, I've got 13 to go. That sounds like a mountain to me right now. Which is nutty, I know, considering that I'm still at 42 pounds lost. But it does. It seems insurmountable.

If anyone has any advice, I'm listening.

So...I came here to talk about what I've been up to lately (Mother's Day weekend in NYC via bus!, IEP meeting, doctor's appointments, etc.), but I guess this is weighing heavy (ha?) on my mind, so I'm dumping.

I need some motivation.

A kick in the pants.

Some accountability.

Something.

Anything.

Blah.

Happy, Tears

I was just over at a friend's blog and read something that made me cry. But it was good!

I'm sure that I'm extra-emotional because I miss my kid, but still.

Who couldn't miss their little with BD sending me pics like this before I even got through airport security?!


Way to play dirty, dude. ;-)

I'm on reserve duty for the next week and a half, so BD is holding down the fort at home. We had a conversation this morning about the necessity of tiny, brown leggings and debated the pros and cons of cornrow removal.

Yup, we're parents.

Things have been pretty busy for us lately. I was fortunate to be able to participate in a long-awaited Girls' Weekend in Savannah, GA, which was followed by Spring Break, and then Playette and I road-tripped it to Philadelphia, returning home just in time for me to pack up and fly to DC.

So that's where I am.

Home. Ish.

Strange. I haven't been here in 3.5 years. So many things have changed. It has been great getting to see people and places that I've missed and I'm looking forward to the time I have remaining. The work I'm doing here is good and I'm not in harm's way. I really can't complain.

BD and Playette will be arriving on Friday so that we can spend some family time in the place where we all became a family.

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I'd like to thank all of you that helped us to win the photo session! I'm really excited to take pictures with Natalie in May.

Allez Cuisine!

*I have a strong, strong desire for a temporary topic change in the general direction of FLUFF. My brain is going to explode otherwise.*

So, there I was this morning, trying to print out W-2s (look at us! tax prep before summer! we're awesome.) while two phones continued to ring and I tried to figure out how to access a new Navy Reserve data system since I'm heading out to training soon...

And then I smelled it.

It was a smell that reminded me of a couple of things.

But, most importantly, it reminded me that I can't take an eye off of my kid for one second.

I guess the Cheerios weren't filling enough. Playette decided that she needed a side item.

Wanna see what my little Iron Chef decided might be tasty?






Because my morning wasn't crazy enough.

I picked her up, guilty look and all, carried her to the kitchen, wiped her mouth and hands, and called Poison Control.

(I'm so glad she was smarter than I was in high school and didn't rub it on her eyelids.)

I mean, I figured it wouldn't hurt her since I've heard plenty a home-remedy that included a spoonful of the gunk, but I really am not working with a ton of good fortune these days, so there would be no taking of chances.

Except, while I was walking and dialing, I made a mistake.

All it takes is one number, y'all.

I realized it wasn't Poison Control when I was asked if I was seeking men or women for my pleasure.

Well, then.

I hope I didn't get charged for that.


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Oh, and Playette's totally fine. That teaspoon of rub didn't slow her down one bit.

And her breath has been eucalyptus-y fresh all day.

Bonus!

But Wait, There's More

First, let me thank you all for your comments and support. If anything can make a crappy situation a little better, it's knowing that you have an army of peeps behind you.

**insert sanity break to Google images of fighting marshmallow chicks here**

Ok, I'm back.

In all seriousness, I am very grateful. I know for a fact that BD and I were not the only ones mulling over Friday's situation ad nauseum this past weekend. So many people wish the best for us and our little girl and knowing that you're out there makes such a difference.

All that said, you'll dig this.

Playette usually gets picked up at about 10:45 am.

At 9:15 this morning, the phone rang.

It was her bus driver.

I think my eyes rolled out of my head.

She started out by telling me that they wouldn't be able to pick up Playette anymore.

Wow! She's calling to tell me that she got fired! Bless those other parents that complained, and rightly so. Here I am thinking-thinking and they took immediate action. Good on...

"Yeah, we're not allowed to drive the bus in your neighborhood."

...them.

Wait. What?

"Someone complained about the bus coming into your neighborhood, so now you need to bring her to the main road to get picked up."

They can't be serious.

Instead of just about anything else I could have said, I heard myself ask, "So, just when do you expect to pick her up, exactly? On that main road?"

The reason I asked is because, well, I kinda never know when they're going to show up. It could be 10:30, maybe 11:05. Good thing we can stay inside, out of the elements, while we wait.

Oh. Not anymore, huh?

So, the SUPER MEGA ironic thing that hit me is that they are now trying to make me work harder for piss-poor service.

Hm.

Interesting.

This set into motion a chain of events that basically told the school, the transportation department, and my neighborhood to go eff themselves. They won't have me or my kid to mess around with anymore.

But, while that feels right, it also leaves me feeling like it's not enough.

I want someone to suffer.

For their incompetence, for their ineptitude, for their ridiculous lack of overall professionalism and common decency, someone should be made to look like the asses they're all behaving like.

Taking our bat and ball and moving to another field seems somewhat wimpy.

But don't get me wrong, what works for us is what works for us right now. And I'll surely find a way to get up on my soapbox. Trust.

There's just something about picking your battles.

How much time and energy do you choose to invest in each situation?

It truly has to happen before you can know.

I do want to say this though...

Bless the afternoon driver who was all, "No one told me not to drive in here. I'm bringing this baby right to her door!"

and

Bless my landlord, the complete antithesis to our former wack-a-loon in CA, who called me tonight all riled up and ready to defend our rights to her homeowner's association. She could not (unnecessarily) apologize enough and plans to embarrass them at the next meeting. She made me smile.

As do all of you.

This story isn't over.

By a long shot.

I drove my daughter to school today.

My daughter that loves riding the bus so very, very much.

And I'll keep doing it, ensuring that she never has to be tainted by those people ever again.

I can't protect her from everyone, but, dammit, that won't keep me from trying.

Odds/Ends

I keep meaning to wrap up a few themes on here, but then something else happens that catches my attention (oohh, shiny!) and off I go on that tangent.

So, for those who were wondering:

Playette is adjusting well to her dad being back home. The strange throat thing she started doing after he left did not miraculously disappear at homecoming like I had hoped it would. Boo on that. At least now I have company in being driven crazy by it though.

She was absolutely thrilled to see BD again. I can tell that she's still adjusting. When he's gone to work, she'll ask if he's away on the boat. I tell her no and that he'll be home soon, but I don't think she believes me. It takes him walking in the door for it to be true.

She's quite clingy to both of us and loves holding one hand each while we walk. I'm sure there's a lot of security in that and I can't blame her one bit. She thrives when both of us are present. She's just...happier that way.

Now, when it comes to discipline, she definitely listens more to me than BD. In her world right now, he makes suggestions and I lay down the law. We're working on getting her to understand that both of the big ones run the show.

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The Mom's Night Out went well. I got there a little late, but still before dinner was ordered. There were five other mothers there and it was quite a nice mix of children's ages and diagnoses. Not all of the people that participate in the Ds support group have children with Ds and I think that's awesome. There are some uniquenesses about children that don't allow for large groups to support the families and I'm happy that they have a place with all of us. There can be many similarities when it comes to chromosomal abnormalities. At the end of the day, we're all in the same gang.

I'm looking forward to the next gathering. This group tends to do things together quite a bit a bit, whether it's with everyone, the moms, the dads, the kids of different ages...I think we've got a little something to do for a piece of every weekend in February. That's even cooler when you're new to an area and don't know many people.

I have met some great folks so far. One family has a little girl very close to Playette's age, another family is within walking distance of our house (!!), and yet another family has quite a few similarities to our own which has lead to any easy connection.

I also have a couple of college friends in the area and some people from our last duty station have moved here as well.

I don't want to wait too long to make myself at home here like I did before. We'll be gone again before you know it!

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School is going well. I'm going in in a couple of hours to observe the class in action and then we'll have a quick IEP meeting. Did I just write "quick IEP meeting"? Hm. I'm still not so sure those exist. But they tell me that this is just a transfer from one form to another, basically, and that we can meet again when everyone has gotten to know each other a little better. We shall see.

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We're all moved into our new home and, for the most part, there's a place for everything and everything is in its place.

Just don't open the closets.

Community

I was talking to a friend last night and the conversation turned to conventions. Specifically, what was it about the NDSC conventions that kept me wanting to go back?

I thought I knew, but it took me a while to not only articulate it, but also be perfectly fine with what I articulated. I finally got to a point where I could exhale and go, "Yeah. Ok. That's my final answer."

The truth of the matter is that while I appreciate learning about all things Ds, I can only handle so much. Our first experience, in Sacramento in 2009, was highly academic. It was planned. It was all, "Alright, BD, I'm going to learn about speech from 0-2 and you can take Playette with you to listen to the talk about PT since I'm sure they'll be some key points addressed there that we'll need. Oh! Don't forget the new mom's talk. I need to be at that one. Are you going to the talk for new dads or the one for African-American parents? One of us needs to go, don't you think? I guess at some point we'll need to eat before the plenary session. But then when are we going to have time to walk around the booths?!"

Seriously. It was a lot like that.

Then, last summer, in Orlando, I caught myself slacking off...and being totally ok with it. I was drawn to watching documentaries and listening more to people's experiences than what the experts had to say. I think BD went to a whopping 2 sessions and one of those was to hear a friend speak.

There's something to be said for being surrounded by peeps.

And that's what keeps me going back.

That is why we'll be in San Antonio during the low tourist season otherwise known as OMG it's August in Texas.

It's because other people will get us without even trying.

Yes, it's a lot of money. Yes, it's effort to travel. Everyone can't do that every year. And, honestly, it probably is far from necessary. But...I can't resist the urge for normalcy. Fitting in feels good.

This world can be lonely. Especially when you're moving around every couple of years. It's nice to have something to look forward to.

Speaking of, I'm going to a Mom's Night Out tonight with the local Ds group. They better be nice to me, dammit. It's in the rules.