I spent this morning talking to a mama on the phone.  Twenty-nine years ahead of us on this journey, her voice oozes with the same love I feel for my own kids except there’s more–years of stories, struggles, victories, experience.  You can hear it behind her words, you can feel it in her voice.  Her thirty-two-year-old son shares Nella’s extra chromosome, and after speaking briefly with him last week during a radio interview, I can’t wait to meet him and his mama soon. We look ahead on this journey, following the path paved by many before us, and we learn from other mamas who fought hard and loved much. 

“What can’t Nella do?” my friend asked me the other day.  “I mean, seriously, what are the known things she’ll have to face?”

I thought for a moment and rattled off what I know–cognitive issues, muscle tone stuff, increased likelihoods for a number of medical complications.  Together, those things spell out that things will be harder for Nella.  Harder to learn, harder to prove what she knows, harder to gain acceptance, harder to get a job, harder to make friends, harder to claim the rights we all enjoy and take for granted. 

That sucks.  And when you love someone so much–so, so, so, so, much–and you stare at her little three-year-old self all smiling at you and completely naïve about her future and how hard it might be–sometimes you feel like you’re going to vomit. 

But there’s Fight or Flight.  And I can fight like Mohammad Ali.

Sometimes when I’m running and I feel like I want to stop; sometimes when I’m cleaning and I’m too tired to finish; sometimes when I’m working and I need a break; I think about Nella and how much harder she’ll have to work and all the extra obstacles she’ll face in life.  When I think about that?  I can’t stop.  Sometimes I even play silly games in my head, ridiculously pushing myself as if in doing so, I’m taking some of the burden off my child. 

I wish it was that easy.  What I can do is believe in her.  Love her.  Read to her.  Celebrate her.  Teach her. 

“I am conscious of a soul-sense that lifts me above the narrow, cramping circumstances of my life. My physical limitations are forgotten- my world lies upward, the length and the breadth and the sweep of the heavens are mine!” ~Helen Keller

So that we do.  And we will continue to learn as we support each of our children, creating as best as we can an environment that both challenges and celebrates them. 

I received an e-mail a few weeks ago sharing a speech that will be delivered to a graduating high school class this year.  Carrie, who graduated from the school in 1997, also has Down syndrome. 

*****

Post Memorial Day, pre Independence Day and some brewing anticipation for summer, it seems appropriate to welcome back sponsor Tea Collection with some red, white and blue favorites.  Perfectly festive for picnics, summer barbecues, parades, play dates or vacation road trips, these staples deliver that famous Tea comfort and quality and mix and match well with other closet favorites.

Top, from L to R: Coastal Stripe Flutter Tee, Gypsy Cargo Pants, Flower Petal Top, Umizi Play Shorts, Coastal Stripe Boy (or Girl) Tee, Sharp Sharp Beach Shorts, Red Whale Tee, Bafana Plaid Shorts
Bottom, from L to R: Navy Saltwaters, Venda Strappy Mini Dress, Nogazi Polo Baby Romper, Flap Bucket Hat

Tea Collection is known for their globally inspired designs (currently inspired by South Africa) as well as the comfort and quality of their kids clothing.  And, in their words, “We explore. We discover. And we bring it home through modern designs that, in our fondest wishes, inspire children to embrace difference, dream big and live with a sense of adventure.”

Can I get an Amen?

Welcome back, Tea Collection.  Thank you for making summer look so good. 

Now stock up on sparklers and light up the grill.

As all good holiday weekends go, we set out for the beach last night, except this night was different.  Since I’ve had kids, I have promised myself that one day I would splurge on one of those roll-y beach carts–the ones you see effortlessly pulled by pretty models in the SkyMall catalogue.  We’ve sort of been the Griswold Shleppers when it comes to beach excursions and, while I’ve mastered the art of cute beach totes and proper sand toy bags, there are still a lot of bags to be carried from car to beach.  And when you factor in the additional kids-to-be-carried and coolers-to-be-carried and chairs-to-sit-in, what you get is a lot of turning heads on the beach–and not for a great bikini.  Which is perhaps why I have a thing for cute baby bathing suits and little girl sun hats.  It’s an attempt to redeem our beach dignity, to distract from the hot mess dragging blankets, dropping shovels and begging her crying kids to follow her. 

But this weekend?  I was ready.  Forget the roll-y beach cart, I found something better.  A roll-y beach wagon that promised to glide through sugary sand.  Constructed of heavy metal with plenty of room for coolers and bags and stray shovels, my wagon was going to transform our beach trip. I knew it.  Goodbye Shleppers.  We were going to skate onto that beach, and we were going to look good doing it. 

Feeling unusually prepared for our trip, I maintained responsibilty with all the beach necessities–like a cooler packed with ice as opposed to a grocery bag with a few juice boxes tossed in it.  We had the towels, the beach chairs, new pails that weren’t broken, new shovels that weren’t bent. And I set out to the beach last night with pride.  Finally, after all these years, we were going to do it right. 

I would normally curb the “to bring” list for lack of hands to carry things, but last night?  We have a beach wagon!  Kids, bring your dolls!  Bring your toys!  Fill ‘er up!

We loaded that baby to the brim.  Chairs, cooler, bags, boogie board.  And I cockily (um, new favorite word) rolled it along the parking lot, up past the boardwalk and down unto the edge where board meets sand.  The true test. 

Epic failure.

The wheels came to such an abrupt stop that the whole wagon fell over.  Blocking the boardwalk.  While families waited for us to clear the path.  And the Griswold Shleppers returned.  Except this time I held a baby, called to another one to follow me (she wouldn’t) and grimaced while I pulled with all my motherfreaking might, a steel constructed wagon with crap wheels.  Friends waved in the distance while I planned my route.  A kind man came to offer help, but I was more embarrassed watching him pull it for me than I was pulling it myself.  He was grunting.  And leaning at a forty-five degree angle, feet skidding in the sand, just to get the wagon to barely budge.  And he was sweating so profusely, my friend (who finally picked up Nella) pointed at the drip marks in the sand and mouthed “Oh my God.”

“Please tell me you’re not going far,” Kind Man said.  And though I saw my friends still waving in the distance, yards away from us, I smiled and answered, “Nope.  Right here is great.”  Because I couldn’t bear to watch him grimace and sweat any longer for us. I waited until he was out of sight and then continued the haul until we made it, breathless, to our friends.

We were rewarded with a beautiful sunset and the widest stretch of shallow water, broken by sand bars peppered with shells, sand dollars, star fish and inky sluggy things.

retro polka dot suit, Popina Swimwear

We carefully examine living beach creatures and then return them, unharmed, to the water.

Baby boy loved Nature’s Boppy.

And we loved God’s little post-sunset encore.

The beach wagon will be returned, and we will scout out a new beach cart with the rolliest wheels possible.  A do-over is in the works.  It will be good.

Today did make up for yesterday’s wagon failure.  It was everything a rainy day should be.  Coney Island for lunch.  Back home for quiet.  I actually laid in bed this afternoon, snuggled next to a sleeping Dash and listened to my girls color and play while it rained outside. Nella wrote on the window with crayon, and I let her.  All is well.

This past week, we enjoyed:

Pre Summer Activities. 

Like Hula hoopin’

And Driveway Site Word Games.

Increased Curiosity for Critters…and a little less fear for getting close to them.

Newsboy Caps. 

Seriously.  It’s Baby Guy Ritchie.

Wayward Braids.

Afternoon Sunflare.

Over-the-shoulder Peeks.

Catching the Girls Reading (and hearing Lainey sound out words aloud).

Color Games with the Girls.

Found these footprints at the teacher store, taped them to the floor in the bedroom, and Nella likes saying the colors as she walks the path.  Fun way for Lainey to play teacher too.

*****

For those who have asked, Brett is recovering slowly at home.  He had some incision complications and can’t lift or hold the kids right now.  He’s feeling better but being very careful to make sure things heal up as quickly as possible.  Things are a little “off” at home right now, but we are so glad he’s okay.  I heard a lot of appendix stories and know we are lucky.  Looking forward to when he’s fully recovered and, in the meantime, thankful to family and friends who’ve helped out. 

One day already down this week–four more to fill up. 

I smell summer.

Happy Memorial Day.  Big love to all the soldiers and their families out there.  xo