There is an unspoken point system in our home, a scoreboard clearly divided with Brett’s name on one side, mine on the other, and a slew of tally marks under each. Our imaginary records keep track of random things–who our kids prefer, whose behaviors they’re adopting, who they look like–and the final score gives us nothing but a victorious grin and the satisfaction of “I won.” It’s harmless, really–a fun spousal competition that grants us a little leverage. Like “Move over, she likes my pancakes better.”

Brett won a lot of points for the first couple years of Lainey’s life because we heard a lot of “Oh, she looks like her daddy” followed of course by his cavalier smile and a mark on his side of the scoreboard. But this year, things have shifted. I brought home the following photos from Michigan last week–that’s me around Lainey’s age–and as I handed them to Brett, I timed my humble response appropriately. Five seconds of watching his wide-eyed affirmation that yes, that’s Lainey with brown hair–and then…”Booyah.” One point for me, thank you.

Mom, the ribbon under the collar? Brilliant. Well done.

I had some catching up to do though as Brett’s been shamelessly raking in points lately. Like when he overheard Lainey asking me last week “Mommy, why do you always leave the car so messy?” And then he hoarded a point when he whooped a “Yeah, Daddy’s Girl!” after she said Isle of Capri is her favorite place, which is just unfair because it’s everyone’s favorite place.

But that’s fine. You wanna play that way? I can play. I now get a point for every time Nella wants me when she’s hungry which is, yes, totally biased because Brett has no boobs, but we’re playing dirty now. If he can count the lame truth that Lainey once pointed to a Coors Light logo and said “Daddy’s beer” as a point for him, then certainly I’m claiming one for the fact that Nella always reaches for the yellow sidewalk chalk first…and yellow’s my favorite color.

Lainey tries on six things at once and throws the five discarded outfits into haphazard piles on her bedroom floor–clearly a victory for me, but Nella likes to eat slowly, enjoying each bite and taking breaks in between them–an undeniable point for Brett.

Then there’s things we share. Our babies like the beach, the hot sun and the thrill of fearlessly facing gulf waves.

They are both carefree. They love being home. And recently, after Lainey drew a picture and proudly presented it to me with, “It’s a keepsake, Mama. Save it forever,” I knew it was a point for both of us. Because we’re both sentimental savers, evident by boxes full of meaningful tokens from our past lined up under our bed.

The thing is, it is wonderfully satisfying to see yourself in your kids whether it’s your crooked smile or the way you like peanut butter and honey on toast. As our girls slowly grow out of footy pajamas, sippy cups and choosing their favorite colors based on ours, I know we will watch them chisel their own unique identities. They’ll gradually stray from things that make them so much like us and pride themselves on the things that make them different. And we will applaud them.

We’ll still keep score though the tallies may be few and far between, and we will swoon with pride when they resemble us, choose us, mimic us, follow us. But we will celebrate them regardless.

Because, in the end, there’s still a champion.

It’s unanimous. We won.

Red Sunset, post storm–Vanderbilt Beach, Thursday night

It is good to be home.

I’ve been popping Vitamin C, drumming my fingertips against my aching cheekbones and chanting anti-sickness declarations like they really work.

I feel good. I feel energized. Dammit, I’m not getting sick.

In a tranquil moment to myself this morning, I slunk beneath the water line in my bath until the surface of the warm water grazed my shoulders. I flipped a few pages into my Real Simple magazine and stopped at a stunning image on page 6. The photo is appropriately real simple–a cherubic toddler curled against the bare skin of his mama and her arm wrapped protectively around him–but the emotion conveyed is deep. An Agatha Christie quote is typed beneath it: “A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.”

I love the last part–“crushes remorselessly.” So badass, so fierce and yet an emotion present the moment we flip that stick over to find two pink lines. I love that this love and passion is not earned. We don’t have to do anything to get it. It’s just there the minute we know there is another life to love…instincts.

I rely on instincts a lot–maybe more than I should. But I’ve found the most valuable truths I’ve used in guiding my parenting choices are not snippets I’ve highlighted in books or pieces of advice passed along from more seasoned mamas. It’s the nuggets of truth that dwell within–things I didn’t even know I knew. I know how to love my kids. I know what they need, and for every chapter I’ve read about the five S’s of calming a baby? They’ve got nothing on the natural rhythm of my body that instinctively rocks and sways and soothes my girls into a sleepy trance.

There is a certain confidence you acquire when you discover your instincts are worth trusting. This comes in handy with Nella’s specific needs.

I will always be challenged to ensure I’m doing my part–reading the research, scheduling the appointments, utilizing the resources available to us. Sometimes I feel guilty for passing up driving three hours to hear the latest guru lecture on speech therapy techniques for Down syndrome or for reading Real Simple in the bathtub as opposed to another chapter of my Gross Motor Skills in Children with Down Syndrome book. But regardless of how many new sign language words we’ve learned or what new flash cards we’ve introduced this week, there is the constant presence of instinctive parenting, and that is the most powerful force in creating two little people who will be smart, kind, creative beings.

I believe in Early Intervention. I’d lobby on the White House steps for more funding and education and programs that will give my child an advantage. I love to watch the progress of Nella’s physical therapy and I look forward to hearing Lainey’s kindergarden stories of vowel sounds and sentence structure. But I find the most comfort and hope in the fact that at the end of the day, I am the mama. Not therapists or teachers or child-rearing gurus. And joined by our village of loved ones, our children will thrive.

Special needs is so less daunting with this truth.

We are working to initiate speech and occupational therapy visits but in the meantime, with a little help from a nurturing big sister, Nella has mastered drinking from a cup on her own, is beginning to maneuver forks and spoons in and out of her mouth, and can hold a crayon, a marker or a piece of sidewalk chalk like nobody’s business.

We continue the cycle of high expectations, hard work, lots of love, and gratitude for every milestone each of our children make.

With that short sermon out of the way, I’ll move on.

While there has been an obvious decrescendo in events the past couple days, my body is welcoming the lull in activity. I crave the sound of beach waves, some aromatherapy oils and a muscled man with strong hands thumbing the knots out of my right shoulder but am grateful for the close second of a glass of wine and the calming entertainment of watching my family swim at sunset last night.

Left: Sister notices wine; Right: Sister makes move for wine.

Perhaps in some attempt to maintain the festivite atmosphere of the past two weeks, I went all out last night for dinner.

Toast smeared with brie and fig paste, overpriced but sweet and tasty blueberries.

And one of my favorite desserts. My dad used to make it for me when I’d come home from college:

Easy Strawberry Shortcake: Jiffy Buttermilk Biscuit Mix with 1/2 cup water and 2 tbsp. sugar. Bake on greased cookie sheet in one big lump in the middle. Cut into quarters (takes a scone appearance), butter, top with sugared strawberries and whipped cream.

So I sip and I eat and I watch my loves.

She is adventurous.

And while yes, babies with Down syndrome have extra cuddle appeal with low muscle tone and a melt-you-into-puddles almond-eyed smile, I have to laugh at the stereotype of “always happy” babies. You should see her drama. Admit Evidence A: She wanted me and I swam away.

She can throw herself into an Academy Award-winning meltdown in a New York minute.

Speaking of, I miss New York.

Moving on.

Next week is the big sister’s party.
There will be a waterin’ hole. And panning for gold. Hence the hour I spent in the side yard today spray painting and glittering pea gravel.

Add a kiddie pool and a few pie pan sieves, and I think it will be fun. Have I said how happy my kids’ parties make me? I’ll say it again: my kid’s parties make me insanely happy.

Four years of trusting my instincts, and I am stronger, surer, and more capable.

*****

A bit more chaos is added to our house this week as our playroom/office is getting some new walls.

…and while we put up walls in our home, we tear them down everywhere else.

Daddy paints nails.

With all that said, do you know how many baby showers I’ve been to where I’ve had to quickly come up with my best advice to a new mama and write it down on an index card? Never having time to think, I write the predictable. Get some sleep. Enjoy it. Take tons of pictures.
You know what? I have a well thought-out answer now. I know the best advice to write on the next card.

You have everything it takes. You just don’t know it yet. Whenever you feel exhausted, confused, incapable or at your wit’s end…look within. Trust your instincts.

******
Giveaway winners:

Bambaroos, $25 gift certificate–Comment #16, Sandy: Alright, you just had me in tears! Your family reminds me of my own and I can see where it would be difficult to be away from that loveliness. Your mother, stunning! Congrats to her!

Studio Wed, $35 gift certificate–Comment #367, Among the Stars: What an amazing time at home with all of your family! The dress you are wearing towards the end is adorable!

Winners, please mail your contact info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net

*****

Check out new sponsor Poshling’s Mother’s Day photo contest and win a $50 gift certificate.

And I’m pleased to welcome back Coco Penny as a sponsor. We love their accessories, hair bows and embellished onesies, and Nella’s smile with this fabulous green flower proves it.

Like them on Facebook before May 14 and you’ll receive a special e-mail coupon code.

Sinking back in to the pleasures of home.

Enjoy the rest of your week!

(p.s. I’m very behind in my e-mail after traveling. If you’ve e-mailed and I haven’t responded, I’m catching up. Thank you for your patience!)

The sky was full of promise tonight.

I’ve had many days much like this sky–days when I couldn’t feel the sun, couldn’t see it, but if I looked good and hard, I knew it was there–hidden behind thick clouds and spilling a tiny preview of the brilliance to come.

*****

Days when I’m frantically flying to finish tasks and chisel away at to-do lists? You’d never know it by my actions.

Take this week.

Setting: Today, late afternoon, master bath (that happens to be littered with clothes, a lone sandal and a headless Polly Pocket). I’m submerged neck-high in warm bubbles and casually flipping through the Garnet Hill catalogue, dog-earring pages with quilts I can’t afford, a gauzy skirt I don’t need and a model’s hairstyle I want to duplicate. Brett walks in, cocks his head, raises his brow.

Brett: “I thought you said you have more to do than you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

Me: (still casually flipping pages and making a point not to look at him) “This is true. I said that.” (flip page, flip page)

Brett smiles, turns and walks away. He knows me too well. Not to mention he thinks he’s going to prove me wrong when, ten minutes before we head to the airport tomorrow, I pathetically fall to the ground and cry that we can’t go because I’m not ready. But this has never happened. And despite the fact I indeed said I’ve never had more to do in my entire life, I was lying. I’ve had more and even then, I’ve finished it. And took time for a bath.

And yes, while I yearn for the relaxed mindlessness of THIS or THIS again soon, there’s something about restless diligence and prioritizing to-dos that make me aware and present just as hammocks and adirondacks challenge me to be aware in present in a different way–or maybe it’s really the same.

It’s a balance challenge. And Lord knows I love a challenge. So, during my most chaotic schedules, I find myself not only pushing myself to finish tasks but searching for “escape hatch” rituals to balance out the stress. In the process, I realize all the little things that ground me most.

Answer e-mails.

Break to nurse.
And by break to nurse, I mean forget about everything in the universe for just a moment. Fixating on her chubby fingers comfortingly pawing, her trance-like slump into my arms, her lock-eyed gaze and my favorite–the way she stretches her leg with impressive calisthenics and hooks her fingers over her toes. Who needs a security blanket when you have huggable leg?

Switch laundry. Fold clothes.

Break to have breakfast playdate with friend.

Nella and the pug had a face off. No words. No barking. Just a silent stare down. The dog won.

Return phone calls. Edit a few photos. Clean up bottle of balsamic vinegar that spilled in pantry.

Break to play outside with the hose.

Answer more e-mails. Fold clothes. Unpack New York suitcase. Step in a ball of smooshed PlayDoh. Oh wait, did I say PlayDoh? Clarify: dog poop. There’s nothing like sinking your foot into a warm pile of PlayDoh. Dog poop.

Break to play Elefun outside.

Have you played it? It’s–how do I say this without sounding Valley Girl?–nope can’t do it. It’s totally super fun. Every time we play this, I get strangely competitive with myself. Like if last time I caught six butterflies, something bad’s going to happen if I don’t at least catch seven. And my heart is racing and I’m anxiously sweating, oblivious of my kids, while I’m diving with my outstretched net to catch these fluttering pieces of plastic like they’ll detonate if they hit the ground.

So, I suppose it’s noble to say I play these games to give my kids a good time but sometimes? Sometimes, I play them for me. Thankfully, Lainey likes it too.

For the record, I caught ten in one swoop today. Lucky green net.

Work on Lainey’s party. Switch another laundry load. Lay out piles of clothes to be packed.

Break to get the mail (an event, let me tell you), have a snack and smile as I watch my kids play while I pretend I’m the past version of myself who dreamed one day she’d have littles, looking in at what’s to come.

Damn that Ghost of Christmas Future delivers. Tiny Tim just done went and lost his crutches…he’s doing a happy dance.

Lainey sorts all mail before we get to touch it. It’s the rule. Hers, of course. I once broke it. Let’s just say I won’t break it again.

Write. Dinner. Clean. More packing.

Break to swim with my girl whose “watch me, mom!” and “mom, mom, look!” make me feel needed in a way that pulls out the best compliments, the biggest smiles and the most genuine of praise.

Run to store, pack toiletries, pre-bed rituals.

Break for a moon walk.
Bonding and reflecting, we take them sometimes with both kids, sometimes with just Nella, sometimes with just the big sister. Last night it was just me and Lainey, and we made it past the second street light, through the mob of loitering june bugs, and over the repaired sidewalk crack that used to trip us, when I looked down to see she was sound asleep.

We didn’t even have a chance to look for Orion’s Belt.

Edit photos. Compile thoughts. Scribble words. Blog. Except I don’t know whether to italicize or bold print that. Because it’s both a task and an escape hatch.

The line blurs a lot really–what’s a task and what is grounding? I have to do laundry and clean, write and answer e-mails, but just when I’m ready to complain about the monotony and the responsibility of it all, I find the “to-do” elements are an important part of my life too. Call me crazy but folding laundry can be grounding. And going to the post office makes me feel like a capable adult. I connect with people when I answer e-mails, and picking out clothes to pack in our suitcase reminds me of childhood paper dolls…I have two real-life dolls and choosing what they’re going to wear makes me happy.

Or maybe that’s just the unicorns talking.

Either way, there are stresses, there are challenges, but there is always the escape hatch of sinking into a tub of bubbles mid-day and flipping through a catalogue.

And fake smiles, a right of passage for three-year-olds.

Comes in two varieties: ferocious teeth or grimacing tight-lip. We like options.

I have two little presents for you.

One: photo questions? Aspiring to snap better pictures of your babies? Well, well. There’s a new book out. It’s fabulous. The art alone in it (photographer Stacy Wasmuth) will have you drooling. Mamarazzi: Every Mom’s Guide to Photographing Kids.

There’re some familiar faces in it too.

I’m honored to have an essay tucked between the work of some amazing photographers I admire. I got my book in the mail today, flipped to see our little part and then sat on the couch and looked through the rest of it and realized this book is dripping with fantastic advice for capturing genuine emotion, learning the photography basics, editing your photos, and displaying them in your home. I can’t wait to pour over it some more tomorrow on the plane!

And finally, it’s May–bring the swimsuits on. I’m still wearing my favorite suit from Popina but just scored a couple more from the Portland swimsuit boutique and our new sponsor. They are amazing. Not to be all talkin’ about butts on the blog, but I’m going to talk about butts on the blog. Dude, the butts of these suits are gloves. Bootie huggers and extremely comfortable. I love their retro swimwear styles (hello? yellow buttercup and polka dot and ruffles?), but Popina also features bikinis, tankinis, you name it. The suits are extremely well made and flattering for all body types. Loving my new white maillot.

Suit up now! One lucky commenter on this post will win a free suit of her choice. But tell me, what is your least favorite to-do task, and what is your procrastinatory weapon of choice?
I take baths and make crafts to pretend I don’t have to clean my house or go to the post office.

Also, there were many questions re: Lainey’s Fourth Year Book. Shutterfly Book questions are answered in the Photography F.A.Q., but I’ll be adding it to list of things to expound on later.