There are two kind of moments in life…Filler and Fueling.

I write about the fueling a lot. The Isle of Capris, the putting up the Christmas trees, the gathering of friends to sip wine, watch a sunset, kiss each others’ babies.

But, then there are the filler. Like scrubbing the toilet, crying on a shoulder, a bad night of sleep and waking up to take care of babies with nothing but a big fat “I can rally” to get you through the day.

Today was a bit of the latter. Nothing outstanding, nothing horrible, just filler. And, after a tired rallying-through-it day, come late afternoon, I tripped over a play cash register and landed on the couch where I burrowed between two cushions to feed my hungry girl. Somewhere between her chorus of breathe, suck and swallow and watching Lainey try to wear three skirts at once, I felt the burning desire to find my fuel.

And so I chose to run. Again. As filler would have it, I couldn’t find my tennis shoes. I dug through the deep piles of crap in the abyss I call a closet only to scratch my arm on a broken hanger and come up empty handed.

But, I did find an old pair of weird crossovers that look like men’s bowling shoes. They feel like bricks on my feet and look really funny with ankle socks and running shorts, but they do the job. In that charlie-horse-bad-arch-support kind of way.

The filler has its place. It is the reality of life. We work, pay bills, clean house and wipe runny noses. We lose our patience, say things we don’t mean and feel inadequate for what we don’t accomplish.

Sometimes we cry, say sorry, regret things or wish we could escape *this* moment.

Oh, but the Fueling. I live for the fueling. And when it doesn’t come soon enough on its own, I bring it.

I brought it tonight. I felt it on my run. Breathing deep, timing my feet appropriately with my steady pulse, aware of nothing more than that very moment and the anthem that was driving my motivation.

And, in that short run, I sorted it all out…to the point where I wanted to jump out in the middle of the street, stopping traffic in my man-ish shoes and singing something loud and crazy…crazy enough where people would climb out of their cars and sing with me because it was that good.

Yeah, it was fueling.

Upon my return…

yes, I let my kid chew on leaves.

Tonight, while I folded laundry from the couch and fired off bedtime routine commands, I was also planning where the Christmas tree is going to go this year. I decided colored lights instead of clear. And I made a mental note to buy firewood because the first fire of the season is going to be here before we know it.

There’s a cold front coming. And a huge box full of Michigan leaves shipped out today. You know what that means?

Fueling Moments.

In the meantime, all that filler? Sometimes, if you look hard enough, you’ll realize it’s not just filler.

No, there’s so much fuel there too.

In anticipation of what I know will be an incredible fueling moment this weekend with our Buddy Walk, I’d like to thank you again for your support in everything you, as readers, have done since January to support Down syndrome awareness. We finally have a fundraising page up for Nella’s Rockstars. (and button to the right) We are so appreciative of your support.

Check out our story among the many other beautiful ones as well on My Great Story at NDSS (Look for “Transformation” in the Family category).

I think a lot about the fueling moments. The thought alone of them is what carries me through the thickest filler, knowing that just around the corner there will soon be a night when candles flicker and music echoes and I pat the back of a sleeping baby over my shoulder in a lively kitchen where friends are gathered. There are tears and there is laughter and there is that moment when I think to myself, “This? This right here? This is fuel.” We create our own fuel, you know. And I am off to find mine. It’s in the everyday.

Find your fuel.

When I was just beginning to fall in love with writing…back in the day when I ratted my bangs one, two, three times with my turquoise pick and spraaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyed every last dead end of ’em, slowly and evenly, with the tall, cold can of Aqua Net…back in the day when I’d click back and forth between red ink and blue ink on my four color pen…back in the day when my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Kerspilo, told us the world was our oyster and we were its pearl…I met my friends, the Adjectives, and fell hard and heavy for them. They had me at beautiful. They slayed me with delicious. They charmed me with alluring and exquisite and pulchritudinous (yeah, you heard me…pulchritudinous…look it up).

Over-adjective-izing will forever be my problem. Because I like beautiful and amazing and pulchritudinous, and when I’m feeling it? I want to shout them all…to echo from the mountaintop “I’m blithe.” “I’m elated!” I’m intoxicated with exhultant joy and, oh for God’s sake, I’m so over the top, I’m begging for someone to slap me in the face.

But, I’m going to try and go easy tonight. Because, really, I loved this weekend. I loved it. It was one of those nothing-special but because of that, so-very special weekends, all in one. And yes, that sounds very unicorn-and-rainbowish, but I’m a little unicorn-and-rainbowish, so I guess that’s okay. And just to confirm that thought, I got up to get a drink a minute ago, mid-post, and my head hit a set of windchimes I forgot I had hung from the chandelier…and it made this little harmonious plllltttiinnnggg sound which kind of sounded like unicorns and rainbows, and well…there you have it. Okay, so now I’m laughing.

It was a beautiful weekend, you know. A happy one. Not so happy that it was out-of-touch. No, it was grounded with just a tiny bit of well-now-that’s-just-life. Because two of my dear friends are having babies this week and while all the girls will be high-tailing it to the Birth Center to bring flowers and newborn cotton sleepers and wash their hands getting ready to hold fresh skin, I’m opting to go hold those babies once they are home…because I’m not quite ready to revisit that place yet. Happy?…yes. Celebrating new souls for my very-loved-friends?…yes. But due for some closure where I can head up alone some night with no purpose but for to say “Hey, I’m back” to those walls and make a moment of that something sacred that happened there…yes. But, that’s life.

And with life comes breathing and feeling moments like this.

…and this.

There were lots of these kind of moments this weekend.

My girls love their “Aunt Dot.”

This weekend had Balance pinned by its hind legs up against a wall. Slam dunk. We did it. We won. We left the laundry to peak a little higher in trade for simmering cider with mulling spices and yet we spit-shined the kitchen instead of whipping up another batch of pumpkin loaves. We lingered in our pajamas past noon today and welcomed friends for waffles and sausage this morning and yet last night, we skipped a bath because there was a melted popsical at the bottom of it I didn’t feel like cleaning up and instead made it for an impromptu trip to the lake for basking in, um…the loves of my life.

Pip & Bean Cape.

I love that Lainey was heartbroken over a dead bird she found at the edge of the lake. I love that she got over it when she found a really cool walking stick next to it. I love that, on the way there, I saw a woman I thought I knew, smiled, madly waved and yelled “Hi, Peggy!” and she smiled and waved back and yet, as she passed, I realized she’s not Peggy and I’ve never seen this woman in my life.

I love that Nella played peek-a-boo and Latte rolled maniacally in the grass and Lainey searched for the perfect flower to give her sister. And, come sunset, that great big yellow ball fell slowly and heavily, shedding its golden light so generously on the pale apples of the cheeks of my beloved firstborn.

Oh, delicious…scrumptious…delightful. Take a bow, Adjectives.

Someone does a little “How big is Nella?” now. And how big is she?

So big.

Come late afternoon today, we did one of my favorite spontaneous adventure things. Amid the mess of a Sunday afternoon where used jars of babyfood sat opened on the counter and tape and glue and broken crayons blanketed the floor from the latest craft endeavor and the vacuum hose trailed a perfect “S” along the living room carpet where it had high hopes of swallowing the spilled crumbs of the bottom of the goldfish cracker bag but never quite made it…yes, among all that, Brett stopped and said “Hey, wanna go for a bike ride?” And I jumped at the chance…not so much because I wanted to go for a bike ride but because I was welcoming any opportunity to leave the brewing disaster we had created.

So it was. We ditched it all for feeling the wind in our hair and turning back to see two little cherubs squeezed together in our rickety Craigslist cart that is proving worth every used penny it cost.

There’s a hidden park a few miles from us. We pedaled until our legs stung but it didn’t matter because it was breezy and golden, and we landed with two happy girls who were quite enthused to swing high and free.

And that, my friends, is the smile of unicorns & rainbows.

And, right about the time I heard the ptttllingggg of imaginary windchimes, we decided to pedal a bit further for some football and some beer and some southwestern eggrolls at Chilis. Dock bikes. Unload. And love this…

Nella was tired and Lainey was wanting to trail along every time I got up to do the baby dance–that slow walk and jiggle and sway that always puts ’em to sleep. And so we made the best of one of those out-to-eat times when you take a bite and then draw a puppy on the restaurant menu and then take another bite and then “I-spy-something-red” and then take another bite and shake a rattle and then swig a drink and spoon cold, mashed macaroni-and-cheese with airplane maneuvers and an enthusiastic “ZOOOOM!” into a little mouth of one that’s hungry and sleepy and wanting to go home.

But still…it was all so good.

And then this moment happened which may be my favorite sister moment captured on camera yet.

…because they love each other…they do. And sometimes she still throws a book at her, and yet I love that too…because it’s life.

There you be…our weekend.

Buddy Walk team theme guess, anyone?

So now Baba O’Riley is blaring, and if I don’t get up and do some sort of interpretive dance moves in my living room right this second, I’ll be disappointed in myself.

With that said, sponsor Tina Steinberg Designs (my beloved fingerprint necklace) is offering readers free shipping for October. Time to tell your hubby what you want for Christmas…or maybe Grandma’s gift this year (get your holiday orders in early because fingerprint process can take a few weeks.) Use code “sendlove” at checkout, and your gift ships free!

And, for the record, I’ve never used the word pulchritudinous in my life.

I don’t always know what I’m going to write when I sit down to put a new post out. Sometimes, an attempted short and meaningless post turns into a very purposeful piece of writing and likewise, sometimes an attempted thesis gets backspaced, backspaced, backspaced until nothing’s left but a “Hey, Happy Friday.”

I mentioned rediscovering my voice the other day–something I didn’t lose so much as perhaps got preoccupied with what it sounded like….walking on eggshells a bit so that I don’t offend a public audience but, in doing so, changing my voice.

But, I’ve come to a place where I’m not afraid anymore. I am an alto. I’ve heard the radiant sounds of sopranos and wished I could sing that high, but I can’t. I’ve envied the bold tones of the tenors, but my chords can’t compete. I am an alto, and the rich melodies of an alto, interlaced between the sweet sounds of sopranos and the bellowing bass and the bold notes of tenors puts out a hell of a chorus…together.

I am one of many voices, and I am grasping the reins of my own.

Giddy-up.

One of the areas I have avoided, so as not to offend, is Down syndrome. Parenting a special needs child is complicated. No one knows what the hell they are doing and somewhere, deep inside many of us, there is still hurt. We look to others to see how they do it and when we see something different, sometimes we shrivel. Or question ourselves. Maybe even criticize.

Here’s the thing. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. And at the same time, I know exactly what the hell I’m doing and I believe in it with every breath in my body. Because I am governed first and foremost by love. I applaud and celebrate all the other ways people are doing it out there because I know they are governed by the same. Together, we are all fighting for the same thing. Special needs, typical needs, one kid, two kids, young kids, old kids, no kids. We are all on the same team.

I am ready to feel free again in talking about it…this little extra magic of that 47th chromosome. And, most likely, my declaration of feeling comfortable in talking about it will lead me right back into what works for us, what guides us, what governs us. And that is celebrating the right now where chromosomes take a back seat to sidewalk chalk and pumpkin bread and a fabulous pair of chocolate colored leggings that scream Fall.

I don’t know how I got here. And by here, I mean this peak of the mountain that seemed so daunting. Oh, I know there are more mountains. Bigger ones, yes. But the one I’m standing on seemed so big, so insurmountable, so lonely, and now that I’m standing here, I have to tell you…it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Our Buddy Walk is next weekend. You know, the Buddy Walk someone told me about when Nella was two months old and I laughed and said to Brett, “Just so you know, I won’t be ready to do one of those things for like, years.”

And here we are…my biggest fear being how my first born will feel completely and utterly as amazing as she is and hoping her little 46 chromosomes won’t feel like they got the shaft.

That’s a doll on her lap…not Nella.

Am I scared? Yup, sometimes. Am I hopeful? Definitely. Am I aware of the reality of what we are facing? Absolutely. But mostly?

I am happy. And I am in love.

With two amazing little souls. Two amazing little voices. They are different…like altos and sopranos. But they are perfect.

Maybe it’s the Buddy Walk. Maybe it’s the upcoming holidays. Maybe it’s the fact that, in a little more than three months, we will light a candle on a cake and sing “Happy Birthday” to the one who surprised us in beautiful ways.

Regardless, I said it, I mean it, I own it. And I’m not backspacing it.

For the many who have asked and expressed interest, a fund raising page will be up soon for Nella and all the other designer-gened kittens out there if you’d like to donate. We are so grateful you have supported us in so many ways, and I like to think it all just rolls back to you in your own challenges in life.

And, with all that said…

Tonight, I’m feeling like the little people Lainey has learned to draw. On the sidewalk. On paper. In books. On cards. They are happy little people with long stick legs.

I can’t explain it, but somehow these little creatures are the essence of contentment. Dude, they don’t even have arms. But here they are, just a grinnin’. And you should see the array of colors they come in. Oh, they are happy.

Nella’s learned to claw off her glasses and does so frequently. And I know exactly when it’s gonna happen because, after a good fifteen minutes or so of oblivion, she gets a crazy look that’s followed by a mad swipe…and off they go.

So, there. I think that’s it, and I have no idea where that all came from.
The real point of this post was…

Giveaway winner! Lainey drew the number tonight (or clicked the mouse on random.org).

Comment #812, Kelly said: I have been *wanting* a Beaba Babycook since before I found out I was preggo (now due in one month!). It looks so fun! Pick me! Love the new header!

Congratulations, Kelly! Please e-mail me your mailing info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net, and we’ll get a Beaba Babycook out to you before that baby arrives!

And a shout-out to Bel Kai Designs for renewing their sponsorship! Check her out.

Needing some of this…

Happy Friday!