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BUSY LIFE! I can't tell you how many things we have going on, so here is a fast rundown. You no like? Sorry! Advent is a time of penance.

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Mae will be visiting with a developmental specialist once a week. She's 9 months now, and we really need to stay on top of oral-motor, gross motor, and fine motor skills.

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Mariana had her GI test. Waiting upon results, praying there will be no biopsy needed. I remember that time when I swore my life as a mom wouldn't revolve around poop. Once again, God loves me enough to constantly teach me humility.

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Diet changes have revolutionized our family. Molly is doing amazingly well. We've even cut her vitamin B supplement out with no ill effects. This is the greatest blessing to our family, even if our grocery bill is obscene. Praise God!

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Speaking of dietary changes, have you tried coconut oil yet? It really is a wonderful product, from skincare to medicinal purposes to a yummy way to cook shrimp. And before you knock using it on your face, try it. AMAZING

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Christmas is amazing. I love Christmas. But advent is my favorite church season, I think. I love the darkness of it, with the small light from the advent wreath. Advent doesn't get enough credit. Listen to this and tell me I'm wrong.

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Alright, I'm off to shop. Pray Mariana doesn't lick anything gross. I think she's teething. 

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

The R Word Remix

I had a killer post about Thanksgiving and gratitude, but I'm going to put that on hold to respond to a comment on my first "r" word post. Here is the comment:

I do agree with you, however if someone like me uses the word as a put down, it is to say like that was a retarded statement i,e that is dumb. It doesn't reflect Down's syndrome children and their beauty in the least. Unless,there is something I'm not seeing. This society has become, because of the liberal agenda, too sensitive over semantics too. You must admit that. Hell, I am a blond and how many dumb blond jokes are out there? What if someone said a dumb blond joke in the presence of your beautiful blond child, would you take offense to that, as well? Just wondering. Also, a lot of Catholics take offense to the word asshole. At least putting it in written form. If it is spoken, accidentally in anger, that is one thing, but to put it out in the blogosphere is permanent and you want your Catholic light to shine and we have to realize what our written language kind of dims that light. I guess the same could be said about writing the word retard too. Just something for us all to ponder. You have a beautiful little girl, btw.

First of all, thank you. She is beautiful, and funny, and sweet and as jerky as every other baby with her biting and grinning when I tell her no. So, thanks.

On to what I think is the main thrust of your comment, which is that people are too sensitive about using certain descriptive words as derogatory (blond, retarded, asshole). Most of the time I get very eye-rolly at the idea of getting offended by something like a blond joke. A joke is a joke, we all get that. It is meant to be playful, not hurtful, so intention does matter. Also, most people can defend themselves, and that is a huge factor as to how appropriate something is. I don't like jokes about the sacred because I hold some things sacred. Hair color is not one of them.

However, in your example of using retarded to describe someone's statement as dumb, well, that is offensive. Why? Because the word retarded means something. My daughter's geneticist told us she would likely be mentally and physically retarded. That word was used to describe something about her. When my daughter grows up and hears that word used as a put down, she will associate that word with her deficiencies. She also likely won't be able to process a response fast enough to explain the offense. So, my daughter, who is a kind and cheerful girl, will be hearing people using a word used in her diagnosis, as something to put others down. And she will be unable to defend herself. And that is terrible.

Retarded doesn't mean dumb. It means slowed. My daughter's development will be retarded by Down syndrome. Her speech will probably be retarded by Down syndrome. Her cognition will be retarded by Down syndrome. What she won't be is dumb or ignorant. She'll be retarded. And no one should hurt her by using that description to call someone else a name. If someone were to do that in front of me I would defend her against that kind of ignorant treatment. If the person is a jerk, I'll tell her that person has terrible manners. Because those of us who can should protect the weak. 

As for the use of "asshole", yes, you are right, that is not the Light of Christ type word. It is vulgar, and I used that word to describe the vulgar people who defend the use of the word "retard" because they don't mean it offensively to those with Down syndrome. Except it is and all the semantics in the world will not change that unless we can no longer use the word for its intended purpose. Which circles back to my original point that I do not want assholes determining the lexicon.

To sum up, I don't think the words "retard or retarded" should be banned. I think anyone who uses those words as a put down are either ignorant, or complete jerks. My faith dictates that I help instruct the ignorant and love the jerks. I can do that, but I might accidentally call a jerk an asshole on occasion. Please forgive my vulgar mama bear moments.

Post Election Awesome

Lands, I'm tired. Refraining from being a petulant sore loser is EXHAUSTING. I tried to go to bed before the results, but I tossed and turned all night wondering. At 4 I finally checked. I really really wanted to behave like the little boy in my daughter's class who said he would would break Mitt Romney's arms if he won. (No, I don't think his parents are to blame for that one. I have a 3-year-old boy who recently told me how I was the "billain" and Daddy kicked me in the face and stuffed me in a closet-none of those things have ever happened-so yeah, boys and stuff.) I did not tell her to tell that little boy that if the president has a heart attack and dies JOE BIDEN IS OUR PRESIDENT, so there!!!infinity! But I did tell her to pray that Barack Obama is a good president and put it in God's hands. Which is what I would have said if "Mitch Romidey" won. Why couldn't my kids remember his name anyway? WAS THAT AN OMEN?

Yelch, I'm punchy today.

On to more pleasant subjects, at least more pleasant for half of the voters; Mariana. She slept like a boss last night. Slept like she was getting paid per minute. A dear friend of the family, Keith, stopped by on his way to the OSU basketball Carrier Classic and spent the night last night. He came in time for dinner, so he was there with our pastor, Fr. John, who ate dinner with us and blessed our new home. Fr. had offered to come and bless the house when he heard we were moving, so that was a very nice thing to share with Keith. Father John blessed the back yard and every room saying a blessing for each. He also blessed our front porch and our doorway, our closets, our stairs, the windows and cars. If you've never had your home blessed, I highly recommend it. The kids really appreciated it, especially the prayers for safety. Anyway, Mariana went to bed shortly after Father arrived and then slept as he went into my (embarrassingly messy) closet to bless it. She slept until 6:30 this morning, and she is napping now. God is so GOOD!

Today's work is more laundry thanks to a midnight accident, gift purchasing and popping by the old digs to grab more stuff. The never-ending protracted move continues. We are headed to Disney this weekend, which is going to be epic. We are staying at the Art of Animation resort, Scott is running the half marathon at 10 p.m., which is crazy, and many of his side of the family will be there to hold babies and wrangle stray children. I believe the park we have chosen to explore is Hollywood Studios, and I pray that no one is crabby that we aren't doing "something else". There is going to be a lecture, or several, on gratitude and the limits of time and being gracious in a big group. I'm considering bringing a kid-leash to threaten them with if anyone gets out of hand.

I should mention that Molly voted for Mr. "I" in her class election and he won! So, at least one of our family members has the sweet taste of victory this week.

Crap-Gotta go, see below....

And this is what happens when you ignore your 3 year old and you have crappy builder paint.

October- The Revaluation

October turned out to be the shortest and longest month of the year so far. The first part, waiting to close on the house, was agonizingly long. The last part, and our protracted and never-ending move has been swift and busy as all get out. I don't have time to write this post, but I always have time to shirk my responsibilities.

Mariana is sleeping beautifully at the new digs, which so far has been my gigantic closet that has no excuse for being so large. I painted her crib a gorgeous shade of purple, but we've had many guests (Hooray!), and I'd like to wait until it slows down to screw up her sleeping arrangements. My mom pointed out that my closet is very dark, which may account for her ability to nap better. Blackout shades are in the works!

Why did no one inform me that when you buy a house you might as well withdraw all of your money and dump it on the front lawn? The more you know!

Because I am starting to feel guilty for the unfolded pile of laundry that has grown eyes and begun to stare at me with judgement and disappointment, allow a list of cool and amazing things that are going on in Mariana's kingdom:

1. Sitting up!!!!!! This baby can sit up for 5 whole seconds before leaning too far one way and crashing onto her face. I have no idea how she manages to always fall on her face no matter which direction she falls. I call it a gift.
2. EATING ALL THE THINGS AND FACES AND STUFFS- Oh yes she does. Rutabaga, peach and spinach mixture? Delicious! Daddy's scratchy chin? Fabulous! Paul's runny nose? That's gooood eatin'! She both fascinates and grosses me out.
3. Her GI appointment is set for 11/20. Pray, please. Babies shouldn't be in pain, especially my baby.
4. Scott's mom, brother and grandparents have all visited. My parents were here too. I love having a house I feel the guests can get adequate rest even though my loud family wakes up with the sun.
5. Our pastor is coming to bless the new house. I hope this keeps the poisonous snakes in the preserve behind us from eating my babies and husband. And me. For sure me. Oh, and the dog. St. Francis, get busy! (Please and Thank you.)
6. Mae also had an OT appointment at our home. In other words, I do not have to drag her to the snot smeared pediatric PT/OT office for her check up during flu/whooping cough season.  
7. I voted today. I made an informed decision and followed through with casting my vote. I don't feel 100% thrilled with my choices, but I'm at peace that I tried to make the best decision I could. I pray we all did.

Now, off to get the laundry back in order-ish.

7 Quick Takes

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I hate "Whatever Awareness", or rather I did. I never saw the point. I thought, "How about forgoing awareness and putting that money into actual aid to those suffering?" Now I'm on the awareness bandwagon. Because people need to know you won't die from having a baby with Down syndrome and that making decisions out of fear is really just a good way to cheat yourself from a fulfilling life. And that's just Down syndrome. There are a lot of things we all need to grab our attention. So, be aware, be very aware!

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Lately I've really taken account of my appearance. It really started when I was describing to my kids about the connection between the body and the soul. And I realized, while there is a time to let vanity go, there is also the need to retain a sense of self and glory in your outward appearance. If you are ashamed of your appearance you are not going to be fully yourself. So I am taking small steps to reclaim my appearance. My hair appointment is next week. It seems like vanity, but it is deeper than that. I must feel whole to be holy, and part of that is feeling worthy of time and attention. Lately everything else comes first, and that's okay. It just can't last. And let's be real, I'm not shooting for gorgeous, just pleasant.

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BEGIN RANT
We live in an increasingly disordered world and I'm flipping tired of it. Weekends of football on T.V. all day long are no longer the norm around here. For the last 5 years we've needed, yes needed, TiVo in order to watch anything on television, including football during the day. Why? Because executives seem to think it appropriate to air commercials for horror movies during the day, during "family viewing". This, my friends, is utterly disrespectful.

I'm so disgusted by the lack of respect for children in our culture. Hey, you want to make a horror movie? Great! If it's a good story I might go see it. You want to have a strip club? Well, I don't like it, but I'm not going to march outside your doors either. You want to advertise your beer during the day? Okay, I'll probably buy it with or without your ad, but whatevs. You want to throw gore and breasts in my kids' faces to get my business? Wrong answer.

It's not just ads, of course, though there is a local billboard in particular that I'd like to beat with a 9 iron. It's the whole "Teach your Baby to Read" mentality that disrespects child development. Mariana could roll over at two weeks, but she did it incorrectly, and I had to go back and show her the "right way" so that her development was ordered toward her benefit and not detrimental. There is an order to life and to development that needs to be respected, but I see that in our pursuit of what we as adults want, we leave behind what kids need.

Life is like math, kids need to know how to count and what a number is before they can be taught addition. What sense does it make to throw images of lust and horror at our kids when they are still learning the ins and outs of basic life? Does no one recall how wonderful it is to enjoy the box before we even remember a toy came inside?

So, stop it you dumb advertisers. I don't want to see any more gore or sex during the weekends. I want to be able to turn on the football game and walk out of the room without having to pause. I want to drive down the highway without 9 foot women baring their goodies. And I have no interest, and never have had an interest in teaching my baby to read!

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Sorry about that last rant, but not really. Back to my fabulous life with Mae. She is cracking me up/making me crazy. She still won't nap in her bed, but in the exer-saucer/jumper toy? 2 solid hours. Though, in her defense, when she was startled awake by her brother screaming, "MARIANA IS SLEEPING." right by her ear, she was able to bounce herself back to sleep. So, that's something.

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We are closing on the house next Friday. Fear and loathing about the upcoming move is threatening to take the fun out of this adventure. Also? the punch list. It is no fun to go through your dream house pointing out all the flaws. In my fantasy world I would sit the builder down and explain, "This is my dream house. You have eyes, so you go through and fix all the problems, make it perfect and quit ruining my fun." And then he does it. As I said, my fantasy.

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This weather is the bomb. It's cool in the morning, warm during the day and cool at night. It smells like fall, but doesn't require many added layers. The children can play outside all day, and then come in smelling like clean air. The windows were open all day yesterday. If I could, I would hug this weather.

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In honor of DS awareness month, here is a shout-out to my husband. I have received a lot of complements on how well I am doing with Mae's diagnosis. One friend asked, "Don't you feel chosen?" as in, favored by God. I must admit the question bewildered me because while I have always seen our girl as the best gift from heaven, I never ever thought it was because God thought I was anything great. It's more like I saw God as the teacher who sees a kid not living up to his potential and giving him cool extra projects so that he does better all around. Or put another way, God was saying, "You can do better Barbara, here's your chance."

But my husband I see differently. If ever I thought Mariana was a reward for goodness, it would be be because he earned it. Scott's the most unselfish person I've ever met. And while he'd argue with me about that, I have experienced first hand the depth of his unselfishness. So, for Ds awareness, let us never forget those wonderful dads who love their babies to the ends of the earth. Three cheers for them! 

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Seven Months!

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My dad's birthday is October 4th. Anyone who reads this should say a prayer for him because that would make him very happy for his birthday. If you happen to be an atheist, do it anyway. It's my dad after all.

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Mariana is seven months today! I know, where does that time go? She is rife with cold symptoms which may or may not be an actual cold. Two days ago it was not. I know this because we were at the doctor for a vaccine and a referral. This is just an adventure with narrow airways and small sinuses. I find the respiratory stuff overwhelming, but I think we are doing okay. In other news, she is also getting closer to sitting up! I wonder if it will be this month. I haven't looked at the developmental charts-it's a sanity thing- but it would be nice to be able to plop her down and take a picture of that fat belly! Other skills include splashing in the bath, which is ADORABLE, and possibly signing "eat". It's more of a hitting herself in the mouth motion, than a proper sign, and she does it all the time, but she also wants to eat all the time and copies me when I sign "eat." Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if she excels in the communication department given her family. 

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We are off the GI specialist in a couple weeks. What's tough is that I'm not comfortable sharing every detail of her medical issues because some day she's going to grow up. It's her life, her diagnosis. Much like I allude to Molly's food sensitivities, but don't get into detail, it seems very important I respect that Mariana may not grow up to be an over-sharer like her mother. But, you guys, my baby is crying from pain and I can't help her. Worst parental feeling ever. Pray for us both!

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Molly is READING!  So, I've been slightly busy which has kept me from spending as much time as I ought on helping Molly with reading. One night, instead of reading to her, I asked her to read to me "Dick and Jane, We Look". Girlfriend is a genius! I give all the credit to her wonderful teacher Ms. P, and her aide, Mrs. S.

Molly has always been this type of kid who puts out there that she's incapable, disinterested and in need of assistance. She's very charming, but seems a bit on the slower side of the curve for her age. I had even considered holding her back a year.  But Molly also is the type that is paying attention and will just pop out a new skill like a boss. Her first words (at 17 months) were "No mine!" clear as a bell. At three, never having worked with her to write her name, I asked her to try, which she completed with a capital "M" and lower case o-l-l-y. She's going to make a great spy some day.

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The older two are just the best. They are helpful, courteous, and Kate, is funny! She's pulling out all these new phrases that just seem so mature. We were watching the debate - I recorded it - and she busts out with, "The president is saying, 'Uh', a lot like you do when you are distracted." She also said that Romney seems like he knows what he wants to say and that if Obama is open to all ideas then her idea is that he lower taxes so we can give our money to who we want. Scott and I have never talked about our personal taxes with her or in front of her. This she gleaned from our discussion on the differences between those who think government should be the source of charitable giving and those who think those responsibilities should be kept on the local level. But it is hilarious that she expresses any political view at all because she was holding a book from the "Dork Diaries" series the whole time.

C, good heavens, is amazing. She soothes the baby, sweeps the floor and is still as affectionate as always. She's in a delightful phase that I am savoring.

--- 6 ---

P is a boy. He hits, he's messy and he gives the best hugs in the house. He's such a great buddy and a wonderful brother. I'm so glad he's ours!

--- 7 ---

I look terrible. I have zero time to take care of my appearance, and frankly, I'm not so interested. My brows need to be waxed, my hair needs a touch up and could use a trip to a clothing store for myself. There is a part of me that cares, but it's way low on the priority list. I hope by Christmas I care a bit more due to the photos that are bound to be taken. Remember when we were all going to be both beautiful and get all the housework done without having to tell the our kids to clean up the legos?

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Saints in Scrubs

Thursday was an awful day. I probably cried 1 gallon of tears. I was terrified, and I just couldn't hold it together, which made me stress, which made me make a lot of little mistakes that seemed like the end of the world, which God decided to use to show his ever present mercy.

By the time we left for the geneticist appointment I had cried many times. Sobbed, in fact, at the prospect of facing this unknown. To say I was anxious wouldn't even begin to describe the complete breakdown I was having. Paul, Mae and I hopped in the car just as it started to drizzle. We arrived at the building downtown after I had gotten turned around by my GPS -Thanks Technology!- I pulled into the garage only to read a sign that said to move forward, DO NOT REVERSE!, which threw me and made me think I was pulling into the employee lot. I rang the buzzer and told the voice on the other end that I had made a mistake, and the voice instructed me to stop inside and get a ticket.

Oh, is that all?

I pulled into an emergency lane, freaking out about the time. I saw a guard station at the exit gate. I hesitated. I couldn't decided what to do. The clock ticked forward another minute. I grabbed Paul and then Mae. I stopped a stranger to ask where I should get my ticket. She pointed me in no less than three different directions. The clock ticked forward. My eyes filled with tears, and I said, "Okay, thanks!" in the most forced cheerful voice I could manage, which probably sounded like I was screaming at her. I turned to get back into my car.

"Do you need help?"

I spun around. A man in green scrubs with a surgical cap on marched toward me. "Can I help? Is your appointment in there?"

"Yes."

"Is it with cardiology?"

"No, we're here for the geneticist. I think I pulled into the wrong place. I'm turned around." I just couldn't stop my eyes from welling up. He was going to help!

"Which floor?"

"Um, 19."

"Hold on." He ran to the guard station at the gate, gestured toward me and came jogging back. "Here's your ticket. You can park in here. Looks like you pulled too far forward since it is one-way." A car pulled out of it's spot about 30 feet behind my car. "Oh, hang on!" He ran back and stopped traffic and waved me back. I reversed and parked. By the time I hopped out of my car, he was gone.

The whole experience just about broke me. I sobbed the rest of the way to Dr. P's office. I had settled a bit by then because Paul was so excited to ride in the elevator with so many buttons. We had our appointment, and then were sent to the hospital across the street for the blood draw.

I will spare you the drama that followed getting to the hospital, and then to extended care for the girls before it closed at 6. I will only say this: That doctor in his green scrubs was Christ. I mean no hyperbole or blasphemy. That doctor was animated by compassion for this weepy mess of a woman with two small children at his work place. He did very little, but more than any other person of the hundreds around me were willing to do. It took all of three minutes, and he absolutely saved me. It was clear he was in a hurry, he skedaddled immediately. Three minutes of his time gave me the strength to face the rest of that trying day, to not snap at my bouncy, clueless three-year-old, to remember that God cares about my rough day enough to show me in a clear and concise way that He is always present, caring and active. I pray that I can do that for someone else just once, even if I never know it.

*********************************************************************

Friday was better, though I was jumpy. The results would come today. Before I left to get Paul, I called the office to leave my message that I was waiting for Mariana's results. I picked Paul up from school and drove to pick Scott up for lunch. We sat down to eat a yummy lunch when the phone rang. It was the doctor's office. 

Dr. P told me that if the nurse called all was well. If Mariana's numbers were less than perfect, he would call. "Just remember, it may be that she had an off day and we'll just want to re-test next month to make sure it's not a downward trend. She's a person, not a machine. Numbers fluctuate."

I handed Scott the phone. "Hello? Yes, I'm her husband, Mariana's father. Yes, we've been waiting to hear back. Yes, she's right here with me. Well, I would love to hear the results too...Great, thanks! You too. Bye." Apparently the nurse expected Scott to hand me the phone because I am the mother? I don't know, but it tickled us.

We had our moment of relief. The tension released and we were suddenly unbound. Paul and Mariana continued bouncing around as though time hadn't just stood still.  "Thank you for letting me answer the phone, that was kind." 

Well...."Well, it wasn't all that generous. I, um, well, I didn't want to have to tell you bad news..." 

We laughed, a little too hard. We enjoyed lunch, I took Scott back to his office and off I went to pick up the girls. No more blood tests for six months. We've been told it gets easier, and I look forward to it.