The Party

Five little girls grip the side of the crib with fierce glee. Their faces shine with naughty delight. This really is five little monkeys jumping on the bed. I grab the camera and get a few blurred shots. I'm trying to capture something, maybe proof that we are having a good time. There's no doubt about it. I'm the last to be convinced. I have been worried about this birthday party for weeks. Who should we invite? How many? Too many will overwhelm her and too few is too vulnerable to no-shows. I don't like relying on plan A. I need B,C and sometimes D. What will we do? Free for all or structured entertainment? Will anyone come? Does she have any friends? Will she have a good time? Will I? Who is this about?

This is the first birthday party for her that is somewhat directed by what she wants. Her younger birthdays were essentially celebrations with our adult friends and their kids; sharing milestones and toasting the survival of each early year. This year is different. Thankfully we are beyond survival. Now, these are her choices, her playmates from pre-school, daycare and the playground. I will barely know the parents and they won't know each other at all. They will see the best version of our mess. They will know we are sort of weirdos too with art and odd furniture and music and … why do I want to be so normal now when I have never cared before? Who is this about?

I sit in cake-making exhaustion the morning of the party, trying to hear God. Sometimes I can. I tried to quiet my mind and to escape the drift that creeps into the main stage so quickly. As my worries parade on through, I slowly notice an image of Lego treasure. I see gold plastic treasure chests and coins superimposed on the other thoughts. What the….? there is a moment of confusion and then I recognize the gentle teasing humour of a message from God. I'm chasing the wrong gold, fools gold, toy gold, fun, even useful, but ultimately the wrong focus. I suddenly know, deeply know, that only a few things matter right now and my current worries about the state of the house and trying to pass for normal, whatever that means, don't rank at all.

Now I stand watching my dear girl with her pals, having the best time. I see that she is not like them but she is also not that different. They all play together and all a little apart from each other. They wander around and find things they are interested in. My planned craft activity captures some interest for a time and then they drift off distracted by the pink doll palace that has shown up for birthday week. The kids crowd around the cupcake mountain when the time comes and my girl 'A' is front and centre. She knows this is her moment. She can't muster up enough wind to blow out the candles but she gets help from her brother and her friends. Yes, friends. The ensuing cake frenzy is as varied as the little party people. One licks off all the pink icing and leaves the cake before asking for more. Another eats around and around until reaching one last bite. My 'A' face plants right into the cake and comes up for air momentarily before diving again. I talk to parents and I like them all. The tenure track professor likes the tunes we are playing in the background. Parents tell us tales of their kids' accounts of 'A'. Tales of 'A' rescuing one from a fall. Tales of 'A' bossing another one around. She is a force to be reckoned with and she's making her way somehow.

I find that all that I fear, besides not having loads of food, is what everyone fears. Isolation. I am beating it back for my daughter and for myself. As it turns out, she is the least likely person to need help with that. Really, I should just get out of her way.

And so we celebrate and I do my best to let the worry rest. There will be more parties and kindergarten is looming but right now we celebrate 5 years of the life altering presence of Miss A.

Look who is 5!

5 things I love about my 5 year old.

1. Her learning disability mysteriously disappears when she hears something I don't want her to learn. She picks up all her brother's toilet humour and goofy gags in one repetition. Her favourite word is 4 letters long, begins with F and ends with T. She uses it often as it gets a laugh with the big kids.

2. She loves to sing. She makes up songs on our long commute. I usually try to use the time to play something educational or brain stimulating like classical music but lately she prefers to stop all the input and crank out some output. Some of her ditties are completely unintelligible but others have a beat and a tune and themes like fireworks, rainbows and ice cream. I feel the hits coming on.

3. She loves school ( and day care and play groups). She is the kid that either doesn't look back or looks at me in surprise when I linger and says dismissively, "Bye Mom!" waving me off like a lost puppy.

4. She has strong opinions. She chooses her clothes, accessories, her favourite foods, her books, her music, her toys. She would like to rule the world and is practicing every minute. As a younger sister, a lot of her time is accounted for being towed along to her big brother's activities. She is standing up for her space more and more and although frankly there are many moments where I don't have time for her to choose to go the other way, I am thrilled that she is taking a stubborn stand and being demanding. It's a streak that with time, will help her.

5. She is the boss. Her confidence and demeanour have come in like a strange wind of blessing. None of us have such certainty that the world was made to have us in it. I'm sure this will be tested as she gets older by those who can't see who she really is, but by then it will have rubbed off on me and I'll be sure to remind everyone who's boss.

The Pool

I stare at my ID card on the counter. The nice community centre cashier lady has not taken it to swipe another swim credit from my account. She has swiped my daughter's card and given us both wristbands the solid colour of the day indicating a child's entrance fee. I know from experience, I should be getting a patterned band. 

"Are you going to take my card?" I ask toward her back as she has moved on to another task. She turns surprised. "Oh no, you get in free as her attendant." For a split second, I don't know what she is talking about. Then I respond, "But I am her Mom and I'm just taking my daughter swimming like anyone else would at this age. She's only four." "Well," she instructs almost sternly but protectively too, "You shouldn't ever have to pay as the attendant of someone with a disability whether you're her Mom or not. You can alway get in free with her." 

So here it is. I am one of them. When my little duck 'A' was born, my main exposure to people with disabilities was from seeing them at community centres and pools with their attendants, hired or sometimes aging mothers whose little ducks would never leave the nest. My fearful mind immediately cast me into that role, my own body weakened from years of grief and neglect, supporting a child who would never swim or run or be free of needing me. 

I laugh. That fearful vision seems as far away from reality now as it was looming and oppressive then. My somewhat delayed but assertive pre-schooler is tugging me toward the change rooms eager to get on with her water adventure. I too, look forward to the joy of her clinging to me with squeals of delight as she navigates her favourite place. I don't have time to argue with this lady about whether I deserve a discount or not. I thank her and move on.

The next week, the same lady charged me full price. I didn't argue then either. The boss of me was tugging again, pulling us both forward into a future of moments of delight and sometimes uncertainty but always full of love.

I'm 3!

[Mom's editorial]

A sunny day in the park, a trip to casa gelato, a long nap, pizza, cake, homemade frozen yogurt, presents topped by a bath. And although I'm sad the teachers had to go on strike, I am very glad my big bro was here for all the fun.

Happy Birthday to me!

[A's real thoughts]

Took mom forever to get me out of the crib today. Does she not know what today is? Then she lets me watch 'signing time' which is great but I was starving. Nice oatmeal but someone said ice cream and that sort of wrecked everything else. We drive around forever and play in a park we've never been to or maybe it was just that we never see the sun so it all looked different. I was quite insulted when I was plunked in the stroller. Seriously, I can walk, except when I can't. There was nowhere to pee so I had to resort to the cloth diaper and of course when mom tried to put me on a baby change table, I lost it. I can stand thank you. Finally we get to this ice cream place and the day starts to deliver.....zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Here we are again

Three years ago today, I was in the waiting place. Or rather, I was in the rush of busyness to prepare for being in the waiting place. I had just wrapped up at work. I had filed my paperwork. I was about to clear some space and get the supplies. I was sure I had at least a week to relax and contemplate the huge change coming into our family. That evening brought with it the first of many surprises.

• I started labour 10 days early
• I interviewed a doula in the morning and asked her if she was busy that day
• I gave birth at home (plan B)
• The birth was a mere 6 hours of serious labour, a pittance compared to my first experience.
• It was a girl
• It was a little girl who was A, not S as we were expecting
• Our precious little girl came with an extra chromosome and I could see it right away

I struggled against the disappointment but I was crushed. Our son bonded instantly and completely with his little sister. Our community rallied around us with food and visits and extra hands while we tackled the 6 week long job of teaching her to nurse.

• She did it. She learned to take in milk.
• She smiled, she cooed, she drew us into her magic
• She learned to sit
• She learned to scoot around on her bum
• She learned to crawl
• She learned to stand
• She learned to make the sad face with the bottom lip that stops everyone in their tracks to help her
• She learned to command all of us and bend us to her will
• She has just taken her first steps, said her first two word sentences and read her first words all in the last month or two

The surprises keep coming and I hope they never stop. Happy Birthday little boss of me.

Look who is 6!

Six years ago around this time, I was in my hospital recovery room staring at my newborn son with awe and wonder. Like so many things about him, his birth was long and dramatic lasting from Thursday evening to Sunday afternoon. We had tried for a homebirth in our apartment. Things did not progress and we went to the hospital for pain relief and contraction enhancing drugs. That ride to the hospital in big T's '72 Chevy Nova is burned painfully into my memory. So, another 24 hours and T appeared in his strange looking newborn little self. He was very alert, very awake and always very hungry. He changed everything. He birthed a mother. Thanks T for coming to us and being the magic that you are.

As we celebrate this important birthday (all weekend) we are also anxiously watching the news of disaster in Japan. We are praying for the people there and here as we read about the radioactive plume possibly headed our way. I remember long ago reading (when I still had time to read) about the Manhattan Project and how at least one of the participants (maybe Feynman?) realized that with the first 'successful' fission, the world had changed forever. It really feels like the genie is out of the bottle. What kind of world will it be for you and your generation? I feel so helpless to prepare you for this. All I can do is protect you as best I can and try to help you use your powers for good.

Look who is 2!

Two years ago I looked into the face of my newborn little girl and my heart sank. I could see right away that she had Down Syndrome. It was a shock. I had not tested and although I was 41 and I knew the risks, I really didn't think it would happen to me. So began, the craziest few months of my life. Teaching her to nurse took up the first 6 weeks and when we came out on the other side of that mountain pass, there were a few more valleys to cross. I've said before somewhere on this blog that when the physical labour stopped, the labour of my heart began. It's true. There was pain in that opening of the heart but the labour is over and we are only beginning to discover the depths of the love that has been birthed.

So thank you little girl. Thank you for cracking me wide open. Thank you for pulling out more of me than I thought was in there. Thank you for coming to stay. We love you so much, Happy Birthday