31 for 21: Day 2

Posted on October 2, 2014 by Cole | Leave a comment

“Oh Zuzu, I know you’re in there….do you wanna build a snowma-a-a-n?” I hear the soft rumble of Sugarplum’s giggle from my lap as she watches the Quail crack up tossing her head back, eyes full of laughter. We are sitting in the bathroom, me on the side of the tub with Sugarplum and her blankies trailing to the floor. The Quail, hands folded neatly on her lap, trying to go to the bathroom. Zuzu is in the next room over hiding under my Grandmother’s hand-made afghan; refusing to join us at the requested time on a school day morning. Come the weekend will be another story for this lot. But at such a young age they’ve already acquired the weekday sleep-in habits of their teen years to come. It’s 6:20 and I’ve had a quick morning run and come in to get the girls ready for school before getting myself cleaned up for work. Last night was Open House at the girls’ elementary school and homework wasn’t done before we hurried them off to bed later than our typical routine. Zuzu was told that she needed to rise and shine quick like a bunny this morning so she could finish her math game before it was time to go. But she’s tired. And she isn’t feeling the shine part of the equation. I’ve already stopped the nighttime birdsong, turned off the elephant nightlight and turned on the overhead light. I’ve rubbed her back, peeled the covers from her too-warm skin and sang a round of Rise and Shine and still she curls into herself ignoring the morning’s expectations. I’ve used my cheery voice, my practical facts of the day voice and my stern voice. She’s not responding. She’s not alone in her desire to slumber.

The Quail, our best sleeper by far, is now our early bird. She’s a school girl now you see. She has a My Little Pony backpack ready to go with a cereal bar snack, a cup and straw for water, her boomerang folder and a stuffed elephant to share with her classmates for this week’s learning about the letters E and F. Kindergarten began 8 weeks ago and the newness of it has yet to wear off. The Quail gets to go to school just like Zuzu now. Sugarplum on the other hand, is still in pre-school and prefers to not be reminded of that fact, that difference that keeps her from her sisters.

These girls- they watch each other with eagle eyes. Patterning their vocal trills, dance moves, sass and love after one another. Weaving their independent selves in and out of the fabric of their sisterhood. Sugarplum has hit toddlerhood running. Mostly after her sisters. A couple of months ago we finally moved her out of our room and into the practically outgrown crib that operates in more of a toy-chest mode rather than bed. And a couple of weeks ago she got her big-girl bed. Along with comes more freedom than I’m entirely comfortable with. Now when one sister rises, she can be certain that the tiniest Sister-Lou-Who will trail after with her blankies crumbled into her fist. Even though she doesn’t go to school as early as the big girls, Sugarplum rises with them, trotting from room to room quipping tiny adult narratives in her sweet, sweet babygirl voice.

“Oh, where are my shoes Momma?”

“Oh, dere dey are.”

“Oh, I need a diaper. I go potty. I need cream.”

“Where my dess?” I get dessed now.”

“I get the Cheerios. I use small spoon. Where my milk?”

As the Quail, finishes up going potty, I help off with her nightgown. “No momma. Not my jammies. Dere, Dere mine. Bad Momma. Time out. No cake.” She points to the doorknob where; sure enough, her pjs from two nights ago hang. She had been angry the night before, when her tired mom, a little too eager to send her off to sleep, had insisted she wear her sister’s pajamas, after a brief search for her own hadn’t turned any up. “Sorry Quail. You can wear them tonight.” I soothe, pulling her shirt over her head and reaching for her shorts. Just as I turn back to flush the potty I hear a scream and tiny fist flail out as Sugarplum grabs the missing jammies from the doorknob and hightails them out into the dark hall. The Quail is mad now. She starts lecturing her little sister in half articulated, fully emphatic phrases as her brain pushes them out quicker than her mouth can round. And I wonder why we hadn’t been able to locate them the night before. I sigh, turning away from their chaos to the all too still bed of Zuzu. Still laying there, stroking the satin bowtie on her stuffed lovey, tears drip down her face from her red-rimmed eyes.

“Are you crying Zuzu? What’s going on?” My voice fills with concern and I sit down by her pulling her into my chest. She acquiesces, sniffling as she tells me her sisters were just laughing at her and it crumpled her heart. I ask what she means and she says it’s my fault because I was singing again. Staring at her, not processing this slight she took in so very deeply, she explains that I sang the Frozen song and they laughed at her just minutes earlier. Rolling my eyes heavenward I’m about to explain that they weren’t laughing at her, when her clearly wiser sister pushes her way in between our bodies to hug her tight.

“Sorry Zuzu. No cry. Sorry.” The Quail’s eyes are filled with love and I feel tiny feet pound into my back as Sugarplum parrots the Quail, now lying on her back behind me. Somewhat assuaged by their gathering around her, Zuzu wipes her eyes and gets up to begin her day.

31 for 21: Day 1: It’s Down syndrome Awareness Month!

Posted on October 1, 2014 by Cole | 6 Comments

It’s Down syndrome Awareness Month! This is the month where those of us in the community raise awareness and celebrate our loves that happened to be born with a little bit extra. One way I like to do this is to participate in our cyber-buddy Tricia, over at Unringing the Bell‘s creation 31 for 21. Currently this is hosted by Michelle with Big Blueberry Eyes.
Here’s the skinny- and hop over there to sign up if you would like to play along: You post every day, at least once day, for 31 days (each of them in the month of October, which is Down syndrome Awareness Month) on any topic, to raise awareness about Trisomy 21. 31 for 21! (Topics about Down syndrome are not necessary, though it is encouraged that you mention why you are taking part in the challenge at some point during the 31 days.)
I’m taking part again for my sixth year because Disability Awareness and Acceptance has always been a part of my life story. The first two years that I joined 31 for 21 after the birth of the Quail, I continued on my typical daily blog posts at that time, taking care to ensure that I did post every day for the month. I was still able to maintain a semblance of order and time to devote to daily writing with the categories I initially organized my thoughts around. The third and fourth year, I had not had the time to post daily musings, in a good while, but I still had an extensive archive of photos I hadn’t had time to edit and share yet. So, I posted mainly images labeled with little tidbits about the Quail that make her both extraordinary and ordinary.
Then there was last year. I LOVED participating last year. Our friend Molly Flanagan had shot some wonderful lifestyle photos of our family and our daily goings-on and I had told her that I loved them so much that I could narrate a story about each image. And that is what I did. I still go back to these photos- they are a gift- each single one. And I reread the narratives and still nod along as if I’m reading someone else’s writing and story. I still find myself thinking- yes! That’s what MY life is like. And then others shared with me how they felt about this project. And how they could relate to it . And then writers that I love shared it with their friends. And then wonderful things happened. I borrowed the cowardly lion’s heart and requested a fundraiser at my work for Down syndrome awareness and the Buddy Walk. And together we raised over $1700. I’ve never been so proud to have my village lift me up and help me help myself and others. The response was unexpectedly overwhelmingly positive. People I hadn’t had the pleasure to meet in person contributed and took the time to get in touch to say how Down syndrome is a part of their life and how lovely and inspiring our Quail is. The good people at my work took it upon themselves to write up our advocacy efforts in our statewide celebration for a nomination for a humanitarian award which we won this spring. And just this summer I was informed that the nomination was then passed on to the regional competition and we won that as well. If I’m going to be recognized by my workplace- there is no greater joy then realizing that while they appreciate my work- they also appreciate my heart and those it belongs to. This year we’re doing the same fundraising. Our Buddy walk is this Sunday October 5th. The fundraising at work will happen after the event itself, but it will still happen a couple of weeks later.

For those that don’t work with me- there is an opportunity to contribute over here.

Now this year, I am not entirely certain where I want to be by the end of this month. My time to think and blog has dwindled. That sweet little hormonal shift that comes with nursing and relaxes me into a wordy melt up has ebbed as Sugarplum becomes less of a baby and more of a tiny, opinionated ~~rebel commander~~ pre-schooler. As the dishes pile up and the clothes wait impatiently to be folded and homework comes home in now two bursting-at-the-seams folders rather than one, my time is not my own. Life with three little girls is busy. There now is two little girls to dress for school and a third who insists she prepare to come along each and every day at the same early hour. There is carpool and jump-rope team and Brownie meetings, TOP Soccer and afternoon therapies. There are bowls of Cheerios and raisins and negotiations of how much milk is allowed to be poured over it to attend to. There are filibusters about the appropriateness of long pants in summer and short shorts in winter. There is hair to be brushed and detangled and pony and piggy-tailed and clipped. There are diapers and nursings and shopping as well as friends to play and eat and celebrate with. There are meals to put on the table, vegetables to be wearily eyed, milk and kefir stains to clean up and ears to be scrubbed before jammies can be carefully pulled over the summer’s band-aided knees. There are Netflix binges to lull Lovey and I off to dreamland each night while we fall in to the couch covered with orphaned socks. There are morning alarms to reset when we decide maybe we’re too tired to take that early morning run and maybe we can just wait and do it at lunch time. And there is yoga to go to at lunch when we realize we really do need to take a minute to just pause and breathe and we can run the next day. Life is busier than it has ever been. And while I wouldn’t change a thing about it, it is still a three-ring-circus, albeit my circus, my monkey’s as the meme goes.

That way of writing and relating our days was so cathartic last year. But it also assumes quiet bits of time to notice and reflect on the ordinary moments of our days in order to illuminate and convey the grace in them. And that, my friends is time that is hard to predict will come. And the pressure to share in this way I love and not just randomly is great. It is so great, it’s a great big block, knocking upside my writerly head.

This is just the reality of my now.

And while it flusters and frustrates me, it also just is. I’m only human. They’re only kids and the days we have together fly by in the beat of a heart. The days really are long and the years really are short. I still try to notice the little things in our days. I still feel a deep compulsion to capture them in too many stills so that I can stock my mind and heart with them for quieter days to come.
So once again, I will commit to sharing images of our days. And hopefully a few writings about them. As time permits. And the children sleep, and before my brain nods off. Which it is prone to do without warning these days.

corner view: rock

Posted on September 10, 2014 by Cole | 4 Comments

Corner view is a weekly Wednesday gathering, originally hosted by Jane, now by Francesca. A topic is given and you can see impressions; be it photographic or writerly in form, from around the world. Come see the world’s corner view via the links on the sidebar!

Corner view is a weekly Wednesday gathering, originally hosted by Jane, now by Francesca. A topic is given and you can see impressions; be it photographic or writerly in form, from around the world. Come see the world’s corner view via the links on the sidebar

Timing is everything! Last weekend we spent our days and nights at a Family Camp up in the mountains in Western North Carolina. This was our second year attending and in addition to the fabulous food, activities and company- the rock-view they provided was absolutely stunning! This is called Pretty Place and is aptly named. The first time I saw it, it literally took my breath away. Many people travel up in the wee hours of the morning to watch the sun rise and find some peace of mind. In the first photo you’ll see a figure with a guitar. When I walked in this woman and her friend were singing “I’ll Fly Away.” The sensory experience of the music, the stillness of the air, the smell of the trees and the panoramic view is a visceral memory that I’ll have for the rest of my life.

corner view: beginnings

Posted on September 3, 2014 by Cole | 3 Comments

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“I no care for dat. I want dat bed.” Sugarplum’s small voice chokes back a sob in my ear as her tiny finger unfurls from my hair and points behind her towards the open doorway. Looking down at her lanky 2 year old body that clings to me like all good baby monkeys do, I’m surprised by the calm in her statement. I pause and give her a quick squeeze. “It’s ok, remember what we talked about, this is your big girl crib. Your sisters want you to sleep in here with them. Look- at all your lovies and babies- they’re waiting for you.”

“No lovey. No baby.“ Her voice edges towards anger as I hold her soft unicorn blanket up to my face to tempt her into a snuggle. “No nocorn.” I grin at her funny little word for unicorn as she starts to bat it away from my face. Peeling her off my chest, her protests ratchet up a notch so I pull her back to me and ask if she wants to neh-neh a little more. Hugging her agreement into me I grab a handful of her babies (her word for blankets) into our arms and head back into our room. I hear her whisper, “My bed” as we pass the pack and play she’s slept in all her small life and settle back on my mattress. Separation hasn’t come easily for any of us and this autumn is the start of many new ones. I find myself clinging to these strawberry headed girls even as I try to hide my frowns so that they will follow their own leads rather than mine.

Zuzu was a cosleeper from the beginning. She preferred to be held at all times of the day and only acquiesced into separate sleep on the condition of a perpetually rocking swing or a tight swaddle into the Snugglenest between her dad and I with one of our fingers available for her suckle at any given moment. She was moved into her own big-girl bed at 24 months but continued to inch her way back into our room as often as she could finagle it. As long as she started out in her own bed, we typically gave into her nighttime searchings as it rendered better sleep for all of us. As my belly grew with the Quail’s impending presence things got much tighter in our queen sized bed though, and little by little Zuzu gave into the idea of sleeping in her own bed. That is until the Quail arrived home from the hospital. Then the sad doe-eyes bore into my heart and I invited her back in between us as the Quail wiggle-wormed her way night after night down from the Snugglenest dangerously close to our tangle of blankets. Despite the finger waggling of the pile of sleep-training books I kept on my nightstand, an Arms-Reach sidecar for her and the pillow between Mom & Dad for Zuzu became the regular arrangement. When both girls were eventually herded back into their very own toy and book filled, lovingly adorned bedroom they had each other and the Quail, unlike her sister kicked with glee at the sight of the crib.

When Sugarplum came home from the hospital we had all our options open waiting to see how best she would sleep. Luckily, she went down easily enough between us. When we realized that she wasn’t going to require movement or holding to nod off to dreamland we moved her over into the co-sleeper and breathed a sigh of relief. As she outgrew the co-sleeper and continued to sleep easily enough we set her down each night in the pack and play in our room, vowing to think longer term sooner rather than later. The girl’s made their way into their own co-sleeping arrangement and seemed content enough with it until the last few months. As company came and their double bed was offered up they started to enjoy not sharing their bed and both privately asked for separate beds. When company left and they were told to return to their own bed, the Quail chortled on about sleeping in the office on her own. When we spent a weekend away in a cabin with bunkbeds the girls gleefully claimed their up-down places and only grumblingly returned to a shared bed at home. So the hunt for bunkbeds for them is officially on. While we still need them to share a room for the time being, separate beds seem to be the mutual consensus.

At the beginning of the summer Lovey and I talked about moving Sugarplum in to the girls room and the gently used crib. Neither of us were in any rush to have her not sleep in our room and instead I followed her lead in not nursing the moment we got home from our days apart. That need for the immediate connection after being apart from me has definitely lessened as she chooses to bound after her sisters while they tear through the house. Summer has passed and with the beginning of the school year approaching and the need for earlier bedtimes in preparation for the thinking mornings, I’m grateful that she doesn’t feel the need to nurse- well to be truthful, equal parts grateful and groaning. That 20-30 minutes of time to just lay down and not think, or do, or prepare, or anything is something that I hate giving up. Both for the connection and the restfulness of that hit of soothing hormones at the end of my day.
That first night Sugarplum protested but quickly relented. She doesn’t ask for her other bed now a week plus into the transition. Her feelings are still mixed about sleeping away from us though and she does protest at the separation from nursing to the girl’s room at nap time. For some reason bedtime is acceptable. I’ve yet to pack up the pack and play. I’ll probably hold out until she actually calls the crib, “My bed”. It’s hard to let go- even into the next room over. It’s hard to begin again.

Days gone by…

Posted on August 24, 2014 by Cole | 1 Comment

…at lightening speed. Between all the comings and goings, sippy cup washings, emptying of trash cans, reheating of frozen dinners, rewatchings of Frozen movies, chasing of little ones, sorting of orphan bags of socks (why do we repeatedly have more orphans than matches!?!?!?) and washing and rewashings of sandy, sweaty, markered and sauced, pink and purple sparkled leggings and shirts I lose my rhythm. And not because I’m wholly present in my day, but because I’m holding fast to the end corners of my day that are constantly flying out from under me leaving me in a pool of balls that were not only dropped but typically not picked up in the first place. And when that happens it is hard to know where to turn an ear to hear any sort of cadence to begin again with. Do I go back and edit and post the holidays and days that were special enough to capture in the first place, or do I just start from today in hopes of not getting farther behind. And in the time it takes to ponder that, someone falls down, someone gets their hair tugged, someone forgets how to share, an email comes in that needs to be answered, the smell that I can’t quite identify becomes abundantly clear and in need of removal, the bills spill out from the to-be-paid drawer, the alarm clock goes off and the day begins again. Thankfully. And thankfully the pictures continue to exist for editing and posting years after the moments they captured existed to bring me back to the blessedly sweeter scent of the blueberries that got mashed onto the white shirt that the Quail insisted on wearing, the sight of the freckled grin of a newly minted seven year old wobbling on roller skates as she rounds the wooden rink and the feel of the babies hands as she reaches to be picked up because she has noticed that she isn’t getting quite as many snuggles as she used to a few months back when she nursed more frequently.

So how are we now? We’re a pig-tailed pre-schooler who talks in tiny sentences narrating her day as she races after her sisters demanding to be included in their game and is only interested in neh-neh and other side before being settled into her crib at night. We’re a 5 year old who now attempts to tell others in 2-3 word phrases about her friends, her day, her favorite shows and what her sisters did or didn’t share with her. She’s blissfully ensconced in a regular education kindergarten classroom after a sincerely calm year in 4k and a decidedly uneventful spring IEP where everyone concurred that she did well the previous year and remained on par academically with minimal behavioral concerns. We’re a proud second grader who is always asking when Sophie can sleep over and come play and when Girl Scouts will start up again and can we please, please, please go swimming and when are we going to go camping again and when are we going to the beach, and can you please put my hair up in 4 ponytails and then braid them together in the shape of a heart and oh-no- that’s not what I said I wanted Momma now you have to start over and can’t we have pancakes again and I want to watch Youtube versions of My Little Pony meets Frozen mash-ups and my sister won’t share the Ipad and I don’t want to wear that dress it makes me look fat, I only want to wear athletic clothes and Clemson gear and can I have a Barbie doll house for my birthday and I can’t sleep Momma can I crawl in the bed with you and can you please have another baby or can I please crawl back in and come again so that I can be the baby and no you can’t tell me what to do I make my own decisions and why do I always have to clean my room and sweep the porch and I’m gonna be President one day Momma and you all can come live in the White House with me and here’s the schedule I’ve made for my birthday party seven months from now.

And my freetime you ask? What about early morning and late night writings and maybe during your lunchtime? Well those times have been dedicated to other activities. Running in the mornings. Walking or yoga at lunchtime. And clean-up and then Netflix surfing in tandem with Lovey once the littles have settled their noggins after a second, third and often fourth attempt to get to stay up for another cheesestick, drink of water, cooler jammies, warmer jammies, sister too close to me, sister not sleeping next to me, scary monster in the closet thoughts, bad dreams, one more thing I should have told you about what we’re doing tomorrow.

In other words…beautiful, complicated, sad and lovely, overbooked, stripped-down bare, well-medicated, a few minutes late, paperwork strewn over the kitchen countertops, too small of a bathroom for 5 people insisting they all need to be in there at once, doorknobs falling off, paint and plaster peeling, washload buzzing, refusing to eat the spaghetti that Momma made a mere week after insisting they have some when Lisa made the same thing the week before, sand, marker, and Cheerio covered, in need of a run, a shower, a haircut, a dye-job, a trip to the library, Trader Joe’s, Target, a glass of Malbec, the next size up of clothes for each family member, to empty out the crib in the girl’s room so the baby-no-more can start sleeping in their rather than the pack-and-play in our room, maybe I’ll just spread some of the salted-caramel-cocoa-hazelnut spread on a slice of bread for dessert, ok I’m going to sleep, why the hell did I give up caffeine last spring… life.

So- how are you?

corner view: inner child

Posted on July 16, 2014 by Cole | 8 Comments

I think my inner child has been playing hide-and-seek for the last decade or so- but in the last year- I’ve had many happy experiences that remind me of the happiness of childhood- running, reading, giggling, playing make-believe, drawing, exploring….now that my girls are moving their way out of the intensive baby years I seem to be able to relax and enjoy both my time with them and my time that’s just for myself much, much more.

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corner view: growth

Posted on July 2, 2014 by Cole | 11 Comments

“Your life is your practice. Your spiritual practice does not occur someplace other than in your life right now, and your life is nowhere other than where you are. You are looking for answers, insight, and wisdom that you already possess. Live the life in front of you, be the life you are, and see what you find out for yourself.”
― Karen Maezen Miller, Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood

corner view: gift

Posted on June 25, 2014 by Cole | 8 Comments

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Frankly, I was embarrassed and disappointed at my lack of control in how last year’s Mothers Day went. Why is it that when upsets happen on a holiday it makes them all the more poignant and easy to over-articulate meaning in to them that maybe, really wasn’t. This practice I have- of trying to ruffle the small bits of gratitude for individual moments- it is just that- a practice. Sometimes it is so very hard to just sit and let something be, to not read anymore into it and give it power that wasn’t inherently there. Over time, the good, the bad, the ugly- it all dissipates- so why not hold on to the sweet, good and kind and let the rest go it’s natural way. This year, I was very conscious of my part in the day- conscious to not place overarching expectation- to just sit with and receive where we were as it came. My seven-year old- she is so very expressive. She made six separate cards for me- but the one that is probably the most raw in the expression of her feelings for me is below- honest, unconditional love. Little ones- they say what they think- they have no problem staying in the moment. We paced our sweet day much better this year- and the gifts- they were lovely and heartfelt and those of you who helped to make them- you have a place in my momma heart as well.

corner view, 1 year ago, 5 years ago…

Posted on June 18, 2014 by Cole | 6 Comments

…and maybe just a few others to boot! This time of year I can count on there being a stash of photos in my files of Lovey & the girls as we mark each Father’s Day.

Lovey is the quintessential modern day Dad- which is to say he’s more Mom than me most days. He doesn’t see his role as an aside to his life and neither do they. He cooks, he cleans, he changes diapers, feeds the babies, walks the crying babies at all hours, stays home with the sick ones, paints their sparkley nails, teaches them to change the oil in the car and bake a pie, shops for their purple twirly skirts, pulls their hair up in piggies, takes them to the birthday parties, practices the timed math tests, drives them to their therapies and activities and practices those outside of the weekly visits. He lovingly reads them stories and tucks them in at night as well as greeting them with hugs and kisses each morning. He is their Dad- a kind, loving, gentle and spirited soul who is as blessed to love them as they are to know him.

corner view: dinner party

Posted on June 11, 2014 by Cole | 8 Comments

What our family brings would be seasonally and categorically dependent on our resources and responsibilities. Now that it is summer here, I tend to dip back into one of my oldest favorites. 20 years ago, I had a wonderful mentor. He is such an inspirational academic, boss and all around human being. When he was at his busiest and most stressed he would respond with food preparation. So during classes, board and staff meetings there would frequently be an offering that he had prepared. This salad was one of my favorites and the recipe was one of the many gems I gleaned from my time working and learning from him. To this day when I bring the salad to potlucks I get requests for the recipe.