Chewymom

Here’s a little pic of my sweet gang! Aren’t they awesome?? I think it’s time to update my blog header…right DH??

My friend Molly over at Adventures in Mercy asked me to do a guest blog spot on my parenting journey. Quite a while ago, I might add. I finally spit something out–a process that was not easy as is evidenced by the lack of new posts on my own blog. I’m very honored that the ever popular and thought-provoking Molly would ask me to put something on her blog! Go check it out!

I let DD5 pick out a “dressy” dress today, since all of her clothes are either jeans and shirts or knit dresses and leggings, it seems. She also managed to throw in a pair of shoes and a purse, of course. Here is what she chose!

They both cost you $150 in the ER. And if they both happen, hypothetically, within four days of each other, then your Christmas budget is really screwed up.

DS12’s school called on Tuesday to say that he had fallen during PE. Hard. He seemed fine, but it was a loud thud that caused an entire gymnasium of 7th grade, stinky boys hurling dodgeballs at one another to come to a complete and silent halt. And although DS12 had a severe headache on the right side of his head after his head met the ground, there was no bump. We went to the ER where we sat for four hours and waited for a CAT scan. Which showed nothing. We were sent on our merry way. A few hours later at basketball practice, DS12 began feeling nauseous and confused. I called the doctor and he suspected a concussion. Again. This is DS12’s second concussion in about 6 weeks–his first having happened during football practice when he was tackled by a very large 8th grader.

DS12 seems fine now, although he is still ordered to “take it easy” until Monday. Right.

So today, after a very lazy morning which followed a very fun Christmas party last night during which lots of food, alcohol and coffee were consumed, we got started on some much-needed yard work. Funny how when you’re remodeling a kitchen and taking tests for Microbiology the yard gets put on the back burner. We had bushes growing out into the alley and scratching up the neighbors yards, so it was time for a trim. DH worked for hour with the 30 year old hedge trimmers. He hacked the extension cord in half and thankfully did not electrocute himself. So he kept going with another cord. Until he cut his finger. DS15 drove him around the corner to our doctor friend’s house for a look. Go to the ER, was the advice given. Where this friend met DH and stitched him right up in a matter of minutes. DS12 and I should have been so lucky last Tuesday.

The bush branches, a piece of an extension cord, and a tiny piece of a finger are neatly piled up in our driveway, awaiting the city truck to come and haul it all away. And I’m wishing DS12 and DH a very merry, accident-free Christmas, since they just used up about half of my Christmas budget.

DS17 announced the other day, “I know what I’m going to be when I grow up.” We’re pretty used to his long list. He’ll be very quiet for a while, thinking, and out he’ll come with a question about how to become a police officer. Or whether he can go ahead and join a rock band now so he can be a rock star. Or maybe a Nascar driver.

So, I asked DS17 what he wanted to be (THIS time), and said, “I’m going to be the president!”

Nevermind that you have to run for and be elected president. Which would actually be no problem for him–he has what it takes. He is very people oriented, and he is a typical politician–trying to say things to make everyone happy. Yeah, he could win.

He continued, “When I’m president, I’m going to make two laws: First, everyone has to be a Christian. Second, nobody can get drunk.”

So there you have it. When my budding rock star/veterinarian/police officer/Nascar driver/chef becomes president, watch out if you have a different religious persuasion or if you enjoy drinking that demon liquor.

To be honest, there isn’t a ton to say about DD5 in all of this. But how could I not post this cute picture of her??? She isn’t quite old enough to totally “get it” that there is anything that different about her oldest brother. Which in itself is a beautiful thing.

A few weekends ago, DD5, DS16 and I headed to Indiana to be with lots of online friends who have children with Down syndrome. DD5 had a few questions about that. I had prepared her that there would be lots of people with Down syndrome, just like her brother, so she asked me about several of the kids individually–whether or not that person had Down syndrome. After meeting a few 6-year-olds who were shorter than her, she asked, “Are all people with Down syndrome short?” (Well, no honey, but you are so tall for your age you are off of the growth charts!) After the first evening with our friends, she snuggled up next to me in the hotel bed and said in a sleepy voice, “I think maybe I have Down syndrome, too.” I think maybe she was feeling a little short on attention and was shocked to be sharing center-stage with anyone!

The main thing about DD5 and how Down syndrome affects her life at this point is that she really doesn’t see the difference. Soon enough she’ll start to wonder why DS16 does not babysit her, why he doesn’t drive a car, why his speech can be harder to understand. But for now, he’s just a really fun brother who puts up with a whole lot of silliness on her part.

DS9 is one of those all-American kids that you just love. He has a freckled face and a cheerful disposition that just makes people happy. His classmates picked up on this when he was in Kindergarten and they voted for him to receive the Citizenship award–for someone who was always kind to others, respectful of teachers, and just a great kid. He is that!

A few years back we turned a closet into a bedroom and let some of our boys have their own room for a change. Although we offered that to DS16 first, he declined. He prefers to share a room with someone. So DS15 and DS12 happily took the extra room and the closet as their two rooms, and DS9, also happily, agreed to room with DS16. They were roommates for about two years, and then we moved.

Now, as much as our whole family loves DS16, he can be a challenging roommate. I would ask, what teenage boy isn’t, what with stinky feet and armpits and farting contests and such. But DS16 has a few annoying habits. He snores, for one. He also puts on his MP3 and howls sings. Loud. And he talks as he is going to sleep. So he’s not the most sought after roommate.

We moved to a new house, and our separated boys have had to recombine rooms. DS9 sweetly asked if he might try a different roommate this time. Well, of course–he’s been with DS16 for two years, so it’s probably time for a change! When DS16 learned that he was getting a new roommate–DS12–he was sad. Not that he doesn’t love DS12, but he really enjoyed sweet DS9 as a roommate. DS9’s response was to say that maybe he really should room with DS16. The kid, at age 9, was willing to set his own desires and agenda aside for the sake of his brother. And this was no minor decision like giving up a Coke on a Sunday. This was a decision that would affect him day in and day out for quite some time.

But that’s the kind of person DS9 is. And yeah, just like with my other guys, some of this is just they way they are. But some comes from living with a brother with an extra chromosome. I even think in this case that DS9 sees DS16 often sacrifice his desires to do something for someone else, and he has learned from that. He also has an understanding of how very important it is to feel like you fit in, and he recognized that DS16 fit in with him as a roommate, and he wanted to honor that. It is a character trait that plays out in his friendships and relationships at school, on the soccer field, and at play with his friends.

DS12 was in first grade, and I was at a parent-teacher conference. It had been a hard year for him. He had attended a preschool in Atlanta and then switched to the Christian school where his brother, DS15 was a student for Kindergarten. After that year we made the decision to move to the public school system, so once again we changed schools at the start of DS12’s first grade year. Things were going well until DH lost his job. After a few months of unemployment for DH and free school lunches for DS12, DH got a job in north Alabama, and we moved over Christmas. DS12 started his fourth school in 1-1/2 years in January of first grade.

Surprisingly, he made the transition to his new school very well. His teacher, in fact, wanted to talk to me about a character trait she was seeing in DS12. She began to notice that although DS12 was a very athletic, active kid, if anybody was down in the dumps or hurting during recess, he would stop what he was doing and go and sit down beside the student. Sometimes he would talk to the kid, sometimes just sit in silence alongside him. As a six-year-old he was showing a surprising amount of compassion.

Fast forward to the summer before third grade, and DS12 made another school change when we moved to another small town in Alabama. In spite of an intense desire to fit in with kids who had been in school together since preschool and whose mothers had been in school since about the same age, DS12 never changed his character. There was a boy from our church who had autism. His parents decided to switch over from the self-contained classroom at one elementary school to the district school, and that would place their son in a regular third grade class. They called me to see if I would mind if they requested that their son be placed in the class with DS12. They had already noticed how comfortable DS12 was with their son, and it gave them comfort as they made this frightening transition.

This student did end up in DS12’s class, and true to his character, DS12 befriended him. At recess he would run and play and get right in the mess of the boy-sports that were going on, but he would also be keenly aware of his friend. He went out of his way to sit with his friend whenever possible and to treat him just like he would want to be treated. He set a tone for his class on how to relate to this boy that carries through to this day. When it was time for a birthday, this student was invited right along with everyone else.

DS12 is now in 7th grade, and even last summer, he would think to initiate a phone call to his friend with autism to invite him over to swim or play on the Wii. His character still proves him to be one who is kind to all and who has his eye out for the downtrodden. Some might say that this is just the way he is, regardless of who is in his family, but I happen to think it is also something he has learned by having a brother with special needs.

DS15 came into the world when DS16, the one with Down syndrome, was only 18 months old. Once the newborn stage was past and DS15 began looking more toddler-like, people assumed I had twins. And it was very much like having twins! DS15 walked at 14 months, and DS16 learned a mere 4 months later at the age of three. DS15’s speech soon caught up with and surpassed DS16’s. And so for all of both of their lives that they can remember, DS15 has been like the older brother. Although DS16 is very quick to remind everyone that HE is the oldest in the family!

DS15’s name is Ben, and we chose that partially because it means “protector.” That’s a role we thought he would find himself in throughout his life. And sometimes he does. Because he is only one year behind DS16 in school, he is often my eyes and ears out in the world–reporting embarrassing things DS16 does, inappropriate behaviors that need to be addressed. I pictured that DS15 would likely make friends, and he would introduce those friends to his brother and thus help him get to know people.

If you’ve been reading this blog any length of time, you are probably chuckling. DS15 has plenty of friends, but I’m here to tell you that DS16 needs no help whatsoever getting to know people. In fact, he is so outgoing that he has paved the way for DS15 and his other family members (me included) in many situations.

Not only has having an older brother with Down syndrome opened doors to meeting people for DS15, but it has also helped develop his sensitivity. DS15 loves to tease DS16 in the usual brotherly way, but almost always with a measure of restraint. In fact, when the whole family joins in on the silliness, DS15 is often the one to notice when things are getting out of hand and DS16’s feelings are being hurt and has on more than one occasion stepped in to correct even me for going a little too far.

DS15 has learned to appreciate the humor in many of DS16’s antics. Often times, DS15 will tell me some silly story of something DS16 has done, and he ends it shaking his head and saying, “What would life be like without DS16 as a brother,” in the kind of tone that Christopher Robin shakes his head and says, “Silly Old Bear!”

DS15 has developed a comfort level around people with a disability that I never had. He willingly attends a “special needs night” held at a local church one Friday night each month. This church has lots of helpers present, and people with a family member with special needs can bring that person and his siblings–they serve pizza and have music and games and such, and the parents can have a break for a few hours. It is a huge blessing to the families who often struggle to find help, especially as their children become adults and a “babysitter” would just be inappropriate. DS15, even though he is way past the age of needing to be babysat, still attends willingly, knowing he can help out. He has developed relationships with some of the people with special needs and can relate to them comfortably. DS15 is not embarrassed or appalled if an adult with special needs wants to hug him. He has a maturity around those who are different than himself that I never had at that age, because his world of “normal” includes special needs.

I hear the argument that it isn’t fair to other children in the family to bring a child with special needs into the world–often as a way to justify aborting the baby. I’m here to tell you, I would not change a thing about how having a sibling with Down syndrome has affected DS15, or any of my children. It is all part of the fabric that has been woven together to make each of them who they are, and there is not a thread of ugliness in the picture.

Let’s see…how many pets do we have now? That’s right, six. I know, I know, sometimes my life seems a little insane. Okay, all of you IRL friends and family–I see you smacking your hand to your head saying, “You ARE insane!”

So here’s the deal. Each of my sons has his own pet, plus we have a “family cat.” DD5 has been begging for a pet of her own. And she gets whatever she wants, end of story. No, that’s not the end. We didn’t really want to get DD5 a pet of her own, but come on. This desire wasn’t going to go away any time soon–I mean she was well aware that everyone else in the family under the age of 100 had a pet. Sure we could put her off a while longer, but why prolong the agony of having to listen to the incessant whining and begging when we were just planning to give in eventually anyway. And what were we waiting for? Kids to leave home? That wouldn’t really help. I mean, sure my food budget might go down into the less-than-a-zillion-dollars-a-month range, but I’d also lose pet feeders, poop scoopers, etc. So we added another pet.

Serafina (that would be the cat picture in that post, not the ink) is a perfect kitty. She is actually a breed (who knew cats come in breeds, too??). She is a Ragamuffin, which is a breed known for being…well…dogs. She comes when we call, she purrs constantly, she begs us to scratch her tummy, and she licks my nose with her sandpaper tongue when I’m trying to sleep. Most of her habits are quite endearing. Including her habit of wagging her head at me from the top of the stairs as I walk up. And her habit of making a flying leap onto the bed and…missing.

And it turns out that those latter two habits are indicative of a problem. Serafina, it turns out, has a congenital eye problem. I know this because I spent my morning driving the cat to another town to see an ophthalmologist. Another thing I learned–there are animal eye doctors. And no, they don’t have cats read eye charts or say, “Is it better one? Or two? Three? Or four?” But they do dilate cat eyes and take a peek around. And discover holes where the optic nerve comes in, for example.

So although I have learned things like that there is actually a breed of cat that behaves like a dog, and that there are ophthalmologists for cats, and that sometimes you even drive pets out of town to see a doctor because you just really love them, that isn’t the main lesson. Here’s the thing. Serafina, being a fru-fru cat, came with a health guarantee. Meaning we have the option to send her back for a new kitty if she isn’t healthy. I have a son with a genetic condition–Down syndrome. I had no option to send him back, although had I known prior to his birth I would have had the option to “get rid” of him. And I could not and would not have chosen that option.

My family loves Serafina, even though we have only known her for less than four weeks. If I sent her back, what message would that send to my children? If something isn’t perfect, we don’t keep it–we trade it in for something better. And DS16, with his own “imperfections” would no doubt get the message. As would my other kids who are less than perfect in their own quirky ways. Not that there’s anything imperfect about sucking your thumb and picking your belly button after you turn five, or with kicking holes in walls when you’re mad, or with cussing when things don’t go your way. Nosireebob. Hmmph.

We are talking to Serafina’s breeders to hopefully reach a solution, but that solution will not include sending her back. Because when all is said and done, she is who she is partly because of her imperfections. Cookie cutter cats, like cookie cutter people, are boring. Diversity is what makes us appreciate beauty. Kind of like evil makes us appreciate good, but that’s a theological issue I’m just not tackling. Serafina, with her quirky genetic material that causes her to not see clearly, to have smaller-than-normal, different-sized eyes, to “clothesline” herself when she runs and jumps on our bed, and to bob her head around from side to side in order to see, is a welcome member of our family that is replete with quirky genetic material. All from DH of course. I’m just sayin.’